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gothgoblinbabe · 2 months ago

Text

Drunken Words, Sober Thoughts

Logan Howlett x fem!reader

Warnings: ( MDNI 18+) neighbor!reader,fem reader, Logan’s kinda rude for a lil’ bit, neighbors to frenemies to lovers? Idk, alcohol consumption (nothing 18+ happens while anyone is intoxicated), swearing, i can’t write Wade’s witty dialogue for shit pls bear w me, implied age gap, unprotected sex (wrap it up I beg of you), poking fun at the Kardashians a little, swearing and I think that’s it, but pls lmk if I missed any!

Summary: You have a little too much to drink one night in Wade's living room, resulting in an indirect confession that Logan absolutely hears through the thin drywall of his bedroom. Wade then ditches your usual weekend plans in an attempt at playing cupid - and it may just be the best favor he's ever done for you.

Word Count: 8K (get comfy bitch)

divider credit here and here

Being Wade Wilson’s best friend and neighbor included two main components:

Watching trash TV and getting drunk every other weekend - usually at the same time - and Wade wasn’t going to let his new roommate's attitude ruin it in the slightest.

“She’s gonna be here any minute and if you don’t pull the stick out of your ass and be nice, I'm going to lock you in your room like a sad, lonely dog.”

Logan only grunted in response, sipping his drink in the doorway and watching him run around the living room to make the place look livable.

He’d only moved in a couple weeks ago and Wade had been trying to introduce you both - inviting you over when he knew Logan had no plans - but every time, he was out the door before you were even opening yours across the hall. He’d try everything he could to avoid meeting new people, fearful that any type of real connection with someone would be ripped out from under him just like it had been many times before.

Wade huffed in satisfaction when he was done moving a few things around, standing in front of Logan with his hands on his hips.

“I mean it, kitty cat. She’s a sweet girl - keep the claws in.”

“Told you to stop callin’ me that.”

“Too bad, so sad, kitty.”

As Logan was considering puncturing three evenly spaced holes in both sides of Wade’s chest, they were both interrupted by a knock on the front door.

You were on the other side, of course, a twelve pack of beer under your arm. You rocked back and forth on your heels while you patiently waited for Wade to let you in. You did kind of hope you’d maybe get to meet his new roommate this time - it was a little odd that he was never there when you were.

He answered the door after a second, placing a hand over his heart dramatically when he saw the beer in your arms.

“For me? Aw, sugar, you shouldn't have,” he sighed as he took the box from your arms, ushering you inside.

“Did I have a choice?” you joked back, kicking off your shoes.

You followed him into the living room only to stop in your tracks.

Logan stood near the couch in his sweatpants, looking like he’d been dragged into the middle of the room to be put on display. He did reluctantly agree to stay for a second and finally let him introduce you so he could sulk back to his bedroom and nurse a bottle of whiskey till he fell asleep.

“Well, there he is,” Wade said in a lackluster tone, “now, he is house trained, but he does bite occasionally - “

“Fuck off.”

His deep voice surprised you a bit, unintentionally raising your eyebrows with your gaze still on him.

“ I'm Logan.”

You nodded politely and introduced yourself, shoving your hands in your pockets nervously. He was tall, definitely a good couple years older than you and incredibly handsome, all of which made your stomach erupt into butterflies.

And Logan did not like the way you were looking at him.

He’d seen it more times than he could count on the faces of every pretty young thing that tried to take him home from the bar, batting their eyelashes at him and laying hands on him like it would be persuasive in any way. It never worked, as his dismissive attitude sent a clear message. He couldn’t be bothered to take any of them up on their offers and wasn’t interested in fulfilling some fantasy they had about being with an older man. He didn’t think much about stuff like that anyway, avoiding any chance of vulnerability and attachment to someone he was sure he’d eventually lose.

And you still had that look on your face.

“Night.”

With that, Logan disappeared down the hallway to his room and shut the door.

“He’s not much of a talker,” Wade assured you, “probably for the best.”

From then on, you’d occasionally see Logan come out of his room while you were over - getting something from the kitchen, doing his laundry, coming and going - and each time you had to feign complete disinterest. Wade had quickly taken notice of how you tried to keep your head down every time Logan entered the room to hide your pink cheeks and - naturally - there was no way for him to be quiet about it.

When Logan came out of the bathroom one time with a towel around his waist and dripping wet hair as you and Wade sat at the kitchen island, your best friend was more than eager to run his mouth.

“Oh, c’mon, don’t do that to her!” he exclaimed, gesturing towards you, “you’re practically dangling meat in front of a starving dog - poor girl.”

You had your face buried in your hands with your elbows on the counter, wishing more than anything that you could sink into the chair and through the floor.

“God, shut up.”

Your voice was muffled by your hands but he still heard you.

“And put a stop to my job as cupid?”

Logan rolled his eyes and shook his head, turning towards his bedroom. He’d seen the way your eyes widened the second he’d opened the door, traveling all the way from his bare shoulders to the trail of hair that dipped under the towel. You’d turned pink almost immediately. It would have been something he’d found cute maybe a couple decades ago, before the very last bit of his naivety had faded away. Now, it was just infuriating to him. He could try to drop every hint on earth that he wasn't interested (which for him, just meant avoiding you completely) and you still looked at him like a lovesick schoolgirl.

This weekend came along like every other, texting Wade back and forth about snack options and finally getting up to shuffle across the hall with a bag of chips.

He answered the door as usual, ushering you in. You plopped yourself down on the couch and kicked your slippers off, clad in sweatpants and a tank top. He sat beside you and you propped your legs up on his lap, snatching the TV remote from the coffee table to flip through channels. You heard what you assumed was Logan’s bedroom door open down the hall, keeping your eyes glued to the TV.

“Peanut! Care to join?” Wade exclaimed as he watched his roommate enter the open kitchen, digging around in the fridge.

You still didn’t tear your gaze from the screen.

“Hell no.”

That wasn’t much of a surprise.

“Your loss!” Wade reached for the pack of beer on the table, offering one that you gladly accepted, “but don’t bother us, keeping up with the kardashians is incredibly important.”

“Uh - huh.”

Logan disappeared again in seconds and Wade shook his head.

You focused back on the TV screen.

“So, how many minutes into the episode do you think one of them is going to start a fight?”

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Hours and many beers later, you were on the floor with your knees to your chest between the couch and coffee table as you tried to stifle your giggling. Wade was laid on the couch, no better off than you.

“Hey - hey, I wanna ask you somethin’,” his voice became a little serious, but he still had a shit eating grin on his face, “what are you into Logan for anyway?”

You dreaded the question, groaning and closing your eyes.

“Seriously! I mean, I’ve been here the entire time - “

“Wade.”

He looked at you expectantly, awaiting a response.

You contemplated your answer for a moment, your filter diminishing more and more with every sip of beer, “God, I don’t know, he’s - he’s jus’ big.”

You were snickering behind the beer bottle you drunkenly held in front of your face in an attempt to hide.

“I don’t think he’s that impressive. You know, he’s got small feet - tiny, like a child.”

That had you both doubled over, trying to muffle your laughs with your hands and the throw pillows strewn on the floor.

“Stop, stop - ” you choked out when you finally caught your breath, wacking him on the arm.

“Okay but really, what is it? I know you, you’re not into beefcakes,” he laughed and shook his head.

You sighed, not really thinking for even a second before you started speaking again.

“He’s older and he’s hot -”

“And completely cold and dismissive towards you.”

You rolled your eyes at his interruption but still nodded, “yeah - yes, but that’s not my point.”

Wade took another sip of his beer and motioned for you to continue talking.

“He, uh - ” you tried to bite down a giggle, your face turning pink, “I don’t know, I think he’d be good in bed.”

That made him sit forward on the couch, his mouth open in surprise, “I knew it! I knew you were a horny freak!”

“Am not!” you picked a pillow up from the floor and launched it at his face, “I’m allowed to be, anyway!”

“Whatever,” he caught the pillow in his hands, “I'm on operation ‘Cupid’ and I have never quit a mission, cupcake. So, what about him makes you think that? Is it because he's a hundred and eighty - something years older than you? He’s probably been passed around the block like a wh - “

“Okay,” you cut him off, cringing at the thought, “ I think I got the picture.”

Your mind began to wander again about Logan and you narrowed your eyes in thought, staring at nothing.

“What’cha thinkin’, honey bun?”

Wade's voice cut through your concentration and you shrugged, a smile creeping onto your face.

“Oh no,” he started, stretching the vowel, “you’re having a sex fantasy right now, I can see it on your face - disgusting. Tell me more.”

“What, you want details?” You laughed, giving up on trying to hide it if Wade could already read you like an open book. You were both terribly honest with each other - almost to a fault.

“Not the full middle-aged-white-women erotica novel version,” he answered, “I can accept cliff notes.”

You thought for a moment, going down the mental list you’d made of all the assumptions you had about the older roommate that you rarely ever saw.

“He’s gotta have a huge dick. Like, massive.”

Wade nearly spit out his beer but nodded for you to continue.

“I’d let him, like - like,” you were giggling between words as you tried to form a sentence, “ fuckin’ rearrange my guts.”

That did make Wade spit his beer, which set off a train of uncontrollable laughter that you both tried to stifle.

Still, throw pillows and hands over your mouths were not as effective as you believed.

Logan’s eyes fluttered open, squinting in the dark. The digital clock on his nightstand read ‘2:24 am’ in red LEDs. He closed his eyes again and tried to drift back to sleep, only to be jolted up by the sound of the two of you laughing obnoxiously from the living room.

“For fuck’s sake,” he mumbled to himself, getting up to walk towards his door so he could tell you both to keep it quiet. As his hand touched the knob, he halted when he heard your voice.

“He’s probably good at eating pussy. He’d be like an animal - “

Logan was stuck in place, his eyes narrowed. Who the hell were you talking about?

“Can we go back to the rearranging guts thing? ‘Cause I have to tell you, sister - he’s made of metal and he’ll really do it.”

That couldn’t be about him. He refused to believe you two were actually talking about him like that in the next room.

“I’d let him,” he could hear you snickering.

“Is this a daddy issues thing? The ‘I can fix him’ maneuver?”

“I didn’t say I wanted to fix him, I said I wanted to fuck him.”

If this was about some guy, Logan should be relieved; thankful that you’d found a new target of infatuation. He should be relieved, but he was gripping the door knob like he was going to break it off.

Wade’s voice broke through his thoughts, “you’re lucky Logan’s not much into relationships, then.”

So you were talking about him.

Your voice echoed in his head, your words cementing themselves into his brain.

On the living room floor, you were chucking pieces of popcorn into Wade's direction, trying to land one in his open mouth.

“Hey,” he started after catching a piece between his teeth and eating it, “if you do end up in Wolvies bed? Pics or it didn’t happen.”

You gasped and nearly chucked your empty bottle at his head, deciding against it when you remembered Logan was asleep in the other room.

Logan was in the other room.

Just as you were about to panic to Wade about Logan overhearing your foul-mouthed and horny drunk rambling, you both heard the click of his door coming unlocked and the creak of the hinges. He appeared at the doorway in a beater and pajama pants, his hair sticking up in every direction. Truthfully, he looked cute.

“Shut the fuck up, both of you. It’s two in the morning.”

Adorable, even.

“Oopsie! Sorry, Peanut. We had very important things to discuss,” Wade replied.

Without another word, Logan shut his door again and you and Wade sat in comfortable silence for a moment.

“Do you think he heard me?” you whispered, grimacing.

“We’ll find out.”

With that, you both decided to call it a night and you returned to the familiar comfort of your apartment.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

The next morning, Wade was up far earlier than his roommate, as usual. He sat on the couch with his feet on the coffee table, turning his head when he heard Logan’s door open.

“Sleeping beauty! So kind of you to bless me with your presence. What’s the occasion?”

“Breakfast.”

“Technically it would be lunch, peanut.”

Logan was facing the pantry in the kitchen and Wade could still feel the anger radiating off him.

Ignoring his seething silence, Wade began to speak again, “you didn’t happen to overhear any conversations last night, did you?”

Logan was facing him again, pouring cereal into a bowl and speaking without looking away from it, “you mean the one where your little friend said she wanted to fuck me? Yeah, I heard enough of it to get the jist.”

Wade had a gleeful look plastered on his face as he turned in his seat, “so you’re gonna take her up on the offer, right?”

“That wasn’t an offer, and besides,” Logan was shoveling cereal into his mouth, “ ‘m not interested.”

“See, you say that, Peanut, and yet you just have to come out here at least once while she’s over.”

Logan was glaring daggers into his skull.

“I live here.”

The younger of the two clicked his tongue, turning his attention to the TV screen, “All I'm saying is that she’s our neighbor, she's a sweetheart, she is single and has a job and an apartment all to herself, dude. Bone city.”

“Ew.”

“Think about it.” “Don’t need to.”

As Logan scarfed down the rest of his breakfast and put the bowl in the sink, Wade was already typing furiously in his messages to create a plan.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Another week rolled by, meaning it was time to get hammered and make fun of the Kardashians again. You held your breath waiting for Wade to answer the door, anxiously picking at your fingernails.

He opened the door and ushered you in like any other time, except he was dressed to go out instead of the usual PJ attire.

“What, are you leaving me for a hot date?” you teased, dropping the snacks you brought onto the kitchen island.

“Yes!”

You furrowed your eyebrows and frowned, awaiting his explanation.

“I’ve got a date with Vanessa, but - “

Logan emerged from his room, navigating his way to the kitchen as if neither of you were there.

“Peanut! So glad you decided to join us! Hey - “ Wade tapped the kitchen island, motioning for him to come over so he could talk to you both at the same time.

“Okay - I have a date with Vanessa tonight, so I need you,” he motioned between the two of you, “to get along.”

You were about to interrupt, insist that you can just reschedule, but it was as if he’d read your mind.

“You’re already here, cupcake, just stay and chill out. And you - “ he turned completely towards Logan, “you’re going to be nice like I asked you. Do you think you’ll survive?”

Logan was staring at him, unblinking with a scowl on his face.

“You, uh, you don’t have to sit with me,” you mumbled to him, forcing him to finally acknowledge your presence.

He’d half expected it to be your idea as much as it was Wade’s - some kind of ploy to get him alone - but you weren’t jumping at the chance, trying to be touchy-feely with him, begging him to stay.

He almost wished you would.

He cleared his throat and looked back to Wade, “I'm not gonna babysit your friend.”

“Who said I needed a babysitter?” you chimed in.

They both turned to you to watch you slam the top of a beer bottle on the edge of the countertop, sending the metal top flying somewhere into the living room.

“We have a bottle opener in the drawer,” Wade sighed in defeat, ”anyway - you don’t need to babysit her, I'm just saying she doesn’t bite and It would be uncool to leave her all alone.”

“Aren’t you the one leaving?” you asked, taking a sip of your beer.

“Not the point,” he answered, grabbing his jacket from the coat stand as he walked towards the front door, “play nice, don’t eat anything in the fridge with my name on it and there’s condoms in my nightstand!”

He opened and shut the door, leaving the both of you in awkward silence. Logan’s face was actually red, a mix between rage and mild embarrassment.

“He’s a dick,” you muttered, trying to make some kind of small talk, only to be met again with silence. You sighed, going to the couch and picking up the remote. You finally made yourself look Logan in the eyes, your cheeks burning uncontrollably when he never broke his stare.

“Listen - it’s fine, I get it, you’re like…the lone wolf,” you laughed a little to yourself, having to divert your eyes to the fabric of the couch, “I’m not gonna burst into tears if you don’t sit with me.”

He was a little taken back by your bluntness, though it was refreshing. He figured you’d be pink in the face - practically begging him to stay - but you weren’t. You pretended you couldn’t give less of a shit with your eyes now glued to the TV. You were as cool as you could act on the outside, but you nearly lost that cool when he spoke again.

“I can sit for a bit,” he shuffled over to the couch, settling himself down next to you. If you weren’t gonna be all over him like he thought you would, he could withstand a couple episodes of whatever the hell you and Wade had been watching. He didn’t dislike you, really - just terrified of the possibility of intimacy. You were pretty, and from what he’d overheard now and then, you were funny too. He liked the way the smell of your body wash and perfume flooded the apartment whenever you’d stop by and how you’d always bring some leftovers to be sure both of them had eaten - leftovers of which the roommates would always get into a spat over - usually because Logan ate it all before Wade could even see what was in the container.

Unfortunately for Logan, he began to enjoy you being around.

You could feel your stomach tie itself in knots when he sat beside you but nodded in acknowledgment, flipping through TV channels. You settled on the Kardashians again, tossing the remote on the table.

“This is the shit you guys watch, huh?” he teased, grabbing a beer from the pack Wade left behind.

You smiled a little to yourself, noticing how he was slowly getting more comfortable with you, “mhm, top tier - wait till you see one of them talk, it’s like watching an alien.”

