#I heard someone talking about how much they wanted to hear the SECOND one in concert
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awfullybigwardrobe44 · 2 months ago
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Do you ever experience some of your favorite media and be like “Wow actually I love this so much I’m going to cry”
And it’s something normal people would look at you weird about 😅
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keets-writing-corner · 11 months ago
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Thinking a LOT about Lucifer in the latest Hazbin episode. Idk what I was expecting but not this??
As I was watching my immediate thought was just "huh... Lucifer is kinda of weird..." but as the episode went on I realized the issue
the dude is off the chain depressed, like he says it as a joke but holy cow it is SO BAD
He's manically just creating rubber ducks cuz his daughter really like it that one time but it's empty, it's never good enough but he keeps doing it, maybe cuz he doesn't know how to pass the time otherwise.
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like I get the feeling he HAS better things he SHOULD be doing than making rubber duck after rubber duck. At first I was like, "Bruh why isn't the king of hell doing anything?" aaaaand then it became clear...
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The dude is disassociating so bad he can barely hold a conversation let alone remember information. He clearly WANTS to, he wants to be involved with his daughter so bad, he wants to care about the things she's doing so bad, but his depression keeps interfering. It's like he can only hear every other word and he grasps onto the ones he does hear semi-out of context. Like you can see every time he catches something that he hadn't before and he just "well shit I didn't catch that part"
and that's why he reacts so weird when people talk to him. He is struggling so bad to engage with the conversation he's only getting 50% of it
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does that look like the face of a man who knows what the hell the conversation is even about??? he is STRUGGLING
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like Charlie spent so long telling him about the hotel, and he STILL didn't understand what she wanted. Yeah it comes off as ditzy but literally I've been in that position where your brain just "nope, not doing this right now" and nerfs your conversation comprehension. So as someone who's BEEN in that position, to me it feels exactly like what he's dealing with. He's sorta engaged with the conversation, but only as much as his brain will allow
For example, when I'm dealing with this, this is what someone talking to me feels like this where the crossed out parts are what I missed and bold is what I catch, "Hey! You know I was thinking for dinner we could either make some chicken with rice? But if you don't feel like cooking, pasta is super easy and you love that right? What do you want to do?" you can kinda get that someone is trying to talk to you about dinner, and towards the end you get the impression that they asked something that needs your input so you can decently put 2 and 2 together and try and pass off, but crucial bits were left out, I would have no idea that either chicken or pasta is in the conversation only having heard "rice". When someone is just talking at me, I can decently pass off as being engaged but the second I'm required to participate in the conversation I'm screwed. Seem familiar? At which point I have 2 options, try to give a bullshit answer, or admit that I missed what they were saying and ask them to repeat
Lucifer, unfortunately, is trying so damn hard to hide that he's dealing with like 24/7 dissociation, so he can't admit that he's missing entire chunks of the conversation, hence his really weird replies. He does eventually get the full picture and then he and Charlie start having the real conversation
Also, the Alastor/Lucifer rivalry was hilarious but also really indicative of more of what Lucifer is dealing with
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Alastor is, unfortunately, really good at picking up people's insecurities, and thanks to Charlie's description earlier and watching Lucifer clearly trying to overcompensate, he immediately picks up on the fact that Lucifer KNOWS he struggles to be a good dad (we know cuz it's cuz of the depression, hard to be engaged when your brain keeps turning off) and decides to rub salt in the wound by pretending he's been acting as a surrogate father to Charlie. Now why Alastor decided to pick a fight with the king of hell is beyond me, I do not understand Alastor (and I LIKE IT) (maybe it's cuz Alastor thinks he's hot shit and was expecting Lucifer to at least have heard of him but Lucifer just treats him like a nobody? who knows)(why would Lucifer listen to radio anyways when he can't even pay attention to a conversation it'd just be white noise)
But yeah I just was expecting someone who oozed either charisma or presence and instead I got a depressed dad who's dissociating so bad he can barely function and be present in his life. The only thing it seems he CAN do is make rubber ducks cuz his daughter really liked it that one time
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Idk Lucifer is tragic to me. Whatever the full details of what heavan did to him absolutely broke him and he can't deal with it. He's aware of it, and he doesn't know how to fix it, so he tries to over compensate and sorta makes an ass out of himself but no one says or does anything cuz this guy is supposed to be THE king of hell
Suddenly it's making a lot more sense why he just rolls over and lets heaven do what it wants and even told Charlie to go in his place the start of the show. He's not in any headspace to hold a basic conversation let alone negotiate! He didn't even know who Alastor was, he's been so out of touch
idk I like him, he seems sweet, I hope Charlie brings some light back into his life. He really needs to get out of that rubber duck room
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wcters · 24 days ago
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𝗢𝗩𝗘𝗥𝗣𝗥𝗢𝗧𝗘𝗖𝗧𝗜𝗩𝗘
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pairing: max verstappen x fem!leclerc!reader
word count: 1.6k+
summary: the story of how you and max met . . . and how protective he and your brothers can be
request: max verstappen and leclerc!reader : overprotective charles and carlos, very domestic and protective max while theyre int he paddock during race, maybe hes also very affectionate. just some fluff and comedy
warnings: swearing, sexual innuendos, established relationships | maybe took it too far with the beginning but i couldn’t help it, plus that’s something that max would do
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As the youngest sibling and only girl, you knew your family would be protective ━━ especially your brothers. Sometimes you liked it, and used it to your advantage by scaring off random guys at parties and being a little less afraid of walking home at night with them there, but you also hated it sometimes. You knew they just wanted you to be okay and not have to experience the same things they did, but it still sucked. Your parents stuck up for you when they could, but when you first moved out and stayed with Charles there wasn’t much they could do.
They had managed to scare off almost every guy you liked or started a relationship with, saying they were ‘too mean’ or ‘impolite’ or just little things like they didn’t like the way he dressed or how he talked. The longest you had been with a guy was two weeks before he got annoyed at your brothers and left. You ignored them for a week as you only went to school, your job, and hid in your room when you were home. And you bet the got a stern talking to from your parents ━━ especially your mom.
That was the longest you had been with someone . . . Until you met Max. You had heard , and knew of, Max Verstappen as him and your brother did karting together as kids and Charles joined Formula One only three years after, but you had never interacted.
The first time you met was in 2019. You had moved to Monaco for university and were living with Charles. Though Charles had invited you to races before, you always declined busy with school work or your job, where Charles would respond with something along the lines of ‘i don’t know why you have that job anyway’ which you would roll your eyes and flip him off. It was the Austrian Grand Prix that you finally agreed to go, one of the races that Max had won that year. You had gotten some time off from your job and you didn’t have too much work so you agreed.
When you arrived, you were a little overwhelmed so you mostly stayed in the Ferrari garage, talking to Charles and sometimes Sebastian, though they were pretty busy. The next couple days you didn’t have too much time to go out and explore, to worried about watching free practices and qualifying, and you didn’t even think about leaving during the race until it was over.
It wasn’t until the after party that you actually talked to him. You originally weren’t going to go, you were going to stay in and work on homework, until Charles begged you and you agreed . . . but only because he came second and you were proud of him. You were nineteen, so you were legal, but you were sure even if you weren’t you’d be allowed a few drinks, albeit with Charles hovering over you more than usual.
It was about twenty minutes into the party ━━ with you and Charles getting drinks and being introduced to other people ━━ when you got introduced to Max. “Max!” Charles had called over the thumping bass of the music. At first, the Dutch man didn’t hear until your brother yelled right into his ear. He turned around, surprised, before calling a ‘Charles!’ and congratulating him. He didn’t see you until he pulled away from the hug, turning to see you. “This is my sister! Y/n!” He told Max, again yelling. You loudly introduced yourself as you put your hand forward. “Max! You came to watch Charles karting when you were younger right?” You nodded. “I recognize you!”
Max eventually got pulled away by some people, you assumed technicians or mechanics as you don’t recognize them as drivers, and didn’t see each other for another hour. You had stepped outside for a minute, overwhelmed, though you made sure to tell Charles where you were going. When you had, he immediately became concerned but you waved him off, telling him you were okay and just needed some fresh air.
You were leaning against the wall of the building, bottle of water in your hand as you heard footsteps. You quickly turned your head, though calmed once you saw it was only Max. “Scare you?” He asked. You got to hear his voice clearer now, taking in his accent slipping out due to the alcohol. “Can never be too careful. Dangerous for women.” He nodded, but didn’t say anything for a little. As you were taking a sip of water, he started to speak. “First race?” You nodded, “yeah. I’ve watched, obviously, but I’ve just been too busy with school that I haven’t had the chance. It’s been a little overwhelming at times ━━ hence why I’m out here.”
“I get that. It was for me too.” You turned to look at him. “You were seventeen, right?” He looked surprised that you knew that. “Yeah . . . I was.” You could see in his eyes that remembering that was heavy. “That must’ve been hard.” You told him but didn’t plan on talking anymore about it. “It was, but that’s life.” You nodded. You offered him a sip of your water bottle, knowing he must be getting thirsty. He replied with a small ‘thank you’ before taking a sip. “Want to get out of here? I’m done for the night.” You raised your eyebrow, “wow. What a gentleman.” He must’ve realized what that sounded like before he started to sputter, apologizing and saying that’s not when he meant. He look confused when you started to laugh. “I know what you meant. But you are drunk and I don’t have a car.”
He lowered his eyebrows. “Right.” You pulled out your phone, getting ready to call a cab. “I’ll call you a cab and get you one while I tell Charles where I’m going.” “You’re coming with me?” You nodded, “yeah, I’m don’t for tonight too. I’ll help you to your room because you are not as sober as you think you are and then I’m heading back to my hotel.”
You went in, telling Max with a stern finger in his direction to ‘stay where he was’ while you went to grab a bottle of water and tell Charles where you were going. He didn’t approve, warning you to be careful and not fall for anything, but you assured him you were fine.
That night you helped him to his hotel and to his room, finding a bottle of water and aspirin that was in your purse to set on his beside table. While you were leaving, he grabbed your wrist. “Will you take up my offer? Dinner sometime?” You smiled at him. “Sure, but ask me again when you’re sober so you know what you are doing.” The next morning on the plane, you got a text from Max, letting you know he got your number from someone and that he still wanted to take you out for dinner. You agreed, setting a time and place.
That eventual dinner date led to now, almost five years into your relationship. Charles was a bit upset, but after a ‘talk’ with Max, he felt a little bit better about it, and he warmed up after awhile. Your brothers didn’t manage to scare him off. You had warned him, and talked with them about it, so that helped a little.
It was the 2024 Bahrain Grand Prix. You sat in the Ferrari garage talking with your brother and Carlos while also keeping track of your boyfriend during the free practice. You were sitting down in one of that chairs with the two men standing. You didn’t even notice something was happening until you felt something hit the back of your head. You let out a small ‘ouch’ while rubbing the back of your head. You tried not to make a scene, but the mechanic who had hit you let out a big ‘oh shit!’ which pulled everyone’s attention. I
Immediately your brother was on you making sure you were okay while Carlos went to chew out the mechanic. Through the pain in your head, and Charles calling for ice and a medical staff, you heard a mix of fast English and Spanish. It wasn’t until the ice was placed on your head that you started to refocus. “Est-ce que ça va (are you okay)?” You nodded, though regretted it immediately. “Ouais. Tout va bien (yeah. I’m fine).” Carlos eventually came over and pulled Charles away to let the doctor examine you. You told them you were fine and that Charles was exaggerating ━━ which they laughed at ━━ before checking you out anyway and clearing you.
Though you know better, you thought that Charles and Carlos would leave it, but you were wrong because later when you got back from the bathroom, you saw the two men talking to a very angry looking Max. When Max saw you, he left the boys and headed straight for you, using his hands to bend your head down and check the back of your head. “Are you okay? Were you hurt?” You rolled your eyes even though he couldn’t see it. “I feel like a monkey being inspected by another monkey.” He pulled your head back up so your eyes met his.
“Schatje.” “Max. I swear I’m fine, it was a mistake.” It was his turn to roll his eyes, “a mistake that shouldn’t happen.” You stars at him, unimpressed. “Max Emilian Verstappen if you do anything I’m not scratching your head tonight.” You told him as you walked away.
“Liefje! That’s not fair!”
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slytherinslut0 · 17 days ago
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SLYTHERINSLUT0’S RIDDLEMAS
dec 10th. tom riddle — oral sex, experienced!tom.
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RIDDLEMAS MASTERLIST. I 2024
summary: your ex couldn’t make you orgasm, so you were certain you were broken. tom shows you just how wrong you are.
warnings: 18+, SMUTTT MDNI, tom riddle can eat me aliv—sorry who tf said that?, tom riddle is such a realist; he sees a problem and he finds a solution, tom is a munch, praise kink, oral f!receiving, experienced tom, hufflepuff!reader.
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Months pass, and your project remains the only thing Tom ever prioritizes when it's you asking.
Progress is slow—slow because you're usually far too busy talking to actually focus—yet, he always stays. He listens, even when the things you say should bore him, even when they mean nothing at all. He sits there—giving you hardly the barest scraps of himself in return as you fill the space between you with everything that crosses your mind.
Things he'd never waste a second hearing from anyone else.
And tonight, to no-one's surprise, you're doing it again—rambling on about nothing and everything all at once. You've got this way of talking—weaving tangents into something almost poetic, and usually, he lets it fade into the background as he works. You're saying something about the differences between the seasons, or maybe it's just some other kind of sentimental nonsense—at this point, he's not entirely sure.
It's easy to tune out. He tells himself he's not really listening.
Until—
"Actually, I guess I should clarify that—it's all hypothetical. I don't date," he doesn't know what you said before this, but he's certainly intrigued by it now. "And really, it has nothing to do with like, self esteem or anything, I'm just broken. Best to save someone the trouble."
That stops him cold. It's not so much the declaration that you don't date—he could have guessed that himself—but more so the way you've just called yourself broken.
It's not a word he's ever heard you use before.
"What do you mean, broken?" He asks, the question coming out far more blunt than he probably intended.
It just seems so out of character for you—you've always been an optimist, far too annoyingly positive to speak of anything this way. He blinks when you freeze, and blinks again when a moment of self consciousness seems to pass over your face—and he notes how that's a first for you, too.
"Broken...as in, uh, not normal," your eyes flit down to your lap, tracing the wood beneath where you're seated on the floor in his dorm. "My ex made that very clear in his assessment of me."
The mention of an ex is something he'd been anticipating—you're in your twenties, after all—but it's the idea that your ex is the source of you calling yourself broken, that he can't quite swallow.
"You're 'broken' because of one ex?" He says, and he can't stop how derisive and skeptical his voice sounds. He doesn't care to try. "I'm not following."
"I'm what you'd call, damaged goods, I think," you murmur, and there's an almost self-deprecating smirk on your face. He can't help but think how he's never seen that look on you, either. "I've got a slew of unhealthy baggage that comes along with me. You know, childhood traumas, abandonment issues, daddy issues—"
He snorts at that—daddy issues—and your head snaps up, smirk deepening despite yourself.
"Don't snort at my daddy issues," you huff, and there's a familiar annoyance in your voice that puts him at ease. "They're valid and real."
"I'm not denying their validity," he counters, his own smirk beginning to surface. "But daddy issues? Come on. You're not some tired cliché ripped out of a teenage romance novel. I refuse to accept your declaration of brokenness until you give me factual reasoning."
You laugh at that—alive and genuine—and for a moment, he's reminded of why he even tolerates you in his space at all.
"Fine," you cross your arms over your chest. "What do you want to know then?"
He makes a low, contemplative sound at that—because there's a million questions that come to mind with the words damaged goods—and after a moment, he settles on the one that falls out first.
"What is it, precisely, that makes you broken?"
You sigh, a bit theatrically—he knows you're just putting on a show and he wants to laugh at you for it—but he reigns that in, for now, while you figure out how you're going to respond to that.
The truth is, you don't know how to tell him the real reason you're broken—the part that has nothing to do with the laundry list of emotional baggage you could rattle off with ease. It's something...different.
Something more physical.
"I don't know, okay?" You're getting defensive. You're not sure why but you are. "Just—forget I said anything. We have this assignment to—"
"You dodging the question tells me it's more than just psychological," he cuts you off, leaning back into the couch. The way he's looking at you makes it clear—there's no way he's letting this go. "You getting defensive tells me you're embarrassed by it."
You sigh again, leaning back on your palms to mirror his body language, though it doesn't feel half as natural on you as it does on him.
"And you, being an insufferable arse, is telling me I never should have mentioned it in the first place."
His smirk at that makes you want to glare at him.
"Stop dodging," he says. "You brought it up. You don't get to take it back."
It's a challenge—the gleam in his eyes is practically screaming so. You're not sure why the sight of it makes something low in your stomach clench, and you're even less sure of why you want to tell him something like this—something you haven't told anyone else—not friends, certainly not family.
Whatever the reasoning, you can feel yourself relent.
"Maybe," you pause, the look on his face makes you second guess yourself. "...maybe I don't want to tell you because I'm afraid you'll look at me differently." You glance down at your lap, fingers twitching against the yellow pleats of your skirt before finally meeting his eyes again. "And I kind of like the way you look at me now."
Something like curiosity passes over his expression at that—but it's quickly hidden by the type of skepticism that tells you he still doesn't believe you're being serious.
"You're overthinking it," he replies, unmoving. "Whatever it is you think you're going to tell me, I'm not going to look at you differently. You're still you—no filter, unabashedly verbal—"
"Too verbal. Too positive, too loud," you finish his sentence for him—because you know that's how he thinks of you. "Too annoyingly optimistic. Far too hufflepuff for your cold snake skin. I know."
"Exactly," he says, tongue running over his bottom lip in attempt to quell his smirk. "So I reiterate. There's nothing you could tell me that would change that."
"Fine," you relent, giving in begrudgingly because you know there's no other option. "But don't say I didn't warn you."
He just lifts a hand at that, as if to say; whatever you think it is, I can handle it. The action makes you suck a breath into your lungs, trapping it there.
"You're right," you say after a long exhale. "I have a slew of psychological bullshit that would take the span of a year for me to fully go over in one sitting—but, I'm fine with it. That's...that's not the thing that made me call myself broken."
He says nothing, just makes a motion with his eyes for you to keep going.
"It's, uhm...physical." You whisper, and your brain is moving too much and too fast and you're not even completely sure how to say it without sounding insane. "And...I don't know, I just...I can't orgasm. No matter what. I just can't—it's frustrating and embarrassing and it's the reason my ex ended things."
There's a silence that follows, and he knows if it were anyone else, they'd probably find a way to comfort you. Reassure you. Tom, however, isn't anyone else—
"You're joking," he says, and his tone is incredulous again.
A self-depreciating laugh leaves your lips involuntarily, the sound of it making you almost want to cringe.
"Would it be less embarrassing if I was?"
He's still just watching you, dissecting your words as if waiting for you to crack a smile and confess this was all some stupid joke—and the vulnerability of it aches like a stab to the gut.
"This is the reason you think you're broken?" Is what he goes with when he finally realizes you're being serious. "Because you haven’t orgasmed?"
The bluntness of it makes you flush, makes you wish you could sink into the floor. "I know it's not normal, okay—"
"It's not an abnormality, either," he asserts, with casualty. "You might just have a disconnect."
You blink, caught off guard—not just by his choice of words, but by how matter-of-fact he sounds, like this isn't the mortifying confession it feels like.
"A disconnect?"
"A disconnect," he repeats, looking you over, something clinical slipping into his eyes. "Between mind and body. And considering how loud your thoughts are—"
"Hey—" you snap, suddenly feeling a bit indignant, but he just continues on.
"—it's not surprising that you can't get out of your own head."
You open your mouth to argue, to tell him he's not a therapist, so what the hell does he know? But the certainty in his expression makes you pause. He doesn't look patronizing or condescending, just...assured. Like he knows exactly what he's talking about.
You hesitate, lips parting, a protest forming on your tongue. Before you can say anything, though, he raises a hand to stop you.
"Come here," he says, standing up from the couch.
You blink, trying to decipher what the hell he's implying—because if anything, the last thing that's going to make you less paranoid about intimacy is proximity.
"What?"
He just looks at you, making a motion with two fingers, beckoning you to stand.
"Don't ask questions. Just come here."
It's an order, and it makes your spine tingle in a way that's definitely not comfortable—but you get up from the floor, and move closer to him anyway, closing the distance between you with only a few steps until you're close enough to him that you can practically feel the heat that seems to come off him in waves.
It's weird—he's suddenly too much all at once—you're so much more aware of him being in front of you than you think you've ever been before and it does not help that he's just looking at you—as if studying you—blinking only once as he raises those same two fingers to your neck, resting them against the pulse point at your throat.
Your entire body tenses. His touch is far more gentle than you ever imagined it being, something disarming that makes your pulse beat faster against his fingers as a result—and because this is Tom, with all his smug and certainty—he gives you a look that tells you he can feel it before he slides his fingers up to rest on your forehead.
You scowl at the motion, but he clicks his tongue, the sound as condescending as it is amused.
"I told you, you're an overthinker." He murmurs, eyes dipping to your lips. "Too much noise."
You want to refute that—mostly because you're not overthinking, you can't be—he's just so unequivocally overwhelming—
"I'm not—"
You start, but he moves his fingers from your forehead and places them against your lips—
"Quiet." He scolds, and that makes something low in your stomach clench. "Your body knows what to do. You're just letting your thoughts get in the way."
You long to protest again, just for the sake of defiance—but then his fingers are against your collarbone, and that motion in your stomach becomes a bit more of a squirm—
"Your body is trying to tell you something," he whispers, watching each little hitch in your breath. "But you're too busy talking over it to hear what it's saying."
You realize—with a sort of horror that's laced with something a little more uncomfortable—that he's right. Your body is trying to say something. It's communicating through the unsteady force of your breaths, through the clench of your fists against your skirt—
Of course, he notices. He's noticing far too much.
"Relax," he murmurs, and now he's trailing those same two fingers in an unhurried path down your shoulder. You suddenly regret every decision that led to you wearing a T-shirt. "I'm not going to bite you."
Something about the way he says it makes you wish he wasn't quite so convincing—the familiar banter you long for gone with the sharp exhale that comes out of your mouth as his fingers encircle your wrist—
"Your pulse is racing," he says casually, far too casually for how much effort it's taking you not to scream. "Does that seem broken to you?"
Gods—you want to respond—you really, really do— but your thoughts flatline when you realize his touch has shifted. He's no longer just holding your wrist; he's guiding your hands to rest against his chest, and—
"There you go," he whispers, and the tone of it tells you he knows exactly what it is he's doing to you. "See? Your body's doing exactly what it's meant to do. You—" his fingers trail up your arms, and his voice gets lower. "—are not broken."
You swallow hard, acutely aware of your hands on his chest and the way your palms are clammy against the fabric of his shirt. He's shifting you now, deliberately crowding you, and it's only when you feel the edge of the couch press against the back of your calves that you realize—perhaps a second too late—exactly what it is he's doing.
You stumble back onto the leather, and he follows—crushing his lips to yours.
You gasp, startled, because despite everything you truly hadn't seen this coming. The kiss is messy, clumsy, and his hand finds the nape of your neck, tugging at your hair with just enough force to make it sting. And inevitably, when you gasp again, he takes it as an invitation to work his tongue into your mouth, other hand slipping under your shirt—trailing up your stomach.
You're trembling now, and he makes a low sound at the realization. Your brain is racing to catch up, and the irony of this isn't lost on you—he'd just claimed you weren't broken, but he might as well be destroying you himself.
He parts from your lips only to trail his own across your jaw—
"You're shaking," he murmurs with a smirk against your throat—as if he's taking immense pleasure in the fact—you hate how smug it makes him sound. "Do you want me to stop?"
You want to tell him he's being a bastard, but then his lips press to that spot on your neck—the one that makes your breath hitch and your pulse stutter—and you find yourself whimpering at the sensation.
"No," you breathe, and you'd be embarrassed by the pleading tone in your voice if you weren't so lost in the moment. "Don't stop."
He makes another low, satisfied noise at that.
"Good," he whispers. "No thinking. Just feel."
You swallow—throat dry. It's unfair how easily he's dismantling you with nothing but his mouth and hands. Unfair how he's leaving you breathless and unraveling while somehow making you feel seen in a way you can't explain, even with your eyes shut.
"Tom," you find yourself whimpering, and you aren't even sure what you're asking for—you just know you want more as his lips trail lower—as his fingers work to tug down your skirt. "Gods."
"Shh. Feel me," he murmurs, almost possessively, his lips brushing lower, grazing over your stomach, then your pelvis. "Let your body do the talking."
You've got your hands tangled in his hair before you even know what you're doing, and you hate the fact that you're pretty sure you'd melt into a puddle if he weren't holding you together.
"I feel you," you whimper as he kisses lower. "You're all I feel."
He makes another low sound at that, and you just know it's the response of ‘yeah, that’s right’—but then he's between your legs, panties shifted out of the way, and the first sweep of his tongue against your clit makes all coherent thought shift to static.
"Oh! God," you gasp, the word barely escaping before dissolving into a whimper when he does something with his tongue that makes your vision blur. "Tom—oh, fuck."
He just makes that smug, satisfied noise against you again before his tongue swirls over your clit and you find yourself almost cursing whatever deity made him so good at this, because it's not fair how quickly he reduced you to a whimpering, shaking mess beneath him and—
"Don't stop," you find yourself babbling, digging your nails into his scalp and knowing you look like a goddamn wreck as he makes a meal out of you—tongue lapping up your slick and swirling your clit before sealing his lips around it and forcing your back off the leather beneath it. "Please, don't stop, please—"
It's all you can manage to say. Your thighs are shaking now, and you're sure he's got you dripping all over his face with how soaked you are. He knows you're falling apart and he just keeps going— your brain ceasing function in favour of just focusing on how fucking close you are—how close you are to something you've never felt before in your life—and you're not even sure what you're begging for anymore but it's incoherent and loud—
"I need—" you whimper, your hands tightening in his hair, pulling just enough to make him groan against you. You don't know what you're asking for, but you know he has it. "I need—I need—“
"Let go," he murmurs against you, the roughness in it vibrating up into your belly. "I dare you."