You actually pulled a miniscule of a laugh out of him and your heart nearly skipped a beat at the sound.

As the show went on and you both made snarky commentary at just about everything, you felt more and more like you were just hanging out with Wade - comfortable and casual, except for the way your face burned up every time he stretched and his white beater rode up his stomach.

“So,” you began as the episode ended, “thoughts? Opinions?”

He was looking between you and the screen, thinking hard, “I don’t get it.”

You shrugged, “me neither, to be honest, but god is it funny to watch rich people lose their shit sometimes.”

He chuckled again at your response, placing his empty bottle on the table next to yours.

It was silent for a moment, the air tense with something you couldn’t quite pinpoint.

“What do you usually watch on TV?” you asked, intending to flip the channel to whatever he may be interested in - if he had to sit through Keeping Up with The Kardashians, it was only fair.

“Nothin’, really,” he answered, his eyes moving from the screen to rest on you, like a heavy weight on your chest.

“Do you even watch TV?” you asked, the both of you having abandoned the idea of trying to find something else to watch and just letting it play in the background.

“Nah,” he shrugged, his arms crossed against his chest, “ I don’t do much of anything.’

You could tell his answer was earnest and you frowned a bit, swinging your legs up on the couch and turning to face him completely, “nothing? There has to be something.”

He was unsure about how close you were to him now, your knees to your chest as you looked at him expectantly. He thought he’d be met with that look - the one you kept giving him in passing that he hated so much - but your face was neutral, waiting patiently for him to respond. Truthfully, he didn’t hate the look itself - or you, for that matter - but hated how it made him feel.

As if there were some sliver of hope for a future worth living through.

He cleared his throat, turning his body towards you on the couch, “I work out, sometimes - “

‘’Yeah, clearly’’, you wanted to say.

“Other than that,” he continued, “I don’t know, the bar - sometimes I'll let Wade drag me out somewhere but I usually leave after half an hour.”

“Huh, so you really are by yourself a lot,” you realized aloud.

Logan never thought it sad until he heard it from your mouth.

“I like it that way, most of the time,” he shrugged.

“I can tell - took you two weeks to finally say hello. I think this is the most I've ever heard your voice, actually.”

He realized you were right and did feel a little bad, “I’m sorry about that, by the way. I just don’t like meeting new people.”

“Me neither.”

It was silent then - save for the TV - either one of you waiting for the other to explain just why that is. You figured it would be easier if you went first.

“I never really had a lot of friends growing up. I had a hard time in school and a lot of the other kids didn’t like me. It was just tough to make friends, especially because - “

You stopped, thinking over what details to include and what to leave out.

“Because?” Logan prompted and you sighed, biting back a giggle.

“Because I was goth. I don’t mean I just dressed in black - I mean I wore white face paint and huge boots and ate lunch in the art room.”

That actually pulled a real fucking laugh out of him and you couldn’t help but mirror his smile.

“I’m not laughing ‘cause you were goth, that's not weird” he clarified, “I'm laughing because I just can’t picture it.”

You didn’t embrace the style as much as you used to, trading Siouxsie Sioux makeup for reading glasses and teased hair for your natural texture.

“I’ll bring over my highschool yearbook sometime,” you chuckled, shaking your head.

Realizing it was now his turn to speak, he readjusted himself in his seat and cleared his throat, visibly becoming a little uncomfortable.

“You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to, you know,” you reminded him gently, giving a soft smile.

It only made it harder for Logan that you were so damn nice.

He tentatively explained the timelines, the different versions everyone has of themselves, how he’d gotten there. You hung on his every word, unintentionally giving him a sympathetic look when he had finished explaining.

“So…you were just alone after all that?” your voice was soft, worry clear in your tone.

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, “yeah, yeah.. ‘till I met Wade, obviously.”

You gave him a small smile, “you’ll never be alone again, you know.”

For some reason, the unfamiliar comfort made his stomach turn and he simply shook his head, “Yeah, I'm never gonna be able to get rid of him.”

That made you giggle, nodding in agreement.

“You can try, but he will always find you - like a determined cockroach.”

That got the both of you and you’d never seen Logan smile that way - though, to be fair, you never saw much of his face anyway.

The version of you that sat on the couch across from him was far from who he thought you were. He felt guilty now for assuming things just from looking at you, but it was a habit he had yet to shake. It was clear you were beautiful - that was never a question - but talking with you made him realize just how much he may have missed out by keeping himself so closed off. You laughed at almost every joke he had made, comforted him when he was nothing but rude and always checked up on him and Wade. You smelled so nice, your hair looked so soft and he almost found himself wanting to reach over and run his fingers through it. In his eyes, you seemed to be everything he was not; all of the best qualities he believed he didn't possess.

“Oh, hey - do you want some popcorn? I brought the microwave kind, I keep telling Wade to get it himself and he never does,” you snapped him out of his trance and stood from the couch, already walking to the kitchen.

“Uh, sure,” he found himself getting up to follow you, not wanting to pause a moment of conversation.

You tossed the bag in the microwave and hit the button, leaning yourself against the counter. Logan leaned himself besides you, significantly taller. You’d held your composure so far, but having him so close and realizing just how much bigger he was made your heart beat like a rabbit’s.

“So, you never asked about the mutant thing,” He spoke over the popping, looking down at you and waiting for the twenty questions.

You only shrugged, “I figured If you wanted to tell me, you’d tell me. I wasn’t gonna interrogate you about it. Plus, Wade told me.”

“Of course he did,” Logan scoffed, “I’m afraid to know what exactly it was that he told you.”

“You’ve got adamantium instead of bones,” you replied matter of factly, “and you’ve got claws. I mean, I’ve never seen them, but that's what he told me.”

He thought for a minute, stepping in front of you a little. He was about arm-length away, putting enough distance between you both that he was sure he wouldn’t accidentally knick you.

In a second, the adamantium claws protruded from between his knuckles, glistening in the kitchen light. You flinched for only a second, leaning in to inspect them.

“Woah,” you muttered, bringing a finger up to the very end of one of them and letting it poke you, “cool.”

He was a bit confused by your calm demeanor, but relieved by it anyway. It was never a good time when someone had a bad reaction to the claws. The microwave beeped and he retracted them, stepping out of your way. You opened it and held the scolding bag with two fingers, realizing you needed a bowl to put it in.

“Logan, can you grab a-”

You felt one hand on your hip and could see his other reach above you, opening a cabinet you couldn't and handing you a bowl. Your back was almost flush to his chest, making you feel warm all over. He reluctantly pulled away from you and you cleared your throat, shaking the popcorn into the bowl.

He watched you from where you stood, taking in the curve of your waist and hips and realizing he was in much more trouble than he’d originally thought. He’d heard your drunken giggling about him - heard you vulgarly talk about how good you think he’d be at giving head - but he was still thinking it over with his bottom lip between his teeth. He finally broke the silence that filled the room.

“You know, the claws aren’t the only thing abnormal about me.”

“Mm, no?” you laughed a little with your back still turned to him. You could feel that your face was hot.

“Heightened senses,” he said simply, “hearing and smell, mostly.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Like right now, I can hear your heartbeat.”

Your eyes went wide and you practically froze in place.

“It’s fast.”

His voice was closer.

“Really fast,” his breath was in your ear, his hands coming to rest on your waist, “got even faster when I pointed it out.”

You swallowed hard, knowing very well there was no way to lie to him.

“Jus’ nervous sometimes. It doesn’t mean anything,” you exhaled, attempting to still your shaking hands.

“Mhm,” he hummed, his deep voice reverberating through your chest because of his proximity, “what about the other night, though?”

You narrowed your eyes and turned to finally face him, nearly chest to chest.

“What are you talking about?”

You knew exactly what he was talking about - you just hoped it wasn’t what you thought.

His hands were on the counter behind you, boxing you in.

“C’mon,” he looked at you expectantly with a shit eating smirk on his face, “what made you think I’d be good at eating pussy, anyway?”

You were red with embarrassment, pulling your hands up to cover your face, but Logan caught your wrists gently and clicked his tongue.

“Pretty girl, it’s alright - “

His gruff voice calling you such a sweet nickname nearly made your knees buckle.

“I can smell how wet you get, you know that?”

One of his hands moved to hold you by your throat, barely using any pressure.

“F-Fuck off,” you managed to mutter, stuttering when he pushed one of his thighs inbetween yours. This was nowhere near what you pictured happening when Wade dumped you in his living room with a guy who would barely even look at you.

He chuckled, his other hand pushing on the small of your back to pull you closer into him.

“Yeah? I don’t think you really want me to, sweetheart. Besides, you didn’t answer my question.”

You could barely think, nevermind answer whatever it was he had asked. You were almost nose to nose, Logan craning his neck down a bit to level his face with yours.

“I, um,” your breathing was shaky, “fuck, I don’t know - I jus’ think about it a lot.”

“Me too,” he admitted before crashing his lips to yours, tangling his fingers in the hair at the back of your head. It was truthful - he’d probably thought of you every day since the night he heard you talk about him like that.

You couldn’t help moaning into his mouth when he kissed you, letting him slip his tongue past your lips. His hands roamed down your back and to your ass, using his grip to rock your hips over his thigh.

“So beautiful,” he whispered as he moved down your jaw and neck, kissing and biting at the soft skin, “drove me crazy, hearing you say those things.”

“How much - how much did you hear?” you tried to ask, overwhelmed by his teeth grazing your neck. Your hands rested against his chest - as if you were going to push him away - but you never did.

You felt his lips curve into a smile against your skin, “heard enough.”

“And what exactly was that?”

If he was going to tease, you might as well bite back.

He pulled away momentarily to look in your eyes, knowing damn well he already had you where he wanted you.

“You don’t want to fix me, you want to fuck me, right?”

Your own words sounded so much hotter coming out of his mouth.

“Mhm,” was all you could manage to get out, too focused on the feeling of him pushing and pulling your hips over his thigh.

“Huh? Use your words, sweetheart.”

There was something about the affectionate nicknames he was using in contrast to the filthy way he was trying to push you down even harder on his thigh that made you lightheaded.

“Yeah - yes, I want to,” you practically whined.

That was all the confirmation he needed to hoist you up onto the counter with his hands on your ass. He was kissing you hungrily, his fingers hooking around the straps of your tank top to let them fall down your shoulders. You didn’t waste any time in breaking the kiss momentarily to strip yourself of the garment, tossing it to the kitchen floor.

“Fuck, jesus christ,” He groaned at the sight of your bare chest and immediately brought his large hands up to massage your breasts. A chill went down your spine when he leaned down to take one of your nipples into his mouth, sucking and swirling his tongue. Your hands were threaded through his hair, tugging every so slightly when he would pull his mouth off you with a popping sound. The majority of your chest was glistening with his spit when he finally brought his mouth to yours again, leaving a clear coating over the developing hickies that he left. You tugged at the hem of Logan's white beater to signal that you wanted it off. He did as you pleased, leaving plenty of skin for you to run your hands over.

“Been thinking of you, all spread out of me,” he murmured in between kisses. He used his grip on your ass to grind you against him, his hard cock pressing against you. The pressure from it was enough for your pussy to start aching.

“I wanna know what you taste like,” he continued, holding your chin to tilt your head up, “can I find out?”

You nodded frantically and nearly choked on your own spit. You lifted your hips to let him strip you of your pants and underwear, leaving you completely bare on the counter in front of him.

You felt vulnerable, pressing your knees together only to have Logan use his hands to spread them apart.

“Uh-uh,” he clicked his tongue, “let me see your pretty pussy.”

He got on his knees on the kitchen floor, hooking his arms around your thighs and settling his face between them. He nipped at the hot skin of your inner thighs and you inadvertently tugged his hair every time he did so. He finally laid his tongue flat against you and you whined, the sound echoing through the kitchen. He was sloppy, practically drooling into your cunt and using it to lubricate his fingers so he could slip them into you. Your theory from before was proven right; he was kind of animalistic when he ate you out.

He was curling his fingers as he thrusted them in and out, sucking on your clit at the same time. You gasped when he spoke with his mouth still buried in your cunt.

“Tastes so fucking good.”

Your ankles were locked to keep his head between your thighs, leaning yourself back against the wall.

“Jesus christ, Logan - “ you whined, cut off when he growled into you.

“Mhm, ‘feels good, baby?”

You only nodded, unable to communicate with how deep he was curling his fingers into you. He continued to mumble praises against your cunt, amused by how much it clearly spurred you on.

“This is all mine, huh? Know you wanted it, could smell how bad you needed me every time you were over.”

You could feel the pressure in your lower stomach start to build.

“You’re so wet for me, such a good girl - makin’ such a fucking mess.”

It wasn’t long before you were pulling him back by his hair.

He reluctantly detached himself, looking up at you with concern. His mouth and chin were wet, his tongue peeking out to lick his lips.

“What’s wrong? You okay?”

“ ‘m fine, just - I was close -”

He groaned in a way that almost sounded annoyed, diving his tongue back into you, “C’mon, do it, then - come for me, pretty girl.”

His praise was enough to trigger your orgasm and you couldn’t help rocking your hips against his face as you rode it out. You were cursing, tears starting to form in your eyes when he didn’t let up.

“L-Logan, fuck,” you cried. You could’ve pulled him off, told him it was too much, but he was so determined and skilled in the way he flicked his tongue that the discomfort of overstimulation dissipated into pleasure within seconds.

“One more for me, baby, one more. Think you can?”

You were moaning so loud at that point that you tried to bring a hand to your mouth to muffle the sound but Logan caught your wrist and brought it back to his hair, encouraging you to keep tugging and pulling.

Your second orgasms approached hard and fast, tears rolling down your cheek. Your legs shook uncontrollably as he finally sat back on his heels.

When you caught your breath, he pulled himself up to slide his arms around your lower back and plant a kiss on your forehead, wiping your wet cheeks.

“Can I take you to the bed?”

You nodded and smiled wide, leaning up to kiss him.

He effortlessly carried you through the hallway and into his bedroom, your bare chest pressed against his. The second your back hit his mattress, his cellphone started to ring from his bedside table.

You watched Logan furrow his eyebrows and reach for the phone. He read the caller ID and bore an amused smile, switching it to silent.

“What’s so funny?” you asked, wrapping your arms around him when he came to hover above you.

“It’s Wade,” he chuckled to himself, “probably calling to see if everythings alright.”

That made you giggle, “yeah, we can tell him we’re doing just fine.”

“I’ll call him later.”

His lips were on yours again, the rough denim of his jeans rubbing against you as he pinned you to the bed with his hips. You slid your hands from his neck, down his back and around the front of his waist to rest on his belt buckle. Your fingers made quick work of the metal fastener and you tugged the leather from his jeans. He stood up off the bed for a moment to strip himself of the rest of his clothing. When his cock sprung up from his boxers and hit his stomach, you almost had to choke back a gasp. Again, you were proven right - he was huge. He crawled back between your legs and positioned himself on top of you.

“You’re okay with this?”

If anyone told you maybe two hours earlier that you’d end up under Wade’s grumpy roommate, your chest heaving from the anticipation of finally having him slot into you, you would’ve called them crazy. Now, however, it was a reality - one you would’ve gladly spent the rest of your life in.

You realized he was holding back, gripping the sheets next to your head and waiting for a definite answer.

You nodded and scratched at the back of his neck affectionately. He guided himself into you and you groaned at the feeling of his tip alone.

“ ‘s okay?”

Logan was practically slurring his words with how hard he had to hold himself back. Your warm chest to his, your thighs locked around his waist, the way you smelled; it was all overwhelming in the best way possible.

“So good,” you whined, trying to push your hips up to encourage him to go even deeper, “want all of it, please, please.”

He was chewing on his lip when he finally let himself fill you completely in one thrust. You dug your fingernails into his back, leaving scratches that healed themselves within seconds. He let out a guttural moan with his face buried in your neck, concentrating on trying to build a steady rhythm without finishing things too fast. He propped himself up on his elbows on either side of you as he tentatively rocked in and out.

“So fucking pretty,” he huffed, a hand coming up to wipe the sweat dampened hair from your flushed face. It was so sweet, so intimate; nothing you’d ever really expected with or from him.

“You're handsome,” you managed to reply, amused by how taken back he seemed by the compliment, “perfect.”

He couldn’t remember the last time someone called him that - handsome, definitely never perfect - while actually looking at him like they meant it. Your eyes were trained on the features of his face, attempting to memorize every line and wrinkle; every bit of him that made him Logan. Your eyes felt to him like they could burn right through the wall he’d managed to construct.

Still, he instinctively scoffed as he hovered over you. He was never good at accepting compliments.

“I’m not the lying type, you know,” you assured him, whispering in his ear as he continued at a steady pace, “besides, do you think I'd be under you right now if that wasn’t true?”

“Mm - shut up”, he fought a smile and increased his pace in the hopes that it would render you speechless.

It did, of course.