There's still a little bit of you functioning on autopilot, just enough to tell you that when he murmurs those words—vibrations rattling up your cunt and into your chest—you're completely done for.
It’s merely a few seconds later that your high reaches its peak and he just keeps lapping as you shake apart beneath him with an intensity you've never felt before in your life—orgasm shredding you apart at the seams. Your thighs clamp around his face, your eyes squeezed shut, ears ringing so loud you barely register his low, muttered praises: "good girl," "so good," "there you go."
You’re fairly positive your legs will never be able to support you again when you finally come back down, feeling entirely like jelly as he pulls back, tongue flicking over his lips to clean off whatever's left of you.
And without thinking, you grab him and pull him up, crashing your lips against his in a messy, desperate kiss. He tastes like you, like him, like something you can't quite describe—and it makes everything feel intense and unbearably real all at once.
He gives you a moment, as if letting you recover, just languidly kissing you back—and you have to be honest with yourself and admit that this kind of makes you want to scream.
"A disconnect," he smirks against your mouth, the tone still smug. You manage a weak smack to his shoulder, though it does nothing to wipe the satisfaction off his face. "Still sure you're broken?"
You hate that he's right. Hate that he's managed to pull a reaction from you that you didn't think was possible. But as you sit there, shaky and spent, you know you can't deny the truth: no, you're not broken.
"Not broken." You whisper back. "You will be though, if you don't stop smirking at me like that."
1K notes · View notes
landoughnut · 3 months ago
Text
Nurse He's Out Again
♡ masterlist - request!
♡ pairing - lando norris x fem!reader (fc - brooke shields :)
♡ summary - just lando thirsting on the main and giving being a pr nightmare, also him fighting for his life in the comments
♡ warnings - horny/simp lando, crack, some fluff, some cursing, one kms mention
♡ w/c & a/n - smau | wanted to do a social media one cause i love reading them so much so here we are! i really love this actually so i hope you enjoy xoxo
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landonorris FIRST liked by yourusername
landonorris holy shit baby 😍🥵
landonorris please date me fhsusnygds 😻💍
yourusername already am my love 💗
username WOWWW
kendalljenner stunning bestfriend 💋
yourusername love you 😘
username lando having her notifs on is so cute 🥹
username im in love with you.
landonorris NO I AM. STAY AWAY 😡
username LANDO LMAOAO
vogue 🤍 liked by yourusername
maxverstappen1 🔥📸
yourusername thanks max ☺️
maxverstappen1 someone tell me how lando's dating her
landonorris HEY 😟
charles_leclerc real max
yourusername the real question is how did i get so lucky with him!!
landonorris SHHH BABY NEVER SAY THAT 😣
adele my darling you look beautiful 🩷
yourusername i love youuu mother adele 💗
landonorris IM DATING AN ANGEL WOW PLEASE MARRY ME
yourusername i love you so much 😭
landonorris CBGHNCHD I LOVE YOU MOST BABY 🥰😍☺️
oscarpiastri lando fell to his knees in a walmart parking lot
landonorris can you blame me?? 🛐🛐🛐
username no we cant lando
landonorris it was a rhetorical question 👺
carlossainz55 my favorite model 🙏 liked by yourusername
username can lando fight?? 🥵🤤
landonorris YES GET AWAY SHOO 🤺
georgerussell63 bro can notttt fight
landonorris fuck you george
landonorris I CAN RUN YOU OVER INSTEAD
mclaren lando norris we're having a meeting this afternoon
mclaren looking absolutely stunning 🧡
yourusername love you admin 💋
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landonorris FIRST liked by yourusername
landonorris DAMNNN BABY COME HOME AND KISS ME
username oh no..
landonorris ON MY NO NO SQUARE
oscarpiastri the second hand embarrassment i have rn
alexandrasaintmleux what 😟 yourusername ill save you bae
landonorris get me pregnant. 🫃
mclaren no we need you in racing conditions
landonorris you need me? that sounds familiar 😏🛌
maxverstappen1 MY EYES 🤢
mclaren REPLYING TO MYYYY COMMENT???
oscarpiastri ON MYY PHONE??
yourusername osc look away 😨
ladygaga so pretty 🤩 liked by yourusername
username 😻😍
landonorris get these heart eyes OUTTA HERE
yourusername BABY STOP HARASSING PEOPLE IN MY COMMENTS
landonorris "baby" 😍 anything for u wifey 🛐
billieeilish so fineee bby
landonorris SCRAM BILLIE
yourusername ILYY BILLIEEE 🤍
username lando is fighting for his LIFE 😭
username lando trying not to simp challenge level impossible
landonorris GUESS WHO SHE WAS SMILING AT YALLLLLLLL
yourusername i love you 💗 im always smiling with you 💖
landonorris I LOVE YOU SO MUCH BABY FUCKING HELL
username you guys are the cutest to exist
carlossainz55 yeah until you hear them talk about each other 25/8
landonorris shut up carlos your just jealous
georgerussell63 you're*
landonorris 🖕🖕
harrystyles gorgeous
landonorris bye.
landonorris i cant compete with harry 😨
landonorris GUYS DONT LET HER SEE THIS
charles_leclerc too late i just heard a scream from the living room where she is with alex
yourusername HARRY OH MY GOSH HELLO I LOVE YOU JEHXBUYTNEGBYGYGXE
landonorris im going to kms. someone pick my casket now. he broke my girl.
mclaren our favorite girl 🧡
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yourusername FIRST liked by landonorris
username im obsessed with them being first for each other 🥹
yourusername LANDO PLEASE I CANT 😭
landonorris THE WORLD NEEDS TO SEE YOURE WITH MEE
charles_leclerc NAHHHH LANDO
oscarpiastri MY EYESS
yourusername IM SORRY OSC BBY
landonorris dont call him bby 😡 im your bby
username "tell your baby that im your baby" 🥺
username HELPPP bros fed up with the comments
username LANDO HAS A MOMMY KINK CONFIRMED 😋
mclaren you're done buddy. no more mr nice guy. meeting at 5pm.
username ignoring the caption but its so cute that the only thing he posts besides racing related pictures is her 🥹 my heart liked by landonorris
username she's so beautiful wow liked by landonorris
username her smile is the prettiest thing ive ever seen liked by landonorris
maxverstappen1 lando... what about us 😣
yourusername BACK AWAY FROM MY MAN 🗣️🤺
username how the tables have turned...
landonorris YEAH YOU TELL HIM BABY ‼️ THATS MY WIFEY 🗣️
username their matching profile pictures are adorable 🥹 liked by landonorris
alexandrasaintmleux SHE WAS MINE FIRST 👹
yourusername im still yours love 💗
landonorris thats not what you said in bed last night
alexandrasaintmleux NAHH UNDER MY COMMENT??
georgerussell63 lando mate enough is enough 😀
landonorris literally leave no one wants you here
mclaren you've taken at least ten years off my life
username SOMEONE SEDATE HIM✊
username someone needs to get neutered 🫵🏻
carlossainz55 NO MORE PLEASE I CANT TAKE IT ☹️
landonorris pov my wifey after round five last night
username FIVE????
alex_albon NASTYY YALL FREAKYYY
mclaren why do I even try 😞
lewishamilton NURSE HES OUT AGAINNNNN 😦
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2K notes · View notes
fallingformatt · 5 months ago
Text
SEXUAL TENSION M.S.
bsf!Matt x fem!reader
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summary: the sexual tension between you and your best friend Matt causes you two to ‘talk it out’ in the car
based on these requests available: here, here
warnings: filthy ass smut bro
word count: 3.2k
a/n: I’ve been so busy with work, but im glad i finally found the time to write something hope yall enjoy it :) this post is not proofread
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"Wait do you like him?" my friend asks with a smirk on her lips as she playfully pushes my shoulder.
I was hanging out with my friend at the beach tanning, eating some grapes, swimming and just taking in the sun.
"I don't know, it's like this weird sexual tension between us like I just feel that hot and bothered vibe coming from him," I say to my friend as I twirl a strand of my hair between my fingers.
"As in general or like just around you?" She asks me while raising an eyebrow. "Girl I don't know, we don't talk about how often we get laid," I say with a serious tone. "You should then," she answers as one corner of her lips rises up followed by a wink. "Can we not? I'm not asking Matt if he wants to fuck me or just fuck in general, let's change the subject," I say now slightly annoyed about how long this topic has dragged on.
I have to admit though, in the past couple of weeks there have been moments of strong sexual tension between me and my best friend Matt. I don't know what it is but every time we hang out in a group setting, I feel him throwing glances at me while fidgeting with his rings practically undressing me with his eyes, his eyes seem to scan me up and down, eventually meeting mine every time, his stare would get this hint of hunger like he's been starving for something, so I went for advice to my friend but she doesn't have a serious bone in her body so it obviously didn't go far.
Not even a second later I heard my phone ring. I turn it facing up to look who's calling. My friend leans in pushing up her sunglasses to see the caller as well. "Oh it's Matt, you should ask him if he's down to fuck," she says with a huge smile plastered across her face. "You're so funny," I say sarcastically as I roll my eyes before answering the phone.
"Hey!" I say as I bring up the phone to my ear.
"Hey, what are you up to?" Matt asks.
"Nothing much, I'm at the beach with a friend," I say as I turn my head to look at her, as soon as I do so, I see her standing on her knees humping the air before she points to my phone laughing. I instantly facepalm regretting that I even mentioned something to her.
"Hello, are you there?" I hear on the phone.
I snap back as I remember that I'm currently on the phone with Matt.
"Yeah sorry, what did you say," I say.
"I asked if the weather is nice, am I really that boring?" Matt says.
"No I was just looking at my friend, she was kicking down someone's sand castle," I lie as I search around with my free hand for something to throw at my friend. "Yeah the weather is nice, the water is really warm too, what are you doing?" I continue.
"I'm driving home, do you want to do something later?" Matt asks and I see my friend walking over to me kneeling next to me pressing her ear against my phone trying to hear what Matt is saying.
"Yeah I'm down, do you have something in mind?" I answer as I try to push my friend away with my elbow staring at her and shaking my head.
"Chris and Nick really want to see you, so I was thinking we could go to topgolf, and get something to eat after that," he offers.
I see my friend nodding her head up and down signaling me to say yes. How did she even hear that is beyond me.
"Yeah I'm down, should be fun," I say.
"Alright I'll pick you up at 7, see you then," he says before ending the call
I look down next to me and see one grape lying in the sand, without giving it a second thought, I pick it up and throw it at my friend. "You're such a child," I say as I roll my eyes smiling. "You still love me," she says sitting down smiling, finally relaxing after being on my case this whole time.
The sun had started to set and we decided to head back to my friend's house. The beach is like a 10 minute walk from her place. "What time is he picking you up?" My friend asks me.
"He's picking me up at 7, but it's not like you didn't know that already, you're so nosy," I say as I look down at my phone to see the time. "Shit it's 6:27 pm already, there's no way I'm gonna get back to my house and get ready in time.
"You can just get ready at my place," she offers. I nod and pull out my phone from my pocket and text Matt the new address.
We go into her house and I drop my bag at the door running for the bathroom to shower. I turn on the water and hop in.
"Are you really that excited to see him?" my friend asks as she opens the door to the bathroom. "What do you mean?" I ask her. "I mean you rushed to take a shower so fast, surely you're excited to meet up with him," she says as I hear her turning on the sink to wash her hands. "I'm literally just showering, I don't want to be sweaty, covered in sand, and gross, no matter who I'm meeting up with," I defend myself. "Whatever you say," my friend says as she leaves the bathroom.
I hopped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around my body. I went past the kitchen to my friend's room. I open the door and she's sitting in front of her vanity doing her skincare playing some music in the background.
My eyes lay upon an outfit lying down on her bed, it's a short jean skirt and a black lace tank top, I raise my eyebrow in confusion "What's this?" I ask. "It's an outfit for you to wear," she answers, I tilt my head. "Well unless you're gonna go to topgolf in sweats and a bathing suit, you should wear what's on the bed," she exclaims. "But this is what I would wear if we went clubbing not something I would wear hanging out with friends," I answer. "Trust me on this one," my friend replies. "You seriously need to move on," I say as I grab the outfit and put it on.
I check my phone to see the time, 7:05 pm it reads and as I was about to put down my phone I receive a text from Matt.
"I'm here" that's all the text says.
"I have to go," I say to my friend as I stand up from her vanity and head for the door. "Wait, just one more thing," she says as she runs over to me with a perfume bottle and sprays a few sprays on me. "What's that?" I ask. "It's a pheromone perfume, it's supposed to make guys crazy," she says, smiling proudly holding the bottle. I just sigh as I go for the door. "This way we'll find out if he wants to fuck in general or if he wants to fuck you!" my friend says happily, waving at me as I exit.
I get in the front seat as I see that Chris is sitting at the back. "Hey," Nick exclaims. "Hey," I say to everyone as I put on my seatbelt. "You look good," Matt says as he turns his head looking me up and down and Nick nods his head in agreement. "Thanks, guys," I say and we start driving. We're now driving for about 15 minutes, there's music blasting through the whole car as Nick and Chris are arguing, trying to scream over the loud music about which is the best spongebob episode making me giggle from time to time.
We're stopped at a red light and as I'm scrolling through my phone I feel someone's eyes on me, I pick up my head and see Matt looking at me, there it is again, that hungry stare, he's looking me up and down before his eyes again meet mine. I see him bite his lower lip before a little smirk creeps up on his lips. "You look so fucking good," he says, making me smile, his voice was deeper than usual. He turns his head to focus on the road again as the light turns green.
This is the vibe I was talking about with my friend earlier, we've never had this kind of tension between us before.
I turned my head back to see if Chris and Nick noticed his comment, and no they were still arguing, but the topic of the argument had changed to waffles and pancakes.
"We're here," Matt says as the car stops and he pulls out the keys from the engine and we all exit the car. As we go in, Nick goes to registration and pays for all of us. We all walk to our playing area and we all get something to snack on and some drinks.
"I'm up first," Matt says as he walks over to the playing area, he sets up the ball and swings the golf club. Next up is Nick, he does the same, now it's my turn, I walk up to the playing area, set up the ball, and take a swing with my golf club, I miss completely and I turn my head to look at everyone laughing, well almost everyone, Matt is the only one who's not laughing, which made me less embarrassed, I guess that's what best friends are for. "You need any help?" He asks, I nod my head and he stands up walking over to me.
I set myself up to take a shot and Matt walks over standing behind me, he puts his hands over mine "You have to hold the club tightly, okay?" Matt says as he tightens his grip around my hands. "Keep your back straight," he says and I straighten my back, which causes my butt to brush against his crotch. He inhales sharply before he continues, "Now swing," he says as he guides my hands with his swinging them to the side before hitting the golf ball and watching it fly away. I turn around to face Matt, "thank you," I say as I give him a hug. Before I get to pull away I feel his arm around the back of my neck as he leans into my ear, "you did so good," he says as he lets me go a slight grin forming on his lips, we walk back to the lounge area and Chris stands up as it is his turn now.
I was now sitting watching them play as I understood pretty quickly that there wasn't gonna be a golfer made out of me. Throughout the night I kept noticing Matt's glances, he's now sitting across from me, and he's staring me up and down as he's fidgeting with his rings. His gaze sends shivers down my spine, making me actually shiver and Nick notices.
"Are you cold? I left a sweater in the car, Matt can get it," he offers, " yeah that would be nice," I say as I look back at Matt and he seems to snap back into reality not really understanding what's going on.
"Come on Matt, I'm gonna go with you to get the sweater," I say to help him understand what's going on, he nods and stands up and we start walking to the car. I was actually glad that I managed to get him alone, I needed to understand what was going on with him, but I didn't want to ask with everyone around.
As we get to the car he unlocks it and I get into the front passenger seat and lean back to get the sweater Nick was talking about, as I grab the sweater I hear the door open, I turn my head to look and I see Matt leaning down, his arm resting against the open door. "You ready?" He asks. "No get in," I say as I lean back into my seat, placing the sweater in my lap. Matt gets in the car and closes the door. "What's up?" He asks. "I should be asking you that," I answer and Matt tilts his head confused by my statement.
"What's going on with you?" I ask. "What do you mean?" He answers me with a question not understanding what I'm talking about. I take a deep breath slightly nervous about what I'm going to say next, but I needed some clarity so I knew I had to ask. "Past couple of weeks you have been zoning out, staring at me," I state, I watch his face, waiting for his reaction. His expression grows dark, and once again his glare turns dark.
"You're driving me fucking insane, " he says his voice getting deeper again, "you don't know what you're doing to me, your sent, your presence," he says as he moves his stare from my eyes to my lips before licking his. "Tell me," I say as I put my arm on his bicep. "How about I show you instead," he says as a smirk appears on his lips. He leans over and grabs the outer side of my thigh, signaling me to move. I cautiously move over the center console his arms grabbing and holding my ass for support as he guides me to sit in his lap.
Without any warning he pushes his lips onto mine, kissing me roughly. One of my hands travel to his hair and the other one rests on his chest, his hands travel to my hips, pushing and guiding them back and forth, I let out a quiet moan as I break the kiss, "Matt this is wrong," I say as I try to calm down my breathing. "I don't care, I want you," he says as he smashes his lips back onto mine and I give into the kiss, he moves from my lips to my cheek and down to my jawline, his one hand still guiding my hips back and forth as the other hand moves over my ass grabbing it and slapping it.
I'm not fighting him and give into his touch fully, I throw my head back as I feel my panties getting wet and a moan slips past my lips, Matt takes advantage and attacks my neck, leaving wet kisses, slipping in a few bites as he's sucking on my sensitive skin leaving marks.
"Move up," he says, his voice is demanding. I move my ass up, both of my hands move to his shoulders as I hold them for support. He quickly unbuckles his belt and bucks up his hips sliding his jeans down along with his boxers. Matt's hand travels to my panties, he rubs against my clothed clit before sliding them to the side with one quick motion. He places his hands on my waist pushing me down and signaling me to sit down again.
He pushes his lips on my neck leaving sweet kisses around the dark marks he had created, he leans back and his eyes lock onto the hickeys, "pretty," he says as he grabs my jaw, his thumb brushing over the bruised, sensitive skin.
Matt grabs my ass as he moves me slightly up, positioning his dick against my entrance before pushing me down, I let my head fall on the nape of his neck as my elbows rest on his shoulders, my hands roaming his hair, I let out a moan as I start to move my hips.
"You feel so good princess," Matt groans, his hand tightly around my waist as the other one holds a tight grasp on my ass, his nails digging into my skin as I become a hot mess on top of him. "Matt," I moan out, my movements are sloppy and sensual.
"We can't be gone for too long," Matt whispers in my ear and suddenly fastens his thrusts underneath me. A sudden feeling of overbearing pleasure comes over me as I throw my head back no longer able to control my breath, moans and whimpers leave my mouth before I bite my lower lip trying to be quiet. "Baby don't be quiet, I'll make you scream my name," Matt growls deeply as his hand travels to my lower back holding me for support.
"Will you?" I manage to slip out between my moans as I start to grind faster on his cock. "You're such a brat," he says as his hand wraps around my hair pulling my head backward. His lips attack my collarbone, he's sucking and pulling on my skin slipping in a few bites, I hiss at the pain, "not so brave anymore huh," he says as he detaches from my collarbone before leaving a trail of kisses up my neck before meeting my lips.
"I'm," I whimper, my hands roaming around for something to hold onto as I feel my climax approach me. "You're?" Matt asks proudly as he's the one making me unable to finish my sentence. "Close," I manage to moan out between his hard thrusts and my grinding as we move in sync. "What was that huh?" He chuckles. I grab the collar of his shirt to pull myself together as I gather my strength to form a sentence.
"I'm so close Matt don't stop," I blur out, I feel my walls closing around his twitching cock. "You take my dick so well baby," Matt moans out sending me over the edge. "Matt," I scream out as my orgasm takes over me. Matt lets out a low growl-like moan, as I feel his seed pumping into me. I push my lips against his in order not to scream as I ride out my high.
"Oh my god Matt," I say as I move off of his cock and back to the seat next to him. "You did so good princess," he says as he leans in and kisses my forehead before he pulls up his pants. "We should get back," Matt says and I nod in agreement. I take Nick's sweater and pull it over my head putting it on.
As we step out of the car, I close the door and fix my short denim skirt and I see Matt fixing his belt. "I'm gonna leave the window slightly open," he says slightly chuckling pointing to the windows that had fully fogged up and I let out a small laugh as well.
"What took you two so long," Nick says as he looks at us and we try not to look suspicious. "We were talking," I say confidently, I see Nick shifting his eyes from Matt to me, and his eyes fall down to my neck as a smirk appears on his lips, "you got something here," Nick says as he brushes over his own neck with two fingers. My eyes immediately shoot to Matt as I slap his shoulder from the back.
I guess there definitely was some sexual tension between us that needed to be resolved.
3K notes · View notes
atlabeth · 25 days ago
Text
unadulterated loathing (pt 1)
pt 2
pairing: fiyero tigelaar x fem reader
summary: you are forced to partner up with fiyero on a history project. things don’t go as you imagine.
a/n: wicked was really good, i love jonathan bailey, and we're coming up on finals season which means im writing about how stressed i am. also halfway through this i realized reader is lowkey paris geller coded lmao. this got away from me so im splitting it into 2 parts, i had a lot of fun writing it so enjoy! also im high posting this so if there's any editing issues im sorry lol!!
wc: 5.5k
warning(s): reader is stressed to the max constantly. she is kinda mean to fiyero but he's into it so it's okay. mostly fluff
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Your fingers were beginning to cramp. 
You should have been used to this by now with Doctor Dillamond. You’d been in his class for a few months now, and you graded essays for him often. He often had a propensity for verbosity, but this lecture had been an especially hefty one in preparation for your midterm projects.
He would be announcing partners before the end of class—much to your dismay, for you worked far better on your own than with others holding you down—and you figured you would want to have as much of a head start as possible. 
Great Oz, how you hoped you would be paired with one of your friends. Coralie and Ezura were your only contenders for top of the class—Elphaba had potential as well, not because of the magic she couldn’t control but because of the brain she very well could—and anyone else would frankly slow you down. Doing a large research paper with someone who didn’t care as much as you did would be a drag you didn’t care to go through. 
Midterms were only the most important thing, for they set the track towards finals and affirmed your skill with your assignments, and your first midterm was potentially the most important thing for, when completed successfully, set you on the correct track altogether. 
You tried not to think about it too much (though you failed almost immediately), for you were sure Doctor Dillamond would honor all the work you’d done for him by putting you with a suitable partner. 
“I see some of you are getting restless, so I will cut class short today.” Your eyes snapped up from your paper to see the professor smiling, and you could hear sighs of relief around the room. “I’m sure you’re all eager to know your partners for the midterm paper.” 
The sighs of relief turned to groans, and you had to agree. Assigned partners should have been considered archaic at this point in time. 
Doctor Dillamond trotted back to the projector and, with a bit of difficulty, replaced the image with a piece of paper. Everybody in the class was paired off in groups of two—you immediately started searching for your name, squinting slightly to see despite your spot in the front, and the furrow between your brows deepened when you realized you couldn’t find it. 
You searched instead for your hopeful options. Coralie was with Mayara, Ezura was with Nicholas, Elphaba was with Galinda—of course. You let out a slight huff of annoyance, not just at your disappointment but at the continued lack of your name. 
Perhaps he’d merely forgotten. You didn’t know how Dillamond could have forgotten you, seeing as you were only his best student and literal TA, but things happened. Your anxieties only grew as you heard the beginnings of whispers throughout the room as your classmates saw their pairings, either excited or dismal. 
“Class is dismissed,” Doctor Dillamond said. The room began bustling as students gathered their things, already talking with their friends or searching out their project partner—you heard Galinda squeal and saw her grab Elphaba’s hands out of your peripherals. You could only worry your lip between your teeth as you swept everything in your bag, hardly waiting a second before rushing up to Dillamond’s desk. 
“You didn’t call my name, professor,” you said, managing a smile as you tried to act like it wasn’t killing you. How could he have not called your name? Was there something wrong? Great Oz— had you been somehow moved out of the class? Was your work not exemplary enough? Your assistance not assisting enough? “I don’t have a partner.” 
His mouth opened, but you only found yourself continuing, the words practically tumbling out of you.  
“Of course, if you intended for me to be on my own then I am perfectly alright with that!” Your smile widened as your fingertips dangled over his desk. “I— I prefer it, in fact, so if that is it then there is really no issue at all—”
“Mr. Tigelaar!” he interrupted, and your head turned on instinct to see the eponymous boy arm in arm with Galinda (who was arm in arm with Elphaba) just in front of the door. “I hope you are not about to leave.”
Fiyero flashed a look at his companions before offering one of those easy smiles he seemed to always have up his sleeve. “You dismissed the class. I believe I am part of your class, am I not?”
“You are,” he said, “but you were not assigned a partner. Surely you wouldn’t be trying to get out of the project.”
Your free hand clenched as the threads started to connect. Doctor Dillamond wouldn’t do this to you. Would he?
That easy smile remained on his lips as he turned to Galinda and whispered something in her ear. She giggled and pecked him on the cheek before she walked out, pulling Elphaba behind her, and Fiyero sauntered over. 
“Of course I’m not trying to get out of it,” he said. “Whyever would you think so?”
“Your attempt at a quick exit before you could be assigned a partner,” the professor said. “But it is no matter, for your partner is right here.”
You blinked. He would do this to you.