You were a moaning mess atop his sheets with your back arched to accommodate Logan’s arm sneaking around you. His pace was enough to rock his headboard into the wall and he was thankful it was your apartment on the other side instead of a stranger’s. You were chest to chest as he whispered filthy things into your ear.

“Takin’ it well like I knew you would, baby doll - knew you’d like it when I fucked you like this.”

You were still at a loss for words, overwhelmed by the pressure in your lower stomach.

“You think you’ve got another one in you? C’mon, sweet girl, let me see it.”

His coaxing had your eyes nearly rolled into the back of your head as he pounded into you. Besides the grunts and moans between you two, the only sound echoing in the room was the slap of skin against skin and the squelching of your pussy as he dragged himself out and back in again.

You were almost drooling from how deep he was able to fuck you. The familiar fire in your stomach had you feeling warm all over, building and building itself up. As if he could read your mind, Logan’s hand reached down between the both of you and he started to trace tight circles around your swollen clit.

“F-Fuck, my god, Logan - “

He hummed affirmatively, almost as if to acknowledge that was indeed his name that you were chanting.

You squeezed your eyes shut so hard that you almost saw stars when your third orgasm hit hard and fast. You were probably loud enough for the entire building to hear as he worked you through it.

“Good girl, good girl - c’mere,” he praised, flipping you over so that you were on your hands and knees. You laid your chest as flat as you could against the mattress and arched your back. He didn’t hesitate in fitting himself snuggly inside of you again, his hands kneading at and smacking your ass as he used his grip to push and pull you. It wasn’t long before his thrusts started to become sloppy. He leaned down and hooked an arm around you, lifting you up a little so that his chest was pressed to your back. He moved his hand to your throat to tilt back your head. The way you looked back at him, your beautiful eyes boring into his soul - that was all he needed to finally let go. You felt him flood you with his come, a mixture of yours and his soaking the sheets underneath you. He gently pulled out and almost immediately pulled you against him to cuddle, his eyes already fluttering close. You didn’t take him for the cuddly type but it was just another wholesome thing you’d learned about him.

“You should call Wade back,” you mumbled, already drifting to sleep with your head on Logan’s chest.

“ ‘m busy, I’ll do it tomorrow.”

You chuckled to yourself, letting exhaustion overtake you.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Wade practically sprinted up the steps to his apartment the next morning, keys already in hand. If Logan hadn’t answered - even if it was just to tell him to fuck off - something really bad must’ve happened. You hadn't answered any of his fifteen texts, either.

He unlocked his door and prepared himself to be met with a gorey scene, only to be surprised that there was no sign of a scuffle. There was untouched popcorn in the kitchen, clearly abandoned at some point right after making it. Did Logan upset you enough last night to make you leave early?

Of course, he’d completely missed your clothing that had been tossed just out of sight from where he was standing.

Wade sighed in frustration, striding through the hallway and stopping outside Logan’s bedroom. He banged his fist on the door and rested his hands on his hips as he spoke through the wood.

“Hey! Peanut! Did you make our guest leave early last night? How’d it go? You didn’t answer your phone and neither did she.”

On the other side of the door, your heads both popped up at the sound of wade’s banging. You stifled a laugh, looking to Logan for him to say something.

“Uh, yeah…she had somethin’ to take care of.”

Now you had to bury your face in his comforter, uncontrollably snickering.

Without warning, Wade groaned and swung the door open - one neither of you thought to lock because no one had been home.

“You better get your ass across the hall and apologize for whatever it is that -“

He was met with the sight of the both of you in Logan’s bed, covered by the bedding. It was obvious you were both undressed, Logan’s boxers somewhere near Wade’s feet.

He gasped, looking between the two of you in confusion before a giddy smile appeared on his face.

“Oh, I see, I see. Right, mhm - “

Logan was already trying to shoo him out but Wade wasn’t going to let him before he got the last word in.

“You're welcome, by the way!”

He shut the door and you laughed.

Logan laid back again, resting his arm around your shoulders so he could pull you back into his chest again.

In the comfortable silence, doubt settled itself in the form of a pit in your stomach. What if this was a one time thing?

Almost instantly, you felt his hand comb through your hair.

“Hey, uh,” he started, looking down into your eyes, “listen, I know I was supposed to ask this before I got you in here, but - um..”

You could feel your stomach turn, borderline terrified of what he was going to say next.

“Would you want to go out for coffee sometime?”

A wide grin spread across your face and you nodded eagerly, leaning up to kiss him on the cheek.

“I’d love that.”

A/N: this ones long as hell but so is just about everything else I write! if you've made it to the end I loooove u and pls interact if you enjoyed; hearing feedback is what motivates me to keep writing! as always, my inbox is open as well <3

#logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett fic #logan howlett smut #logan howlett fanfiction #logan wolverine #smut #fanfic #wolverine #wolverine x reader #wolverine fanfiction #wolverine fic #fanfiction

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starsofang · 20 days ago

Text

CALL OF THE SEA / PART SEVENTEEN

pirate poly!141 x f!reader tw: NSFW, MDNI, violence, degrading, mentions of death/blood, dove is called some nasty words, please heed warnings for this chapter masterlist a/n: girlbossed a little too hard and finished the chapter a day early. posting this after my 14 hour shift with nothing but hope and dreams. this chapter is a long one, i think the longest one so far, so have fun :p

When a group of unhinged pirates invade your small village, you're whisked away from your peaceful home and thrown on to a voyage out at sea. Forced to obtain a new role as their medic, you have no choice but to accept your fate as you join their forces and aid them in their treacherous travels.

Up close, Graves was even more sinister than imagined. It was as if you were living in your own nightmare come to life, with beady eyes crinkling back at you as a curled smile stretched over his face. Adorned in all black from head to toe, with the only spouts of color being the mess of dark blonde atop his head, nearly covered by the old, leather pirate hat.

His skin was deathly pale, a feat you knew to be from his reaping sins. To take a life in return for a piece of his—a soul bind.

If he weren’t such a sick man, you’d dare say he’d been handsome, if it weren’t for the look of rotting to the core. His personality did no justice, something cocky and mighty. He knew exactly how to play his game, and he played it well.

In your turmoil, you dared to wonder if all of this was indeed another nightmare. Perhaps you were still asleep, stuck in an endless loop until Soap or Gaz awoke you as they always did; but with a sharp pinch on your thigh beneath the thin covers of Price’s bedspread, the world remained at ease.

This one wouldn’t be easy to get out of.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Graves mused, smile so wide you worried the corners would crack and bleed. You wished you could see him writhe like a helpless roach beneath your shoe. “Why the long face?”

“How—” You swallowed, fisting the sheets. “How are you here?”

Graves stood straight, glancing around the room. He pretended to ponder, holding his arms up to shrug. “I let myself in.”

Your eyes followed his every move as he slowly stepped throughout Price’s quarters, taking it in. You sat as still as a statue, completely frozen in place. The sound of his heavy boots along the wood floors rang alarm bells.

The air in the room fell icy cold, rising goosebumps on your skin. There was that frigid chill that felt as if you’d just stepped into a slaughterhouse, a hint of decay tickling your nostrils.

This was the feel of death you’d always felt, lingering behind you, watching. He’d always been there, even if only in your mind.

“Where is the Captain?” you asked, attempting to make your voice firm. Show no weakness—it was the very thing you’d been taught since your first day on the ship. You hoped Price would be proud that you remembered.

Graves’ eyebrows raised and while his smile remained, it only seemed to glimmer with excitement when the question was asked, as if you asked a dog if he wanted a bone.

“He truly has you on a leash,” he snickered, finding something amusing in all of it. “You’re like their little bitch, aren’t you?”

Your blood ran hot at the demeaning nature his words brought, but you knew better. They were for show, something to make him appear taller. If you fell for it, you’d only be digging a deeper grave for yourself.

“No,” you muttered, eyes narrowing. “I am a pirate, just as them.”

Graves barked out a laugh, one that made your ears bleed. It was meant to deplete your confidence, poisoned with arrogance.

“Is that right?” he asked with a shit-eating grin. “A pirate, are you?”

Graves stalked towards you, agonizingly slow, stopping when his knees bumped the side of the cot. He leaned down so his face was level with yours, empty eyes peering deep within your soul. His breath reeked of death and despair, nearly knocking you unconscious.

“I’d like to test that.”

His icy hand wrapped around your bicep, hauling you out of the bed. With a yelp, you stumbled to your feet, bare of their shoes. The world beneath your soles felt foreign now, ever since Soap had given you your gift and you’d never take them off unless you were falling asleep.

The grip was tight, causing your heartbeat to thump through your muscles angrily. Your skin under his hand paled from the sheer force.

Graves tugged you along as you fought to resist him, squirming and attempting to plant your feet to the floor. Without the help of your shoes compared to his unruly strength, your fight was deemed useless. He continued dragging you, so much so you could feel little splinters begin to dig into your soles and invoke dull pangs of pain.

Fear filled your body from head to toe, your heart pounding against your rib cage. A lump filled your throat, coated with anxiety. Your mind filled with millions of thoughts, smothering any confidence you previously had and replacing it with the idea of death.

Was this where all would end? Your crew was one of the most feared among the seas, a healthy bounty placed over their heads. But there would always be one person above, and that person was Graves.

Every kick, bump, resist was fruitless as Graves hauled you to the door. What lay beyond it terrified you, images of your men dead flashing before your eyes.

Coated in their own bloodbaths, bodies laid limp amongst the floors of their own homes, sprawled out as if they meant nothing. Oh, you couldn’t bear it. You’d have to go, too—you’d have nothing left.

When Graves opened the door, you weren’t sure if the sight was any better.

It was dark, the moon only a sliver in the sky, granting no room for light. A single lantern was all that was left to cast orange shadows, its fire flickering in a dance for a way out.

Your crew was lined shoulder to shoulder, on their knees in a submissive front, hands bound with thick rope behind their backs. Graves’ men, his Shadows, held the barrel of their guns to each of their heads.

Though the sight was an improvement from what you initially prepared yourself for, it was far from good. It was bordering those images, a glimpse into what could be a massacre.

The moment you were out of Price’s quarters, Graves let go of you, shoving you. You lost your balance, tumbling to your side, your head slamming into the deck. Pain blossomed under your skull and you hissed in pain.

“Dove?” you heard one of them call out. Your head spun, making it hard to figure out who it was.

A heavy blow landed on your side where you lay, and you wheezed, Graves’ boot unexpected. It kept you in place, applying pressure to guarantee you wouldn’t try to flee and fight back.

“Get the fuck off of her,” Price growled. You could recognize it, filled with a burning venom that dared to kill anyone that was in its crossfire. “This has nothin’ to do with her.”

“It’s all to do with her,” Graves spat, digging the toe of his boot into your rib cage. His previous cockiness had melted away, revealing his boiling rage. “Isn’t that right, dove?”

Graves lifted his boot, granting you a brief moment of relief before it slammed back down. It knocked the air right out of your lungs, leaving you croaking out a plea to stop.

You coiled in on yourself, curling into a ball in attempts to lessen the damage. It did nothing to stop his boot from weighing on your side. The pain felt like nothing you’d experienced before, and you were sure you felt a bone crunch.

“Dove,” Gaz called out, frantic. He tried leaning forward to get a glimpse of your face, to search for your eyes, but the barrel of the gun only pressed deeper into the back of his skull in warning. “Dove, it’s okay. Just listen to my voice, alright? I’m right here.”

Your eyes were widened with fear, chest heaving to catch the breaths that were stolen from you. You couldn’t move, frozen in place, even as Gaz called out for you with the threat of a bullet through his head.

“I don’t know what you’re plannin’, Graves,” Price snarled, “but this is between us.”

Graves laughed diabolically, throwing his head back. It only made everything much more tense.

“Isn’t she apart of you now?” Graves humored, cocking his head. His fingers drummed along the gun in its holster on his hip. “If I’m not mistaken, she’s a pirate. I believe those were your words, Price.”

The realization that Graves knew had you going cold. The closer he got, the stronger the connection became.

“What the hell is it ye want?” Soap asked through gritted teeth. His eyes were darting back and forth between your crumpled form and Graves. “S’always somethin’ with ye, aye?”

Graves eyed Soap, a glint in his gaze. There was something unfamiliar in it, as if he held a personal grudge towards the man in question.

“There is something I want,” Graves agreed, letting out a dramatic sigh. He tapped at the gun once again, staring up at the sky in thought. “I think dove here knows exactly what that is.”

Graves dug his boot once again, peering down at you as if you were scum. You couldn’t stop the small whimper from the agony drumming in your side.

“Go on, dove,” Graves taunted, grinning. “Tell them.”

“I don’t know,” you panted. You were unfocused, eyes staring at the old floor from where your head rested.

You tried recalling what it is he could want, anything at all, but nothing was becoming clear. You scavenged through the deepest parts of your brain for even a simple clue, but the blows had made you dazed.

“I swear, I’ll fuckin’ kill you—”

“You do know,” Graves repeated, cutting off the Captain. His tone grew annoyed. “Think real hard, dove.”

“I don’t know,” you cried, shoulders beginning to shake. All the built up confidence to fight back had vanished into thin air. Now, you felt like a scared little girl, begging for mercy.

Graves’ boot lifted, then returned back down. A string of curses were thrown his way from your crew, who were thrashing in the binds, unable to aid you under the lineup of guns to their heads.

You felt wetness cascade down your cheeks, dampening your skin and falling down to the side of your head from the angle you laid. It was then you realized you were crying, embarrassingly so.

Only mere hours ago you were deemed a pirate, and yet at the start of war, you fell apart like a damsel.

“The telescope,” Ghost said, voice low. It was the first he’d spoken, only sitting there silently as you were beaten down. His head hung low, as if ashamed, though the darkness in his eyes was enough to cast doom across entire continents. “He’s talkin’ about the telescope.”

You blinked away the tears, eyes burning. Realization dawned on you the moment Ghost spoke. Through your huddled position, you tried to tilt your chin down to meet his eye. As if thinking the same thing, he lifted his head, connecting your gazes. You could see that familiar apology pooling out of him, expressing everything he needed to say.

Washed away to land and shore,

shall be the looking glass for ocean eyes.

The telescope you found for Gaz was an innocent gesture. The sight of it called out to you, as if meant to be owned by you. If you would’ve known it was Graves it was calling, you would’ve thrown it into the deep sea so it could never be found again.

“So he speaks,” Graves mused sarcastically.

Ghost broke contact first, eyes boring into Graves. He looked murderous, plotting his own bloodbath with just a simple look. The dim light of the single lantern did nothing to lessen the ominous glow, only highlighting it.

“Don’t fuckin’ talk to him,” Soap hissed, scowling. The look of pure disgust was such a contrast to his normal, boyish grins.

Graves paid no mind to him, stuck in a contest with Ghost. The two of them had a dark force swirling between them, one that even outside made the air heavy and suffocating.

“A point for your bravery, Ghost,” Graves sighed dramatically, breaking his stare. He looked between each and every man, sparing you no glance while his boot remained in place. “My telescope. Give it to me, and I’ll let her go.”

You instantly shifted your eyes to look at Gaz, who seemed to be struggling with a decision. You knew why he was having a hard time—you gifted the telescope to him, unknowing of who it truly belonged to. It was something he treasured, something he didn’t want to let go of.

“I have it,” Gaz said lowly, head bowing. “It’s in my quarters. I’ll take you to it.”

Graves sucked his teeth, feigning pity. He shook his head, hand fully resting on the gun at his hip. “Not going to work on me, Gaz. I’m quite capable of getting it myself. You sit tight, aye?”

Gaz stiffened, expression growing grim. Nevertheless, he said nothing, deciding silence was the best contender for a fight bound to end in loss.

Graves gestured for the man behind Price to fetch the telescope from Gaz and Soap’s shared quarters. Price didn’t tear his eyes away from Graves once, even as the Devil of the Seas took out his own gun and pointed it right at Price’s forehead.

He pressed the barrel of the gun into Price’s forehead, indenting the skin. It was a snug fit, a perfect shot for Graves if he wished to end things the easy way.

Graves didn’t like it easy. He liked it fun.

“Scared we’ve caught on to your trail, aye?” Price bluffed, voice gravelly and malicious. “That’s why you came out here like a fuckin’ mutt, hidin’ in the storm until you found the right time to ambush us?”

“You have your dove to blame,” Graves replied nonchalantly, rubbing his boot back and forth along your side. The pressure had you sucking air through your teeth, eyes clenching shut. “She might be your new toy, but she’s just as much a mutt as I am.”

“You shut your fuckin’ mouth,” Price snarled, body shaking with feverish rage. If he could pounce on Graves, you knew he would.

“Looks like you finally grew some balls, Captain,” Graves snickered, pulling back the hammer of the gun. It resounded a loud click, which translated to a warning bell in Price’s favor. “Such anger. That anger has never worked for you, Price. It didn’t work for Ghost—it won’t work for her.”

Price let out an animalistic growl, his lips pulling back in a sneer. You’d seen the Captain angry, and you’d seen him under the guise of a scary, ominous pirate who would kill any innocent bystander that stood in his way.

This was entirely different. This was personal. A build up. This was a storm that had been coming for ages, and you were only toeing the edges.

The Shadow returned, holding the telescope you’d gifted Gaz. It shimmered in the lantern’s glow, glinting its gold details and showing it off. It felt like a goodbye.

“I’d be real careful from now on, Graves,” Price warned. It was the first you ever heard him speak so menacingly, like the demon inside of him was erupting with a stream of hot lava filled with nothing but spewing hatred. “When I find you, I’ll fuckin’ kill you myself. String you up on my sails until you’re dry, toss you into the ocean to the sharks. I’ll take pleasure in watchin’ you burn until there’s nothin’ left but ash and dust.”

Graves took the telescope from his Shadow’s hand, inspecting it. The words Price spoke clearly struck a nerve, for the arrogant grin had vanished, replaced with a gloomy, threatened expression.

“Hm,” Graves huffed, letting his gun fall and placing it back in its holster. He signaled for his men to follow suit, and you watched as all weapons dropped. “I await the day that happens, Captain. Until then, keep your mutt on a leash, aye?”

Graves made no effort to untie the crew, leaving them bound as he gathered his men to walk the plank connecting the two ship. A long, woden plank that creaked under the weight, one od wish you could kick from its balance and send them flying into the dark sea.

The moment was brutally silent as they left. Nobody moved a muscle until Graves was on his ship, the plank pulled from its placement, and the skull flag waved goodbye as they set sail into the pit of the night.

Time stood still, but the second Graves and his crew were hidden in the waves, all hell broke loose. Price and Gaz worked together to unbind each other with their backs to one another, frantic to be released. Ghost sat silently, eyes staring into the floorboards as if they’d speak to him.

“Say somethin’, dove,” Soap begged, scooting on his knees to be by your side.

As if the dam broke, you began to cry once more, heartbreaking sobs coming right from your core. You curled up tighter into your ball, your hand resting on your side as if it would magically ease the pain.

“It hurts,” you replied, voice cracking.

You’d stayed strong up until that point. Now, you couldn’t hold up your front.

You were scared. You felt more helpless than ever. You couldn’t remain strong for the sake of pretend anymore. Everything hurt, and Graves’ presence shook you to your very core.

“I know,” he cooed. He made a frustrated noise when he struggled against the binds. “I know, dove. We’re right here, alright?”

It felt strange, being on the other side of the spectrum. You were used to being the one to aid people in their injuries, but now, it was you being comforted. You couldn’t grasp what your life had become.

Price was released from his binds, quickly helping Gaz slip out of his. While Gaz made quick work to move to work on Ghost, Price was by your side in an instant.

One hand rested on your hip, turning your body towards him while the other found your face, resting his palm on it. His eyes were filled with worry when you faced him and he urgently wiped at your tears with his thumb.

“Dove,” he breathed in relief, his heart aching at the sight of you so broken. This was his fault. “You’re okay, I have you.”

You whimpered when he shifted so he could slide his arms beneath you, one under your shoulders and the other in the bend of your knees. The movement flared pain all over again, and Price murmured apologies, unsure of what to do.

He hurried to his quarters, his men following closely behind like scared dogs with their tails between their legs. Gaz held open the door, and you only caught a glimpse of his guilt-stricken expression before you were ushered in.

Price carefully slid you on to his cot, wincing every time you whimpered or cried. The pain felt excruciating, your breathing quick and labored.

“She needs a medic,” Soap stressed.

“She is a medic,” Gaz reminded, resting his hands on the edge of the cot so he could lean over and inspect your face. “We have no help besides her.”

“Well, she can’t treat herself, ye fuckin’ oaf,” Soap snipped, shooing him away from your space. “Cap, she needs to get checked. She can’t even breathe properly!”

Your head began to pound from the sheer loudness that filled the room. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to will away the ache while simultaneously trying to correct your breathing.

You knew well enough that there was something shattered or broken. A rib, though small in theory, but dreadfully painful without the correct medicines. Not to mention the amount of force Graves had used—it was pure hell.

Price was silent, as was Ghost, the two of them sharing a conversation with just a look. There was an understanding shared, and Price gently shoved Gaz and Soap aside, replacing them.

He mimicked Gaz’s previous stance, leaning on the bed. His hand came to brush a stray tear away, frowning embedded in his mouth.

“Tell me what to do, dove,” he said softly. “I’ll do whatever it is.”

You sniffled, hand shaking where they rested on your side. You shook your head, nearly deranged from the shock and horror of it all, unable to snap out of it.

“I—I can’t fix it on my own, Captain,” you quivered, lips trembling. “It hurts.”

Price nearly broke, filled with guilt. He glanced behind him at Ghost, who quickly looked away, hands balling into fists.

“I know,” he assured calmly, brushing his finger along your cheek where he wiped the tear away. “We’ll fix it, aye? You just have to sit tight until we can. Can you do that for us, dove?”

Though you knew the wait would be cruel—a slow healing process until you could receive proper care—you found yourself nodding shamelessly, instantly trusting Price and his promises.

Price nodded along with you, giving your cheek a comforting pinch. “Attagirl,” he praised, calming your nerves.

“I’ll fuckin’ gut him,” Soap muttered, jaw pulled tight. “He’s fuckin’ dead.”

Gaz reached up to grip Soap’s nape, tugging at his hair. Soap threw him a glare, one Gaz promptly ignored, turning his attention to you.

“Listen to Cap, birdie,” Gaz encouraged warmly. “We’ll get you all fixed up. You won’t even know you’re hurtin’.”

Price had a look of hesitation when you caught his eye. You furrowed your eyebrows, frowning in confusion before he spoke again, causing you to grow uncomfortable.

“We need to check it first, dove,” he said apologetically. “If you don’t feel well with all of us bein’ here, you can pick who you prefer. No hard feelin’s, hm?”

The idea that one, if not all, had to see you undressed in order to inspect the damage was one that made you a bit dazed. You’d never been seen beneath your raggedy clothes in the village, and the same applied for your time on the ship. It felt sacred, like your vulnerability was on the line, but you had to remind yourself that it was purely medical—you’d done it plenty of times when in practice at your old home.

“It—it is fine, just… just turn away, yes?” you pleaded, unable to meet any of them in the eye.

You heard a round of shuffling, only seeing Gaz elbow Soap in the corner of your vision. Once you were sure they feasted their eyes upon the old wall, you began to carefully lift your hips, biting your lip to muffle the pained noise that threatened to leave.

The hem of your dress was swiftly pulled up past your thighs, all the way until your torso was exposed. You stopped it beneath your breasts, quick to tug the blanket over your nakedness that remained uninjured and in no need to be checked.

The anxiety that pooled in your stomach left you queasy, but you toughed through it, knowing how important it was. If you had more than a mere fracture, it could become worse over time.

“Okay,” you said quietly, cringing when they turned to take you in. The men did their best to make you feel as at ease as possible, gearing their focus towards the nasty swelling on your side.

You dared to take a peek yourself, fearing for why they were so quiet. What you saw was ugly—swollen and puffy, beaten to the point it was already turning purple and blue. It was tender to the touch, even more so without clothing as a barrier.

The worst was the gnarly, black veins that spouted out like roots, dipping deep into the new bruising. It was inhuman, something completely out of the ordinary. You knew it was Graves’ dirty work, and it reminded you of when Ghost had cut his finger in the kitchen and his blood turned black, vanishing into thin air.

When you shifted your eyes from your injury, you searched for Ghost’s, who was hard-stuck on the veins. His body was tense, a darkness swirling in his irises.

“Ghost?” Soap tried, nudging the brute lightly. “Any idea what that is?”

Ghost glanced over to Soap before returning to your side, taking in the sight. “Could be anythin’,” he muttered, unsure. “I don’t know what all he’s capable of. For all we know, it could already be infected.”

“Infected?” you asked, a worried chill racking through you.

Price reached out a careful hand to spread his fingertips along the veins. You choked on a gasp at the immediate discomfort, face scrunching up into a wince.

“We’re goin’ to a doctor,” Price nearly growled, taking his hand away. “I don’t care where. The moment we spot land, we’re goin’.”

“We still have bounties on our head, Cap,” Gaz reminded with a frown. “We can’t just go anywhere. It’s not the same as shoppin’. If we end up in the wrong place, we might get ourselves in deeper shit.”

“That is a risk I’m willin’ to take,” Price argued, firm in his stance. “If we start nitpickin’ where to go, it might be too late. You’re either in or out.”

The room fell silent as the men stared at their Captain. The answer to them was obvious, though you knew why they hesitated; if they were imprisoned, it would do you no good.

Emotions were high and the clock was ticking. It placed everyone on edge.

“I agree with Price.”

All heads turned to Ghost, who stood with his arms crossed, eyes boring into yours.

“It’s my fault she’s marked. So long as she gets fixed up, I could care less about bein’ thrown into a cell. I’m with Price,” he finished.

“Ghost—” you tried.

“I am quite firm in what I’ve decided,” he interrupted harshly before realizing his mistake, calming himself down. He looked away from you, crossing his arms a bit tighter. “I’m in no mood for arguments.”

You went quiet, watching Ghost turn towards the door and plot his escape. You knew out of everyone, he was affected the most, tormented with sickening guilt for all that’s transpired. You could only imagine how he felt, now that times had grown darker.

“Let him go,” Soap murmured softly, gaining your attention. “He’ll be alright. Let’s just worry ‘bout ye, aye?”

You were torn, but you nodded nonetheless, silently agreeing.

“You’ll stay with me for now,” Price explained. “No use in movin’ you anymore than I have. I’ll get you situated for now, and then you can rest.”

Gaz, Soap, and Price muttered amongst themselves, discussing a brief plan of what to do. The two set off to find more pillows to extend your comfort while Price remained by your side, plopping himself in his chair with a heavy sigh. His elbows rested on its arms, his fingers coming up to rub at his temple.

He looked exhausted, the bags under his eyes becoming more prominent the longer you looked.

“I am sorry, Captain,” you said quietly, eyes glueing to the ceiling.

“What have you got to be sorry for?” he asked, frowning. “Got nothin’ to apologize for, dove. Our worry stems from care.”

“Yes, but,” you paused, gathering the words, “I have caused much trouble since my arrival. Things only seem to be harder for you.”

“Life was hard before you, dove,” he assured, letting his hand fall from his face. “That’s the way it goes. It is to no fault but the world.”

You took in his words, letting them sink in. You hadn’t known a true life of trouble before, the only hardships being your utter loneliness and daily taunts from the local villagers. This was something beyond your knowledge, and you were beginning to understand that there was more to life than simply displeasuring people. There was more than what meets the eye, but there was also light at the end of every tunnel.

“You do not see me as a mere burden?” you asked, and he huffed.

“What have I told you before?” Price pressed in return, tilting his head. “You are one of us. A true pirate, if that is what you’d like.”

“I am far from a pirate,” you scoffed to yourself, ashamed. “I could not even defend myself or any of you.”

“Dove,” Price called out softly. He scooted his chair closer to your bedside, forcing you to turn your head and look at him. “A loss is not always a failure. Some wars are too big to handle on your own. There’s nothin’ wrong with that. Why must you speak so lowly of yourself?”

You stared at him unblinking, studying the furrow of his eyebrows and the curl of his lips, hidden beneath his beard. The worry lines on his forehead showed years of hardship, and you wondered how he managed to live through it if you could barely survive your own smaller ones.

“I have known nothing else,” you confessed bitterly, though not towards him. You were angry, not only with yourself, but at life for dealing its deck of cards in such an unfair way.

“I see,” he hummed, leaning back in his chair. He tapped his fingers along the armrests, getting lost in thought. “It was the same for me as well.”

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Really?”

“Mhm,” he sighed, picking at the splintering wood of the armrests. “My father was a captain before me. Had the tongue of a devil. Always angry, always cold—treated me like scum, even as a child.”

“I am sorry,” you murmured quietly. Price bristled, frowning.

“That is not the point, dove,” he replied. He leaned forward to rest his elbows on the side of the bed, mere inches away from where you laid. You waited patiently for him to continue, keeping your gazes connected to show you were listening. “Some may treat you like a mutt on the street and deem your worth how they please. The only thing that matters is how you take it and how you come out of it.”

It dawned on you what he was implying. It was his way of comforting you, shielding you from your own burdening insecurities that never seemed to escape your mind.

“I could’ve remained angry and bitter, but now I captain my own ship and crew. The same applies for you—you may have experienced cruelty all your life, but you must take the reins on your own worth and decide what it is, dove.”

A blinding warmth shrouded you, like a blanket after being trapped in the icy cold, and you welcomed it with a smile. You’d never known Price to be so well with words, not int he way he was expressing now.

He knew what you needed to hear after being trapped in your own world of darkness, and he provided the light you needed to find your way out—all of them did. A glimmer of hope in a world full of loss.

“I am very thankful you kidnapped me,” you blurted, unable to contain your inner thoughts.

Price laughed, boisterous and loud, a smile washing over his face. It was a lovely sight, one that made your heart pound. Even through your pain, you found solitude in the aftermath, reaching a level of comfort you’d always wished to feel.

“I am happy to have you here despite it,” Price teased warmly. “I can say the same for the rest.”

You laughed, almost immediately regretting it at the shooting pain coursing in your side. He shot you a sympathetic smile, slowly standing from his chair.

“I will let you rest,” he said, giving you a gentle pat to your thigh over the blanket. Your heart jumped at the action, and you repressed it.

“You are not staying?” you asked, deflating.

“Soap and Gaz will be here with some more pillows soon. I must gather a plan so we can get you to a medic as soon as possible.”

It made sense, and you knew it was important. There was no telling what was flowing through the black veins, but your heart longed for more of his presence.

“Just for a moment longer?” you dared to request, voice small.

Price peered down at you from where he stood over you, a hint of surprise flashing on his expression before it softened. He nodded, reaching over to give your hand a gentle squeeze. You held on as long as you could.

“Just a moment then,” he repeated. “I will do it for you.”

You squeezed his hand in return, feeling as if you were on cloud nine. Your feelings were uncertain, but the more you spent with them, the clearer your vision became. It was an inner battle, forcing yourself to push them back in order to protect yourself. Now, though, you decided to allow yourself the comfort, just for a little while.

“Thank you,” you told him, unaware your voice had become a mere whisper. The air between you felt heavy, as if something unspoken was there.

Price glanced down at your hands that remained interlinked before shifting his gaze back at you. The gears in his mind were turning, and just as you were about to ask if it was alright, he beat you.

“I am not an emotional man,” he murmured quietly, seeming just as unsure as you were. “I make very stupid decisions and take paths I shouldn’t take. One of them is tellin’ me to kiss you, and I’m not sure if that’s alright.”

You froze in place, eyes growing wide. You were unable to look away, lost in your own little moment. Everything in you was yelling yes, yes, yes! and it was hard to ignore. You had always been weak in your feelings.

“Gaz tried to when I gifted him the telescope,” you said, unsure of why you did. “I hope that is okay.”

Price broke out into a smile, huffing out a breathy laugh. “So long as he did not beat me to it.”

You released a relieved breath, a shaky smile spreading on your lips. Price did not seem angry, and for that, you grew more enticed for a kiss. While your feelings for the others were all different in their special ways, having Price be the first was not something you could deny. It excited you more than it should.

Before you knew it, Price leaned down, capturing your lips in his own. There was no spark like you’d read in books you’d read at merchant stands when you couldn’t afford them, nor were there fireworks.

Instead, it was a calm sea that smothered you in peace, easing every worry that crowded your mind. They washed away, replaced with a warm buzz.

He was gentle, hand still grasping yours, the other coming to rest beneath your jaw. His skin was hot to the touch, rough from the callouses on his palm.

The moment wasn’t long, and when he pulled away, you wished you could reel him in for more.

“Rest,” he encouraged, his smile brighter than a thousand suns. “We’ll get you fixed up and better before you know it, alright?”

You nodded dumbly, your head empty. You were practically vibrating with excitement, the feel of his lips still tingling on yours.

He stroked his thumb over your cheekbone before pulling back, stepping away from the bed. He gave you a soft farewell, reminding you that the boys will be back soon and to try and sleep until then.

Once he was out of the room, the quiet didn’t bother you. It wasn’t maddening, driving you up a wall, suffocating you with loneliness—it was peaceful and kind, welcoming you with open arms as you slipped into unconsciousness, the images flashing behind your eyelids of the four of them in your life only bringing you true comfort after the storm.

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darnell-la · 3 months ago

Note

Please I need more “drive-by sniffing” It’s so funny to me but also I’m into it

warnings: jealousy, hiding keys, sniff-by (drive by sniffing), lying, teasing, trapping, kissing, carrying, oral (fem receiving), etc.

note: perv!logan???? FUCKIN’ HELL.

follow our Instagram @ darnell.la so we can start posting random videos, photos, edits, and memes of the people we write about!