Why would he do this to you?
“Well, pleasure to meet you.” He held out his hand. “Fiyero Tigelaar.”
You ignored him, for you couldn’t look away from Doctor Dillamond. Would it be mad for you to strangle a Goat?
“Professor,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady, “why?”
“Mr. Tigelaar’s grades in my class have not been satisfactory, as I’m sure he is aware.” Dillamond moved away from his desk, prodding the chalkboard with his head to move it out of the way. “I care about all my students, even if they seem not to care for my course. I believe a partnership for the two of you would be beneficial.”
Your jaw clenched. “So you’re forcing me to tutor him because he hasn’t got a brain.”
Fiyero chuckled. “Ouch.”
“Not tutoring, just working on your midterm together,” he said. “And if you end up teaching him a few things along the way, then we would all be better off, wouldn’t we?” 
“Professor, with all due respect, this is ridiculous!” you exclaimed. “Why should I have to risk my grade, my midterm, my standing altogether at Shiz just to help him?” 
“Should you perform the way that is typical of you, there should be no issues.” Doctor Dillamond gave you that professorly look and your teeth grinded against each other. How dare he try to take the moral high ground. “Now, the two of you better hurry off. You haven’t got forever to work on this project.” 
“Professor,” you whispered, determined to not let up, “why are you punishing me like this?”
“I’m not punishing you, my dear.”
“Fiyero couldn’t care less about any of this,” you insisted. “I’m going to fail my midterm and it will be all his fault!”
“If you believe he can make you fail, then you haven’t got as much faith in yourself as I believed.” Doctor Dillamond looked at you. “Trust me—and yourself—that this will all work out.”
You stared back—it was rather difficult to have a staring contest with a Goat. “I don’t suppose I can change your mind on this?”
“You’d be correct.”
You huffed and glanced away. “Fine. But expect those test scores to take an extra day.”
He let out a bleaty sort of laugh while you walked away. You considered it a credit to yourself that you held back the childish tantrum you wanted to throw as you moved back over to your desk to gather the rest of your things. You shoved your books into your bag with a bit more anger than necessary, and you heard footsteps behind you. You glanced over to see Fiyero sidled up beside you, leaning against the desk next to yours. 
“Surely you won’t be this irritated at me the entirety of our project.” He still had that unbothered smile on his lips, and it made you want to hit him. “It might make this a much more miserable partnership.”
You let out a mirthless laugh as you shouldered your bag. “Don’t act like this pains you. You’re just going to ride my coattails the entire time.” 
“You know, I hadn’t even thought of that,” Fiyero mused. “But now that you bring it up, I just may have to.” 
“For the love of Oz,” you muttered to yourself before mustering the strength to look up at him. “I have a myriad of things I need to do today. Why don’t you go bother your girlfriend for the rest of the day, and then you can meet me at the library first thing tomorrow morning so we can discuss all of this.” 
He shrugged. “Sounds alright to me.” 
“Good,” you said. “Because I meant every word I said back there. I will not have you ruining all my progress thus far because of your absolute refusal to think.” 
“It looks as if you could take a page out of my book,” Fiyero said. “You seem awfully stressed.” 
Your lips tightened into a mirthless smile. “I’m stressed because of you, Fiyero, and we have hardly even interacted. I dread to think of my mental state after a week of working together. Now, good day. I’ll see you tomorrow.” 
You swept past him and walked out of Doctor Dillamond’s classroom. You felt his eyes on you until you turned the corner, and you had to resist the urge to look back. 
Oh, how you loathed group projects. 
-
The rest of your day was far more demanderating than it should have been, and you blamed Fiyero for it. You swore the clock went by half as quick and your lectures twice as long—it didn’t help that you were so distracted in chemistry that you nearly burned your eyebrows off from a potion gone wrong. 
You’d practically thrown yourself onto your bed when you got back to your dorm, and you didn’t get up until your roommate got back and demanded to know what had gotten into you. She didn’t exactly give you the response you wanted. 
“The prince is your partner?” Coralie sighed dreamily. “Oh, you are so lucky.” 
“Lucky is not the way I’d put it,” you mumbled, words muffled by the sheets. You finally tore yourself up off your bed and picked your nightgown up from atop your dresser. You went behind your folding sheet and began to change. “And I didn’t know you had eyes for Fiyero.” 
“I hardly have eyes for him,” she said wryly. “I just have eyes—anyone can see that he’s attractive.” 
“It doesn’t matter how attractive he is if he makes me fail this midterm,” you said. You straightened your nightgown then folded your school uniform while you walked back into the open, passing a glance at your roommate as you placed it on your desk. You then settled on your bed with a huff. “I just don’t understand why Doctor Dillamond is punishing me like this. It makes me reconsider all those late nights spent grading papers for him.” 
Coralie shrugged. “You’re one of his best students, Fiyero is probably one of his worst. I bet Doctor Dillamond figured you would be happy to take him on, what with how happily you take on everything else he throws at you.” 
You grumbled as you laid back against your pillows. “I just don’t know if I can take him on. Fiyero seems to care more about flirting with every student at this school than any actual material.” 
She gave you a mischievous smile. “Maybe he’ll turn the full force of his affections on you in return for your studiousness. Oh, how that would be a sight to see.” 
“Don’t even put that idea into the air, Cora,” you scoffed. “Besides, he’s clearly involved with Galinda. Even if I was interested, which I’m not—” you emphasized with a pointed look at her— “that isn’t something I want to touch.” 
“Well, you can’t deny that he’s dreamy,” she said. “He just showed up at Shiz and people started falling left and right. It’s more impressive that you haven’t.” 
“Because I’m here for one reason,” you said. “His whole… thing doesn’t fit into any of it.” 
“I know,” Coralie mused as she fell back onto her pillows. “You’ve told me your whole plan ten times over. I just think you should also try to enjoy your life instead of bulldozing your way through it.” 
You rolled your eyes with a smile. “I’m enjoying my life just fine, thank you.” 
Interestingly enough, Fiyero was going through something similar a myriad of rooms away. 
He laid on Galinda’s bed, his head in her lap as she trailed her fingers through his hair. She’d been going on about something for the last couple of minutes, but he hadn’t really been able to focus on any of it. 
“Dearest, did you not hear what I said?” 
Fiyero blinked at the sound of Galinda’s voice. He hadn’t indeed. 
“I’m sorry, beloved.” He absentmindedly reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze once he found it. “I was thinking.” 
Elphaba laughed from across the room. She sat on her bed with a book in her lap. “That’s a first for you.” 
“It is,” Galinda said, though with much more concern laced in her voice. Her hand moved from his hair to his forehead. “Are you feeling alright?”
“Just fine,” he assured. “What was it you were saying?” 
“Just lamenting on how awful it is that we’ve been separated for this project,” she sighed. “I’m sure I could persuade Doctor Dillamond to put us in a group of three.”
“You can’t even get him to pronounce your name correctly,” Elphaba said wryly. “How could you get him to do this?” 
“Well,” Galinda huffed, “maybe you could do it. He appears to like you more than me.” 
“I’m sure that really hurts,” she said. 
Galinda placed her hand on her chest. “It does!” 
“It’s fine,” Fiyero interrupted. “I’m alright with my partner. She’s nice.” 
“Nice?” Elphaba scoffed. “I heard her lecturing you the whole time we were out in the hallway.” 
“She’s passionate,” he decided. “Besides, I don’t really care. I haven’t thought about it since she left.” 
That was a complete lie. In truth, Fiyero hadn’t been able to stop thinking about you since you left. Very strange for someone who preferred to go through life with less thinking and more doing. 
He honestly didn’t know why his mind was so occupied with you. 
He’d always been aware of you, obviously—all your professors adored you, your name was always brought up when talking about top of the class, and he was sure you held the record for most time spent in the library at once—but he didn’t know anything about you other than your academic record. And for someone with such strong opinions, especially about him, Fiyero found himself with the strange need to know more. 
He would be at the library tomorrow. Maybe not on time, but certainly there. 
Fiyero would make this the beginning of a beautiful partnership, one way or another.
-
True to your word, you were in the library bright and early after a quick stop at the dining hall. You went through the effort of gathering everything you thought you would need—a myriad of textbooks and encyclopedias, your well-weathered notebook and another one for Fiyero because you doubted he had one, and enough writing material for the two of you.
You sighed. You had to do so much just to even the ground between your groups and the others. Coralie was always so prepared whenever you worked together. 
Fiyero, to your surprise, was only ten minutes late. You already had your head buried in a book when he said your name and scared you witless. 
Your eyes widened as they darted up to look at him, and he chuckled. 
“Sorry. You were in the zone.”
“I just wasn’t expecting you,” you said. “You’re late.”
“Hardly.” Fiyero took the seat across from you, his eyes sweeping over everything you had on the table. “You’ve got quite a collection.”
“I doubt you know your way around the library,” you said. 
“I know my way around a lot of things.” 
You leveled your gaze at him. Leave it to Fiyero to make everything an innuendo. “And is a library one of them?”
“I’m sure I could make it one.”
“If you bothered to think at all.”
“Darling, you know I’d never,” he said with a smile. “Now, what are we doing here?”
“Do you really not know what our midterm is?” you marveled. 
“I have more important things to worry about,” he said. 
You scoffed and shook your head. Ridiculous— it was ridiculous that you had to put up with this. Maybe Doctor Dillamond really did hate you.
“Our assignment is an extensively researched ten page paper on any great Ozian,” you said. “Anyone who has contributed to our society in a relevant way and made our lives better for it.”
“A ten page paper?” Fiyero frowned. “That seems a bit much.”
“Between the two of us, it’s just five pages each, and we’ve got two weeks to get it done,” you said. “I’ve written five pages in a few hours of inspiration.”
“Your life truly sounds thrilling,” Fiyero said. “We could do the Wizard.”
“Half the class is going to do the wizard,” you scoffed. 
“Because he’s a great man,” he said. “There’s no shame in it.”
“There is absolutely shame in copying half the class,” you said as you pushed over a sheet of paper to him. “Now, I’ve already got a list going. Look it over; see if there’s anyone you like or anyone worthwhile you want to add.”
You looked back down at your encyclopedia, opened to your personal favorite choice, and continued scribbling down basic notes. You glanced up a few moments later to see Fiyero’s gaze hadn’t wavered from you. 
You frowned. “Is there a problem?”
“You’re awfully prepared,” he said instead. 
“I figured you wouldn’t be,” you responded.
Fiyero’s lips quirked in a smile. “Then I believe that means you deserve to choose our subject.”
Your frown deepened. “Really?”
“Are you always this suspicious of everyone?”
“Just you.”
“Then consider this an olive branch,” he said. He slid the paper back over. “Who’s your top choice?”
“…Ilara Mayfair,” you finally said as you pointed at her on the top of your list. “She was a historical linguist, responsible for half of what we know about Ozian languages and how they connect and differ. She’s…” you cleared your throat and shrugged, trying to make it sound like it wasn’t a big deal, “she’s kind of my hero.”
“Your hero?” Fiyero’s eyebrows rose. “Is that what you want to do?” 
“…It’s always been my dream,” you admitted. “I grew up helping around my parents’ bookstore and her mark was on nearly everything. I really admire it. I want to make that sort of difference in the world.”
“How noble,” he remarked. What surprised you was how genuine he sounded. “It’s impressive how much of your life you have planned out already. All Galinda knows is that she’s majoring in sorcery—she hasn’t really got anything else worked out.”
“What are you majoring in?” you asked.
“Undecided,” Fiyero said. “I was kicked out of my last school before I could declare, so I figure there’s not really a point in doing it here.”
“Not really a surprise,” you said. 
“Really?”
“On your first day, you snuck off campus with half of Shiz to go dance at Ozdust,” you said. “That’s not exactly a good first impression.” 
“I’d argue the opposite,” he said. Fiyero tilted his head, his eyes narrowing as he focused on you for a moment. His gaze made you uncomfortably aware of yourself. “I don’t recall seeing you there.” 
“That’s because I wasn’t there.” You looked back down at your encyclopedia to avoid his eyes. “I had more important things to do.” 
He frowned. “Do you ever take a day off?” 
“Of course,” you said. “There isn’t any class on the weekends.” 
“I mean with this,” he said, gesturing at all the books around you. “It doesn’t seem like you allow yourself a single moment of respite. When you’re not in class, you’re studying. When you’re not studying, you’re doing work. When you’re not doing any of it, you’re probably dreaming of your future assignments.” 
You felt your skin heat. Surely you weren’t that transparent. 
“...I don’t dream of them,” you defended. “Not— not always.” 
He laughed and shook his head. “You’re ridiculous. Do you know that?” 
You frowned. “How am I ridiculous? You’re incapable of taking a single thing seriously.” 
“And you’re incapable of not taking everything seriously,” Fiyero said. “It can’t be good for your health.” 
“I plan to get out of here a year early,” you said, looking back at your books. “I can’t slack off like you do if I want that plan to come to fruition.” 
“Oh, I’ve gotten out of every school I’ve been in a year early,” Fiyero said. “Sometimes two or three— Oz, sometimes I don’t even make it through the first semester.” 
Your eyes snapped back up to him, widened in instinctual panic. “What?” 
He burst out laughing, and it grinded every one of your gears. “Oh, I wish you could see the look on your face! It’s priceless— truly priceless!” 
“You’ve been kicked out of every school you’ve been to and you think it’s a joke?” 
Still laughing, he shrugged. “It is. Nothing bad has happened, and I’m still having the time of my life wherever I go.” 
You just shook your head as you stared at him, eyes still wide. “Are you always like this?”
“Utterly charming?” 
“Entirely insufferable.”
You didn’t understand how he laughed. Everything rolled right off him, like oil off a duck’s back, no matter how many times you insulted him. 
“You know, there are other things to life than your studies,” he said.
“Not while I’m here, there isn’t,” you said. “It’s the whole point of university.” 
“The point of university is to have fun,” he said. “You’ve seen how this place has perked up since I’ve gotten here, haven’t you?” 
“Not really, no,” you said. “I’ve been more focused on other things.” 
“Like?” 
“Like my studies.” 
“It’s like I’m talking to a broken record,” he marveled. “Have you ever had fun in your life?” His eyes widened comically. “Do you even know what the concept of fun is?” 
“Ha ha,” you said dryly. 
He tilted his head. “Do you?” 
You frowned. “Of course I do.” 
“Okay, then.” Fiyero leaned back in his chair. “Tell me about yourself.”
Your frown deepened. “We aren’t doing a research paper on me.”
“We’re working together on this,” he said. “Is it a crime to want to know my partner?”
A muscle worked in your jaw as you stared at him. He stared back, entirely unaffected. 
“If I humor you, will you actually work with me through this?”
Fiyero held up his hand. “Prince’s honor.”
Finally, you broke. You folded your arms with a short sigh then glanced away. “Fine. I’m from a tiny village in Gillikin that you’ve probably never heard of. I’m here on scholarship with the plan to graduate, become a historian, and make a name for myself.” You looked back at him. “Is that good enough for you?”
“It’s excellent,” Fiyero said with a smile. “Dare I say I’ve learned more about you in one short day than I have in the entirety of my time at Shiz?”
You gave him a fake smile as you tapped your book. “Open your textbook. We have a lot to catch up on.”
He raised his eyebrows. “You’re not going to ask about me?”
“I mean this with all due respect—what could there possibly be to know about you?” You raised an eyebrow as you counted off on your fingers. “You’re from the Vinkus, you’re a prince, and you’ve never read a book a day in your life.” 
“Oh, that’s not true,” he chastised. “I’ve read at least one—I just choose not to.” 
“Well, how about we make that two?” You reached across the table and opened his book for him. “Unless that prince’s honor isn’t worth a thing.” 
“Oh, it’s worth everything,” Fiyero said. 
You raised your eyebrows expectantly. “Then prove it.” 
“Very well,” he nodded. “I believe I can be serious for the next… fifteen minutes.” 
“You won’t even get through a chapter,” you said. “Thirty.” 
Fiyero frowned. “You set awfully high expectations.” 
“Why do you think Doctor Dillamond forced me to help you?” you asked. 
“Because you’re oh so nice and charitable?”
That got a genuine laugh out of you. If you’d been looking closer, you would have seen Fiyero’s smile grow, his eyes soften. 
“Of course. Now, go to the glossary, find Ilara, and start writing. I know practically everything about her already, so you need to catch up.”
“I don’t have—”
You held out your extra notebook and fountain pen and cocked your head. “Don’t have what?”
Fiyero chuckled as he took them from you. “You’re prepared for everything, aren’t you?”
“Always,” you said with a satisfied smile. “Now get reading, my prince.”
He pressed his hand to his chest and bowed his head. “At once, my lady.”
-
You looked at the clock on the wall. Fiyero should have been here by now. 
Granted, he was ten minutes late to your first meeting, but that was before he’d changed your expectations ever so slightly. Almost an hour had passed, and there was still no sign. 
Of course, it wasn’t as if it hindered your progress. You kind of always expected him to fall short—if he showed at all, that was a credit to him—so you already had half the outline done. But a small part of you that you’d never admit to might have actually been looking forward to his presence. 
You enjoyed the bout of verbal sparring he engaged you in. A lot of your classmates thought you were mean, and it never bothered you. Like you told Fiyero, you were here for one reason and one only, and the amount of people that liked you at university didn’t influence that at all. Your professors liked you and your grades were perfect—that was all. 
But you couldn’t lie and say it wasn’t… nice. For Fiyero to take everything you said in stride, with a smile and a retort of equal measure.
It was nice. But that was all. 
You were jarred out of your thoughts by someone calling your name. You looked up to see Fiyero sauntering over, bearing his usual smile and not much else.
“This is a library,” you said once he got closer. “You aren’t supposed to shout.”
He took the seat across from you. “I’d hardly call that shouting.”
“You aren’t meant to be loud,” you decided. “Why are you so late?”
Fiyero shrugged. “I lost track of time?”
“You know, we are partners,” you emphasized your last word, “so it would be helpful if you could try to put in the same amount of effort as me.”
“That seems impossible.” He gestured at your notebook with his head, your current page already nearly full. “You’ve got me beat on nearly everything.”
“It’s not that difficult,” you intoned. “I mean, just do some research outside of class.”
He stared at you expectantly, and you rolled your eyes. “I don’t know what I expect with you, honestly.”
“Exactly what you see, darling. Now,” Fiyero's gaze drifted over to the window, then looked back at you as he stood up, “what do you say we put a hold on things and enjoy this beautiful day?” 
Your brows furrowed. “What, you mean do our research outside?” 
“Is your work truly all you think about?” he asked in exasperation. “I mean leave the books and your notes and your stress here, and take a stroll around campus.” 
“I’ve had my entire life planned out since I was ten years old,” you said. “Of course it is. I am not going to have some— some—”
“Some what?” Fiyero interrupted. He still looked remarkably unaffected by your outburst, that sideways smile of his infuriatingly charming. 
“Some ridiculous, pompous, self-absorbed, lazy Winkie prince ruin it!” you exclaimed. 
“Lazy,” he mused. “That’s a new one.” 
“Of course you’re lazy! Why would we take a break when we have a project to do?” 
Fiyero looked at you like you were crazy— no, like he was worried about you. He shook his head. “You really do have a one track mind.” 
“When we’re in midterm season, yes, I d— what are you doing?”
Fiyero had started stacking all of the books you had on the table away from you, then he grabbed your notebook and your pen out of your hand.
“You need a break,” he said. 
“I don’t need a break, and give that back—”
You reached for your materials but only just grazed his hand before he pulled them back and set them on top of the pile. “When was the last time you saw the sun?” 
You scoffed. “I see the sun all the time.” 
“Not from a window in the library or your dorm.” 
You bit your tongue. Fiyero smiled and held out his hand. 
“You need a break.” 
You stared at his hand. He gave you a cloying look. 
“It’s not a good sign that you’re this against self-care,” he said wryly. 
You sighed and reluctantly placed your hand in his. “Fine.”
Fiyero grinned and he pulled you close. You yelped at the unexpected speed and you tumbled into his chest. Fiyero’s hand dropped to your waist, and for a moment all you could do was stare at him, wide eyed. 
“Shall we?” he murmured. 
You jolted away from him once you came back into yourself, your skin burning where he’d touched you. 
“We shall,” you said, a bit too forcefully as you started walking a bit too fast. 
Fiyero chuckled. He matched your pace easily, soon coming up beside you. “You’re already that excited?”
“Oh, shut up,” you bit out. “You’ve already gotten what you want. No need for more.”
He feigned naivety. “What would I possibly be doing?”
You shook your head with a huff. “I’m not entertaining that with a response.”
Fiyero simply hummed. You glanced over at him, still staying even with you, and then you let out another huff as you stopped. He didn’t miss a beat, pausing at the same time as you, then met your flustered expression with a smile. 
“Yes?”
“You’re the one that wanted to do this,” you said, gesturing in front of you with a hand. “So lead the way.”
“Gladly,” he said. “I’m very good at taking the lead.”
Fiyero started walking and, though you had half a mind to take the opportunity and dart back to the library, you found yourself following him. 
Cora’s words spun around your head as you and Fiyero walked together, about him turning the full force of his flirting on you in return for you being such a stickler for your midterm. 
That was the embarrassing thing; you didn’t even think this was half of it, and he already had you blushing—and for what? It was as if you’d never even talked to a boy before. 
You’d had plenty of experience back home. Village boys coming into your parents’ store to flirt at you, leaving notes in your desk in class, offering to walk you home at night—plenty of experience. 
It didn’t matter that you denied them all and never went anywhere because you had a one track mind even then, and that Fiyero had done what no one else had and gotten you take a break simply because he asked nicely—
You sucked in a sharp breath as Fiyero’s arm suddenly pressed against your chest, stopping you in place. Your head snapped up to look at him, mouth already open with questions loaded, but he gestured with his head before you could ask any of them. 
You’d nearly barreled right down the stairs from being lost in your head, without care nor consideration for actually taking the steps. 
“Mind the gap, darling,” he said. “Wouldn’t want you damaging that brain of yours.”
“…Thank you,” you said once you’d regained the ability to speak words again. “One of us ought to have one.”
Fiyero laughed as he took his arm away. “Certainly.” He used it to gesture down the stairs. “Ladies first—unless you’re unsure of your ability to conquer them.”
“I’ll be just fine, Fiyero.” You started the descent, Fiyero right behind you, and you let out another short sigh. 
There had to be something wrong with you. That was the only explanation for why you were acting this way.
Maybe you really did need to start getting more sleep. 
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mrsbarnesblog · 4 months ago
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first choice
masterlist
requests are open
summary: being an incredibly reserved person, it took Rafe a long time to finally feel comfortable enough to let you see him break down
words count: 2.5k
warnings: hurt/comfort, crying, talk about feelings, Ward being a shitty father as always, insecurities
a/n: couldn't help myself but mention Wheezie as well because she deserves so much better💔
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The first time you saw Rafe crying was not so long after you started dating. You went to Tanneyhill that day and were nearly knocked off your feet when Ward Cameron stormed out the front door. He was seething with anger and it seemed like he didn’t even register you standing there with wide eyes and a lost face expression. 
You slowly walked into the house, hearing the sound of Ward’s truck driving away, and slowly patted into the light and big kitchen. Your eyes instantly caught sight of your boyfriend, standing with his back facing you and his body hovering over the counter. His hands were firmly gripping onto the edge of the marble, and his head was lowered so you couldn’t take a look at his face behind his hair. When you heard muffled sniffs, your eyebrows knitted in confusion. 
“Rafe?” You almost whispered, talking one step closer to him. Rafe’s body instantly tensed, but he didn’t turn around. His shoulders and back seemed harder than rocks, and you swore his body was shaking from tension. 
You debated for a few seconds, considering what was best to do. Something obviously had happened between Rafe and Ward, and even though they always fought, you never saw Rafe crying. You quickly figured out that he didn’t like to be seen as "weak,” so he rarely showed any emotions, even to you, no matter how hard you tried to create a comfortable environment for him. That’s why you knew that there was no point in trying to make him talk.
When he sniffed again, not moving for an inch or acknowledging your presence, your heart clenched and not waiting anymore, you slowly went closer to him. 
When he felt your arms wrapping around his middle part with your chest firmly pressed against his back, his whole body stiffened at the unusual touch. Rafe had never had someone comforting him, and the whole thing with you constantly trying to go past his walls slightly terrified him. He desperately wanted to just give in, because Rafe knew that you would never hurt him, but something inside his head was still fighting against it.
You held him as close to you as possible, hoping to give him some sense of security. When Rafe’s body finally eased up a little, you turned your head to place kisses on his back while your hands moved up and down his stomach. 
You didn’t know how long you two were standing like this—close to each other and in complete silence. Rafe clearly didn’t want to talk about it and you knew better than to push him. It was a small step for both of you, but you knew that you would do anything to make him feel safe.
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The second time it happened, you were in Rafe’s bed, too invested in your book, when he entered the room. Your gaze shifted to him and you instantly noticed that slightly distant look in his blue eyes, as well as his clenched jaw and rapid breathing. 
You were trying not to be very obvious by the way your instant reaction was to jump out of bed and ask what happened. Rafe was not this type of person and he needed gentle handling. So you went back to your book, only lifting your eyes every few seconds while he silently changed his clothes to something comfortable. 
“I want to cuddle.” You suddenly said, placing a bookmark in between the pages and putting your book on the bedside table. Rafe just looked at you and it felt like your eyes were having their own conversation. He knew that you knew that something had happened and were now just trying to make it seem like you were the one who needed affection, and he was thankful for you not trying to get the information out of him.
He nodded, and the next thing you knew, he was on top of you, arms wrapped around your body, face in the crook of your neck. Your fingers started to brush through his hair and he let out a deep sigh of relief.