———

“They’re just a friend, Wade” y/n sighed as Wade kept complaining about where and why she was going. She was trying to find her keys and he knew for a fact he took them.

“Where are they, Wade? I told you I was leaving before I took a shower and now they’re off the kitchen counter so — Where are they!?” Y/n yelled at the man, making Logan choke on his beer.

“I don’t know, peanuts. Maybe it’s lost up your ass,” Wade shrugged as he got up and slipped his shoes on. “Shame on you for leaving mister I have no life and I hate everyone and everything, over there. Maybe you couldn’t take him on a date,”

“It’s not a date!” She yelled at the man, knowing this might be, but it was none of his business. “Yeah, sure it’s not, but since it’s so not a date, why not take Grandpa with you? He hasn’t seen the sun in a while,” Wade whispered.

Before y/n could say anything, he left, shutting the door hard and singing as he skipped down the hall, ready to go see Vanessa. “Dick shit,” said under her breath.

“Language, young lady,” Logan chuckled as he took a sip of his ninth beer. “Who are you? The god of prohibited language?” Y/n rolled her eyes at the man before she continued her search for her car keys.

“Lookin’ for these, bub?” Logan’s voice spoke after a few minutes of silence. She wanted to ignore him, but once she heard her keys jingle, her head snapped towards him.

“Bro, you had it the whole time!?” Y/n wanted to yell at the man, but he was Wade’s guest. Y/n only stayed here at times when it got too late for her to drive home. He’s somehow friends with her elders and he needed a “full-time babysitter for his dog” that he had just picked up and left with.

Her parents and grandparents insisted she didn’t help Deadpool and Dogpool. They were all big fans, but y/n wasn’t planning on working for him.

Wade had something behind what he was doing after y/n served him his food at bingo night. She was young but not too young, pretty, went to college, and was hard to deal with. Right up Logan’s alley, but did Wade tell him his secret evil plan? No.

“Yeah, because you’re lying,” Logan put the keys back in his pocket after she came over to him to take back what was hers. “What? Bro, give me my keys,” y/n was annoyed.

“You are going on a date, ain’t ya?” He asked. She could do all the washing she wanted, but he could still smell her. “No, for the love of god. Can you guys stop asking me that shit? It’s annoying!”

“Last time I checked, it only takes you ten minutes to shower, not thirty,” y/n was surprised he paid attention to her shower times. She’s only been in and out of Wade’s shared apartment for a couple of months.

“Your point is?” She asked, knowing he wasn’t dumb, but she hoped he’d give up. “I don’t know, you tell me,” he got up, now towering over her. Her neck ached from the sudden new angle she had to look at him.

“I can smell you, you know,” Logan admitted. “What do you mean?” She genuinely asked. “I can smell you leaking. It’s hard to miss when you smell like that every time you leave to meet up with your friends,”

She wanted to call out his perverted activities but had nothing to say. He was old, but she wasn’t a minor, so what could she say to make him feel uncomfortable for invading her privacy.

“How good is he? Seems like he fucks good if you’re soaked right before you leave,” Logan had y/n cornered on the wall. She didn’t know she was backing up that much until she had nowhere else to go.

“How about you let me meet him. Lemme watch how he fucks you so I can show you better,” his hot breath blew on her face. He was so close and intimidating. Where did all of this come from?

“Sometimes I can smell him on you. I hate it so much, you know why, bub?” Logan asked as his finger cupped her chin. Y/n softly shook her head. “Because I can do better,”

Before she knew it, his lips were all over her, barely letting her process before his tongue slipped into her mouth.

Usually, she found that nasty, hating the sloppy kisses, but this time — Fuck, it felt so nice.

Y/n kissed back, whines escaping her mouth as she now felt needy. She was already turned on, knowing she was going to meet her boy toy tonight, but Logan seemed better. He was always the better choice.

“Greedy slut,” the man spat, sounding angry, but she knew that’s how they talked when they were turned on. She could feel his hard on through his jeans. He was grinding up and down her body like a pole.

“Always leavin’ to fuck another man, like I’m not here, baby. I don’t like that disrespect,” Logan pulled the girl off of the wall and now carried her to his room that they sometimes shared.

Wade’s apartment is a two-bedroom, so if she slept over, she’d sleep on Logan’s bed, and he’d sleep on the small couch in the room.

He would be lying if he said he didn’t sleep better when she was right across from him. He’d also be lying if he said he would switch the sheets because he loved her smell.

He never did anything like this back where he was, but something after that fight made him switch. He was turning into a small pervert for a young lady in who’s barely the legal drinking age.

“Smellin’ like candy,” Logan sniffed, loving the new lotion she had bought a few days ago. “Gonna go through all that work when I take you on a date?” He asked as he slowly took the girl's clothes off. “Maybe,” she shyly said, surprised he wasn’t thinking about this as a one-night stand.

“Doesn’t matter, bub — Ima still eat that pussy till you cry,” he said as he spread the girl's legs. She felt so smooth. She was ready for him, not that dickhead she was getting ready to meet.

Logan slowly slicked up the girl's slit, taking in how close he is to her smell. All the days of smelling her getting ready for another man, just for her to get pulled back for him.

“Bet this cunts sweet,” the man said before diving in for a few seconds. Her mom got stuck in her throat. That was amazing, and he had more.

“Sure fuckin’ is,” Logan quickly went back in, arms wrapping around and thighs to pull her into his face. He wanted to suffocate in between her thighs.

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flemingsfreckles · 8 months ago

Text

Officially Off-Season

Jessie Fleming x Chelsea!Reader

Preview: The team goes out to celebrate winning the Super League and the beginning of the off season, you decide it’s time to follow up on a comment Jessie made earlier in the season.

Warnings: alludes to smut, suggestive, some cursing and drinking

WC: 4.3k

You hated this environment, the loud music and smell of sweat and how your shoes would stick to the floor, but this is the result of Chelsea winning the league. The girls went out and there was no getting out of this one. Normally after a big win you’d join in the celebrations then make an excuse, an early physio appointment the next morning, not wanting to drink due to being in the middle of the season, a headache, you had used every excuse in the book. Your teammates knew most of the time that your excuses were full of shit but they'd let you leave anyway.

You had only been at the bar for 20 minutes and were ready to bid everyone a goodnight. The first 10 minutes were spent running around trying to show face to your fellow teammates in hopes it would maybe get you out of here sooner. The next 10 had been spent in line at the bar. You ordered yourself a beer when Guro came up behind you grabbing the back of your neck with one hand, jostling you and shouting your name as if she hadn't seen you at the stadium shortly before.

“We’ll take two shots!” She hollered at the bartender. She waved a finger between you indicating one was for her the other was for you.

“Guro no!” Quick to protest, you had planned to stick to beer for the night, never being a huge fan of liquor and not wanting to wake up with regrets in the morning.

“Come on, we won the league, it's officially the off season. Just the one to make up for all the times you bailed on us during the season.” She looked at you, giving her best puppy dog eyes.

The bartender returned, placing the beer you had ordered down followed by the clinking of the two shot glasses and he held out two lime slices to you and Guro. “They're tequila, I hope that’s okay, that's what your teammates seemed to be ordering.”

“Perfect, thanks!” Guro grinned at the man, grabbing both of the lime slices, handing one to you before she picked up both shots forcing it into your open hand.

“I hate you.” You half heartedly told her. In reality, she was one of your best friends on the team and you loved her but she drove you crazy at the same time.

“Here’s to you, maybe you’ll finally get a certain someone to take you home.” She winked at the end of her sentence before clinking her glass to yours and bringing the shot to her mouth, taking it and following it up with the lime.

“I don’t know what youre talking about.” You did, you knew exactly who she meant. “Plus that certain someone has a roommate, I’m not doing that with her home.” You threw back your shot, cringing at the burn and as you put the lime in your mouth you were once again aggressively grabbed by the back of the neck, this time Niamh shouting your last name at you.

“Are we finally getting you to go all out? Taking shots and all?” You turn and in front of you now stands Niamh, her girlfriend, and they're both followed by, ironically, Jessie. You felt Guro’s stare on you as she realized that had they shown up a few seconds earlier, Niamh and Jessie would have overheard the conversation you were having.

Niamh and Jessie’s apartment not being far from the bar you had agreed to, they had run home to change. What caught your eye was Jessie’s outfit. She was dressed in all black, a pair of nice slacks and a button up shirt up top. Her hair was neatly pulled back. She was easily one of the best dressed people here, you and the rest of your teammates in some variation of sweatpants and sweatshirts. You had opted to put on the clothes that you wore into Stamford Bridge that morning. You stood wearing a pair of light wash jeans with a simple blue shirt. You suddenly felt underdressed despite standing next to Guro who was wearing her travel sweats and a t-shirt.

“Just the one.” You say sternly.

“Boo! I just got here and didn’t get to do one with you.” Niamh protests. She turns, pointing to her girlfriend and Jessie, “They want to do one with you too, right Jess?” You look over Niamh’s shoulder to look at Jessie. She’s looking around the bar completing a whole circle of the room before her eyes meet yours back in front of her as she hears Niamh mention her name. You give her a smile and she returns it.

“Uh, yeah sure.” By the look of confusion on her face you can tell she was just agreeing with Niamh, not really sure what she had just agreed to.

“We’ll take 5 more.” Guro is quick to holler at the bartender. You see Jessie’s eyes widen and her lips make an O as she realizes what she had said yes to. She mouths “sorry” and gives you an apologetic look.

The glass and lime are once again shoved into your hands along with the rest of the group. Niamh puts her shot in the middle of the 5 of you. “Here’s to winning the league and to finally getting these two,” she tips her head in your direction followed quickly in Jessie’s direction, “to finally join in on our hijinx.”

The second shot goes down smoother than the first, you finish off your lime and turn to the bar grabbing the beer that was supposed to be your first drink, not your third.

“Let's go dance.” Guro grabs your hand pulling you away from the person you actually wanted to talk to. You entertained Guro for a couple songs, dancing with her, letting the warmth from the two shots ease your nerves you normally would be feeling about dancing in public.

“Are you going to talk to her?” You hear Guro shout over the music into your ear. Guro was pressed up against your back dancing with you. To an outside eye it would’ve looked like you and Guro were together, the reality was you both just didn’t care, just having a good time dancing with the music. You turned around so you were face to face.

Leaning in, you shouted into her ear “I was going to, but youre the one who dragged me over here to dance with you instead.”

“Okay you're free to go,” She threw her arms back in an over dramatic fashion. “But I expect you to not fuck this up.” Her hand comes down giving you a pat and a shove on the back in the direction of a table in the corner. “You know she wants this too, don't forget that.”

It was a gentle reminder to you that Guro knew a secret of yours that no one else on the team, let alone anyone else in the world, knew.

It was many months ago, early in the season and you had stayed late getting in some extra practice and some recovery done. Jessie had joined you, you both were close, both secretly infatuated with each other, too shy to make a move. Instead you opted for subtle flirting with each other, gaining both of you nothing besides an increased tension between you. The flirting was so subtle that not even your teammates had picked up on it, the only reason Guro had figured out what was happening between the two of you was she had witnessed it with her own eyes.

Guro had also stayed late, up in the film room watching over some plays with the coaching staff. When she was done she ran down to the changing room to grab her bag and head home. Assuming everyone else was long gone, she had not expected anyone to be in the room so she was startled when she saw you and Jessie. She had been even more startled when she saw you both, sitting side by side in the cubbies, Jessie with a hand on your thigh and your hand cupping Jessie’s chin as your lips locked with hers. The sound of the door opening hadn’t alerted you and Jessie but the sound of it slamming shut did. You both split apart, whipping your heads around with wide eyes. You both saw Guro who was standing in the doorway mouth open, unable to look away from you and Jessie.

Thankfully in that moment, Guro agreed to pretend she didn’t see anything, you and Jessie both talking over each other to explain to her it's not what it looks like. Guro had stuck to that promise, never mentioning the kiss she witnessed to anyone, and hardly mentioning it to you. She had teased you for a bit about it in private but stopped once you let her know that Jessie had told you she wasn’t interested in starting any relationships in the middle of the season. She claimed she just was just too busy, and couldn’t even think about relationships until the off season. It had upset you, but it also led to you counting the days until the season was over. Your flirting had continued, the kiss and rejection not changing anything, giving you hope for the day the season ended. And now it is officially off-season as Guro had said earlier in the evening.

“Go!” Guro shoved you again in the direction of Jessie who sat at a table. You stumbled as her force caused you to bump into a few people on the dance floor. You excused yourself as you made your move over to the brown haired, brown eyed girl. As you walked up to the table, Niamh and her girlfriend got up from their seats, waving in the direction of the dance floor. You turned to see Guro waving back at them, she shot you a wink to which you rolled your eyes.

“No dancing for you?” You questioned Jessie as she had remained in her chair, picking at the label on the bottle in front of her.

“No, I’m alright here, there's no need for me to embarrass myself.” She looked up at you. “You seemed like you were having a good time out there though.”

“I mean, the two shots I was peer pressured into taking, no thanks to you by the way,” you joked with her “helped me get out there, I’m sure I looked silly, I just cared less.”

“You didn’t look silly, you looked good.” Jessie’s words ring in your ears. You look down to her to see she's back to watching her nails pick at the bottle in front of her. Her cheeks have a pink color creeping up them.

Not sure how to respond to her comment, you finally decide to sit down across from her, placing your own empty bottle on the table. You sit with her in a silence that borders on being uncomfortable, without the noise of the bar it would be fully uncomfortable. Your mind races through thoughts. Do you tell her you want to kiss her? Do you ask her what her plans are for the offseason? Maybe ask if she’s seeing anyone? Ask her if she’s looking forward to being back with the Canadian team? See if she’s visiting family? Despite the many options that you could have gone, your brain takes a different route.

“So it's the off season now.” Those were the words that came out of your mouth. Jessie looks across to you, a blank expression on her face. She’s not sure if you're asking a question or just stating facts. She can't tell if you are expecting a response from her either.

Letting your brain catch up to the sentence that you had just said, you clarified, “I just mean that, back when we kissed,” the latter half of that sentence coming out as nearly a whisper. “You said you didn’t want to start anything in the middle of the season. And now it's not.” You mentally smack yourself, clenching your eyes shut quickly, hoping it’ll take away the embarrassment that you're feeling. This is the least smooth way you could have brought this up.

“Right,” Jessie starts, her eyes dart around the room quickly, avoiding your stare, a smirk creeps up on her lips before she speaks again. “I’m going to step outside for a second, just get some fresh air, it's kind of hot in here.” Her eyes look intensely into yours as she glances over at the door, then back to you and to the door again.

You read that as rejection, feeling your heart deflate a bit you nod to her and you let her walk away without another word to her. When you hear the door close behind her you let your forehead fall to the table with a quiet “fuck” coming out from your lips. You’re jolted out of your thoughts by the sound of your phone vibrating on the table next to your head.

Sitting back up you grab it, seeing 9 new messages. Only caring about the most recent 3.

JFlem: are you joining me or what?

JFlem: apparently you don't know that the eye contact meant you were supposed to follow me

JFlem: I now see how maybe that wasn't clear enough

Not even bothering to finish reading the other messages you had received, most likely family and friends congratulating you on the league. You stood up quickly, nearly knocking your chair down behind you, pushed it in and headed toward the door you had seen Jessie go out just a few minutes prior. You walk out to an empty quiet street, streetlights lining the roadway.

“There she is.” Jessie calls to you. You turn to her, she's leaning against the brick wall arms crossed in front of her. She’s smiling at you as she watches you turn around. Her appearance slightly changed since you last took note. Her hair was now down resting against her cheeks and just above her shoulders. The top two buttons on her shirt now undone, letting you see more of her neck and chest. “Sorry about that, I thought you could understand what I was getting at.”

“No, I couldn't.” You walk over to her standing in front of her, giving her an eye roll for dramatic affect. “Sorry I’m not fluent in eye movements.” The comment makes her laugh, her face lighting up. Her laugh was one of your favorite sounds and watching her laugh was one of your favorite sights, the way her eyes would squint shut, the smile on her face, the way her shoulders shook, all of it.

“Come on.” Jessie grabs your hand, moving to the side to begin pulling you down the street. You took the second to interlace your fingers, her hands slightly bigger than yours, yours warmer than hers.

You decided it best not to ask questions on what was happening or where you were going, letting her lead you down the sidewalk. Her pace picks up slightly at first, making you speed walk to keep her from physically dragging you behind her. She eventually sped up to the point of the two of you both running, side by side down the street. The roads began to look familiar when you put two and two together. Jessie was taking you back to her place.

You walked up to the door of her building, having been there many times already you knew it well. She dropped your hand and you watched as she entered a security code, a beep occurred and she pulled the door back, swinging her arm to motion for you to walk through. You followed her direction, now you are grabbing her hand, pulling her toward her own apartment, nearly running out of excitement. You move out of the way as you watch her fumble with the keys, feeling like she takes hours to unlock the door. With this door, she walks in first, pulling you in behind her.

The door closes behind you and you find your back coming into contact with it seconds later as Jessie’s hands have found your hips and are pushing you backward. Her hands are firm in her grasp and yet soft in their force holding you to the door. She had you pinned against the door, but not moving any further.

Not sure if Jessie had sensed the question pop up in your head or maybe she had seen your eyes dart over to Niamh’s bedroom door. “Niamh said she is spending the night at her girlfriend’s, no one is home.”

You let out a small sigh of relief, wanting to be able to finish what you and Jessie were about to start. Your own arms are holding her, one on her shoulder and the other on her forearm. You’re both slightly panting, you could smell the faint traces of tequila and beer between you. Yes you were professional athletes but something about finally being in this position with each other, makes you lose your breath.

Jessie’s brown eyes rake over your face, looking everywhere before settling on your lips, glancing up to your eyes and then back to your lips.

“You have no idea how much I’ve thought about doing this.” With those words giving you final confirmation that this is what you both wanted, your hand that was previously on her shoulder moves to the collar of her shirt, grabbing a handful and pulling her into you, your lips finally meeting again after many months apart. You taste the drinks on her lips with a hint of vanilla, a chapstick she was known for carrying with her everywhere.

It starts sweet, like your first kiss but you can't help but move your hand from her collar to the back of her neck, pulling her in harder against you, not wanting this to stay sweet. You feel Jessie’s tongue against your bottom lip and you return the action against her lips to allow the kiss to deepen. The kiss has your head buzzing, all of your senses being consumed by Jessie. The taste of her lips, the smell of her hair and perfume, the feeling of her skin under your hands, the end of her hair tickling your hand that rested on her neck. All aspects of Jessie were consuming your thoughts.

One of her hands wanders from your hip to your stomach, sliding under your shirt. The coldness of her hands sends a jolt through your body and you pull back from the kiss. You rest your head back on the door for a second before looking back at her. Your heart pounding in your ears as you watch her open her eyes, pupils down large as she looks back at you. Her flushed cheeks made it look like she just played a full 90.

“Jess,” name is the only word that you manage to get out your voice sounding strained, taking another deep breath she finishes your thought for you.

“Bedroom?” She cocks an eyebrow up asking.

“How much have you had to drink?” You couldn’t help but ask, her new found confidence seeming out of the normal for her. The last thing you wanted was for her to regret this in the morning due to the shot and other drinks your teammates had handed her the night.

“Enough to give me a little confidence to make a move but also not enough so I’m still levelheaded and clear in this decision.” She answers, looking into your eyes, knowing you just were looking out for her. “I want this and I’ve wanted this.” She reassures you.

Not needing to hear much more, you gently push Jessie back, “Bedroom.” Nodding your head in the direction of her bedroom.

You follow her down the hall and through her bedroom door. It was now your turn to take control of your movements, you grab Jessie’s wrist tugging her close to you. Reconnecting your lips, your hands now on her hips you walk her backward, pushing her in the direction of her bed. The back of her legs hit the mattress and she sits down, parting her legs so that you can stand between them. Placing your hands on either side of her face, you lean down to kiss her softly. Jessie, wanting to speed things up, slides her hands along the top of your pants. Her hands find the bottom of your shirt pulling at it gently hoping you'll get the hint. You do, pulling back from kissing her to help her pull it over her head. Jessie slides further up the bed extending a hand to you which you gladly take. She pulled you up onto the bed and on top of her. You situate your hips between her thighs and the midfielder below you wraps her legs around your waist, your upper body hovers above her. Her arm comes up to your neck and she pulls you down onto her into a sloppy kiss, feeling your body weight on top of her, she lets out a sighing moan against your lips.

You wake up to the bright light of the sun coming in through the blinds. You quickly realize this is not your bedroom with your blackout curtains, it is Jessie’s bedroom. You have woken up in Jessie’s bedroom, in her bed. Rolling over when you see her back, the blanket sitting just above her hips. It stands out to you that she has no shirt on, bringing you to the realization that you also do not have a shirt on, or pants. Jessie still appears to be asleep, the rise and fall of her chest is slow and relaxed. Your eyes wander across her back, admiring the muscle definition and also admiring some of the pink marks that you had a hand in making last night from your nails and mouth.

Pushing the covers off, you move to get out of the bed, grabbing Jessie’s shirt from last night off the floor and putting it on.

“Are you running out on me already?” A sleepy voice from the bed says. Jessie is sitting up, rubbing her eyes as she looks at you. She’s now covering her chest with the blanket. Her hair is crazy, partly from sleeping and partly from last night's activities. She looked absolutely beautiful to you.

“No, I was just going to use the bathroom and put on some clothes.” Looking down at the fact that you still had no pants on, you see Jessie quickly glance down following your eyes, a small blush coming across her face. She nods and you head into Jessie’s ensuite closing the door behind you.

“I have some clothes you can wear if you want.” Jessie's voice comes through the door. You walk out grabbing the shirt and sweatpants from her hands. She had thrown on some clothes while you were in the bathroom, her free hand was in the process of trying to tame her hair. You quickly throw on the clean clothes, smoothing down your own hair and then sit on the edge of the bed.

Jessie moves toward the door of her bedroom, grabbing the handle, you jump up follow shortly behind her but are quickly stopped as Jessie lets out a gasp and slams the door shut behind her before you have a chance to get through. Left face to face with the door you are confused until you hear Jessie start talking.

“Niamh. Hi. I thought you were, where's your girlfriend, weren't you staying there? Not here last night?” The shake and panic in Jessie’s voice is noticeable as she stutters her way through the shock of seeing her roommate, who explicitly said she wouldn’t be home, standing in front of her.

“We ended up coming here, we drank too much and didn’t want to make the trip. She’s still sleeping on account of we weren’t able to get much sleep last night. But I guess neither did you.” Your eyes widened as you heard Niamh’s words through the door. She had heard you and Jessie last night.

“You might as well tell her to come out here, instead of in your bedroom. No point in hiding when I had the torture of listening to you both yelling each other’s names all night.”

Cringing at the thought of Niamh overhearing your night, you pinched your eyes shut, taking a deep breath and reached for the door handle. The longer you waited, the more awkward it was going to become.

You opened the door, Jessie turning back to look at you, her face a deep red. Niamh is sitting at the counter, a smug look on her face as she watches you and the Canadian look at each other, both mortified. You look quickly at Niamh before glancing away. The eye contact with her is deeply uncomfortable, you can't help but think about all of the things she may have heard between you and Jess last night

“You owe me earplugs and probably some therapy.” The smile on Niamh’s face told you that she was kidding but also l that you wouldn’t be escaping these jokes for a long time. Unable to form words, your brain is still overwhelmed by being essentially walked in on by one of your teammates last night, you just lifted your hand in a thumbs up in her direction. You moved behind Jessie putting your forehead on the back of her shoulder blade to hide your face. “So embarrassing.” You mumble into Jessie’s back, unsure if Niamh could hear or not.

“I’m surprised you both have voices left after everything you were saying last night-”

“NIAMH!”

#jessie fleming #jflem #jessie fleming imagine #chelsea fcw #jessie fleming x reader #woso x reader #woso imagine

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ghost-proofbaby · 2 months ago

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It's summer for you, winter for me. Warm me up with strawberry fluff! As always, my muse, your muse, the one and only, Eddie.

Midsummer's night, because I don't have a lot to inspire you with. I'm thinking something cute but weird? Maybe some human body softness where Eddie is a bit of a freak and we love him for it. And we're told our bodies are lovely, even when they're doing weird shit.

I lalalove youuuuu. xo Rhi

RHI!!!! <3 i adore you. thank you for this prompt - i had far too many ideas for it, but ended up on settling for this one, which coincidentally feels like the most subtle of them all? either way, it definitely turned out being the softest. give me an eddie munson who just wants to sniff me like a dog. this definitely got a bit long but i hope you enjoy, my dear <3

the smell of you

warnings: weirdos in love? idk. i have a skewed sense of what is actually weird i think. mentions of death and coffins jokingly. eddie 'manhandles' reader sort of. not edited.

wc: 2.2k+

come enjoy a sweet summer treat with me <3

“Eddie?”

The entire apartment is quiet – too quiet – as you drop your keys into the old crystal bowl on the counter. The clink resonates through the air, louder than the soft murmur of the stereo static you can hear from down the hall.

“You dead?” you call out again, slipping off your running shoes and tossing down your headphones onto the counter as well now, “Do I need to call the coroner?”

Your tone is lilted, teasing with airiness as you continue to wander deeper into the apartment and head straight for the room you know Eddie has to be in. Like the waves pulled by the moon, there’s an incessant string tied around one end of your soul that connects you to his, and you follow it all the way down the hallway. The bedroom door is wide open, and you can hear his mumbled yell of a response without clarity before you even cross the threshold.

You wouldn’t have even needed him to verbally respond to find him in this tiny apartment. You two could get separated on the streets of a bustling city, of a buzzing New York sidewalk, and you still wouldn’t properly lose him. It’s more than just soul ties and his gravity that keeps you pulled to him.

Something unspoken. Something homely.

“Sorry, what was that?” you hum as you spy him face-down in the bed, pillow muting him by the mouthful, “Say it one more time, and this time not into the pillow.”

When he finally properly turns over, he’s a vision. Sleep lines folded into his skin and a bit of drool in the corner of his mouth, eyes squinting in irritation not at you but the sunlight flooding in through the bedroom window. Messy hair, messy shirt, messy everything. A kind of mess you just want to collapse into currently, curling up in all that he is from the day’s exhaustion.

He’d mentioned wanting to take a nap before you’d left for the gym. Something about the summer heat draining him, trailing off as he’d rambled about how he’d probably thrive as a vampire.

“I said,” he huffs, sitting up, the frizz of his hair becoming a makeshift halo, “If you call the coroner, request the comfiest coffin possible.”

“Why do you need a comfy coffin if you’re already dead?”

“You dare deny me of being buried in tempurpedic memory foam? In my hour of need?”

You roll your eyes as you huff out a little laugh, forcing yourself to turn away from him long enough to strip out of your socks. But just as you reach down for the pieces of clothing, you catch sight of the source of that stereo static flooding the room.

Your shared record player, spinning a blood red pressing of one of your more recent vinyl purchases. The album has been played through, but the player no longer had an automatic stop mechanism, probably from years of use.

The center of the record is probably scratched, and Eddie knows it, from how sheepish he looks when you glance over your shoulder at him.

“Speaking of death,” you walk over quickly, purposefully, before carefully lifting the needle and cutting the static finally, “Care to explain why you’re burning scratches into my Momento Mori vinyl?”

“I’m sorry,” he quickly apologizes, nearly flinging himself off the bed as he scooches quickly to the end, clearly fully awake now, “I put it on and thought I’d just lay down for a quick second, but then the bed was so comfy, and I thought it wouldn’t hurt to take a quick nap, and then…” he trails off, looking up at you through his lashes with big eyes already pleading for forgiveness, “I’ll buy you a new one. Swear it.”

It’s impossible to be mad at him when he’s looking like this, inhumanely soft and easily forgiven, “You’re lucky you’re cute, or you really would be dead.”

He doesn’t respond with words, but instead the outstretch of his hands, fingers flexing as he beckons to you. The needle rests on its perch, the vinyl left behind to gather dust for a few extra moments, as you go straight to him.

When his palms slip beneath your old t-shirt and meet your skin, they’re pleasantly warm.

“You were right,” you admit as his knees spread, delegating even more room for you to stand in front of him as your hand wanders to cradle the side of his face, fingers tangling in sweaty curls from his rest. Your thumb mimics his on your own skin instinctively, tracing a large arch right up over his cheekbone, “It’s hot as balls outside.”

“Told you so,” he murmurs, smiling softly in satisfaction as he leans lazily into your touch.

“You did,” you agree quietly, half-entranced by his relaxed face, no sight of pride in the room currently.

He resembles a cat as he continues to preen under your gentle hand, and you almost expect him to start purring right before you find the strength to pull away, removing his hands from where they'd wandered to your lower back.

One swipe of his finger along your sweaty spine, and you’d remembered what your original intentions had been immediately upon getting home.

“Wai- Where are you going?” he’s seemingly brought back down to Earth the moment he loses the pattern your thumb had been tracing, the press of your fingertips into his scalp. When he reaches back out to latch onto you again, you take a step back, “Get back here-”

“I need to shower,” you laugh, shaking your head and smacking his hands away as he continues to barter, “I’m all sweaty and smelly, let me go clean up and then we can nap togeth-”

“You can shower after we nap,” he nearly whines, finally catching your shirt between his fingers and tugging, uncaring for if he stretches the fabric. A small price to pay to have you close to him, “C’mon, sweetheart. I know you’re just as exhausted as I am.”

You swear you meant to take another step backwards, but somehow, you end up back between his knees, “Did you not hear me, Munson? I stink.”

“Good.”

He doesn’t give you any time to react – in an instant, he’s throwing his face forward, burying it against your stomach as you let out a gasp and immediately try to pry him away with far too gentle of hands in his hair.

“Eddie!”

If it were anyone else, you’d probably be mortified. But Eddie just takes a dramatic deep breath in, nose buried just shy of your belly button, and when his shoulders start to shake with muted laughter, you can’t stop the smile from breaking. Your fingers are still twisted in his hair, still pulling back in an attempt to get him away from you, but he’s resilient.

And all your faux resistance is weak in comparison. Soon enough, you’re back to melting into him.

Only once you’re relaxed once more, no sign of trying to pull away again any time soon as his hands once more evade the space beneath your shirt to wander up and down your sticky skin without a care in the world, does he lift his face away from you long enough to breathe and speak, “I’ll have you know – I love your stink.”

“Shut up.”

“I’m serious.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“I’m your idiot.”

The game of banter is cut short when he goes back to pressing his nose into your clothes that surely can’t smell good. No amount of deodorant or perfume could erase that underlying stench of sweat. Hell, the shirt is still a bit moist from it all: from the walk to the gym, from your workout itself, from the walk home. It’d been through the ringer, and you’re back to tugging him away from you.

“I refuse to believe you like how gross I smell right now,” you reinforce, eyes darting towards the bathroom connected to your master bedroom, “I promise I’ll be quick with the shower.”

“Baby,” he fights back, wrapping his arms around you securely, no intention of losing this battle, “You remember that time we went to the fair, and you were complaining about how you were sweating, so I tried to lick your face?”

Your nose scrunches quickly at the memory, “I do, unfortunately.”

“You really think I’d be willing to lick the sweat off your body but be afraid of you smelling a little bad while we cuddle?” his shoulders drop as he looks up at you, head tilted, almost as if amused with the conversation, “What kind of man do you take me for?”

“The kind that gets off on annoying me.”

His jaw drops, putting on a fake look of offense before he dramatically throws himself back onto the bed, laying flat as he makes a fist to mimic stabbing his chest, “You wound me.”

You’ve heard those words a thousand times in a hundred different ridiculous voices. You’ve seen this scene enough to have it mesmerized at this point, down to the over-exaggerated pout of his lips and the lingering of the fist against his sternum.

You never grow tired of it. You never will.

“Need me to kiss it better?” you joke as you prop a knee up on the bed, following the same script as always.

And he hits his queue perfectly when he lifts his head eagerly at the expected response, wiggling his brows a bit. “Absolutely. Doctor’s orders, in fact.”

“Great,” you see an opportunity, and take it, “I’ll get right to it, after my showe-”

You don’t even get the final syllable of the word off your tongue before he’s clenching his thighs around your own, knees pressing hard before he wraps his legs the rest of the way around your waist to pull you in. A squeak of surprise leaves your lips as you begin to fall forward, but Eddie is quick to break the fall with ease. Catching you with his eager hands, maneuvering for you to half drop to the mattress while some of you still lands atop of him.

He has you right where he wants you, turning his head to be face to face with you, noses nearly brushing, “Unfortunately, the doc said you have to kiss it better now, or else you’ll be comfy coffin shopping.”

“A fatal wound?” you gasp, nearly mocking him. It doesn’t offend him – if anything, his boyish grin only grows wider, “First, I’m smelly-”

“Again, I like when you’re smelly.”

“-And then I inflict a fatal wound upon my lover? Oh, how dare I.”

Slowly, all your insecurity of how you currently smell is simply fading. The entire ordeal has become an art of childlike, whimsical jokes – and Eddie is an artist. A professional at the dance, locked and loaded with his incomparable skill set equipped for disarming you this way. The ability to make someone feel loved, imperfections and weirdness aside.

He likes you, even when you claim you don’t smell your best. And you like him, even when his hair is tangled beyond recognition and one of his socks is half-hanging off his foot from a nap.