The room was silent, except for your quiet breathing; that’s why your ears easily caught a soft sniff. Rafe moved his head back and forth, trying to be closer even if it was impossible, and it made you feel something wet touching your skin. You didn't say a word because you knew that it was not the right time yet. Instead, you left one hand in his hair to massage the scalp and moved another one to Rafe’s back, rubbing it up and down. You let your lips brush against his temple and he tightened his hold on your waist in return.
You didn't know what had happened and you hoped that he would tell you when he felt like it, so for now, you were just giving him the safe space that he desperately needed. It clearly worked, because as Rafe’s body became limp on top of yours and his breathing started to slow down, you guessed that he had fallen asleep. 
The next morning, you were standing in the kitchen and making breakfast when you felt two hands sneaking around your waist and turning you around. Before you could say anything, Rafe gave you a breath-taking kiss, which you knew was his way of saying "thank you."
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At one of Friday’s evenings, you and Rafe’s family and a few closest friends were having a dinner in the restaurant to celebrate Ward’s important deal at work being finally successfully signed. You honestly didn’t listen to the conversation that everyone was having, looking down at your almost full plate, until Ward and Sarah started a little argument about him doing something that she didn’t like. 
“It also turns out that the most important thing for me is you, Sarah. That’s why I did it.” Your heart skipped a beat when your ears caught the end of the conversation, with your whole body freezing in your chair. He said it so easily, not even hesitating or considering the feelings of his other kids, who sat at that exact table. 
Rafe sat near you and your eyes instantly drifted to him, only t just a blank expression on his face. He looked at his father, then at Sarah, then back at Ward. The disappointment and hurt were written all over his features. It was so obvious for you, probably because you spent so much time trying to figure out him and his emotions, yet his father didn’t care. 
Nobody did, honestly, as everyone at the table just brushed that comment off and continued talking. Only Wheezie looked equally sad, with a frown and with her hands crossed over her chest. 
Rafe’s eyes drifted to his full plate as he became completely distant from the conversation, not even paying attention to your worried gaze. He just felt numb. 
It's not like he didn't know that Sarah was everyone’s priority; he just didn't need to hear another reminder of that. 
He hated the feeling of not being good enough. He tried to impress his father countless times, being loyal and jumping at every opportunity to do the dirty work, just to hear any kind of praise or approval. Yet Sarah has always been the best girl, the best daughter, and the best child. 
A quiet groan escaped his lips in desperation, as he felt that similar tightness in his chest and throat. 
It just fucking hurt. 
Your worried eyes didn’t leave him even for a second, and when you noticed in which state he was in, you moved closer so only he could hear what you were saying. 
“Do you want to leave, Ray?” He just nodded, taking your hand in his and making some lame excuse about needing to leave. 
Sitting in his truck a few minutes later, Rafe didn’t even look at you, staring at something through the window. You saw the way he was occasionally clenching his jaw and blinking rapidly—signs that he was trying not to break down in front of you. 
You bit your lip, thinking to yourself, before finally deciding that you couldn’t just look at your boyfriend being hurt. So, tossing your purse aside, you got up from your seat, moving quickly to straddle Rafe’s lap. He looked at you in shock, but still placed his hands on your waist, rubbing the soft fabric. 
“Hey, look at me. You don’t have to keep it to yourself. Your feelings are normal, baby.” You tried to reassure him, holding his face firmly in your hands. 
He furrowed. “It’s just— It’s just that—“ Rafe paused, looking down and trying to control his breathing. You didn’t know whether it was anger or sadness, but as his chest started rising faster, in the darkness of the car, you saw a tear rolling down his cheek. 
Then another, and another, and another. 
Rafe tried to physically distance himself from you, pulling your hands away from his face and throwing his head back with a frustrated groan as the palms of his hands pressed into his eyes. 
“That’s fucking’ pathetic.” He hissed.
“No, it’s not. Stop trying to hide from me and just talk. You know I’m the last person to ever judge you.” You soothed him by softly caressing the skin of his neck with your thumbs, and then took a hold of his face to make him look at you. “Talk to me. It’s just us and no one else.” 
Rafe’s blue eyes seemed even brighter with tears gleaming in them, even though it was dark outside and the only light that you had was a lamppost near the restaurant. He gave you a long look, probably fighting his own barriers inside of his head because of how hard it was for him to open up. You waited patiently, not looking away or rushing him and it must’ve worked.
“The shit that he says and does… It hurts me. No matter how much I try, how much effort I put into everything, or how often I do what he needs and wants, it’s never enough. I’m never fucking good enough for anyone or anything.” You took Rafe’s hand in yours, interlacing your fingers. He instantly focused on it, mindlessly playing with your ring and rubbing your skin. “And I don’t hate Sarah—fuck, I really don’t, ‘cause it’s not her damn fault, y’know? But it makes me so fucking mad and-and I just don’t know what to do or what’s wrong with me.” 
Angry tears continued to flow down Rafe’s cheeks freely, as he was not capable of trying to hide them and wipe them away quickly anymore. You looked at him softly, with your heart aching for your boyfriend and for the way this situation deeply affected him. 
“He does this to Wheezie too. She’s a child, Y/N, and I know how it messes up with her head.” Rafe sighed, throwing his head back and looking at the ceiling. “Sometimes... sometimes I feel like I fuck up everything in my life. I think that maybe it’s my fault for him to act like that. Maybe I do something wrong, I dunno.”
“I know that I can't give you what Ward was supposed to give you. That type of love, I mean. But you’re important to me, Rafe. I won't put you in second place because you're always my first choice.” You freed your hands, again placing them on his wet cheeks. Big blue eyes stared back at you with vulnerability and despair as hands on each of your thighs tightened, so you tried to let Rafe know how much he meant to you. “You are good enough, and don’t you dare think otherwise.” 
You leaned closer, hovering over Rafe’s body, just inches away from his face, before tenderly pulling him into a kiss. 
“You shouldn’t let Ward ruin your life and your relationships with your sisters, because it won’t benefit you in any way. Ward is the problem, not you, Ray, so no matter how hard you try, he won’t change his mind.” You kiss away his tears, still firmly holding his face in your hands. “I’m here for you. I love you, and I hate seeing you kill yourself over this.”
Rafe suddenly pulled you closer by your waist, hugging you with all the strength that he had. His body trembled against you while you soothingly scratched the back of his neck. 
“I love you too. ‘M sorry f’ being a mess.” 
“Don’t say that. Everything is okay, we are okay. I’m happy that you finally opened up to me a little bit, because I support you, okay?” He nodded and kissed your naked shoulder, trying to catch his breath. 
“Thank you.” 
A few minutes later, Rafe’s breathing calmed down and his hands were just slowly going up and down your back. Your legs were already sore from your position on his lap, but it was peaceful with just you two sitting in a comfortable silence, so you didn’t mind. You looked up at him as the idea came to your head. "What if we take Wheezie away from there and go out to eat or ride around?" 
Rafe placed a kiss on your forehead, thinking about your words. His and Wheezie’s relationships were weird, with Rafe feeling distant from his family and her just being a child who didn't know how to handle the situation. But he always had a soft spot for her and he hated thinking about his sister sitting there and being invisible to everybody. 
“Yeah, we can. She’d like that.” He mumbled, focusing on your lips that curled into a smile. 
“Great!” You pushed away from him, opening the door and casually sliding on the floor. Rafe looked at you curiously, silently grateful that you were absolutely normal about what happened just a few minutes ago in his car. His heart suddenly raced, and he could not resist the urge to grab you by the waist and pull you in for a kiss. 
Rafe connected your lips, then slightly tilted his head to deepen the kiss. Your skin got covered in goosebumps as you smiled against his lips before pulling away. Rafe subconsciously followed your face, trying to get more. 
“Fuck, you’re amazing. So gorgeous. I love you so much, baby.”
“You already told me that… but I love you more!” You giggled, taking his hands away from your body. “Now I’ll go get Wheezie, and you remove my lipstick from your face.” You gave him a teasing smile before finally going back to the restaurant and leaving Rafe with a soft smirk on his lips. 
He thought that maybe opening up for you was working much better in his favor than he expected. 
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togament · 6 months ago
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suo. sakura. umemiya. togame. pt. 1
"...and the biggest fattest one too. How'd it take him so long to figure it out? What did it take for him to finally realize?"
𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒: FLUFF FLUFF FLUFF, general cute stuff really. There isn't much to warn about :o!!! gn!reader, Togame is tall and awkward and cute and and--, Ume's precious as always!
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𝐒𝐔𝐎.
✦ when he’s doting on you way more, putting your wants over everything else.
He's attending to your every need even before you realize you even need it in the first place. Need tissues? He's already pulling them out of his bag. Got a migraine? He's already handing you a water bottle and an ibuprofen. He does it so naturally too like it's second nature to him.
✦ when he uncharacteristically gets heated when someone tries to harm you.
Listen. He's usually so, SO calm even in the most intense situations, always ready to analyze before acting--a real brain over heart typa guy. But when he finds you being cornered at an alleyway? He's sprinting towards you to beat whoever's planning on hurting you without even thinking twice. Someone's bothering you in town? He's shadowing you, protecting and keeping watch.
✦ he catches himself being flustered, blushing and folding at the sight of you.
Suo rarely shows any intense emotions. If anything, it's always just a slight smile and a little teasing remark here and there. But around you though? He's smiling widely, cheeks blushing. It's hard to hide sometimes. Goodness. He needs to keep himself in check, he often thinks. He doesn't want you to find out yet. Not yet.
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𝐔𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐘𝐀.
✦ when he looks for you FIRST whenever he achieves something, whenever he's having a bad day--for literally EVERYTHING.
his immediate thought is you. Every time. When he sees the hybrid tomato plant you both grew from seed blooming, he's immediately sending you photos. When he's having one of those nights, tossing and turning in his sleep, thoughts keeping him awake, the only thing that's tethering him down to earth is you.
✦ when he sees you get along with the family that he built for himself.
Ume is never subtle when it comes to this. My god. He's blushing, tripping over his words, movements ever so stiff--it's very unusual to see Ume in this state. He's just so happy to see you interacting with everybody, loving each member as much as he does. He can't just swoop you off your feet and kiss you right? Not right now. Not when he's been silently pining for you for years.
✦ when he realizes his thoughts about his future always has you in it.
He often talks about his future with others, what his plans are after he graduates, where he wants to go, what restaurants to go to. Everyone notices how his thoughts always seem to gravitate towards you, always easing you into his plans with a pensive little, "Hm. Y'think they'd like to go here too? I heard them talking about the spot a couple times!", "Maaaan I wanna go here with them soon. Should I just book the tickets? Surprise them? Yeah I think I should!" Everyone's just waiting for a confession at this point, really.
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𝐒𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐑𝐀.
✦ when random things remind him of you.
he could be on their daily patrols, passing by some shops and his mind would drift off to you and how you would look in the shirt he passed by, how your face would probably light up at the taste of the anpan they're selling down the street. Goodness you never leave his mind. Day dreams about it sometimes. Suo and Nirei has caught him multiple times doing so. Always ends with an extremely flustered Sakura.
✦ when he thinks he hears your laughter or your voice, his head snaps towards the direction of the sound.
just like the above! But it's your voice. Nirei thinks Sakura's just on guard by how often he looks around quickly but Suo points out Sakura's reddening cheeks and they immediately know he's thinking about you again. Wants to fish his phone out of his pocket with trembling (and blushing) fingers to ask you where you are. Y'know... Just in case you run into trouble.
✦ when he gave you the other half of his food (he hasn't taken a single bite yet)
Sakura sometimes eats for at least 5 people so to have him offer half of his food to you when you're out eating is saying something. His hands are blushing and trembling as he's trying his best to steady them, slicing a portion of his food to place it on your plate. Of course, you give him the other half of your food too. Of course he's a blushing mess.
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𝐓𝐎𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐄.
✦ finds every excuse possible to be close to you. (Subtly.)
Ever noticed how Togame always seems to bump into you at spots you and your friends frequent? How he so happened to pass by the Furin school after your classes are dismissed? Gosh you're his first real crush so he doesn't know what to do with all these feelings. He wants to see you and see you often. He awkwardly and adorably tries his damndest not to seem too obvious when he's trying to see you more to strike up a conversation but his blushing (and tall frame) doesn't help his case.
✦ when he always talks about you to the old men at the public baths he frequents.
Togame's a quiet guy. He rarely ever yaps, always getting cut off mid-sentence since he talks so.. SO slow. But when it's about you, his normal 0.75x speaking speed goes up to a full 1.0x or even, dare I say, 1.25x. He's smiling ear to ear, voice with an uncharacteristic shine to it while he's playing shogi with one of the old men. They already adore you before they even meet you. They often give Togame advice too--bring you your favorite flowers, they suggest. Take you out for a festival date, they suggest. "Soon," Togame responds, scratching the back of his neck, "M'nervous though. I can pull it off ri--" "Of course you can, kame-kun." he looks at the old men with the softest, most lovestruck eyes they've ever seen. Soon. He'll make his very first move.
✦ has caught himself staring at you from afar, smiling to himself like a damn lovesick puppy.
...on multiple ocassions, might I add. You could be yapping away with the Bofurin members, talking animatedly about the most mundane things, arms flinging to and fro to get your point across, snort laughing and head thrown back. Togame's just sat just outside the group, ever the introvert. Face propped on his hand, heart practically melting. He doesn't realize he's doing this before Choji points it out. Loudly. He's immediately looking in the other direction, blush creeping up his neck as he struggles to keep the smaller Shishitoren member in check. While he's preoccupied, it's your turn to stare back at him, hiding a blush behind your hand. Suo notices this and points it out. Now the both of you are flustered messes.
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a/n: tried my hand at a new layout!! eeeee inspired by my favorite perfume house but we're not opening that can of worms right now, lest I yap. ANYWHOSIES thank you, dear reader, for getting this far. I am smooching your forehead tenderly with consent.
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saylorsuniverse · 11 days ago
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BAD AT LOVE --- paige bueckers
summary: you’re uconn’s golden girl, paige bueckers, next victim. but this time, things don’t go as planned – for either of you.
Warnings: pining (mainly paige) playgirl!paige, paige being cocky, reader is hard to get, also reader and paige are two years apart in age
author’s note: lmfao sorry this is so long, and a little all over the place, but yeah. i might write a part 2 of this.
word count: 4.8K
Paige Bueckers had it all: the talent, the fame, the spotlight, the money. And girls—so many girls.
Even before you arrived at UConn for your first semester, you’d already heard the stories from your older sister: how Paige would have her arms around one girl at her game, then kiss another at a party later that night. How she’d spread a few well-placed rumors about a boyfriend, only to swoop in as the comforting shoulder to cry on—and inevitably end up in bed with her. How she wielded charm and sweet talk like a weapon, effortlessly getting anyone she wanted.
Your sister’s warning was simple: you were her type—young, naïve, beautiful. But Paige Bueckers was toxic, and you were to stay far away from her at all costs.
It was easy to avoid her. Paige was a couple years older than you, so the odds of crossing paths in the classroom were slim to none. While you spent hours at the library, she was either at the basketball courts showing off or out partying with her teammates. And when you visited your sister at her off-campus house—which, coincidentally, she shared with one of Paige’s teammates—she always made sure to get you in and out as quickly as possible before she had the chance to even see the back of your head.
You’d never seen the blonde. Not in person. And you were certain you never would.
But bliss can make you careless. It can blindside you at the wrong time, in the wrong place, and with the wrong person.
It all started one afternoon before English class. You sat alone near the front, like always, your nose buried in a book, when Paige approached your desk—casual, as if this wasn’t the first time she’d ever spoken to you directly.
“Hey, mind if I sit here?”
The request wasn’t unusual. Different people sat next to you all the time—but only if they were fifteen minutes late. Paige, on the other hand, was five minutes early.
“Sure,” you replied coolly, your eyes flickering up to meet hers—striking, attractive, impossibly blue. 
She flashed a brief, effortless smile, and that’s when you realized you were looking at her a second too long. Heat rose in your cheeks as you quickly returned to your book, pretending not to notice as she pulled out the chair and sat beside you.
“You’re KK’s roommate’s little sister, right?” Paige asked casually—too casually for your liking, as if she already knew the answer but wanted to hear you confirm it.
Your eyes shifted from your book to hers, locking onto those piercing blue ones. You blinked, caught off guard by how she knew that. “Yeah, I am.”
“I knew it,” she said, a slight smirk tugging at her lips. “Thought I was seeing double the last time I was at KK’s house.”
Your stomach twisted. The last time you were at your sister’s house, you stayed over the night, and apparently you both were unaware of the basketball star’s presence.
“You always this quiet when someone’s talking to you?” Paige laughed, her voice light, teasing. She waved a hand slightly in front of your face, snapping you out of your daze.
“No, sorry,” you muttered, quickly slipping your book into your bag just as the professor started class.
It wasn’t much—hardly even a conversation—but it was the first real interaction with Paige, and more than enough for her to continue these interactions.
After that, it was the little things: a nod of acknowledgement in the halls, a quick “hey” whenever you both happened to be at your sister’s house. Your sister wasn’t thrilled about it. She warned you not to fall into Paige’s so-called “trap,” and you assured her there was nothing to worry about. You weren’t going to fall for her. It was nothing, you told yourself. Nothing at all.
But deep down, you couldn’t deny it. 
Paige was absolutely stunning—tall, with long blonde hair and piercing blue eyes. She wasn’t just beautiful; she was captivating. And the truth was, you couldn’t help but notice the way her attention made you feel.
It wasn’t long before those brief interactions turned into something more—like you were actually friends. Paige started sitting next to you in junior-level English, sliding into the seat as if it were hers all along. She’d impatiently doodle on your notebook or pass notes to spark a conversation, her handwriting a mix of careless loops and sharp edges.
On the days she wasn’t in class, she’d wait outside afterward, leaning casually against the wall with that undeniably attractive smirk, ready to catch your eye as you walked out.
The day she started showing interest in you felt inevitable, though you wouldn’t have admitted it then.
You found her in her usual spot—leaning against the wall, one hand tucked in the pocket of her tracksuit, the other gripping her bag strap. And there it was: that little smile, just for you, as your eyes met.
“Game day?” you asked, glancing at her blue basketball tracksuit that somehow fit her too perfectly. She nodded, her gaze steady on yours, as if waiting for something you weren’t quite ready to give.
You had to admit it: Paige was magnetic. The more time you spent around her, the easier it was to see why everyone else fell so hard. She wasn’t just stunning—she was sharp, charming, and knew exactly how to hold your attention. The way she looked at you when you spoke, her eyes dipping from yours to your lips, was enough to make your pulse quicken.
“Well, good luck today, player,” you said, forcing yourself to break the spell. Her silence was too heavy, and her stare too dangerous. “I’ll see you around.”
Her smile faltered instantly. “Wait, you’re not coming?”
You hesitated, and Paige pounced on the crack in your resolve. She stepped closer, a flicker of vulnerability crossing her face—so brief you wondered if you imagined it. “I was really hoping you’d be there,” she said, her voice softer now. “It would mean a lot to me.”
Her words landed harder than you expected, and it threw you off balance. This was her game, wasn’t it? The sweet talking, the subtle charm, the way she made you feel like the center of her world. You’d seen the aftermath of Paige’s attention before—heard the stories about the girls she left behind. You weren’t naive enough to think you’d be different.
But there was something unsettling about the way she looked at you. Like she wasn’t just playing this time.
You sighed, trying to steady yourself. “I can’t,” you said, your voice firm despite the pull you felt toward her.
Paige blinked, her smile slipping away completely now. For the first time, her confidence wavered. “Why not?” she asked, the words quieter, almost hesitant.
And just like that, you felt the shift. Paige Bueckers wasn’t supposed to look like this—unsure, uncertain, even vulnerable. The cracks in her polished exterior made her all the more dangerous, and for a moment, you wondered who was really laying the trap here.
“Good luck tonight, Paige,” you said, stepping past her before the heat of her gaze could melt your resolve.
You didn’t look back, but you could feel her eyes on you as you walked away, and it sent a thrill through you that you couldn’t quite explain. 
It wasn’t that you needed Paige’s attention. You were never the type to chase after it—in high school, people offered it freely, drawn to you for reasons you never quite understood. But you hated to admit it: the thought of having UConn’s golden girl wrapped around your finger was exhilarating.
And yet, there was danger in that thrill. Paige wasn’t just anyone. She was magnetic, larger than life, and the kind of person who always seemed to be in control. But what would happen if the tables turned?
The idea stuck with you, lingering like the heat of her gaze even as you tried to brush it off. Maybe it was her charm, or maybe it was the challenge she posed—a test of your willpower against hers.
You didn’t need Paige. You told yourself that over and over. But maybe… maybe you wanted her to need you.
The thought made you pause, and you felt the weight of your own hesitation. Was this what she wanted all along? For you to think about her, to wonder what it would feel like to have the upper hand? Or was it something else—something she wasn’t used to feeling herself?
Later that evening, as you sat in your dorm, her voice echoed in your head. I was really hoping you’d be there. It would mean a lot to me.
Three rhythmic knocks on your door broke your concentration, pulling you away from your computation analysis homework. You turned from your desk, ready to answer, when you noticed something sliding under the door.
A blue sticky note was attached to an envelope: Got these for you. Please come to my next game. - P.B.
You laughed softly, shaking your head as you opened the envelope. Inside were two courtside tickets to her game against Notre Dame, each adorned with a little heart drawn in the corner. Typical Paige. You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips.
As you slipped the tickets back into the envelope, another set of knocks came—slightly firmer this time. Slowly, you opened the door to find Paige standing there, one hand holding a single red rose. She wore a plain white t-shirt and black sweats, her hair loose and slightly messy, like she’d just come from her game.
“Paige,” you said, instinctively peeking your head out to check for any wandering eyes in the hallway, “what are you doing here? How did you even know where my dorm is?”
She gave you that signature smirk, leaning casually against the doorframe. “I have my ways,” she said, twirling the stem of the rose between her fingers. “Besides, I figured if I couldn’t get you to come to my game with tickets, maybe this would help.” She held the rose out toward you.
You hesitated, your fingers brushing hers as you took it. “You do realize you can’t just show up to my dorm unannounced, right?” you said, lowering your voice but unable to mask the mixture of annoyance and curiosity in your tone.
Paige shrugged, her smirk softening into something almost genuine. “I figured it was worth the risk. You’ve been on my mind a lot, and I’m not great at subtlety.” She glanced past you, into your room. “Can I come in?”
Your heart skipped a beat at the question, and the weight of her gaze felt heavier than ever. You could feel the choice pressing against you like a double-edged sword: let her in and risk falling into whatever trap she’d laid—or shut the door and risk the regret of never finding out what this could turn into.
The consequences of the first option would have to wait.
You stepped aside, holding the door open as Paige slipped past you into the room. She moved with that same effortless confidence you’d come to expect, glancing around like she was taking in every detail. Your desk covered in notes and open books, the unmade bed in the corner, the pair of sneakers tossed haphazardly by the door—your space laid bare before her.
Paige turned to face you, her smirk softening into something more sincere. “Nice place,” she said, the rose still in your hand catching her eye. “Aw, you kept it.”
You raised an eyebrow. “I just got it, Paige. What was I supposed to do? Throw it out in front of you?”
Her laugh was low and warm, and for a second, you felt the room shrink, the air between you both growing heavier. “I guess not. But I’d like to think it’s more than just politeness.” She stepped closer, her hands tucked into her sweats pockets, and you could feel her presence in a way that made it hard to focus.
“What are you really doing here?” 
Paige shrugged, leaning her shoulder against the wall near your desk. “I meant what I said. You’ve been on my mind. And, well…” Her eyes met yours, searching. “I don’t know what it is about you, but I can’t stop thinking about you. That’s not something I’m used to.”
Her honesty caught you off guard, and for a moment, you didn’t know how to respond. This wasn’t the smooth, overly confident Paige you’d expected. There was something vulnerable in her gaze, something real.
“And what happens if I say I don’t feel the same way?” 
Paige tilted her head, her smirk returning faintly. “Then I guess I’ll have to work harder to convince you. I’m not giving up that easily.”
You shook your head, trying to fight the small smile forming on your lips. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Maybe,” she admitted, stepping closer. She was close enough now that you could smell the faint hint of her shampoo, something fresh and sweet. “But you haven’t kicked me out yet.”
“No, I haven’t,” you whispered, biting your bottom lip nervously as you took a small step closer to her.
You could practically hear the faint voice of your sister yelling in your head, telling you to get her out of her room before you become another one of Paige Bueckers’ victims. But the warning felt distant, muffled by the way Paige was looking at you now—her gaze steady, almost hypnotic.
And the truth was, you liked where this was going. The spark of tension, the thrill of standing so close to her, and maybe—just maybe—you were starting to like Paige too.
Paige tilted her head slightly, her smirk melting into something softer. She reached up, her fingers lightly brushing against yours as she took the rose from your hand and placed it on your desk. “I knew you’d let me in,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.
Your breath caught as she leaned closer, her hand lifting to tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear. The air between you felt electric, charged with something unspoken and undeniable. Her eyes flicked down to your lips, and without thinking, you tilted your head slightly, closing the space between you.
Just as her lips were about to brush against yours, you raised your hand and gently pressed a finger to her lips, stopping her. Paige froze, her eyes widening in surprise.
“You need to leave,” you said softly, your voice steady but laced with reluctance.
Paige blinked, momentarily caught off guard. “What?”
You stepped back, breaking the spell as you pointed to your desk. “I have a computation analysis exam tomorrow. And I need to study.”
A slow grin crept across her face, and she let out a breathy laugh, stepping back as well. “You’re serious?”
You nodded. “Dead serious.”
Paige shook her head, running a hand through her hair as she smiled at you, her confidence quickly returning. “Alright,” she said, her voice light but teasing. “But just so you know, this isn’t over.”
You rolled your eyes, walking toward the door and holding it open for her. “Goodnight, Paige.”