You like him when he’s embarrassing you in public, tongue chasing after you with the threat of licking your sweat away, and he likes you when all you can do in response is a weak palm to his chest (that isn’t even making an effort to push him away) as you giggle relentlessly.

You like each other on the good days, the bad days, the weird days.

Disarmed entirely, you don’t even notice when his face conveniently slots itself far too close to your armpit as you two scooch further up into the bed. You’re more occupied with the way your legs tangle up, toeing each other’s socks off properly as he slings a heavy arm across your torso.

“We’re gonna have to wash the sheets,” you mumble, exhaustion catching up as the two of you finally settle.

He hums absentmindedly, nuzzling into your skin a bit further as he makes himself comfortable. “And wash away your sweet, sweet stink? I don’t think so, sweetheart.”

“Oh, fuck off,” you laugh, unbothered as your fingers start to trail up and down his back over the t-shirt, smoothing out wrinkles along the way, “I’m serious. We need to change them soon anyways, I think I got crumbs in the bed the other night with those crackers.”

“Bury me in the crumbs of all your midnight snacks,” he almost slurs, clearly drifting back off.

You snort in response, relaxing and letting your own eyes shut. Matching all your deep breaths with his own, a million different last words crossing your mind to whisper to the boy you’re sure is once again asleep.

I love you.

I adore you.

I would like to spend the rest of my life with you, if you’ll have me.

And maybe some of those unspoken thoughts slip out without you realizing, because he squeezes you just a little bit tighter, presses his face just a little bit deeper into your skin as his scruff tickles you.

The only actual thought you can know for certain that you say, though, is, “Do you think they actually make coffins with memory foam inside?”

To your surprise, even despite the almost-snores that had been escaping him, he answers in a heartbeat.

“Oh, definitely. We’ll order two.”

#ghost's stories #summertime sweetness #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fluff #stranger things #peep me making fun of myself in there about the way i constantly like to write him doing the whole mock stabbing himself thing #i just want to find me an eddie munson to be so comfortable with that afternoons like this would be a regular thing ya know #give me a man who likes my stink #a man who offers to order us matching tempurpedic coffins #i don't think that's how you spell that word if i'm being completely honest #it's canon in my head the two of you would go 'coffin shopping' just cause you both wanna know what it's like to lay in one #also in my process of brainstorming and writing this i realized i really do not understand the concept of being weird because #halfway through writing this #i questioned if it was even weird/weird enough?#this doesn't feel weird to me this just feels like the normal progression of getting comfortable in a relationship #it was this or eddie being unbothered by sounds of indigestion or however you spell it #ANYWAYS im rambling my bad <3 #i hope i made you proud rhi!! <3

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octuscle · 9 months ago

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Hey there! I'm having a debate with my roommate and wondering if you can help settle it. He says that if you gave someone the body of a jock, without any mental changes, they'll eventually start acting like a jock anyway. I don't think that's true. Just because you have muscles and look like a jock doesn't mean you'll start acting like one, right? We were thinking of trying to set up an experiment for our honor's thesis and wanted your input, thanks!

Are you really sure you want to go through with it? We are happy to do it. I'll create a preset for you that only changes your body. But really. 1.90 m tall. 140 kg of pure muscle mass. But everything else stays the same. To be honest, you don't look like you're ready for it. But it's up to you. I can only recommend that you are in a safe and, above all, unobserved place when you activate the preset.

You take a deep breath. You stand naked in the middle of your room. Next to you, you have laid out a pair of tracksuit bottoms, a tank top, a jockstrap, a pair of socks and a pair of sneakers. You can only hope that the clothes will fit your new self. 3. 2. 1. enter!

Wow! Holy shit! Now that was quick and without a transition. You look down at the floor from a slightly greater height. And when you look down, all you see are pecs. Fucking huge pecs. You need a mirror. Phew! Very slowly! The new body works a little differently than the old one… Your center of gravity is much higher up. You stand in front of the mirror. This no longer has anything to do with you. It's more Greek demigod than human. Your cock is getting hard. A huge cock that fits this huge body. You never wank. Especially not in the middle of your room. But now you have to. Not for long. And a huge load lands on the mirror and the floor. Yes, I've changed a few details apart from the height and muscle mass. You've already noticed one thing. You'll notice the others too.

You're convinced that the new body won't change anything. So you act as you always have. First of all, you clean up the mess. You are manically clean and tidy. Then you put on your clothes. The shoes are a bit tight, but otherwise everything fits pretty well. So off you go to the library. After all, your honors thesis isn't going to write itself.

Iris and Rita at the information desk didn't recognize you when you greeted them. They looked at you as if you were an alien when you wished them a good morning. You sat down at your regular place in the library. You like routines. You started working on your thesis outline when Vincent came over. Vincent always sits three tables behind you. Nice guy, similarly obsessive as you. He clears his throat and says that you can't sit here, the seat is taken. Actually, you should have said something along the lines of "Vincent, don't you recognize me, it's me!". But somehow you can't help it. You have to try it out. You cross your muscular arms behind your head, look deep into his eyes and just ask who cares. Vincent retreats like a beaten dog. Three minutes later, you have a WhatsApp message: "There's some stupid musclehead sitting in your seat!" You reply that it's okay, you're not on campus for a few days for empirical studies anyway.

But you're not as productive as usual. Your new body is keeping you busier than you thought. It feels so good to tense your muscles. Your hard cock is constantly leaking precum and is always half stiff. Shit, after an hour you have to jerk off. Fuck, you make quite a mess in the toilet. You try to clean everything up with toilet paper. When you come out of the stall, a student is standing at the urinal, looking at you and wanking. Get out of here quickly, you think to yourself.

The incident is definitely worth recording. After all, you've never experienced this before. But it was hot. As you type out your thoughts, your stomach begins to growl. So loud that Vicent hisses "Pssst". It's actually too early for lunch. But the canteen is about to open. So you're one of the first in the queue. You can hardly wait. And you heap heaps of food onto your tray. You're so hungry.

The weather is good, you sit down at a table in the sun and, ignoring all the table manners, you wolf down your food. Suddenly you hear a voice shouting "Hey, guys, there are empty seats here with the big boy!" You look up. A couple of idiots from the football team are standing at your table. "Dude, okay if we join you?" asks one of the guys, who seems to be some kind of leader. "Sure thing," you say with your mouth full, spitting a bit of your chicken across the table. "Cool," he replies, giving you a fist bump, which you return somewhat hesitantly and also a little awkwardly. And before you know it, you're sitting in a cloud of sweat, testosterone and stupid comments.

You start talking to the boys more for scientific reasons. They ask if you're Fresman because they've never seen you before. You say that you're actually studying somewhere else, but you're here to work on your Honor's thesis. The leader spits his Coke across the table. "Fuck, dude! You already have a degree? In what? Lifting iron?" Everyone laughs. Very loudly. You too. It's actually really funny with the boys…

The boys go to the gym after lunch. I wonder if you're coming too. You don't even think about it. You just say that you haven't got anything to change into. Everyone laughs and asks if anyone is interested. So you go along. It's a field study, you think to yourself. You're observing everything very closely. You don't want to attract negative attention. The processes seem very simple. You copy what you see the boys doing. You even enjoy it. You work up a sweat. You forget the time. The others are gone at some point. You're still here. You look in the mirror. Your long, sweaty hair falls across your forehead. Your friends all have much shorter hair. It's also more practical when working out. You look at your watch. Shit!!!!! You have to get your stuff from the library before it closes. Trevor, sitting at the information desk, doesn't recognize you either. It's already very empty when you pack up your things. Vincent is still there, mumbling something about how antisocial it is to occupy a space you're not using. You don't know why you're doing this now. But you go to him very slowly. You press his face into your armpit. And say that you had more important things to do. Shit, Vincent is seriously licking the sweat out of your armpit hair now? Pathetic little fucker, your new friends would say now. You're far too surprised. By you. By him. Slightly disturbed, you go home. You throw yourself on your bed and think about your first day as a jock. You fall asleep.

You are actually a person who is always well prepared. But you are amazed at how little you have prepared for this experiment. You have a combination to wear. It's still sweaty after yesterday's workout. But you don't have anything else. So this morning you're not going to the library, but to the paint shop. Shopping. A pair of sweatshorts, a few tank tops, socks and jockstraps, sneakers. A bit of compression gear for training. You pass a barbershop. There are a couple of guys inside who are obviously no strangers to the gym either. Fuck it, you think. Down with the long hair!

You haven't been in the library this late in a long time. Vincent has blocked your seat for you. With a few protein bars. Cute! He winks at you when you come in. You raise your arm and smell your armpit. Shit, you haven't showered! Fuck… Well, maybe the little prick will like that even more…

By lunchtime with the boys, you at least want to have logged yesterday and this morning. And you're looking for some literature on the connection between mind and body. Most of it is ancient. Nothing has been published on the subject for a long time. And if there is, it's more about the effect of the state of mind on the body. Less often on the effect of the body on the state of mind. That's obvious, because normally a genius like you doesn't acquire a body overnight…

The lunch break with the boys was cool. The guys are just very chilled, you like that. No highbrow topics. Just sport, fucking and partying. Unfortunately, a lot of football too. You have no idea about that. After lunch, the boys want to throw some balls on the lawn. You have to go to a colloquium later. And Luke said that you should finally replace those nerdy glasses with contact lenses. The visit to the optician was a good excuse not to embarrass yourself at football.

A whole day without going to the gym sucks! That's why you got up early today. You didn't do your thesis assignments yesterday, nor did you get your muscles burning. That has to change. Shit, you're still struggling with your contact lenses. But it looks a thousand times better. You're screaming alpha with every trained muscle fiber. And that's great! You almost feel at home in the gym. And nobody questions your position. In the library, Vincent provides you with everything you need. He fetches books for you and takes them away again. He has also already offered to help you with your work. What a loser! You don't need to order anything in the canteen after just two days. Your extra large portion of extra protein-rich food is prepared especially for you. Twice. You come once when the canteen opens. And once just before it closes. Your body is a machine. And this machine needs fuel. Lots of fuel.

You sit in the library and document the developments of the last few days. It really is only a few days. Reading through the last few lines almost makes you nauseous. Has your body replaced your mind so quickly? You need to get a grip on yourself. You did your Master's with distinction. You're working on your honor's thesis. You have a chance of getting a professorship at your old college. And you suddenly prefer to spend more time in the gym or with the airheads on the football team? You make a plan. Two hours of gym in the morning, two hours break with the bros at lunchtime, two hours of gym in the evening. And in between, focus on your thesis and your studies. It shouldn't be that difficult. You're an intelligent and disciplined man. So let's get going!

You have made every effort. And you actually come to the conclusion in your thesis that the body of a jock does not automatically lead to the mind of a stupid, arrogant and superficial jock. You have fun with both. Training in the gym and hanging out with the bros. And working scientifically and researching the human psyche. But in a lecture you realize that it's not you who changes, it's your environment that changes you. Since you got this body three weeks ago, no one has spoken to you about your studies. Vincent, who you thought was intellectual through and through, just wants you to let him lick your armpits in the evening. Your bros didn't even ask you what you were studying. And then the day comes when you attend your doctoral supervisor's lecture. Since your transformation, you've only spoken or written on the phone. You sit in the front row. You appreciate your doctoral supervisor for his liberal political views, his rhetorical skills and his incredible knowledge. At the end of his lecture, he looks at you. And asks if the young man, who unfortunately was unable to dress appropriately, understood a word of what he had just said. He assumes you were mistaken in the lecture hall. But if you invest your energy in your biceps and not your brain, that's to be expected.

First you think about whether you are saying anything particularly intelligent. To express your indignation at his insolence. To justify yourself. But then you think about what has been really fun in the last few weeks. And who you really had fun with. And you answer "Nah, professor dude! Dat wuz alot of words n stff u sed. I dnt thnk I need all dat for my degree as a personal trainer. wdut, bro?" You make your pecs dance. The lecture hall laughs. You stand up. Fuck the honor's thesis!

You started studying sports economics again. You also work as a trainer in a fitness studio. And you have a pretty successful YouTube fitness channel. You recently received a call from your old doctoral supervisor. He read through the draft of your honor's thesis again. It was all very promising. Why did you drop out? You say that you obviously have to choose between brains and brawn at some point. And you're grateful to him for helping you decide. And with that you hang up.

#male tf #muscle tf #chronivac #inked man #ai image #tank top

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bsdawgz · 10 months ago

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「 ✦ Waiting for You ✦ 」 Bungo Stray Dogs, Port Mafia: Nakahara Chūya

a/n: hiiii everyone!! first, i wanna say thank u all sm for all ur support! this fic is a follow up to a thought that crossed my mind one day after work lol. i didn't expect that one post to have as many likes/reblogs as it ended up having, so here's a continuation of that little scenario for my fellow chūya stans. i hope i did ok!

genre: f!reader who's a lil bit bratty; nasty with a sprinkle of fluff cuz it's established relationship!

content warning: MDNI! cunnilingus (he is pussydrunk omg😭), fingering, unprotected sex + he cums inside (she is on birth control), lots and lots of praise and pet names (babe, baby, doll), he says "fuck" like 1 billion times in this (this is canon tho and you can't change my mind about it BAHAHA) and uhhh and he gets a bit rough and overstimulates you (and himself) at the end as well hehe!

summary: after a tough day at work, there's nothing you want more than to be dicked down by your boyfriend, chūya ♡

from just outside your bedroom, you hear a ‘click’ of metal as the front door closes. the sound is followed by a familiar voice grumbling incoherent complaints and a quiet shuffling of shoes. it could only mean one thing: chūya is back from work.

hurriedly throwing on your house slippers, you rush out your room to greet him in the foyer of his apartment, singing his name excitedly for no reason other than the mere joy of seeing your boyfriend after a day spent apart. he chuckles at your liveliness, catching you as you throw your arms around him. you’re always a breath of fresh air after the grueling day-to-day work that is being a port mafia executive. his body, tense from being on-guard all day, relaxes into your touch slowly as he lets his defenses fall for you. pressing his lips to your hair, chūya relishes in the scent of your mint shampoo as you nuzzle into his chest.

“'missed you, doll.”

you had been waiting on your boyfriend for a little over two hours since your shift ended, but the short span of time felt like forever… and you knew exactly why.

you had spent one hour just laying in his king-sized bed. that one hour, you spent thinking, staring up at the ornate ceiling, tracing the details of each unique tile in your mind.

the next hour, you spent laying in that same bed, staring up at nothing, tracing the details of chūya in your mind –

that auburn hair that falls into his eyes, those curls that descend down the base of his neck,

the expensive cologne that lingers on his shoulder, that telling smile on his lips that speaks only your name;

those slender fingers that grasp your neck ever so slightly while your nails rake down his naked back...

the mattress creaking under your bodies as he fucks you –

the thought made you ache.

“ugh, work was such shit today. you’ll never believe who decided to stop by again.” chūya scoffs, snapping you out of your little fantasy. his hand brushes past your waist as he snakes past you to hang his hat up by the door. you feel your body become uncomfortably warm at his innocent touch. you're embarrassed at how flustered you get, your cheeks reddening as another dirty thought enters your mind. oh god… chūya can be so oblivious sometimes. honestly, wasn’t it obvious from the way you jumped at him that you want him to make a move right now? for a man who could be so aggressive with others, he could be awfully passive with you.

“that mackerel dazai is always trying to screw me over… i’ll show him.” he grits his teeth, balling his hand into a fist as he mumbles about work again.

on most days, you would listen to chūya completely. you’d let him talk your ear off, in fact. chūya knew you were his #1 supporter –

but today was different. today has been an exceptionally stressful day at work for you, too.

it started with a power outage at your apartment, which led you to miss not one but two trains at work and consequently, being bitched at by your boss in front of the company president for tardiness… as if being shortchanged on a daily basis wasn’t enough to have you always in a foul mood. in other words, you weren’t feeling up to exchanging pleasantries with chūya today.

now, “sorry, chū~” is all you could muster as you loop your finger on chūya’s waistband, pulling him closer to you by the hips. “work’s not over yet… i need you in the bedroom, now.”

for a moment, your boyfriend just stares at you in disbelief, blinking. that mouth of yours never fails to disappoint – you can be so unassuming at times. a faint blush appears on his face as he looks away in embarrassment, surprised at your directness. there’s that cute face of his, you think to yourself. then, a flash of confidence spreads across his face and his lips curve into a knowing smirk. "i didn't realize my girl would be so needy today," he whispers in your ear in a low voice, suddenly unconcerned about work. guiding your hands, he moves them lower until you're groping him through his pants. "come, i'll give you exactly what you want."

in the bedroom, he’s gentle, loving. trailing his lips down your neck, he pampers you with soft, kitten kisses, undressing you carefully as he pulls the tank top you’ve changed into over your head and slips you out of the fuzzy shorts you’ve left at his apartment for sleepovers. what you really want for him to do right now, though, is to bend you over and manhandle you – but your boyfriend has a habit of treating you like you’re fragile, and you can’t help but wonder if he’s holding back.

unbuttoning his vest and shirt, you discard his clothes in a pile on the floor as he closes in on you, laying you down gently on the edge of the bed and smoothing his hands down your stomach. fingers play with the waistband of your cotton panties as his lips trail down your navel. "you waited so patiently for me... i oughtta reward you for being so good..." he teases.

you whine, feeling arousal collecting between your thighs as his hands inch lower but never touch you where you want him most. you throw your head back in a tantrum, grabbing at his hair. "c'mon chuuuu, just get on with it already," you complain at him. "don't bullshit anymore, please?"

yup, you’re his girl, alright –

“oy–!" he snaps at you scoldingly, rolling his eyes. "honestly, you’re so impatient–”

then, just as you’re about to protest again, you feel that sweet, overwhelming wetness – the heat of his mouth enfolding you as his fingers dig into the flesh of your thighs. he moans into you and you forget all your qualms as he grabs you, holding you still as you spasm. “c-chūya… oh, god…” his name spills out of your lips and you gasp in pleasure, your hands getting tangled in his hair as he delves his tongue between your folds. his movements are skillful; he teases you with long licks and flicks of his tongue, exploring your taste as his slender fingers gather the arousal inside of you and rub circles at your clit.