“Goodnight,” she said, pausing in the doorway. She glanced back at you, her smirk softening into something almost tender. “Good luck on your exam, by the way.”
You shut the door behind her, leaning against it for a moment as you let out a shaky breath. Your sister’s voice echoed in your head again, louder this time, but all you could think about was how close you’d come—and how much you already wanted it to happen again.
That was when it all started.
The whole rollercoaster.
You had just played yourself right into the hands of Paige Bueckers.
The realization hit you like a perfectly timed crossover, leaving you unsteady, off balance. Paige Bueckers had a knack for pulling you into her orbit, and you’d just handed her the ball. You knew better—at least you thought you did. But there you were, caught between wanting to stay in the game and knowing full well she’d leave you in the dust if it suited her.
It wasn’t like she did it on purpose. Not really. Paige was... Paige. She had this quiet confidence, this magnetic energy that turned heads and made hearts trip over themselves. When she smiled, it wasn’t just a smile. It was a weapon, disarming and dangerous. And when she looked at you—really looked at you—it was like she could see right through you. Past every defense, every carefully constructed wall you thought you’d built to keep people like her out.
It started innocently enough. A few casual conversations. A couple of late-night texts that turned into marathon calls. You’d talk about nothing and everything—her games, your struggles, the kind of stuff you never expected to share with someone like her. She had a way of pulling you in, making you feel like you were the only one who mattered, even if just for a moment.
And maybe that’s what scared you the most. Because Paige wasn’t just anyone. She was Paige Bueckers. The golden girl. The star everyone wanted a piece of. And here she was, making you feel like you were something more than just another fleeting connection in her whirlwind of a life.
But that was the thing about whirlwinds—they didn’t last. They blew in, caused a mess, and left just as quickly. You told yourself you wouldn’t get swept up in it. You told yourself you wouldn’t let it go beyond what it was. But you also told yourself a lot of things.
And then there was that night in your room.
The one where her hand brushed yours, lingered for just a second too long. The one where her eyes held yours a question in them you didn’t know how to answer. The one where she leaned in, so close you could feel her breath on your skin, and said your name like it was something sacred.
You should have walked away. You should have never opened the door. But instead, you didn’t. You let her get closer. You let her in. And now?
Now, you were in over your head.
You hadn’t seen Paige in a few days, not since the night in your room. Your English professor canceled class because he was out of town, which meant no more doodling her name in the margins of your notebook, no more stolen glances when she wasn’t looking, and no more Paige waiting outside the door, leaning against the wall like she owned the place.
This was good, you tried to convince yourself. The time apart gave you space to concentrate on your studies, to focus, and to practically forget about the tall, muscular, attractive blonde who made your mind reel at the simplest thought of her.
But the universe, as it turned out, wasn’t about to make it that easy.
The party wasn’t your scene—too loud, too crowded, too much of everything. You’d only come because your roommate had dragged you along, promising it would be “chill” and that you’d “have fun for once.” Instead, you found yourself tucked into a corner nursing a half-empty cup of something vaguely alcoholic, counting down the minutes until it was socially acceptable to leave.
And then you saw her.
Paige.
She was across the room, laughing at something one of her friends had said. Her head tilted back slightly, her smile brighter than it had any right to be under the dim party lights. She looked... effortlessly perfect, as usual. Her golden hair fell over her shoulders, and she was wearing a fitted sweatshirt and jeans that somehow looked better on her than they should on anyone else.
You froze, heart thudding painfully in your chest. Part of you wanted to turn around, disappear before she saw you. But it was too late.
Her eyes found yours.
The laughter in her expression softened, replaced by something unreadable. She said something to her friends and started weaving her way through the crowd toward you. 
"Hey, stranger.”
"Hi." 
Paige glanced at your cup and grinned. "Is that what they’re calling ‘liquid courage’ these days?"
You rolled your eyes, grateful for the hint of humor to break the tension. "It’s more like ‘liquid regret.’ This stuff is terrible."
"Yeah, I’m not surprised," she said, crossing her arms and leaning slightly closer. "So, what’s a studious Computer Science nerd like you doing at a party like this?"
You shrugged. "Roommate dragged me here. Said I needed a life."
"And do you?" Paige asked, her tone teasing but her gaze steady.
"Do I what?"
"Need a life."
You laughed nervously, rubbing the back of your neck. "I guess that depends on who you ask."
Paige stepped closer, her smile fading slightly. "I would’ve asked in class, but... you weren’t there."
You blinked, caught off guard by the shift in her tone. "Yeah, well, in case you don’t check your email, no class this week. Guess you’ll have to doodle in your own notebook."
Her lips quirked up in a half-smile. "Guess I will. But it’s not as fun without you sitting there, making it obvious you’re trying not to look at me."
Your cheeks flushed, and you glanced away. "I don’t know what you’re talking about."
"Sure you don’t," Paige said, her voice softer now. "Always playing games with me."
You punch her arm lightly, rolling your eyes at her comment. "Don’t even right now, Bueckers. I know the rumors about your little reputation. I know the effect you have on all the girls like me."
Paige raises an eyebrow at your words, her lips curving into that confident, knowing smile she always wore when she was about to push your buttons. She leans down, her face inches from yours, and whispers in your ear, "And what effect do I have on you?"
The air around you feels charged, every word she speaks a spark that ignites something deep inside. You try to pull away, to keep your cool, but it’s hard when she’s this close—when the warmth of her breath brushes against your skin, making your pulse quicken. You swallow, trying to steady your racing heart, but the words come out before you can stop them.
"T-that’s not what I meant to say–” you try to explain.
“Mhm, sure it is,” Paige intercedes, her smirk still remaining.
“No, seriously, I didn’t mean that. What I meant to say was–”
“That you’re in love with me?”
The feeling of alcohol coursing through your system and Paige’s insistence ticks you off slightly.
You scoff, rolling your eyes once again, but you feel a rush of something you can’t deny, something that’s been simmering since the moment you two first crossed paths. Without another word, you push past her, your heart pounding harder than you’d like to admit. You make a beeline for the door, desperate to put some distance between the heat building up inside you and the air in that crowded house.
But Paige follows you, steady, unrelenting, like a predator following its prey. She was not going to give up on you that easily.
"Hey," she calls from behind you, her voice more serious than the playful, teasing one. "Where are you going? Was it something I said?"
You ignore her, picking up your pace. Your mind is spinning, and your head feels a little dizzy from the alcohol. But you have to leave. You need to get away from Paige before you do or say something you’ll regret.
Paige was a player, you remind yourself. You’ve heard the rumors—your sister had made sure to fill you in on the stories. Paige was a heartbreaker, someone who never stuck around, who used people for a good time and then moved on without a second thought. And as much as you liked her now, as much as she made your chest tighten and your heart race, you knew how this would end. You’d be just another girl who’d fallen for her charm, only to be left behind in the dust.
You repeat the warning to yourself like a mantra: You will end up like one of those girls.
But then, her voice calls out again, softer this time, a touch of desperation in it.
"Hey, wait up."
Before you can react, you feel a firm hand grab your arm, spinning you around to face her.
"What are you doing?" Paige’s expression is a mixture of confusion and something else—something that might be vulnerability, but you can’t be sure. "Why are you walking away from me? What did I do?"
You want to push her away, keep the distance between you two, but the way she’s looking at you—like she’s trying to understand, trying to make sense of your actions—it makes it harder to breathe.
You yank your arm out of her grasp, taking a step back. "I can’t do this, Paige. I can’t be just another... another person you mess with."
Her brows furrow, her lips parting like she’s about to argue, but you’re not finished.
"I know the stories. I’ve heard them. And I’m not stupid, Paige. I’m not going to let myself fall into whatever this is and get my heart handed to me like all those other girls you left behind."
There’s a long pause, her eyes narrowing slightly, but she doesn’t say anything at first. Instead, she takes a slow step forward, her voice low, almost careful.
"I’m not…" her voice drones off, trying to put her words together. "I’m not here to break your heart, if that’s what you think."
You shake your head, feeling your chest tighten. "Then what are you here for? Because I don’t see anything else, Paige. You don’t stay. You don’t do commitment, and I don’t want to be your next... your next victim."
For a moment, it feels like the ground beneath you has disappeared. You’ve never seen her like this—quiet, almost... hurt.
"You think I don’t care about you?" she asks, her voice sharp now, but there’s an underlying pain to it that makes you freeze. "You think I’ve been trying to play you this whole time?"
You don’t answer, unable to find the words. Your stomach twists painfully at the thought that maybe you’ve misjudged her—that maybe, just maybe, there’s more to this than you’ve been willing to admit.
Paige steps closer again, but this time there’s no teasing, no playfulness in her movement. She’s serious, her eyes locked onto yours.
"I’m not perfect," she admits, her voice steady now. "I’m not going to sit here and pretend I’m the ideal person, but what I’ve been trying to tell you is that I want something real. I want you."
You blink, unable to process her words. "What do you mean? You don’t do real."
Paige takes a breath, as if steadying herself before continuing. "I know I’ve got a reputation. I’ve messed with people. But I’m not that person anymore. Not with you."
Your heart hammers in your chest as her words sink in. You want to pull away, want to keep the distance between you, but everything inside you is telling you to listen, to give her a chance to prove that she’s more than just the rumors.
"But why me?" you ask, your voice cracking slightly, a mix of disbelief and longing. "Why now? Why would you want me when I’m just another girl you don’t need?"
Paige’s expression softens, and she reaches out, gently cupping your face in her hands. "Because, for once, I don’t want something casual. I want this—us." Her eyes search yours for any sign of doubt. "You may not believe me, and hell, I don’t even know how I ended up here. But right now, with you, I don’t want to go back to the way things were. I want something more than what I’ve been doing."
Your breath catches in your throat, and for the first time, you wonder if maybe, just maybe, Paige Bueckers isn’t the heartbreaker you thought she was. Maybe she’s just... scared. Scared of what this might become, just like you are.
"I don’t know if I can believe that," you whisper, voice trembling. "But I don’t want to run away from this anymore, either."
Paige’s eyes soften, her lips curling into a small, hesitant smile. "You don’t have to believe it all at once. But please… just... give me a chance."
You hesitate for a beat, then nod slowly, letting out a shaky breath. "Okay. One chance. But if you mess this up, I’m out."
Paige laughs softly, relief washing over her features. "Deal."
Without another word, she steps in close, brushing her lips softly against yours. The kiss is gentle, a promise that maybe, just maybe, you can figure this out together.
And for the first time in a long while, you let yourself believe it.
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d-z20 · 1 month ago
Text
The Agent Next Door (NSFW)
Pairing: Agent Rio Vidal x Reader
Summary: You don't really talk to your (extremely attractive) neighbour, Rio Vidal, until one day an accident leads to you staying at her apartment for a couple of days. And an awkward encounter results in having your fantasy come true. -OR- Rio finds you injured after you slipped and fell out the shower and decides to look after you (non-magic AU)
Warnings: 18+ MDNI, blood, small injury, fluff, smut, fingering (R receiving), oral (R receiving)
Words: 3.4k
A/N: Just wanted to write a bit of Rio caring for reader and well then it turned into smut and I have no regrets. Also I have their whole relationship arc in my head now lol
AO3 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Master List
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The Worst Morning Of Your Life (so far)
Rio Vidal is your neighbour. You've noticed her plenty of times before—a striking woman with a sharp, confident look that's hard to ignore. You live in the same apartment building, just across the hall from one another. Most days, your interactions are limited to polite smiles and brief chats in the elevator, her dark suit and badge often catching your eye. You've heard her phone buzz with work calls that end with her curt, professional voice. It's obvious she's someone important—serious and dedicated. You've pieced together that she's an FBI agent, but beyond that, you don't know much about her.
You can't deny that you're drawn to her, though. There's something about the way she carries herself—all self-assured and enigmatic. You've caught yourself staring a few times, your heart skipping a beat when she looks back and flashes a rare, amused smile. It's not just her looks—it's the way she moves, the air of mystery she carries, like she's seen things you could only imagine. It makes you nervous, but at the same time, you can't help but look forward to those fleeting moments when your paths cross.
One morning, your shower decides to betray you—your hot water cuts out just as you put your head under. You let out a bloodcurdling scream, quickly trying to jump out of the shower. Unfortunately for you, your foot slips on the hard floor, and you come crashing down, hitting your head on the sink, landing with a very loud thud. Dazed and confused, you are unsure if you passed out for a second there or not, but either way your head is killing you. 
"Fucking brilliant," you mutter to yourself, draping an arm across your eyes to shield them from the light.
At that moment, you heard your front door slamming open and hurried footsteps searching your apartment. You had just about enough sense to yank your towel off the hook and cover up your naked body.
"Y/N?" called a voice just outside the bathroom door.
Shit. It was Rio. You wished the ground would just swallow you up.
"Are you okay? I heard you scream, and then I heard something shatter." You could hear the genuine concern in her voice.
Lifting your head slightly, you noticed the shards of glass from what used to be your bathroom shelf, surrounding you. All you could do was let out a groan and close your eyes at this new development of what was turning out to be the worst morning of your life so far.
This was a bad choice, as a split second later, Rio barged into your bathroom.
"Well, aren't you a sight for sore eyes?" Your neighbour teased, but you could hear the relief in her voice. She moved further into the room, assessing the damage. "Not to ruin such a perfect morning for you, but I might have broken your door getting in here." 
You open your eyes, blinking up at her. Taking her in, you noticed she was wearing a cropped baggy tank top and gym shorts. You blink up at her again, and your head throbs with each beat of your pulse, the pain radiating down your neck. You're still dazed, trying to process how you ended up sprawled on the cold bathroom floor with your FBI agent neighbour standing over you. Rio's sharp eyes take in your silence, concern clouding the playful smirk she'd worn just moments before.
"Hey," she says, voice softer now, as she crouches down beside you. She reaches out, fingertips gently brushing your cheek to turn your face towards her. "Y/N, can you hear me? Do you know who I am?"
You swallow, trying to focus. Her touch is surprisingly tender, a stark contrast to her usual no-nonsense demeanour. You nod slightly, the movement making your head spin. "Rio," you manage to croak out. "Neighbour, FBI agent. And, apparently, a door kicker."
She huffs a laugh, a brief flicker of relief crossing her face. "Good. That's a start. I don't usually make a habit of barging into people's bathrooms uninvited, but I heard that scream, and... well, I'm glad I did." Her eyes drop down to your arm, where blood seeps from a jagged cut. She curses under her breath, her grip on your shoulder tightening just slightly. "You're bleeding. We need to get you cleaned up."
You glance down at your arm, wincing at the sight of blood trickling down to your hand. "I really know how to make an impression, huh?"
Rio shakes her head, lips pressed together in a tight line. "Let's save the jokes until you're not covered in glass, yeah?" Without another word, she slips an arm under your shoulders, helping you sit up. The world tilts slightly, but her hold on you is firm, steadying you as you get your bearings.
"You're going to have to trust me for a minute," she tells you softly. "Can you stand?"
"Maybe," you say, though you're not entirely sure. She helps you up, careful not to jostle your injured arm, and you try to ignore the heat of her skin against yours, the way her fingers dig into your side just enough to ground you.
Rio's eyes dart around the room, quickly assessing the mess of broken glass and water pooling on the floor. "Alright," she says decisively. "I'm taking you back to my place. We'll patch you up there. Your shower is out of commission, and I don't trust that you won't take another tumble if I leave you alone here."
You don't have the energy to argue, so you just nod, letting her guide you out of the bathroom. The two of you make it to the hallway, but not before she grabs a spare towel and wraps it around you more securely. Her movements are quick and efficient, but there's a gentleness to them that surprises you. It's a side of Rio you've never seen before—one that's patient and caring, not just the tough, sarcastic woman you've exchanged pleasantries with in passing.
As you step into her apartment, you notice it's much more personal than you'd imagined. There are framed photos on the walls—nothing too sentimental, mostly candid shots of places she's travelled to, city skylines, and sunsets. Her living room is cosy, with a worn leather couch and a small stack of books piled on the coffee table.
"Sit," she instructs, pointing to the couch. You sink down into it, feeling strangely out of place but oddly comfortable. Rio disappears into the bathroom for a moment, returning with a first aid kit. She kneels in front of you, carefully prying your hand away from your arm.
"This is going to sting," she warns, pulling out an antiseptic wipe. You flinch as she cleans the cut, her brows knitting together in concentration. "Sorry," she mutters. "I'm used to dealing with criminals and suspects, not clumsy neighbours."
"Criminals don't trip in the shower much?" you quip, trying for humour despite the pain. It earns you a small smile from Rio, her eyes flicking up to meet yours.
"Not usually, no. Though I'll admit you're far more entertaining." Her voice softens again, the smirk fading as she wraps a bandage around your arm. "You scared me for a second there, you know."
The confession catches you off guard. "I did? you ask, watching her face as she finishes tying off the bandage.
She doesn't look up, her focus still on your arm. "Yeah," she says quietly. "I thought something bad had happened. Guess I care more about my neighbour than I realised."
Your heart skips a beat, the words hanging in the air between you. It's the first real admission of anything beyond casual friendliness, and it leaves you breathless. You're about to say something—anything—but Rio stands up, offering her hand to you.
"Come on," she says. "Let's get you some proper clothes and maybe a coffee. You can stay here until we sort out your door and shower."
Rio's grip on your hand is firm as she helps you up, her expression still hovering somewhere between concern and her usual, dry amusement. You follow her into the kitchen, and she releases you, motioning for you to sit at the table. It feels strange being here, in her space, especially after the chaos of your morning. She pulls out a chair for you with a slight roll of her eyes, as if it's absurd that you'd even try to resist her instruction.
"I don't have any shifts for the next two days," she announces, moving towards the coffee maker without glancing back at you. "And considering you might've blacked out for a second back there, I'm not letting you out of my sight. So, you're staying with me, here, until you're back on your feet properly."
You open your mouth to argue, but the look she throws over her shoulder silences you. It's one part worry and two parts something else—something softer, almost protective.
"I can manage," you say, but your voice lacks conviction, especially as you rub your throbbing arm. The bandage is already starting to bleed through a bit. Rio's eyes narrow at the sight, and she steps closer, prodding your arm gently.
"Yeah, you're doing a great job," she says dryly, then nods to herself. "You're staying here."
"Fine," you sigh, though part of you feels a flutter of something—relief, maybe, or the thrill of being looked after by someone like Rio. "But I can sleep on the couch. I don't want to kick you out of your bed."
Rio's lips twitch into a smirk. "I'm not letting you take the couch. You've already proven that you're a danger to yourself in any situation that involves standing up."
You can't help but laugh, despite everything. "So, what, we share your bed?"
She raises an eyebrow, as if daring you to challenge her. "It's a queen size. I think we can manage. Unless you've suddenly developed a fear of co-sleeping?"
The thought of sharing a bed with her sends a rush of heat through you, but you try to play it off with a shrug. "As long as you don't hog the covers."
"I'll do my best," she says, the smirk widening.
-
The first night is awkward, as expected. You lie stiffly on one side of the bed, while Rio takes the other, the space between you feeling like a chasm despite the closeness. She's warm though, and you can feel the heat radiating from her body and the subtle scent of her shampoo filling your senses. It's both comforting and maddening, making it hard to fall asleep. You’re hyper-aware of every shift she makes, every time her arm brushes against yours. At some point, she turns onto her side, facing you, and you feel her eyes on you in the dark.
"You still awake?" she whispers.
"Yeah," you reply, swallowing hard.
There's a pause, then you feel her hand brush against yours. It's light, almost as if by accident, but when you don't pull away, she leaves it there, her fingers barely touching yours.
"Try to get some sleep," she murmurs. "You need to rest."
"Alright," you say, voice hoarse, and somehow, with her so close, you finally drift off.
Over the next day and a half, the tension between you shifts, It's subtle at first—small, lingering glances from Rio that last a bit too long, the brush of her fingers against your back when she helps you into the kitchen. Her sarcasm returns, but there's a flirtatious edge to it now, like she's testing the waters.
"You're really milking this injury, aren't you?" She teases, handing you your drink to have with the pizza she bought for dinner. "You'd think you broke your entire body, the way you're lounging around."
"Hey," you protest, setting the drink down. "You're the one who insisted I stay. Don't blame me for enjoying the hospitality."
She leans against the counter, arms crossed, a grin tugging at her lips. "Oh, I'm well aware. But don't get too comfortable with me waiting on you hand and foot—I've got to go back to work tomorrow.”
-
That night, the atmosphere between you shifts even more. When you climb into bed besides Rio, there's no hesitation this time. She turns towards you almost immediately, her hand resting lightly on your hip as if it's the most natural thing in the world. You can feel the heat of her body through the thin fabric of your shirt, her breath warm against the back of your neck. It's a small touch, nothing too bold, but it feels significant—an unspoken acknowledgement of everything simmering between you two. You fall asleep like that, closer than before, your fingers unconsciously brushing hers under the covers.
When you wake up, she's already dressed for the day, leaning over you with a mug of coffee in hand. She sets it down on the nightstand with a playful smile. "Morning sweetheart," she says, her voice laced with that familiar teasing tone, but there's a softness to it now. "Try not to do anything risky while I'm gone, yeah? I don't want to come back to find you've taken a tumble without me here to save the day."
You laugh, reaching for the coffee, but there's a flutter in your chest at the pet name, even if she means it jokingly. "I'll do my best," you say. "But no promises."
She smirks, leaning down just enough to press a light kiss to your forehead. "Good. I'll be back later. Make yourself at home."
You do. The rest of the day passes in a strangely pleasant haze, and you find yourself enjoying the small comforts of her apartment. It's quiet without her, but there's a sense of ease you haven't felt in a long time, like you truly belong here. You find yourself smiling for no reason, touching the small trinkets on her shelves, running your fingers over the soft throw blankets she has draped across the couch.
By the time you decide to take a shower, you're feeling entirely too content. You strip down, stepping under the hot spray with a sigh. That's when your thoughts drift back to Rio—how she looked last night, half-asleep and tousled, her arm draped over your waist, her expression unguarded in a way you'd never seen before.
Your thoughts turn to fantasy almost unbidden. You imagine her joining you in the shower, pressing you back against the cold tiles, her hands sliding down your wet skin. You can almost feel it—the heat of her breath on your neck, the firmness of her body against yours. You start to move your hand towards your aching clit, letting out a quiet, shuddering moan, lost in the fantasy of what it would be like to kiss her and have her hands on you.
You don't hear the bathroom door open, but suddenly, you hear her voice—low and amused. "You sure you're okay in here? Didn't have another fall, did you?"
You freeze, eyes snapping open. You can barely see her through the steam, but she's there, standing just outside the shower curtain, and you realise with a jolt that she must have heard you. You heart slams against your ribs as the curtain slides back just a little, and Rio steps inside completely naked, her smirk evident even through the haze.
"I really just can't trust you not to injure yourself while showering, can I?" she says, voice teasing but thick with something else—desire, maybe. Her eyes travel down your body, lingering in a way that sends a shiver through you.
"Rio," you breathe out, half a warning, half a plea.
She steps closer, crowding you against the wall, her hand sliding up to cup the back of your neck. "You know," she murmurs, her lips so close to yours now that you can feel the brush of them with every word. "I think you've been waiting for me to do this."
And then she kisses you, slow and heated, like she's been thinking about this just as much as you have. Her mouth is soft but insistent, coaxing a response from you until you melt into her, hands tangling in her hair as you kiss her back just as eagerly. The steam from the shower mixes with the heat between you, the world narrowing down to just the two of you.
When she finally pulls back, both of you are breathing hard, her forehead resting against yours. "I knew it," she whispers, her voice laced with satisfaction. "You've been wanting this so badly, haven't you?"
You nod, swallowing thickly. "Yeah," you admit, barely louder than a whisper. "I have."
She grins, tugging you closer until you're pressed against her, chest to chest. "Good," she says, leaning in to kiss you again, deeper this time. "Because I've been wanting it too."
And with that, she shoves you against the wall. Hard. She's kissing you all over, igniting the skin where each one lands. She nips and sucks at your neck, finding where you're most sensitive. A moan escapes your lips, and you buck your hips, trying to get any kind of friction against your core. For a brief moment, you start to get embarrassed, but then one of Rio's hands finds its way between your legs. She dips a finger between your lips and hums at how wet you already are for her.
Looking directly into your eyes, silently telling you to keep her gaze, she lowers herself to suck on one of your tits, tongue swirling around your nipple, making it harden quickly. The hand not on your clit, starts to pinch your other nipple, pulling another loud guttural moan from you. 
Working her mouth down your torso, marking up your body as she goes, Rio sinks to her knees, her face now directly opposite your dripping cunt, eyes still locked on yours.
Her hands deftly grip your hips, steadying you against the wall. "You've got to promise me you're not going to fall again, sweetheart," she all but growls, the arousal evident in her voice.
You nod your head, but it wasn't enough for the woman, who digs her nails into your skin where she's holding you. "Ye-Yes. I promise."
That is all Rio needs before she starts to drag her tongue through your folds. Switching between broad licks along the length between your entrance and your clit, and firmer, more purposeful circles over your bundle of nerves.
You feel dizzy, but you know it has nothing to do with your concussion and everything to do with the woman kneeling between your legs. Despite your head spinning, you manage to bring your hands down to tangle in Rio's hair, pushing her harder into you. You need more.
She moans against you, clearly enjoying how turned on you are. The vibration from the moan goes straight to your core, and you nearly cum just from that. Sensing you're close, Rio pushes two fingers inside you, causing you to curse her name inbetween moans.
You feel her chuckle and then start fucking you more vigorously. "I want to hear you, baby. I want the whole floor to hear you moan my name," she says, momentarily pulling away from your pussy. You can't help but oblige as she starts to curl her fingers, resuming her licking and sucking.
With her fingers curling inside you like that, it isn't long before you climax, legs shaking, cumminng hard over her fingers and tongue. Rio helps you through the end of your orgasm, making sure to hold you up as you come back down. 
"Okay, darling, I think we need to sit you down before you lose another fight with gravity," Rio smirks. You can't help but agree; your knees feel very weak and it's taking all of your concentration to stay upright.
"Oh, by the way, I bumped into the maintenance guys on my way in," Rio says lightly, helping you out of the shower. "And they said that your door isn't getting fixed for at least another week. So, it looks like you'll have me to help you shower for a little while longer." Winking, she drags you to her bed, determined to continue what she had just started.
_
alright folks, I've got a sequel in the works but can't decide on the vibes (there'll be smut regardless): READ PART 2 HERE
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pyrodolls · 5 months ago
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hi i was wondering if you would do headcannons of the yan!fanboy if reader actually noticed him coming to all their shows and events
obsessed (superfan! yandere boy x gn!popstar reader)
warnings: stalking, average yandere tendencies, nsfw, perverted yandere, gender neutral reader, mentions of naked reader but no genitalia addressed, dom reader, reader is compliant with the yandere and teases him a ton, lowercase intended. btw i do not condone yanderes irl.
a/n: i hope y'all know i read every single one of your asks, comments, and reblogs. i appreciate them all and they do brighten my day. i'm just saying this so y'all know that the stuff you send to other writers (not just me) matters a lot!! when you interact it gives them inspiration!!! and motivation!! me personally sometimes i see ONE kind reblog and i immediately get my ass up and start writing something just because of that one person. don't get me wrong, i still love all my lurkers that silently like a ton of my stuff, y'all are important too. anyways i'll shut up now onto the hcs. (btw this ended up being a fic instead of hcs i apologize. i went crazy over this i'm sorry anon LMAO)
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"hey, you look pretty familiar. have you been to a few shows before?" you asked kindly, facing the short man in the front row of the audience.
bayani froze as the stadium's screens pointed to him. he opened his mouth in an attempt to say something, but nothing came out. his face went red and his throat went dry. did you actually notice him, or was he just dreaming?
after a few seconds of waiting for an answer, you shrugged. "sorry, maybe i mistook you for someone else. anyways..."
the yandere boy still didn't move, with his mouth agape, as you continued on with your show. the people around bayani didn't seem to care, assuming that he was just a starstruck fan. but it was more than that. much more than that.
out of the millions of fans that attend your shows and events, you recognized him among them. you noticed him. and he didn't know how to handle it. what was he supposed to say? what would you even talk about? sure, he's seen all of your interviews and heard your music and dissected your lyrics for hours every single day, but would you ever want to interact with him as much as he wanted to interact with you? he was just a lowlife. he had an average job, average amount of money, he lived in a shitty apartment, and he had no friends or major accomplishments. all of his free time outside of work was spent on you. spent on following your every move and investigating everything you've put your hands on. if you ever spoke to him, you'd probably think he was some sort of pathetic stalker.
that thought drove him mad. he couldn't even focus on the rest of your concert. he didn't hear the blaring music and screams from the crowd. he wasn't paying attention to your performance, either.
he could only stand there and imagine the punishments you'd inflict on him if you found out about his obsession. would you call your security to take him away? he'd hope not. if he's going to be kicked and pushed around, perhaps even handcuffed, he'd rather you do the job rather than some random guard. but maybe he'd accept the punishment, only because you were the one who deemed it necessary. he takes your word like gospel, so he'll take whatever punishment you want, even though he would prefer your hands on him while you do it.
his imagination ran wild as your concert finished and you walked off the stage with your dancers. the crowd of fans in the stadium dispersed around him, moving along with their day. but bayani couldn't just move on with his day knowing that you know he exists now. how is he supposed to simply move on from that? he spent a long time making sure you never noticed him. even though he attended every single one of your concerts and events, he did not want to be noticed. he knew he wouldn't be able to handle it. but it finally happened. he finally got a taste of what it's like to be seen by the love of his life. he couldn't just leave it at that. he had to do something about it.
being under your gaze, even if it was only a few seconds, made him feel like he went to heaven. it made all of the hundreds of dollars he spent on you worth it. all of the hours he spent listening to your music and watching videos of you was worth it. it was like he awoke from a slumber. a long, miserable slumber. he had to find a way to thank you. say something to you. he messed up when he simply froze after you saw him. who knows when he'll get another chance like that?
it took a few hours for the stadium to be empty, and the security started to shoo bayani away. but when he went outside, the parking lot was still full. your concert ended hours ago, but there was still loads of cars trying to leave. it would be frustrating, but bayani had to find a way out quickly.
he climbed on the back of a nearby truck and rested his legs there, waiting patiently for the vehicle to move out of the traffic. even though he knew the truck wouldn't go anywhere near your mansion, he knew how to get to your house on foot. he only needed to rest on the truck until the traffic was gone.
after a few hours on the road, he jumped out of the vehicle, and started to walk to your mansion on foot. he didn't need to look up the location online, because he already knew where it was. he visited your home many times in the past, he just never attempted to go inside before.
his veins were on fire and he started to sweat the closer he got. he was starting to have second thoughts about his idea. but there was no time to go back, because he already showed up to your house before he could change his plans.
to get inside, he had to climb up a tree, jump off of it, and land in your backyard. he used that trick often in the past, since it was not his first time going to your house. he often snuck on your property to watch or take pictures of you while you slept.
he tried opening your bedroom window, but it was locked. he had to try a different one.
he went over to a window beside your bedroom, and thankfully, it was unlocked. but the moment he opened the window, he heard the sound of water running and your familiar voice humming a song. were you in the shower?
bayani climbed inside as quietly as possible, and closed the window behind him. his suspicions were correct. he was in your bathroom, and you were taking a shower. your curtains covered up your figure, so he couldn't see you.
bayani looked to the side of the room and saw a pile of your dirty clothes on the floor. he ran up to it and immediately took a large whiff at the pile. it smelled divine to him. he couldn't get enough of it. he quickly spotted your used underwear in the pile and snatched it without thinking, then he stuffed it in his pocket. you wouldn't notice, right?
before he could take the rest of your clothes, the water suddenly stopped. bayani ran to hide, in a spot where you couldn't see him but he could see you. you opened the shower curtains and stepped out with a towel in your hands. you were completely naked, and still drenched in water. bayani felt like he died and went to heaven again that day. he couldn't believe what he was seeing. you were completely naked, right in front of his eyes. ignoring the puddle in his pants, he nervously fumbled around his pockets, trying to find his phone. there was no way he could pass up an opportunity like this. without hesitation, he snapped a photo of you.
but he didn't notice that the flash was on.
he froze, and you looked towards him. neither of you said a word, and bayani saw his future flash before his eyes. you would probably scream for security and he would get taken away to prison, never to see your face again. his life would be over.
"you're the guy i've been seeing everywhere, huh?" you whispered.
"...are you going to, uh... send me away?" bayani gulped.
you thought about it for a moment. this guy clearly cared a lot about you, because you saw him literally everywhere you went. no matter what country you visited, he was always there. even if you didn't tell a single soul where you were going, he was somehow always there. you even saw him on your property a few times, so you knew how crazy he was. but you still let him do it. and you never reported him, either. you knew exactly what he wanted. you could always hear him moaning outside your window, knowing he would have one hand down his pants and a camera on the other.
he was cute, so why not have some fun with him?
"come here." you commanded. he followed your order without thinking, immediately falling down to his knees in front of you.
you grabbed his chin, and made him look up at you. he felt hot tears well up in his eyes as you stared him down. he didn't say a word, but you knew exactly what he was thinking.
you pressed your knee against the wet stain on his pants, and he let out a pathetic whimper. he was getting off on it.
he didn't know what to do. his dreams were finally coming true. he got noticed by you, got into your house, saw you naked, and you finally touched him. he was overwhelmed, and started crying. he didn't mean to look so weak in front of you for a first impression, but he couldn't help it. besides, he'd make a fool out of himself any day for you.
"you're so pathetic.. you've been stalking me for so long, and now you break into my house to see me naked. i could call the police and have you arrested..." you whispered, as you started putting more pressure on his crotch, moving your knee up and down on it, and inching your face closer to his.
he sobbed, “please, don't! i promise, it'll never happen again. i'll stop, i'll do whatever you want, i'll-"
you cut him off by connecting your lips to his, setting his heart on fire. you pulled away after a few seconds, leaving him speechless. there's no way you just kissed him. he had to be dreaming.
and then you moved your knee away from his crotch right before he could cum, making him let out a whimper and crumble to the ground.
"thanks for letting me have some fun with you. we can do this again soon.. if you be a good boy and return my underwear." you winked, walking away and leaving bayani a hard, pathetic, leaking mess on your bathroom floor.
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catssluvr · 4 months ago
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𝒇𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒃𝒆𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒅, spencer reid
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spencer reid x roommate!reader
in which everybody’s falling in love and you’re falling behind or you come back from an awful date and spencer comforts you. well, he does his best
warnings: kinda sad for a bit, r really wants to be loved, two idiots in love <3
ˏˋ°•*⁀➷
You take off your shoes as soon as you reach your apartment's floor, exhaustion taking over. One hand reaches inside the bag to pull of the keys and the other rubs against your face one more time. You're sure your mascara is all smudged already. Not that you would ever cry for someone like that, but you don't think you've heard someone talk about their car as much as him and it honestly made you get sleepy.
You regret accepting to go on a blind date, deeply. It's never been your thing so why did you decide it was a good idea?
The truth is that it's hard to watch all of your friends fall in love and brag about their happy relationships when you don't even know how it feels to truly be loved. It's also not great that you're in love with your roommate when it's clearly not reciprocate. You have so much love to give, so why can't you find love as well?
Besides, the guy you just went out with is a total jerk. He made at least four sex jokes before the drinks arrived and bragged about his career for about half of the time (the other half was about his car). As soon as dinner was over you practically bolted out the restaurant, ignoring his comment about a 'second desert'. It's safe to say you never want to see him again.
Unlocking the door with a sigh, you are met with the sight of Spencer sitting comfortably on the couch with a book in his hands. You curse inside your head, it's not that you don't want to see him. In fact, you think he looks absolutely adorable in a sweatshirt all curled up in his seat. But you don't want him to see you like this, it's obvious your date didn't go well.
"Hey, you're home early." His voice is laced with fatigue. He leaves the book behind and approaches you, his signature smile in full display.
"Yep." You use all your strength to give him a smile back. You don't want to be unpleasant with him just because of a not so great date. Turning your back to him just as fast to place your shoes on the shoe rack.
"How did it go?" He asks tentatively and you frown at the way he seems nervous to know the answer.
"Uh- not great." You decide to not elaborate it, all you want right now is to bury yourself in your bed covers and cry.
"Oh, i'm sorry." You can't bring yourself to look him in the eye, you really don't want his pity. What you miss is the way a sparkle of what looks like relief flashes across his eyes. Before you can dismiss yourself he adds, "You know, given half a billion potential soulmates, the chances of finding your true love on a blind date are one in ten thousand."
As much as you want to tell him that's not necessarily what you need to hear right now, you don't feel like you have enough strength to do it. You know he's mostly trying to comfort you and he's just really not an expert when it comes to emotions.
"Yeah, i guess so." You answer and it's now his time to frown. You're usually way more excited to hear about his statistics. "I'm just gonna go to my room. Night, Spence." And then you're scrambling to your room, closing the door behind you before he can have a reaction.
Exhaling deeply, you throw your bag somewhere in the room and move to the bathroom. You turn on the shower and quickly discard your clothes to the floor, feeling immediately better when the warm water hits your skin.
Stepping out, you get yourself into some comfy sweats and a large old shirt before rushing through your skincare. Not bothering to dry your hair, you slip under the covers with a content hum. You can't help but imagine how it would be better if Spencer was laying with you, it would be tempting to curl up against his sweatshirt and forget about all of your problems.
Snapping out of your daze, you grab your laptop and settle for a comfort show that you know will help you relax. Your stomach grumbles slightly in hunger and you now realize how you had barely touched your food at dinner. Ignoring it anyway because the chances of you leaving your bed for the rest of the night are very low.
A gentle knock sounds from your door and you grumble, dragging yourself to open it. But as soon as you do, regret fills you for getting annoyed at all. There stands Spencer, wide and concerned eyes staring at you.
Now you take a moment to actually look at him and not just his sweatshirt. His hair is mussed by his position in the couch, his mismatched socks peeking from his sweatpants and his lanky hands hold a bowl of mac and cheese and a can of your favorite soda - like he's read your mind. It just reminds you of a few of the reasons to why you're so head over heels for him. He can read you like a book without having to profile you.
Sometimes you wonder how you're ever even going to get over him. Since becoming his roommate a year ago, this was the first time you had gone out on a date. It's not that you didn't want to go on dates, not being the most outgoing person came with it's liabilities. But you always thought going out with someone would make you forget about Spencer. Turns out it just made you realize how perfect he is compared to any other guy.
"I-I just thought maybe this could cheer you up. I know i wasn't much of a help." He smiles sheepishly, standing awkwardly on his feet. Your heart clenches at remembering how you dismissed him earlier.
"Thank you. You really didn't have to." You smile back kindly, looking at him with nothing but adoration.
He clears his throat nervously, "You know- uh- there's a study that says hugs slow down the heart rate and decreases the level of cortisol, the stress hormone. In turn, it makes people feel relaxed and safe." He stutters along his words.
You can't help but chuckle at his peculiar way of offering a hug. "A hug would be great, Spence." You say as you take the food from his and settle it somewhere on your bed. Returning quickly to stand by him and wrapping your arms around his shoulder with no hesitation.
He visibly relaxes at that, nose burying in your head and breathing in lightly. His sweatshirt really does feel just as soft as it looks. He squeezes you, hard enough to pull a giggle out of you but somehow affectionately.
You find yourself not wanting to pull away, a dramatic pout forming in your mouth when you force yourself to do it.
"You wanna make me company while i eat? We can watch Star Trek." Your fingers move almost involuntarily to untangle his curls as you speak.
He nods eagerly before mumbling, "Yes, but we're watching Friends. Last time i picked so we should watch something you like this time." Before he's walking to your bed, sitting comfortably with the covers to his lap.
You almost blush at the thought of him wanting to watch your favorite sitcom with you.
When you join him in bed, he's already setting up the show on your laptop and your heart almost bursts at how comfortable you feel with it, with him.
You eat your mac and cheese, occasionally offering him a few bites.
You feel a weight on your shoulder and turn to see Spencer with his cheek pressed up against it comfortably. You question if he feels sleepy but his he looks wide awake, gaze fixated on the screen in front of you.
Your thoughts drift again as you look at him. You question if maybe this i all just a silly crush because he's so nice to you. But you really don't think you're supposed to be thinking about a silly crush on a date with another guy.
Or maybe you just need to tell him. Maybe if you confess it to him it'll be easier for you. It wouldn't be a secret anymore and even though he doesn't feel the same, a weight would be lifted off your shoulders. You don't really get to think much about it before the words are spilling out of your mouth.
"Spencer?" You call gently and he answers with a small hum, not moving from his position on your shoulder. "I only went on that date because of you." You admit, heart breaking when you feel him tense up and sit up.
"Why- What do you mean?" His brows furrow in confusion.
"I only went on a date because i thought it would help me get over my feelings for you, turns out i'm way too in love for that. And i'm sorry, i know it's one sided. But can we please keep being friends? I promise i can pretend we didn't have this talk- i just needed to get it off my chest." You feel your eyes grow wet as the words come out, imagining the worse scenarios possible. It's already bad enough to feel like you're never going to experience true love, you don't want to lose your best friend too.
"You think i don't love you?" Spencer seems even more confused now, but he looks at you more gently than ever. His eyes glow with the dim yellow light and you find it hard to concentrate on his words.
"Not the way i do, Spence." You breath out, eyes fully glassy now and you're sure that anything can cause you to fall apart now.
"I leave you coffee and a note every morning, i've read all of your favorite books just so i could learn about your interests, i got an email just so you could send me videos of cats and i don't feel disgusted with the idea of eating your food or giving you hugs - not at all." He pauses before adding, "You think i don't love you?" He asks again, just as gentle as before - if not more. It's more of an affirmation then a question.
"Oh." You can't help but feel like you've been blind for all this time. You were so stuck with thinking that you would never find someone you could comfortably show your love for that you didn't notice he was right there, right under the same roof.
"I'm such an idiot." You chuckle, rubbing the tears off your eyes with the back of your hands.
"You are. But i'm also a complete idiot for never doing anything about it." He grinned sweetly, moving to sit closer and tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear.
"Hm, how 'bout i kiss you, you kiss me back, and we call it even?" You play with the long sleeves of his sweatshirt, smile mirroring his.
Spencer's cheeks redden as he pretends to think before he lets out a chuckle of his own, "I'm in."
You have to contain your smile when you lean closer, lips finally touching his after waiting for so long. And now that you get to do it, you don't think you ever want to stop. His hands gently hold your face, thumbs rubbing against your cheeks in the softest way, as if you can break with anything.
It doesn't last as long as you would have wished, both your smiles getting in the way.
ˏˋ°•*⁀➷
love you,
cat 🤍
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street-smarts00 · 6 months ago
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Weirdest Place
Spencer Reid x gen neutral!reader
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Summary: The team finds out you and Spencer have been dating during a night out.
WC: 1.1k
A/N: this is yet another fic based on an episode of friends, specifically a scene from the blackout episode but i added a fun twist lol
Tags: conversations about sex but not smut, established relationship between r & reid, consumption of alcohol
After the team was finished at the BAU they all went out to a local bar for drinks. As the night went on JJ and Hotch left to be at home with their kids. With their boss gone and the tipsiness from their drinks, the topic of conversation got more and more inappropriate.
“A boat?” Rossi asked
“Yes,” Derek confirmed
“A boat?” Emily spoke this time.
“Why don’t you believe me?” Derek asked, slightly offended.
Emily raised her hands in defense, “It’s not that we don’t believe you.”
“It just seemed like your weirdest place would be a bit more adventurous based on how you brought it up,” Rossi voiced.
Derek furrowed his eyebrows, “and a boat isn’t adventurous?”
“No it is,” Penelope chuckled before reaching for her drink. Of course, she’d already heard about Derek’s nautical escapades.
Derek directed his attention back to Emily, “And what about you? What’s your weirdest place?”
She leaned back in her seat with a tinge of embarrassment she tried to hide with smugness. “That’s classified,”
Rossi and Derek cringed at Emily’s diversion.
“Oh god,” Rossi chuckled before taking a sip of his drink.
“Do I even wanna know?” Derek asked half joking.
Emily shrugged instead of answering. Derek decided he was better off not pushing Emily to share her story. He then brought his attention to the man across from him.
“What about you, pretty boy?”
Spencer’s head darted to him with raised eyebrows. “Me?”
“You got a weirdest place?”
“I- um.”
His ears started to turn a shade of crimson and he stuttered on his words, or lack thereof since he was caught off guard.
“It’s probably like a library or something,” Rossi jokes, earning a bright laugh from Derek.
Penelope set her drink down, “don’t make him say it if he doesn’t- “
“Actually it was.”
Everyone froze and turned to Spencer.
Emily was the first to speak, “What?”
Spencer shifted in his seat while the courage he had before started to dwindle. His face was now officially turning red.
“Me and um- someone were at the library because I was showing her it’s Edgar Allen Poe collection. Then at some point we ended up in … um the second floor bathroom.”
“Oh my god,” Penelope giggled before placing her hand on her mouth in shock.
“I can’t believe I was right,” Rossi commented.
“I can’t believe Spencer Reid was getting freaky in a library,” Derek said with a humorous grin.
“Shut up,” Spencer squeaked in a high pitched voice.
He hoped the topic of conversation would quickly be dropped so he didn’t have to reveal too much about his love life. But he suspected that wouldn’t happen once you came back to the table.
You and Spencer had started dating a few months prior and wanted to keep things to yourselves. You both intended to figure out the beginning of your relationship without the eyes of your friends.
“The line for the bathroom was so long,” you complained as you approached the table and sat down next to Spencer. “What did I miss?”
“Oh we never heard Y/N’s place,” Penelope excitedly pointed out.
You looked at her confused, “What place?”
“I have no clue how we got here but they all started talking about the weirdest places they’ve had sex,” Emily explained.
“Wow. Well, when I’m done I need to hear all of yours,” you pointed your glass in a motion towards all of them before drinking the last sip.
“I usually don’t venture outside the bedroom but out of the few times I have I think there’s two tied for first place.”
“What’s one of them?”
“Library.”
Silence fell over the group. Spencer’s stomach dropped to the floor at your answer. His face turned cherry red and his eyes remained frozen on the table in front of him.
You on the other hand were baffled at the reaction from your friends.
“What?”
While your eyes scanned the group you were met with relatively neutral expressions that didn’t match the growing tension in the air. All of them looked as if they wanted to say something, but not one of them was ready to speak.
Embarrassment and regret were creeping their way towards you in silence. Your body tensed up and you folded your arms in front of you.
“Come on guys, it's not that weird. It’s not like we were in an aisle, we were in the bathroom,” you tried to defend yourself.
That sentence seemed to spark something in the group. Their body language started to relax but still had a bit of hesitation. They all knew at this point, but they wanted you to confirm it.
“What floor?”
You followed the voice to Emily “Excuse me?”
“What floor was the bathroom on?”
You couldn’t wrap your head around her question.
“Why does that matter?”
“It does, which floor?” Penelope questioned this time.
“Second I think,” you hesitated, still confused.
“Oh my god!” Penelope squealed. “You guys are sleeping together?”
With your eyes wide, face hot, and heart pounding, you stared at her. Trying to figure out how a story like this was one they already heard. You forgot until now that they were already playing this game before you got back.
Turning to the side you playfully smacked Spencer’s arm. “You told them that?”
He gaped at you and grabbed his arm. Face still red of course now accompanied with a crack in his voice. “I didn’t think you were gonna tell them. I thought you would have talked about the other time.”
“Why would I tell them that?” You said in a quieter tone.
“What other time?” Derek interrupted, filled with curiosity.
Rossi pipped in next, “you said two places were tied for weirdest, what’s the other place?”
You and Spencer went quiet. You looked at each other before returning your gaze to the group.
“I think this is a great time to get a refill,” you grabbed your glass and stood up. “Spencer, coming with?”
He quickly scrambled to stand up, “Absolutely.”
The two of you made your way to the bar as your friends all started murmuring.
“So, you didn’t want to tell them you had sex on a plane?” He asked with a slight smirk.
“No, of course not!” You squealed which earned a laugh from him.
“Eventually they would’ve found out we’re dating and I didn’t want them to figure out it was on the jet,” you explained.
“It’s not like any of them were there,” he said before leaning down to kiss your forehead.
“I still don’t wanna get fired.”
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toast-on-dandelioms · 6 months ago
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🕷️Just Another Neglected Story 🕷️
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[previous] - Part 4.2 - [next]
I will add here the rest of the tag list, sorry for having to divide it into two
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Clark immediately grabbed the door and punched it right in the middle of it, making a hole to which he used to grab the door off its hinges and throw it away, not caring about anything but Spider's wellbeing. 
He was the first one to enter the room, looking around to see if Joker was still there so he could kill the bastard who dared to hurt his child. 
Bruce was the second to enter and immediately walked around to find the vigilante, stopping to stare in silence at the cold body of Joker stuck on the wall. 
He checked for a pulse, not too worried about the clown but needed to see if he was worth saving, letting out a small sigh when he felt no pulse. 
He sighed once again, mostly out of anger since he wanted to be the one to kill the man who dared to hurt his child (Spider), before starting to worry that if Spider knew that they killed a man, he didn't know how they would react to the news. 
He quickly looked away and went back to search for the teen, now even more worried about their wellbeing, especially when Clark told him that he could hear their heartbeat but it was incredibly slow, which meant that he couldn't find them immediately.
As he looked around the room, he kept on getting angrier as he saw drops of blood from fighting and some weapons and bullets that Joker probably used on Spider since they were all covered in blood. 
As he searched around he heard Superman call for him and quickly ran up to him, finding a gravely injured Spider with their mask ripped off and full of bruises on their face and body. 
Their body was also covered in bruises and wounds made from Joker, their ragged breath accentuating the severity of their injuries. 
He gently called them using their vigilante name since no one knew their real name, sighing in relief when Spider opened their eyes to look at him and hissed at him, not recognising him or Clark because of their injuries and how scared they were. 
They calmed down after Clark gently called out to them and got in their line of vision then started talking with a broken voice as their eyes filled with tears, the words having to be repeated because of how much Spider sobbed and gasped from the pain of their injuries. 
"h-he kept laughing and hitting me after a weird gas poured in the room, I d-didn't want to hurt him but I punched him out of desperation, h-he's been so silent and I-I don't know if he's even alive, I'm so sorry". 
He set a hand on their head after taking off the rest of their mask to help them see better and just told them, with a soft voice that even Clark was a bit taken aback, "you did good kid, I'm sorry you had to fight alone" as he knew what Joker was capable of and was glad Spider survived and was able to fight back. 
He instructed Superman to pick them up and fly back to the Manor, using his own cape to cover Spider's body to protect them from the harsh winds while Clark was flying, letting Conner follow him so he could call Tim and get Alfred to prepare the medbay. 
He then turned to Jason and Stephanie with an unnerving calm face and a smile that the two took a step back in fear of what he was planning since Batman was never calm, especially if someone he cares about gets hurt. And he was smiling, which meant it was bad news and to not try to stop him. 
He quickly walked towards the three heroes in front of him and put a hand on both Stephanie and Jason's shoulder and said in a weirdly cheerful voice "who wants to help Batman burn down the place and all the people who dared to hurt Spider?". 
Not that Bruce was asking for their help, he just wanted it to be done faster so he could go home to Spider. In a normal case he would make it slow for whoever tried to hurt his child but this time he couldn't stop to enjoy the pain of the leader that was still in the room. 
He gave both of his kids a set of bombs to put all around the bunker, telling them to not care about anyone and just place the bombs around while he took care of the leader. 
He grabbed the makeshift throne from the pedestal it was put on and dragged it in the center of the room, not even caring about the noise the chair was making. 
He then grabbed the passed out cultist and threw him on the throne, using some handcuffs to hold him there so he wouldn't escape if things got bloody. 
Not that he wouldn't mind if things got bloody, he needed to relieve some stress after what happened to Spider and fortunately for him, that cultist was there and he needed to ask some questions.
He stared at the still passed out cultist and grabbed some smelling salts from his utility belt before snapping them under the cultist nose, a smirk appearing on his face when the cultist woke up and was scared when he saw him. 
He wanted him to be scared, god just seeing how scared he was while trying to free himself from the cuffs on both arms and legs was incredibly satisfying, especially to what he wanted to do to him. 
He roughly grabbed the cultist’s face to make him look directly at him, wanting all of his attention to ask his questions and slowly leaned down to look him right in the eyes. 
“Now I am gonna ask you a few questions, if you tell me the truth I will let you walk out of this room alive but if you lie..”
He didn't finish the sentence and let the fear and the realization of what he meant wash over the cultist face, enjoying every second of it and he wanted him to be scared. 
He let go of his face after a bit, a small smirk on his face when he saw the imprints of his fingers by how hard he squeezed his face. 
“Why was Joker here? That clown never worked with cultists before” 
He stayed silent as he watched the man hang his head low, starting to get even more angry when he didn't immediately answer. 
He took a small step back in shock when he suddenly heard a laugh, very similar to the laugh Joker always had whenever he fought that clown. 
His face was in shock when the cultist raised his head and showed the same maniac smile the clown always had, making him think that the ghost of Joker possessed the man, especially since the man just kept on laughing. 
“Batman, the world's greatest detective, can't figure out something so simple! The trap wasn't for you, or even one of your many sidekicks!”
The man kept on laughing before suddenly stopping, his smile still on his face as he stared at Batman right in the eyes. 
“It was for your little metahuman that started to clean the streets, everything here was for that annoying vigilante and leaving a message for you” 
He laughed again when he saw the shock in Batman’s face, not even minding the handcuffs on both arms and legs as he moved them while laughing like a maniac. 
“Everyone noticed your obsession for them, how all of your sidekicks kept on following them and getting rejected or thrown off a roof. You're not so secretive Batman and we just used them to send you a message” 
Bruce just stared at the cultist laughing before grabbing a gun that Jason gave him and just shot the cultist in the face, using all the bullets inside the magazine. (The thing that holds bullets inside the gun if you don't know)
He stopped when the gun didn't shoot anymore and walked out the room, his eyes filled with fury at the thought that other rogues and villains in Gotham wanted to hurt Spider.
As he walked around the bunker to get to the exit, he killed anyone who tried to attack him or was in his way, not even caring about his no-kill rule or how the blood kept splattering on his suit. 
He finally got out of the bunker, noticing both Jason and Stephanie near Conner’s ship and just gave them a nod before getting in his own jet, waiting until the bunker exploded before taking off. 
He put the coordinates to the batcave and flew as fast as his jet could, wanting to get to the Batcave as fast as he could, his mind going over so many scenarios of Spider dying because of him whenever Alfred or anyone else in the cave didn't answer his calls that he was starting to get a panic attack at the thought of Spider dying because he was too late to save them. 
When he finally arrived at the cave he basically jumped out the jet as it was landing and ran to the medbay, taking off his mask in the meantime as he didn't need it and having it on was like a reminder of the hatred that Spider has for that symbol. 
As he ran, he ignored both of the Kryptonians still in the cave, not caring about their presence as he was more focused on making sure Spider was ok. 
He arrived just in time because he saw Alfred walk out the medbay while taking off the surgical gloves and robes covered in blood and was throwing them away in a nearby bin. 
He quickly walked up to the old man and started to ask a barrage of questions, ranging to what's the situation with Spider to how were they holding up and if they were alive and didn't have anything that would make them unable to move or do certain tasks. 
He stopped talking when Alfred raised a hand to signal silence and listened as he explained:
"Their condition is stable - for now. Their wounds were.. severe to put it bluntly, Master Bruce. They sustained a multitude of near-fatal injuries from Joker. Fixing 2 broken bones in both arms, a fractured rib and stitching  3 stab wounds that, luckily, didn't pierce any of their organs is no small feat, consider it a miracle they are even alive."
He paused for a brief moment, almost as if to re-evaluate in his head.
"If my assessment is correct, they should be up and running in 5 days thanks to their increased healing rate, 8, maybe 9 if they were to refuse any medication." 
Bruce nodded and turned to Dick and Duke who were near the room where Spider was resting at the moment.
He started to talk with Duke and Dick about the situation, sighing in relief when both Clark and Conner left because Tim managed to convince them that if they stayed it wouldn't really help since Spider was still unconscious and they could come visit after Spider wakes up. 
When both Jason and Stephanie arrived he started to explain, to who didn't know, the situation with Spider before getting interrupted by Dick yelling out. 
“I call dibs to share my room with them!” 
His chest heaved in a quick rhythm as he finished his sentence, the words still just teetering on the tip of his tongue from how rushed his speech was, a big smirk on his face as everyone else glared at him. 
Bruce sighed when he saw his kids were ready to fight to share a room with Spider, even though he also wanted to share his own room to make sure Spider was ok if they stayed next to him the whole time they were recovering. 
Unfortunately he needed to be the voice of reason at the moment and said.
“Spider won’t be sharing a room with anyone, they’re weak right now and waking up with one of us in a new place will overwhelm them too much. They’ll get their own room.”
He smiled when everyone grumbled but nodded, glad that no one was gonna contest him on this decision. 
But the moment of happiness didn't last long since after not even 2 minutes Damian raised his hand and yelled out. 
“I wish to call dibs to be the first one to meet Spider when they wake in a room in the mansion” 
After Damian yelled that out, everyone started to fight to be the second person to be with Spider when they wake up and to also choose which room Spider was gonna be the next to. 
Alfred stayed silent for a bit as he listened intently, forced to hear his son discuss about Spider staying in the Manor when they already live there.
He tried to stay calm as he listened, keep his composure and remain civil. But hearing both Bruce and the others call Spider by their vigilante name and not their real name, even after seeing their face, made his blood boil - he knew that he couldn't wait anymore. 
The things Spider had been subjected to and the injuries they suffered as a result, and how the Bats had reacted upon seeing their face- not understanding they were their sibling and child made him so unfathomably frustrated and enraged at the people he'd raised and cared for. Bruce was still discussing with Damian allowing Spider to sleep in the room next to his so he could show them all of his animals as Alfred silently walked over to him.
He decided to stop waiting for his kids to finally realize that Spider was, in fact, [Y/N]. 
His attempts thus far had proved unsuccessful, even after all the small things he put around the house for them to notice. He knew they were a lost cause if they didn't get the hint after all he did so he just walked up to Bruce who was busy trying to convince Damian to not let Titus or anyone else of his pets inside Spider’s room. 
He waited patiently for Bruce to stop talking, since it is impolite to interrupt someone while they're talking, and called out his name. 
"Master Bruce." 
Which got him a simple hand wave, signaling that he was busy. The dismissive action made him annoyed that he wouldn't listen, but he tried once more.
"Mast-”
But he was interrupted by Bruce's sharp hand wave and a scoff yet again, the man obviously frustrated by Damian and Jason, since the two were now arguing about who Spider was going to be placed next to in terms of rooms. 
He was fed up of being ignored and interrupted by everyone around him, raising his hands before clapping them together with an angry look on his face that garnered the attention of the entire room, the normally alive and bubbling room screeching to a halt in a wonderful blend of terror and surprise since Alfred was almost never mad. His glare danced around the room, shooting at each individual face before settling on Bruce's similarly surprised expression. 
Then he began his exasperated speech in an eerily calm voice.
"Honestly, Master Bruce, I can't believe I raised you to be like this. I gave you all enough many chances to make it right, let you take your time figuring it out, but it seems like you cannot even put enough thought into noticing the blatant hints and information I have given you, I could have written it in bold red ink on my forehead and you would still turn a blind eye. I am so far beyond disappointed in all of you that there is no word in the English dialect that could possibly encapsulate just how much you have let me down."
He raised a hand to stop Dick and Damian from talking and trying to defend themselves, or shifting the blame onto someone else in the group. 
"I have been patient and understanding with all of you and your behavior towards [Y/N], but after what happened today with Joker, I cannot sit idly by and continue to allow myself to pretend as if your disgraceful behavior is acceptable. You have run my tolerance and composure thin, so much so I cannot even fathom being quite so lenient anymore."
He stopped once again to level his glare at Bruce before shifting it briefly to Damian, knowing what the kid did to [Y/N] when they first arrived at the Manor.
"Spider's secret identity is [Y/N] Lawrence, also known as [Y/N] Wayne to me, and who is your child Master Bruce. Your child got bit by a mutated spider while working in a science lab, of which they had informed me, but your blatant ignorance is not even the worst part." 
As he walked up to Bruce and put a finger on his chest, his footsteps seemed so loud and deafening that some of the individuals in the room had to refrain from covering their ears. Alfred prodded Bruce's chest accusingly as if he was trying to physically reach his heart, despite his doubts that the man could even feel it. 
"The worst part is that you all ignored that poor child who lost their mother and came to us seeking help. They needed a family and stability after their supposed 'loved ones' shut the door in their face, and yet they couldn't even find that here. Your child could have lost their life today, they could have been taken to hospital only for us to be told they are unable to be saved, you could have been called to the morgue to confirm the body is theirs. And yet I don't think you would have been able to name their corpse."
He paused for a brief second to regain his composure ever so slightly, turning his attention to the others in the room.
"They learned gymnastics for you, Master Dick. Just so that you two could have something in common to talk about.  However, you always ditched them for Master Tim or Master Damian whenever they begged you to do something with them."
He glanced at Jason and the others who were standing there, wanting to make sure his kids knew how bad they messed up. He also ignored how destroyed Dick and Bruce looked when they realized and remembered what they said and did to [Y/N].
"They spent days in the library reading your favorite books Master Jason and even learned about guns and the maintenance for one whenever you visited to be close to you. They were the one who left candies out for you and always made a new pot of coffee for you whenever you drank it all master Tim.”
He then glared at Damian, knowing what the young boy did to the poor vigilante, now resting in the med bay. 
"After losing their mother, they were ecstatic about the idea of having a younger brother but you, Master Damian, thought they wanted to steal your place as Robin when they didn't even know your identity. But did you even stop to consider how horrifically you were treating a child that you were supposed to be protecting?"
Alfred paused his talking to lean down and look Damian in the eyes, making sure the boy's gaze wouldn't drift away. 
"No you didn't. You instead abused that child and made them so frightened and anxious about living near you that I had to move them to the other side of the Manor and serve them food in their room so they wouldn't starve to death. Despite your treatment of them, you didn't seem to care about the consequences of your actions, did you Master Damian?" 
He leaned back and stared at everyone, an exhausted yet somewhat pleased little smile appearing on his face when he saw the horrified moment-of-realization expressions on display as the weight of their treatment of [Y/N] came crashing down on their shoulders.
His gaze turned to Stephanie, Duke and Cassandra who were in the back of the group. Stephanie's voice was hoarse and trembling as her uneven sobbing filled the air, the realization as to why Spider always ignored and looked so annoyed when seeing her hitting her like a freight train. 
He stayed silent as he watched everyone realize what they’ve done before Duke, who was a bit busy trying to calm down Stephanie who was still crying, asked out loud. 
“Wait, then where is Spi- I mean, [Y/N]’s room?” 
To which Alfred sighed but led everyone, except Stephanie and Cassandra, who stayed behind to help Stephanie calm down and also make sure Spider would be ok in the medbay. 
As they all walked they noticed the way the corridor that led to [Y/N]’s room was very dark, like all the lightbulbs were taken off every chandelier to hide something. 
When they finally arrived the first thing that was noticed was the door almost completely covered in stickers and little kids drawing, along with an empty plate on a small table next to the door. 
Alfred stopped in front of the door before looking at everyone behind him, annoyed at their obvious hesitation at entering [Y/N]’s room but eventually grabbed the doorknob and twisted it, finally opening the room. 
The room is small.
As soon as they set foot inside, only two of them because not all of them fit, the feeling given by the room is almost claustrophobic. 
Being small by nature, the bed and objects make the room even more restricted, almost unbreathable. The mess does not fail to compensate for the effect; it is full of sheets of paper, fabric,  and metal constructions everywhere.
It is very admirable that [Y/N] managed to make gold out of every corner of the room, making it livable despite their spider "work". All the constructions and planning have even come to be hung from the ceiling.
Duke stayed a little to the side, but still took into account all the details of the room; like all the posters that cover the room. An almost spontaneous smile appeared on his face as soon as he realized that they are all about him as Signal, the thought of [Y/N] being a fan of his work made him happy and also proud of himself.
As everyone looked around, Dick raised his arm to grab the only sheet of paper that was hanging only on one side, being held by a web that basically crumbled when Dick tugged the paper off of it. But no matter how much he tries to decipher what is written, he really doesn't understand anything even though he knows many languages, dead and still used thanks to Bruce’s training.
Each paper everyone grabbed had a different topic written on it before being thrown around the room and attached to the wall or ceiling via webs. Some of those papers had methods to make the costume more comfortable to move, others tested various ways to make using the web shooters in a way that they could still work if they were underwater or electrocuted, while others depicted different versions of the costume, to make it easier for a child to see it and not scare them if they ever had to see it.
One of the main things that the two men that managed to be inside the room noticed is that they basically didn't know exactly what they're looking at. It's definitely one of the few times they set foot in [Y/N's] room, and the realization that they've neglected them so badly into allowing them to pull off a whole "hero" act without ever being aware of it hits them in the face like a violent slap.
As they looked around they all saw various photos in addition to the posters and papers pinned to the wall; in these photos there are various experiences where [Y/N] was depicted, but nothing is familiar to all of them, increasing their guilt. There were photos of them at a science fair, two or three at various dance recitals, but they noticed that the arrangement of the photos seemed purposely placed; every photo where [Y/N] was depicted, their smile seemed to become duller, forced as they grew older. Their eyes began to lose more and more of that spark of joy, becoming emptier, sadder.
Dick ran his eyes over all the trophies on the shelves, the badges from every competition he never attended. He doesn't remember them; hell, he never even saw them bring any  or badge home. For all the times [Y/N] has attended something, he has never been there. He should have thought twice before excluding them so much from his life. But there's no point in crying over spilled milk. 
Above all the badges and trophies there are only two photos; certainly spacing each other by 2-3 years. In the first photo, when [Y/N] was younger, they seemed genuinely happy to hold the trophy, smiling as if they wanted to dare the sun to shine like they did. But the second photo was completely different, it's almost agony for Dick to look at that fake smile imprinted on their face, like all their excitement and joy were sucked out of them but they still needed to smile. 
When Dick finally walked out the room to make way for Jason, his face was full of regret and guilt but the man ignored him to walk inside [Y/N]’s room. 
He ignored the papers all around the room and stayed a few seconds to look at the photos before looking at the small bookshelf he noticed in the corner. 
He slowly picked up one of the books sitting on the shelf and looked at the title, a bit surprised that it was Pride and Prejudice since every time he ever talks about it to someone, they never say that they liked it and just had to read it for school. 
But he saw that the book was incredibly used and full of small sticky notes all inside it. Whenever he opened a page following a sticky note sticking out the book he always found one of the passages filled with sticky notes or notes written on the page with a pencil, making him smile at the thought of [Y/N] loving the book so much that they wrote what they thought on the pages. 
As he flipped through the pages of all the books, he kept on noticing that on his favorite paragraphs there were small notes, like small instructions on how to add those paragraphs in a conversation with him, his heart breaking at the thought of [Y/N] working so hard to just incorporate something he liked so he could like them. 
He could feel the excitement in all the notes by the way they wrote them, like you couldn't wait to see him and talk to him about it. But he knew that you two never talked much, hell he can't even remember one single conversation he had with [Y/N], making him feel even worse than before. 
As Jason kept on reading all the books in the small bookshelf, Tim got to work on their laptop that he managed to find after searching all around the room. 
As he opened the case that had [Y/N]’s laptop inside, he could see some old stickers that depicted him during his time as Red Robin, along with some cute cat stickers that covered almost the entirety of the laptop's outside. The sight made him smile, endeared by the thought of [Y/N] still liking him enough that they actually had some of his stickers on their laptop. 
After opening it up, he powered it on and copied the password off of the little scribble next to the keypad. Going through the stuff inside the laptop, he noticed a folder full of photos of all of the bats, in either an embarrassing situation or funny moments when they were inside a dumpster after [Y/N] threw them inside of one. The thought made him laugh, especially whenever he found small notes written on that photo like what their crime was as to why they ended up in a dumpster. Though Duke, Cassandra and Bruce were missing from all the photos, as if they never existed to begin with.
As he kept going through [Y/N]’s laptop, he turned to place the heavy item onto the table since it was starting to get hot from being powered on. As he pushed some items out the way to make room, he accidentally pushed the laptop case off the desk, watching as a small usb  bounced out and fell onto the floor,  sparking Tim's curiosity. What could possibly be inside of that usb?
He grabbed it and plugged it in, initially waiting patiently for it to load. His irritation grew as he watched the loading animation loop over and over and over again, almost teasingly. He made a mental note to buy [Y/N] a better laptop. Perhaps even a whole pc setup so they could play together. 
When the laptop finally gave him access to the contents of the usb, he found a multitude of videos that dated back years before [Y/N] arrived at the Manor. 
He quickly went back to the newer video in the usb and clicked on it, curious as to what these videos had captured.
Tim curiously clicked the play button on the small screen, watching as it started playing. The scene displayed that of a small child, no older than five or six, who he quickly recognised as [Y/N]. They seemed to be in a living room of sorts, though he was just assuming that based on the blurry sofa and coffee table in the background. 
He stared in surprise at the screen as they put the phone on something, probably a shelf or table, to keep it still. Tim laughed a little whenever it kept sliding over, the child's tiny yet menacing voice threatening to throw the phone as they stomped closer to it to prop it back up. This happened several times before they got the right angle. When they finally managed to get the phone to cooperate, he watched as they took a few excited steps backwards, tripping once or twice, before they smiled brightly at the camera.
"So! I just got my first role in a BIG dance recital!! I'm gonna be the uh- uhm I think it's the swan in, uh.. Swan Lake? I think that was what it's called, but anyways I don't care! I'll be a pretty swan!" 
The child twirled around in sheer joy, showing off the sparkly white ballerina outfit, the pretty pearls shimmering in the little sunlight that poured in through a nearby window and the delicate lace shifting with the movement of the dress. The excited spinning halted as [Y/N] jumped a bit upon hearing a voice called their name. As he listened to the gentle lull of the voice, Tim realized it belonged to a woman, though it was unfamiliar to him. 
He laughed when the small child ran to grab the phone, noticing that they didn't stop the recording. Instead, they just ran to the kitchen where he could see a woman standing over the counter cutting some vegetables with her back to the camera, dressed in some simple pajamas that were decorated with stars. She was shorter than average, with long brown hair that lay on her shoulder.
The young dancing prodigy shakily pointed the phone towards the woman, before asking loudly, "So, Miss Mom, are you excited about [Y/N]'s first dance recital?" Their enthusiasm radiated from their voice, bleeding into their movement as the camera just barely captured the woman's face turning and laughing softly at the young child's determined expression. Now that he had a good look at her face, Tim presumed this woman was [Y/N]'s mother based on their similar facial features. 
"So serious! Though, this isn't your first dance recital my little star, you have done many before now." She exclaimed, her shoulders shaking as she smiled brightly at her child.
"Mooooom! This is my first REAL dance recital because I have a big role now!"
As the woman playfully shook her head with a stifled chuckle, smiling down at them, she turned her head to her right, encouraging [Y/N] to follow her line of sight.
"Boris! Tell her!!"
The camera panned over to a much bigger man hunched over a cooking pot, and as he turned his head to look at the woman with a knowing smile, Tim noticed a deep gash along his cheek. No, not a gash, a scar perhaps? This baffled Tim since he knew of the existence of [Y/N]'s mother, but had no recollection of a father in their life. 
"You guyssss, I'm a freaking swan! Do you know how cool swans are?!" 
Tim chuckled softly when he heard little [Y/N] say their version of a bad word, watching with a fond smile as the woman gasped dramatically with a shocked expression while the man turned his head away as if trying to hide his laughter. 
"Little star! Where did you hear such a bad word?”
To this, little [Y/N] paused for a good few seconds before their tiny hand appeared in the frame and gestured to the man, throwing him under the bus in order to avoid punishment. 
"Boris said it earlier when the TV wouldn't work."
Tim watched with a curious smile as  the woman turned her hardened glare to the man, who gave her a nervous look. "Look it was an accident Amelie, I didn't realize [Y/N] was in the room-" The man had a slight accent, possibly Russian.
Before he could finish his sentence, the video got cut off, leaving Tim in a thoughtful silence. So [Y/N]'s mother was called Amelie? How interesting. Still, who exactly was that man?
He quickly went to the web browser on the laptop and searched for [Y/N]’s mother, which wasn't hard since the first thing that popped up were articles of her death and photos of the incident. 
As he searched more articles about her, he noticed a few things: [Y/N] was never mentioned in any of the articles that talked about Amelie during her modeling career or about her having any types of relationships.
While he searched, he did find a few photos of Amelie with Boris, easily recognisable thanks to face scars, but as he could see by the many photos taken by paparazzi and fans, Boris was always by the side looking like a bodyguard. 
Another quick research, about the man this time, and he found out that Boris was with Amelie when she was driving and died on his way to the hospital. 
Tim quickly finished searching and turned off the laptop before grabbing it along the usb to watch more videos about [Y/N], especially since he saw a small folder full of other videos that mostly depicted [Y/N] as a teen, so he wanted to see them in his room and make copies of all the videos to show the others.  
When Tim finally walked out the room along with Duke, Damian finally walked inside the small room, grimacing at the sight of the mess that [Y/N] lives in.
He promptly ignored Jason, who was still reading the books and had tears in his eyes, to focus on more important things, like searching through [Y/N]’s desk drawers and in the closet. 
In the desk drawers he didn't find much, just a few folders containing useless information and school books that Damian ignored, angry that he couldn't find anything in the folders. 
But when he searched the closet, grimacing at the poor quality of the clothes [Y/N] dared to wear that he even made a mental note to buy decent clothing for them when they woke up, he saw a few boxes at the back. 
When he opened the first one he saw a small box full of vials, all labeled with ‘web fluid’, while next to the small box were a few web shooters, at least that's what the label on all of them said. 
He grabbed them all and noticed a folder at the bottom of the box, which contained informations on how to create the web shooters thanks to the grappling hook parts and what to improve in the next model, so Damian assumed those web shooters in the box were old version that [Y/N] didn't use anymore. 
He was impressed at how neat the information in the folder was, all in order and even highlighted when something was important or not, plus small notes added with pencil or post its. 
When he finished reading the information, he put everything back in the box and set it aside to grab another box that was in the back of the closet, finding almost three, maybe four, albums of photos. 
He slowly grabbed one, making sure to not damage anything in the album as he slowly looked through the pages, admiring the photos of a small [Y/N] along with their mother or an unknown man. 
The other two albums contained photos of a woman, he assumed it was [Y/N]’s mother during modeling gigs and from clippings taken on magazines, alongside photos of her with a man, again the same man he kept seeing with [Y/N]. 
He closed the album in frustration and put it back in the box before grabbing the last box in the closet, wanting to see what this had so he could either use it to bond with [Y/N] or to understand why they hate him. 
He understood that [Y/N] hated him, especially after Alfred pointed it out and made everyone see who Spider really was, but he also didn't understand why they hated him the most. 
Yes, he did hurt them pretty badly that they had to find a safe place in this small room but he didn't understand the hate. He did the same with Drake but he didn't hate him. 
As he opened the last box, which he immediately noted was full of dust which meant that [Y/N] didn't really open it much and just kept in the back of the closet to collect dust, he only saw a notebook. 
He slowly picked it up, patting it down a few times to get rid of the dust before opening it to the first page, which read ‘Diary of [Y/N]’. 
He closed it and debated if he should really open it or not before finally opening it, needing to know why they hated him and maybe the diary contained some information about it. 
He started to read the first entries before skipping pages until he came to an entry where his name was mentioned. 
20-03-XXXX 
Dear Diary
Hi, sorry for not writing to you for a few months but many things happened that you wouldn't believe! Well you don't really believe in anything, you’re an object. 
I moved out of my old house and went to live with my father, and yes I know it's weird since mom never mentioned him but I had to move in with him. 
You might be wondering why, well mom and Boris died. The policeman who took me to my father explained everything, they both died in a car crash, he even let me grab everything I needed. I managed to grab all the albums I made with mom and Boris and mom’s favorite jewelry but not much. 
I think auntie is gonna grab her clothes and other objects, I hope she won't sell them. 
Well no more sadness! My father is Bruce Wayne! The billionaire man who made so many things possible in Gotham! 
I am unsure if he knew that I existed, he looked so surprised when the policeman, I think his name was Gordon, explained what happened to mom and why I should stay with him. 
But I got a big ass room! It's even bigger than my old one! Oh I have to ask Alfred, my father's butler and yes, he really has a butler, if I can buy some night stars to put on the ceiling and some new clothes. 
I also have a younger brother! His name is Damian Wayne-Al Ghul! His surname sounds so cool compared to Lawrence! 
Plus he’s arabic! Alfred told me he was raised in a ‘traditional manner’ but I don't know what that means, maybe that means that he’s a prince? 
Oh my god, I have a prince as a brother! That would be so cool! I hope I can be friends with him and the others! I am so excited! 
I do miss mom and Boris but I can't stay sad forever, the consultant in school said so. Plus I adore everyone! They're so cool and fashionable! I want to be like Dick or Tim when I grow up! 
Oh yea I also have some many older brothers! Their names are: Richard but he prefers Dick, I don't understand why, Jason, Tim who is very cool like a Duke by how classy he is and Duke! 
I also have two older sisters, Stephanie and Cadsandra, even though they're not ‘really’ part of the family like Alfred said but I consider them my sisters! They look so cool and Cassandra is so cool, like an assassin or a ninja! 
Damian slowly closed the notebook, using a finger to not lose the page and just thought about what he just read. 
He knew [Y/N] came to the Manor when they were 12, maybe 11, so the entry was maybe a few months after their mom died in an accident with a man, possibly the man he kept seeing in the photos, named Boris. 
But what he read shocked him. They considered him cool and just wanted a friend. They didn't even know about the family's business and just thought everything was cool. 
He quickly shook his head and reopened the notebook to read more, needing to know more about what they thought of him and when it changed. 
15-04-XXXX 
Dear Diary 
You know Damian, the younger brother I told you about almost 5 months ago? About how he's so cool and everything and how I want to be friends with him? 
Well he's not so cool anymore, he keeps hurting me and calling me names, saying things like “you won't replace me, I will be the ultimate Robin”. 
I think I spent more time with Alfred stitching up cuts made by him than everyone else in this Manor. I hate Damian so much!  
Why would I even want to be Robin?! I don't even know who Robin is now since they keep changing hair colors! Why would I be a Robin?! Batman is too scary! 
I just wanted a younger brother, is that so bad to ask for? I understand that I came into their life without much notice but it's not my fault I came here! 
It's that drunk driver's fault! He’s the one who killed my mom and Boris! I don't even want to be here! I would prefer to be with my mom, watching her get ready to do a photoshoot while Boris tells me stories about his time in the secret agencies he was in. 
I hate this Manor, I hate Dick and his excuses for not hanging out with me, Bruce for telling me that I am just someone he’s forced to take care of and not his child and especially Damian! 
I miss mom, I want to hug her one more time and dance with her. 
Why did she go to the supermarket? She could've gone another day! It's all my fault, I should've never let her go with Boris, if I did she would still be here with me. 
Damian stopped reading after that because the writing was almost illegible and in a few parts the ink was smeared because of small droplets of water, most likely tears. 
He felt horrible, even more now that he read about himself in [Y/N]’s eyes and how quickly their feelings for him changed. 
Even now, as he read past passages about himself, he could see how much they adored him even after he hurt them and it felt like knives were being stabbed on his body. 
As he read, he started to feel something wet trailing down his face and when he went to touch his cheek, he didn't saw blood on his fingers like he thought 
He quickly got up and put the diary on the bed before running out of the room, too distraught to stay there as the words written by [Y/N] about him kept circling around his head, taunting him and telling him that it was all his fault. 
He’s the reason why [Y/N] hates everyone in the Manor, he’s the reason why they refused to be a part of the Batfam when they were Spider. He caused this. He made them move into a closet just because he was scared of losing the Robin mantle. 
He ruined everything because of his selfish behavior towards a stupid mantle that you didn't even know belonged to him, and he knew it. 
He collapsed in front of the medbay after finally getting back in the batcave, a bit glad when he saw that Stephanie and Cassandra weren't there to see him crying, and sobbed in front of the room, knowing that he didn't deserve to even enter the room after what he had done to [Y/N]. 
When Bruce saw Damian run out he tried to follow him but stopped, knowing the boy probably needed to be alone and would refuse his attention if he tried to help. 
He nodded when Jason walked out the room and stood in front of the door, wanting to enter but still felt like he didn't deserve to even enter one of the only safe spaces that [Y/N] had in the Manor. 
Bruce kept staring at the room, his thoughts running wild when he saw how small the room was compared to his or even Tim’s room. 
“Alfred, what was this room before [Y/N] moved in it?”
The tiny space looked more fit for a young child, with walls that seemed to curve inwards the longer you stood in there, of which you could only stand if you were under 6ft. 
Posters, pictures and multiple sheets of paper decorated any free space on the aged walls, the rest of the area covered by a wardrobe and a shelf that used to hold a few books that Jason took to his room. 
A large bed sat pressed against the corner of the room, creating a small area of safety with the various pillows and blankets piled up on top of the thin mattress. Clothing was scattered all across the room, alongside all the documents and papers that were scattered around the room, though mostly on and underneath the bed, having likely been kicked under there by [Y/N] after they tripped on it.
The whole room emanated with coziness yet was so small that anyone would feel claustrophobic even just looking in the room. 
And yet [Y/N] had called this room their home, settling in each night to the tiny bed after kicking their clothing somewhere random in the room and slowly slipping into the realm of sleep as they smiled fondly at the figures on their shelf.
"This used to be a storage room."
Alfred interrupted, capturing Bruce's attention and pulling him out of his trance-like state. "We used to put random items like cleaning products and laundry supplies in here, I remember there used to be a cabinet for the detergent over there." He said gently, smiling a little as he gestured to where the small bed now sat. "[Y/N] was delighted when they found this room, practically begging me to stay in here. They told me it seemed cozy, though I will admit I did find it a little odd they wanted such a small room." He told him, chuckling a little towards the end of his sentence. 
"The way their little face lit up in excitement once we got the bed in here, watching them run around the room playing with their figures and hanging up posters. The room was small, sure, but it was more than enough for them.”
Bruce stayed silent after Alfred said that and looked around the room before noticing a small book next to the bed. 
He slowly picked it up and sat on the bed, opening it to the first page and immediately reading ‘Diary of [Y/N]’ on it. He closed it and wondered if he should read it, mentally debating on whether or not he was allowed. 
He decided on reading it when he remembered that he didn't know anything, absolutely nothing about his kid and what happened to them and how they were before they got bit by a spider.  
Bruce knew it was wrong, it was another invasion of [Y/N]’s privacy but he didn't care. He wanted, no he needed to know about them. 
20-05-XXXX (you can change the date with your birthday) 
Dear Diary, this is my first entry in this book that is now called Diary. 
Mom says that I have to practice writing and that I also can use it to express feelings or tell stories that I don't want to tell anyone in this book, so I shall be doing that. 
As of today, my birthday, I am now 7 years old and I have celebrated another birthday with no father, just my mom and Boris. 
If you are wondering, even though you can't since you are an object, I do not know who my father is and Boris is not my dad. 
He told me that when I once called him dad, which made me sad since why do I have to hold this title for a person that has never showed up in my life when Boris is always there for me when I am either sad or feel like I can't do anything? 
This is not fair. I will mom who my dad is and pretend to know why he doesn't want me. I don't even know why he doesn't want me! And I’m 7! 
Well, I’ll tell you when I come back! 
Ok so, mom told me that my father is someone that can't be traced so he’s either a ghost or dead. Which is the same thing. 
Well I don't care, I’ll just tell Boris that he's my dad, even if he doesn't marry mom since she refuses to have other relationships and because Boris told me that he's attracted to other men and not women. 
I don't envy him, boys suck. Especially my ghost dad! He abandoned mom! 
As Bruce finished reading the first passage, he realized that their mother, Amelie, didn't try to paint him as someone evil just because he wasn't there. 
He was also amazed at how serious the first entry was, it was almost a work document but he didn't think too much about it. 
He felt horrible because he remembered all the time he talked bad about Amelie and how she couldn't just do one thing and keep [Y/N] away, not even caring if [Y/N] was in the room or around. 
He knew Amelie, she was one of the models who never tried to flirt with him and spent most of her time talking with her bodyguard, acting like he didn't exist. 
He also remembered that, after that night with her, she never called him until a week or two later to inform him that she was pregnant and how she just wanted child support if he didn't want to be in the child’s life. 
He was incredibly surprised when she called him and even more surprised when she sent him a very well made child support agreement where she just wanted a decent amount of money every month and she will never bother him, she’ll just add him to the birth certificate if something happened to her. 
He quickly shook his head to get rid of the thoughts about Amelie and skipped a few entries in the Diary before stopping at one where his name was mentioned in the first line. 
31-09-XXXX
Bruce Wayne is my father. 
I now know who my father is.. and yet I don't feel anything. 
At first I wondered- why am I not happy? My father is a billionaire and a very famous man in Gotham, shouldn't I be excited and happy to have such a new lavish lifestyle with a loving, caring father?
Then I thought about it and came to a conclusion..
I don't like Bruce Wayne.
My mother and Boris died in a car crash. They were gone and I believed I had just become an orphaned child with no parents or guardians to care for me. 
And then the police told me I had a father - Bruce Wayne. That man looked at me like I was some grotesque animal when the nice policeman told him about what happened and who I was.
I don't like Bruce. 
He looks scary and totally different from what I saw on the TV whenever he was in a program with one of his many children. 
He keeps saying things under his breath, like how my mom had one job and failed at it or how annoying I was because he didn't want me here since I was the reminder of my mom. 
I want to hit him.
It's not her fault. 
How dare he say things about mom! She wasn't perfect, I know that, but nobody is! Just because she didn't know how to cook meat and always had Boris cook anything that was fish or meat doesn't make his hatred for her okay! She was horrible at making drawings with me but she tried to, she put in effort to sit with me and draw anyway!
Why does he hate her so much?! 
Why does he hate me?! 
I don't even want to be here! 
I want my mom back! 
I want Boris back! 
I miss my house, I miss my room! 
I hate this.
I hate everything.
I hate him. 
I hate Bruce Wayne.
Bruce stopped reading after that and just stared at the opened closet, trying to wrap his head around what he read. 
He couldn't believe he did that. No he could believe that he said something like that, he was going through a rough patch with both kids, business and his vigilante job that when [Y/N] suddenly entered his life he didn't do anything to help them adjust or comfort them. 
He also remembered how Amelie was a nice woman when he woke up in her bed, that explained what happened thoroughly for him, how they were both drunk and thankfully Boris took them to her house, and even gave him her business card after she took his so she could contact him if she was ended up pregnant because she knew she wasn't on a safe day and he didn't use a condom. 
He actually admired how gentle she was and how, when she contacted him about her being pregnant and how she wondered if he wanted to be in his child’s life, accepted his refusal and the offer of child support, not even caring about how much money he was gonna give her every month. 
So he felt even more horrible and a downright scumbag when he realized that he insulted one of the many women he respected in front of her child and how he never apologized or tried to make amends. 
Not even the realization about his actions would excuse them, especially because he said those words to a child, a traumatized child who just lost everything and had to be thrown into a house where no one wanted them. 
He slowly flipped through the pages, stopping when he found one of the last entries, which were dated almost 2, maybe 3 years ago. 
08-07-XXXX
Dear Diary 
As stated before, I moved into Wayne Manor and now I am a Wayne. I refuse to take his surname though, I will never give up my mother's last name. 
This will probably be one of my last entries since I will switch to video diaries, mostly to just watch myself and actually explain while talking. 
I have been in this hell that I have to call house for almost 3 years and I hate it. I know that I say it many times but it's true. 
I hate Dick and how he acts like he's the golden child, so righteous and kind to Tim and Damian but when I ask to do anything with him, he just tells me that he's busy. 
Even though I know that those are excuses so he wouldn't have to hang out with me. 
I hate Jason and how he complains that Bruce doesn't love him, but I know that he does. That man loves Jason even if he kills people as Red Hood but doesn't do anything about it. 
I hate Tim. I don't know much about him but I hate him so much because he's so perfect, already a CEO and so good at everything that even if I manage to do something good, I will always be compared to him by Bruce. 
I hate Stephanie, Cassandra and Duke. They never hang out with me, telling me that they're busy when I see them play around together or with others. 
What did I even do to them?! 
I hate Damian and how he feels superior just because he's an Al Ghul and Robin. I hate it. He has everything, Bruce’s and everyone else's love and attention and yet, he still tormented me and scarred me just because I existed. 
I DIDN'T EVEN KNOW THAT BRUCE WAS BATMAN WHEN I FIRST CAME TO THE MANOR.
I hate Bruce Wayne. I hate his perfect TV smile and persona, I hate how he acts like he loves all of his children and yet he has never spent any time with me ever since I came to his Manor years ago. 
I hate how he told Dick about how annoying my voice was after I visited to ask him to sign something for school. How he described my voice as nails on a chalkboard for his ears and how he wished he never had to hear it again. 
But if he wants to, then I shall never talk again. Maybe this will make him happy. 
Bruce slowly looked up when he finished reading that entry, the diary slowly slipping out of his hands and falling onto the floor with a soft thud. 
He couldn't believe that he said something so horrible about a kid, someone he should be protecting, and made them, made his own child, hate their own voice. 
He slowly put his hands on his head and just cried silently, the realization that he was the reason as to why [Y/N] hated the Manor and their own blood, because he was a horrible father to a traumatized child that just wanted a family after losing their own so early.
The manor was quiet, eerily so. Usually it was bursting with life, sound practically reverberated off the walls. But today it was almost silent. Amidst this silence, a child finally wakes up from their slumber in a room in the Manor. 
You slowly opened your eyes, hissing when the blinding lights coming from the window immediately hit your face like a rocket, making you try to move your arm to cover your face. 
You slowly looked down to your arm when you noticed the difficulty at moving it and found it in a cast that almost enveloped all your right arm. 
You looked at the other arm and sighed in relief when you saw that it was just bandaged up and not in a cast. 
You did notice that you had an IV in your hand, making you sit up despite the pain you felt all over your body and managed to pull it out with the casted arm. 
After you pulled out the IV, you noticed that you were in a far bigger room compared to the small one you had before. You looked at the shelves and noticed that your worn out books were replaced with new ones while the photos and posters were in the same places but with more space. 
As you looked around, you could see that the furniture was the same, confirmed by the scratches on the closet, which was the closest to you, that you accidentally did while trying the first prototype of the web shooter in the room which resulted in you throwing the flaming machinery at the closet before destroying it as you tried to put out the fire before Alfred noticed. 
You laughed a little at the memory of your panicking before almost doubling over in a fit of cough, your throat burning when you finally calmed down. 
You slowly moved the blankets off of you after you calmed down enough to think rationally, understanding that you weren't in your room anymore but still in the Manor thanks to the walls and the colors in the room, which were totally different from the ones you had in your own room. 
You ignored how both of your legs were bandaged up and slowly got off the bed, using the IV stand to keep yourself standing as you wobbled to the desk, noticing almost all the papers you had around your room were now in neat piles, making you extremely angry since you immediately knew that Bruce and his kids entered your room, probably because of Alfred interference. 
You pulled away from the desk, still holding onto the IV stand and coughed a little, noticing that the shirt you were wearing was starting to get blood on it. 
You slowly raised the shirt and noticed that the bandages on your chest and sides were full of blood, but you ignored it and went for the door, needing to get out of here since you knew that if you were in a different room it meant that they all knew you were Spider. 
When you finally made it to the door, your vision was already starting to get blurry from all the blood you were losing. You finally opened it but fainted before you even managed to take a step out, the last thing you saw was the silhouette of a man running up to you, his face blurry and his voice muffled. 
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eymie · 10 months ago
Text
PHOTOGRAPHER !
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pairing: thomas webb x fem!reader
warnings: smut, nudes?? kinda, alcohol, dry humping, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), thats it i think
summary: you were a new york photoprapher and thomas lived in your apartment. and after one frustrating night you invite him into your room.
a/n: WHERE. IS. THE. MF. CALLUM. TURNER. FICS. i’ve been on this game since fantastic beasts. (ive found a few scrumptious callum fics and yk who u r @willyoubemycherryy) also i have not written in a hot minute and none of you expected this.
You lived on the story above Thomas. Not that you ever really noticed him at first, you were relatively new in the complex too. Sometimes you’d hear him having a conversation on the stairs with the old man from 2B. Mix of words you didn’t bother to put together.
Well, you didn’t care until you saw him for the first time. The old man from 2B liked to talk a lot, often chatting you up when you got home from work. Sometimes bringing up Thomas which you didn’t care for.
"He could use a nice girl like you.”
To which you would’ve scoffed. You heard someone running down the stairs, to which you met eye contact with Thomas. Wavy brown hair, pink cheeks, glasses that sort of turned you on.
The real New York type of guy, to be honest, your type of guy. His lips parted as he looked at you, a small nod and than sliding past you.
“Where you going Thomas,” He called out, to which Thomas turned around laughing.
“I gotta go, meeting up with Mimi.” Thomas turned on his heels to leave until he was stopped again by the man.
“I want you to meet me friend.” The man gestured to you, Thomas smiling at you in return.
“No, it’s alright. I have to get going.” You smiled back, walking to the door where Thomas stood. You brushed past him, your clothes brushing his own.
“Where?” Thomas asked, furrowing his brows.
“Around, I’m a photographer.”
That’s how it started. After that, coincidentally you ran into Thomas a lot more after that. Usually alone, and to that he’d usually greet you and say hi. After a specifically draining day, a frustrating one at that, he ran into you in the front door.
He rubbed his eyes, apologizing and then he started talking. Going off about something you honestly didn’t care much about. You liked hearing him talk. You didn’t mean to say it, but you did.
“Wanna talk about it? In my room.” It came out like word vomit, immediately embarrassed. You watched his eyes for a second, not even processing his nod.
You grabbed his hands pulling him up to your apartment, dragging him close behind you. His hand was big compared to yours, you weren’t surprised you had already noticed he was a lot taller than you.
Your anxiety kicked in when you struggled to unlock the door. Him peering over your neck, watching you struggle with your keys. You felt his lips brush your neck slightly, your panties dampening.
You flung your door open a little too excited, a small laugh leaving his lips. He followed you in, to which you immediately grabbed your alcohol off the shelf.
When you turned around, Thomas caught you off-guard, pressing his lips to yours. It was quick, aggressive a bit, which you assumed was probably from nerves. He was quick to shake his head and apologize.
"Shit, I'm sorry." He mumbles, looking down at his shoes. You examine his face, his expression. You hand him the full bottle of alcohol off your counter, to which he takes from you with ease. "Thanks--"
You pull him back down, pressing your lips harder to his than he had before. You threaded your fingers through his hair, slightly tugging on it making him groan into the kiss. He still held the bottle in his hand, but his free hand slid to your waist.
He had you pressed against your counter, nowhere to move. His tongue slid over your bottom lips, you parted your lips allowing him to slip it in. Pressing and sliding against your own making you moan softly into the kiss.
Thomas pulled away, taking a sip of the alcohol, furrowing his brows at the taste. He placed it back on the counter beside you, who was breathless and needy.
He tilted your chin back up, pulling you back into another heated kiss. Both hands now free, groping whatever he could. You could taste the alcohol on his tongue, his kiss was intoxicating.
His hand slid up your skirt, tracing the apex of your thighs. His fingers slowly slide up to the wet patch of your panties. “Fuck, you’re soaked.”
"Thomas," You gasp, pulling away from the kiss. He trails down your jawline and neck, leaving soft wet kisses. He hums into your skin, hands pulling your waist closer to his body. "Wait--"
"What?" He was barely audible, too busy tainting your skin with his marks which you would certainly cover up the next day.
"l don’t know," You gasp, his tongue running over the mark he had just left. You feel him smile into your skin, a small laugh leaving his lips. His fingers sliding over your panties, pressing onto your clothed clit.
"Do you want me to stop?" He pulls away looking at your flustered face. His hand pulling away from the apex of your thighs, sliding up your waist and under your shirt.
“No,” You were too quick to answer, a small laugh leaving his lips. The way Thomas kissed you felt urgent, like he needed you now and he could’ve wait. And if you knew any better you would’ve known why.
You walked backwards to your bedroom, never breaking the hungry kiss. His hands were large, pulling at your waist. Your hand pulled back to push the door open further, backing into your small room. He turned you, pushing you against the white door, shutting it with your body weight.
You let out a soft moan as his knee slotted between your thighs, pressing into your clothed his. His hands travelled down to your hip, pulling your cunt harder onto his rough pants.
“Look at you, getting off on my thigh.” You whined at his words, a wet patch forming on the fabric of his pants.
“Thomas, I want you—“
“I know,” He mumbles against your lips. Thomas was usually quick when it came to sex, at least with the foreplay but he wanted to take it slow so bad. Talk you through it. “Don’t worry, gonna fuck you.”
“Now,” You move your head to the side to give him more room to mark your neck. His hand slides up to cradle your jaw, lips attacking your skin.
“Not yet,” His hot breath against your skin, lips pressing to your neck.
Thomas’ hands slid under your thighs, you jump up wrapped your legs around his waist, His fingers press into your skin, holding you up against him. Your arms wrap around his neck as he tosses you down on the mattress.
“Take off your clothes, okay?” You nod in reply and quickly pull off your skirt and panted as he pulls off his shirt. You pull off your own shirt, tossing it onto the hardwood floor next to his discarded clothes.
You look up to see Thomas, pulling off his pants leaving him in his tented boxers. You suddenly feel yourself getting hotter than before.
It was in a flash, he was on top of you, hot skin against yours. His hands pried your thighs apart then slid up to your bra clad chest. He slid his fingers under your bra while he nipped at your jaw. His glasses were still on and pressed into your skin
Your fingers slid up to pull his glasses off his face, to which he tried to resist. “I can’t see without those.”
“Shut up,” You cut him off with a kiss, fingers tangling in his brown hair. His glasses were held in your free hand, falling against the pillow beside you.
He broke the kiss, still brushing his plump lips against yours before speaking. “Put them on.”
You knew what he meant but you ignored him, pushing him on his back instead. You climbed onto his lap, your hands pushing him down against the mattress.
You placed his glasses on your face, they made your vision blurrier and you wanted to see him. You went to pull them off but he gripped your wrist, pulling your hands away from your face.
His cock twitched through the fabric of his boxers, you slowly grinded your hips in return. A small whimper left his lips, his eyes shut. You slid you hand up his body to his lips, your pointer finger slowly parting his lips.
You watched as his eyebrows furrowed, parting his lips for you. You roll your hips again and you listen as another soft groan leaves his lip. You smiled, leaning down to press your lips to his. Deep in the kiss, your hands slide to slowly his boxers down allowing his cock to spring out.
Your lips parted at the sight of his hard cock, pre-cum drooling down the tip. His large hands slid up your waist and pulled you down onto his cock. Your wet folds sliding across his length .
“Want you inside,” You whined, nails gripping his chest. He bit back any noises, nodding at your request and let go of your hips. You bit your lip, positioning his tip at your entrance.
“What do you want?” He asked with a smirk, a little too amused for your own liking. You tried to sink down but he had a firm grip on yours hips stopping you.
“Please, need it.” You whine, trying against but his grip on your hips stopped you from it. You clenched your jaw in frustration at his lack of sympathy.
“Want me to fuck your pussy?” He asked with a small laugh, you scoffed in return.
“You’re too vulgar.”
“I’m about to be inside you, what type of vulgarity would you prefer?”
“Shut up—“ You didn’t get to finish before his hands were pulling your hips down, his tip pushing past your entrance. Your mouth fell agape and your eyes were shut closed. You whimpered at the slight sting, he was bigger than you expected.
“Yeah, take it like a slut.” He smirked, watching as he bottomed out, stretching your cunt wide open. God, he wished he had his glasses on to see how your cunt looked around him.
You didn’t noticed his hand fumbling onto the night table, grabbing your old camera you retired from taking photos. The flash made you squint through his glasses.
The small photo came up on the screen, your perfect body sitting on his cock, tits full and being held in his free hand. He was saving that for later. He put the camera back on the nightstand, hands trailing up to steal his glasses back but you grabbed his wrist.
“I don’t think so.” You swatted him away, adjusting his glasses on your face. Your vision still just as blurry as his own.
“I wanna see you.” He whined, leaning back on his elbows, squinting back at you.
“The photo for later wasn’t enough?” You tease.
“Come on, give me my glasses so I can fuck you.”
You pushed him back down on the bed, raising your hips before dropping them. A groan slipping from his lips as his head falls back on the pillow, bucking his hips up.
“Fuck me, Thomas.” You whined, grinding your clit into his pelvis. His nails dug into your hips leaving red crescent shaped marks. His lips were parted, head back as you rode him. "Please."
With that he flipped you onto your back, pressing your legs to your chest. The small room was filled with obscene noises and the slapping of skin. He thrusted his length into you harder, pulling you to meet his thrusts.
"Fucking begging for it," He grunted, his tip pressing into your sweet spot. Strained moans left your lips, despite your best effort to keep quiet. New York apartments had thin walls.
Your hand slapped against your mouth to muffle the loud moan that had just left your lips. His hand slid to your wrist, sloppily grabbing it and pinning it above your head.
"Don't hold back," He ordered, lips connecting to yours to swallow your moans and whines. His free hand travelled down from where he pinned your legs to your clit, pressing your sensitive bud.
"Fuck--" You moaned, the knot in your stomach tightening. His thumb rubbed your clit harshly, pressing his thumb hard against it. "So close."
"Come for me, baby." His lips brushed against yours, his saliva coating your kiss-swollen lips.
A gasp left your lips, then a strained whine. Your walls clenched around his cock, the knot coming undone. Your head thrown back against your pillow as he fucked you through your orgasm.
"Yeah baby, just like that. Come for me." His whispered into your skin, your hips bucking against his thrusts. He pressed soft kisses into your skin as you arched off the mattress. His hands travelled to the arch of your back, rubbing your spine. "So good for me."
You fell back to the mattress, soft whimpers leaving you between your pants. His hand left your sensitive clit instead holding your hips as he neared his own orgasm. Pulling out, his hot seed coating your thighs and stomach.
"Give me back my glasses, I wanna see that photo."
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