“fuck, babe… you’re so fucking wet right now… this all for me?”

“all for you, chū~” you moan shamelessly in response, stealing a peek at him in between shaky breaths. there’s this wicked grin that's snuck its way onto his lips, a hunger in his eyes as he laps up your wetness, soaking in the stunning sight of your writhing under him. diving back in between your thighs, you hear him groan lowly against your bare skin:

“tastes so fucking sweet, babe… better cum for me…”

and you need so much more of it.

burying your hands in his hair, you force his face deeper into you, as if he can burrow himself into your body. you plead for more, desperately grinding yourself against his tongue, crying out his name as he holds you in firmly against his eager mouth. “chūya, please… please, chūya…”

then, just like he promised he would, chūya gives you exactly what you want —

he eats you like he’s starved, unrelenting, until heat sears through your entire body and your mind mind goes completely blank. your orgasm comes in waves. you convulse beneath him, his name spurting from out from your lips, your insides clenching the fingers that are still buried inside you.

“fuck, you’re hot.” — you hear him groan under his breath.

the sight of you so desperate and needy for him, gagging for him to fuck you dumb, has flipped a switch in him. he’s far from finished with you. “you’re still on the pill, right?” he asks, out of breath, and you nod.

stripping, chūya frees himself from his boxers. you lick your lips at him seductively, looking up at him with these lustful eyes that are waiting to return the favor. he's hard from watching you come undone and leaking with his own pre-cum. for a moment, he considers having you suck him first – but the desire to be buried deep in your heat is just so overwhelming. he needs to be inside of you right now.

“i’m just gonna put it in this time, fuck it,” he swallows, grabbing your hips and positioning you in front of him. “be a good girl for me, alright, doll?”

“always am, chū~” you quip, reaching for him as you blink your eyes at him innocently, this playful grin on your face. all he can do in response is smirk at you and shake his head at your persistent teasing, all too aware of the the fact that you have him wrapped around your finger. as you guide him inside you, you hear him inhale sharply, then you look up to see the long column of his neck as he sighs and throws his head back, sinking himself inside of you.

"damn, you feel good... if i knew you'd be treating me tonight... 'woulda come home sooner..." his fingers caress your cheek, his thumb circling around your lips as he glances back down to see how your body meets his. your slickness is sucking him right in – you're so warm and so, so very wet that it's taking no time for you to adjust to him tonight. as he pushes your thighs apart until you're on full display for him, his eyes wander down your body intently. his gaze is hot and full of nothing but pure admiration as he takes in the view of you desperately waiting to be fucked. "can't believe you're all mine too," he mumbles adoringly, stroking your hair with his hand, the strands slipping through his fingers as he grinds his hips slowly against yours. then, he starts moving, thrusting into you steadily until you're crying out his name again, begging for more.

“feels… s’good chū~ please… harder… chū, please… go harder…”

picking up the pace, he throws your legs over his shoulders and snaps his hips into yours faster, faster, faster. your mind is flooded with nothing but thoughts of chūya – being filled by him completely, his name overflowing from your lips, and the sound of your skin against his drowning out your moans. you feel his fingers squeeze the sides of your neck, then his hand wraps around a cluster of your hair and he pulls your head back, forcing you to look into his eyes once more as you gasp for breath.

"fuck, baby, you're so pretty right now. do you even have any idea how sexy you are?" he's panting wildly, this insatiable look glistening in his gray irises as he fucks you brainless. that damn look of pure bliss on your face, those filthy moans of yours, and your bouncing breasts are all driving him insane. "god, kiss me–" he growls, crashing his lips into yours. teeth collide with teeth as your noses bump together; you feel his saliva mix with yours and your tongues intertwine. "turn around for me, babe. lemme get behind you."

you nod, and he tosses you on your knees recklessly, then pulls you back against him fast and hard. you feel a firm slap to your ass and you yelp out his name. "fuck, babe, i'm not gonna last much longer. i'm gonna cum inside–"

“faster chū… faster… cum inside me... i want you to…”

"oh shit... fuck, baby–" he twitches inside of you, grabbing your breasts roughly as he empties hot spurts of cum inside you. you think he's finished with you – but then he buries his fingers into your hips again and starts fucking into you harder, nearly collapsing as he slams into you. you tangle your hands into his hair from behind, sobbing out his name as you shove your hips back against his, helping him ride out the last moments of his high.

“oh my god, chū… feels fucking good…”

finally, you feel him pull out, leaving your core throbbing and your legs trembling as his hot seed leaks down your thighs.

"jesus, i made a mess." there's some irritation in his voice as he catches his breath, raking a hand through the beads of sweat in his hair. "i guess new sheets are coming out of my next paycheck," he mutters. then, pressing a kiss to your shoulder, you feel his arms wrap around your waist as chūya pulls you tight against his chest. "c'mon doll. let me run a bath for us."

…

sitting between chūya's legs in the bathtub, you scrub shampoo bubbles through his hair as your boyfriend pours out another glass of expensive wine. "oy – don't get carried away. you know you're a lightweight," you tease.

"–am not!” he mutters defensively, rolling his eyes at you. then, bringing the glass to your lips, he parts your mouth with his thumb. "taste it, you'll like this one."

taking a sip, you savor the flavor on your tongue before passing the glass back to chūya. "oh, yeah, you said you had a bad day at work, right? what happened?"

"honestly, i can't even remember now," he sighs, putting the glass down and pressing a kiss to your temple. "how ‘bout you, doll? how was your day?"

you think for a moment, then scrunch up your nose in disgust as you recall the day's events. "don't even get me started–!"

#BSDAWGZ #bsd smut #bungo stray dogs #bungo stray dogs smut #chuuya smut #bsd chuuya #chuuya x reader #chuuya x reader smut #bsd x reader #bsd x reader smut #chuya smut #chuya x reader

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formulaforza · 1 year ago

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💐 hi my wonderful birthday girl !! so i was thinking about a dress coded lewis blurb (because i was born a lewis and ts girl) where they just get drunk together and there’s teases flying and stuff. keep it as brief as u wish <333

—you can take it off

lewis hamilton x merc!reader summ. thank you stephy i love u bad <3 inspo from... ur never gonna believe it... this. hope it's up to your standards my love. 2.7k (kind of got out of hand)

You were half-asleep and half-drunk the night of the Belgium Grand Prix. The air was cool, recycled like all air seems to be in hotels, smelled of too-strong perfume and was filled with the dull noise of elevator jazz. What had begun as a before-we-go-to-bed night cap in the hotel bar with Bono had turned into a seemingly never ending addition of guests.

Valtteri was first to join—never could pass up the opportunity to give you shit, to offer you job postings at Alfa Romeo that weren’t job postings at all—and with him around, there’s no casual drinking. You don’t try to keep up, not really, because you know you don’t stand a chance, but also because he would never let you. After all these years of being just a few months younger than him, he still calls you kiddo, still promises to call your parents when you’re out after dark, and always sends you a text after a race with some… questionable strategy decisions you’re catching flack for online.

A brief appearance from Toto and Susie, just long enough for them to know they had no business trying to go drink for drink with Valtteri, and then they’re wishing all three of you a wonderful summer break and retreating to whatever room is considered prestige enough for Motorsport’s it-couple.

And then there was Lewis, the last to arrive, who never called you kid, who never viewed you as one. He sits adjacent you in the red, high back leather booth and takes up a seat and a half, the toe of his shoe brushing against the side of yours, flashing you apologetic puppy dog eyes every time he bumps against yours.

It’s somewhere between drink number five and six that Lewis gets his first, insists on a toast to the summer break that officially began… six hours and fifty-three minutes ago. For a long season this and a too-short summer break that, you lot had a mouthful of things to complain about, but a million more to be grateful for. “To not having work for a month,” Lewis proposes, clinking his glass against yours, offering a quick wink and holding it up properly over the table.

“To no racing-talk for a few weeks,” Bono adds, clinking his glass against Lewis’.

“To summer-fucking-break,” Valtteri chimes in, laughing at himself before the rest of you get the chance to match it.

“To summer fucking break,” you repeat because you know there’s no better way to sum it all up.

Unlike the other two, you slowed down when Lewis joined, wanted to give him time to catch up, to give yourself time to meet him somewhere in the middle. A glass of water and a virgin rum and coke and another water and the night is still young.

“First summer break as the big boss, kiddo,” Valtteri remarks, and you have to squint to hear him through the alcohol-induced thickening of his accent.

“That’s right!” Bono laughs. Your cheeks run hot at their mention of your title, of your promotion following James’ departure earlier in the season. Lewis smiles against the rim of his glass, bumps his foot against yours and doesn’t give you apologetic eyes. No, he raises his brows so slightly you think you’re the only one that notices, which is probably exactly the way he intended it to be. “Little miss queen of strategy is making the big money now, got any big travel plans?”

Lewis clears his throat, and your eyes dart over to his almost instinctively. “You’re staying in London, yeah?”

He’s right. Your summer-break plans consist of four weeks of trying to remember what it feels like to do nothing, failing at that task pathetically, and spending the rest of the time meticulously picking apart every call you’ve made all season and imagining the million and one things you could’ve done differently and their billion and two outcomes.

You pick apart the drink napkin, tear it into tiny little pieces. “Yeah, yeah. Just staying home, catching up with friends and family,” you clarify, try not to sound as pathetic as you feel. It’s hard not to when you’re sitting next to the guy who spends his offseason snowboarding in Antarctica with his celebrity friends and his weeks off traveling to Paris fashion week for front row seats next to supermodels. Anything you say would sound pathetic to someone who makes thirty-five million a year.

“I love it,” he nods, stares right through you and into your soul so you know he’s being genuine. “That’s awesome.”

You nod, swallow hard, purposely angle your body away from his, to the rest of the group. “What about you guys?”

Lewis laughs, soft, quiet, completely under his breath. The kind of laugh that deserves to be bottled into a jar and kept on a shelf for safe keeping. You know he’s always laughed like that, even before he knew you, but in the last few months it just feels different. Good different, like he’s laughing just for you now instead of everyone else too.

You know you’re crazy, that he’s just Lewis being Lewis and you’re just single for the first time in a long time and also drunk. Not half drunk anymore, just drunk—even if you do think you’re meeting him in the middle, you’re not. He’s just chasing after.

“Back home, too,” Bono concludes. “Take a breather, might head up to the country with the family.”

“You’ll take pictures, yeah?” Lewis asks, starts to pick up the pieces of your napkin tear pile and move them in front of him like a kid who isn’t patient enough to share or destructive enough to rip up his own. You watch in your peripheral, the way he fiddles with the wet paper, gets it stuck to his fingertips. You can’t laugh, so you don’t, but you want to. You think he knows you want to.

Bono scoffs, nods while swallowing a sip of his drink—something dark, something pungent. Not what you would have pegged him for ordering, even after knowing him as long as you have. “So I can compare with the likes of you lot and,” he turns to Lewis, leers around you to emphasize the eyeline, “your million dollar vacations or,” and then the other way, back to Valtteri, “your olympic cycling events?”

Valtteri smiles, swirls his drink—gin, you think. Expensive. “Yes.”

“No chance.”

“I’ll be sure to send you a picture of me having a meltdown when I think about our side pods from the beginning of the year,” you chime in, because it’s not like they all don’t know you well enough to know exactly what you mean by spending time with friends and family at home.

“What sidepods?” Lewis chuckles.

“Fucking exactly,” you add, mirror his mannerisms without even realizing it, all the way down to readjusting in your seat when you’ve had your laugh.

“Could be worse,” Bono offers. “Could be last year.”

Lewis nods, holds his drink up in the direction of Valtteri across the table. “We never should have let you leave.”

He smiles, weak, lips pursed. “I could have told you that.”

The night continues on, all drinks and laughs and yawns, occasional remarks that it’s about time I head up, followed by another round, another joke, another comment about this, that, or the other thing.

You’ve always liked Lewis when he’s a little tipsy. He lightens up a bit, you can actually watch the stress drip from him like sweat, all the titles and the wins and the losses, they all just fall away when he’s relaxed like this. You’ve always liked him like this. Always. Before he was king of the world and before he was the prodigal son and every moment in between.

After every joke he makes—or, after every comment he makes that he thinks could be considered a joke—you find yourself laughing, because it’s Lewis and you have a crush on him and of course you do. And, without fail, everytime you laugh, he winks, like you’re in on some inside joke even though he’s making it to the whole table, like there’s some double meaning to all of his words that are meant just for you, just for the two of you to understand.

Somewhere in it all, it comes back to Lewis, because, well, it always does. “Is your back still bothering you?” Bono asks, and you think you already know the answer. You think you know, because you can’t remember the last time you;d seen him take careful consideration of his posture when he sits. Not even now is he sitting up straight, with his legs perfectly spread a shoulder’s width apart and his feet flat on the floor. Instead, he’s taking up more room than he needs to, all relaxed and comfortable on the leather booth bench.

He swipes his thumb over the condensation of his glass, looking up from the action at you, and then to Bono. “No, no. All good there.”

“All good?” Bono prods, because he was on the receiving end of a year and a half of complaints from Lewis.

Lewis nods, clicks his tongue on the roof of his mouth. “No Paracetamol in a month.”

Across the table, Valterri chimes in. “None?”

“None for my back,” Lewis says, and the whole table laughs. You just watch him, though, because who laughs better than he does? You could wax poetic about it without a second thought, the way that his lips upturn and his cheeks round and his eyes crinkle and go soft in a way that makes you feel like you’re the funniest person in the world even when you’re not making a joke. The way that his smile is brighter than anyone’s you’ve ever seen, and the way that if you look at it for too long, you think about how it would feel to run your finger along the gap in his teeth.

“That’s what I thought,” Valtteri mutters off the end of his laugh. “You're getting old.”

“Not too old to make half a million.”

The entire table’s heads fly to him. You gasp, an embarrassingly wide smile on your face. “You didn’t!” You almost yell, smacking his upper arm with a weak hand.

He mocks your gasp, makes it somehow more dramatic and over the top and laughs sweetly, shrugging your hand off his arm and letting his hand fall to your leg, bumping your foot with his again. “I didn’t.” The table chuckles, you pout, and then you realize that his hand is on your thigh, that it’s staying there quite comfortably, and that you mind it less than he does.

“Don’t be a tease,” you sigh, take a swig of your drink. Your knees are suddenly weak, like you know you wouldn’t be able to stand up if you wanted to. It’s like he can sense your change but can’t quite read it, because then he’s moving his hand back to his own lap, interlocking it with the other and resting it there.

He nods, suddenly shy, suddenly guilty. “It’s as good as done.”

Valtteri laughs. “Yeah, I’ve heard that one before.” You hear what he says, but you’re not listening, not really. Lewis stares into you like he wants to look anywhere else—apologetic eyes and a fear he’s taken a misstep. He hasn’t, you want to tell him. You haven’t, put your hand back, please. Silently, you try to convey what shouldn’t dare be spoken. “I’ll believe it when pen is on paper.”

He snaps his eyes away from you, back to Valtteri. You don’t follow suit, stay fixed on him, on trying— hard—to get your message across. “I’m telling you, they’re announcing it after the summer break.”

“Whatever you say, Mate.”

Bono nods around a mouthful of alcohol, sets his half-empty glass down with an incidental thud. “Who’s to say we still want your geriatric ass?”

Lewis raised his interlocked hands from his lap, to the tabletop, resting his elbows on the wood grain and rattling the empty glasses when he does it. He leans in towards the center of the table, even though the only person separating him and Bono is you. “Would you tell Schumacher ‘no?’”

“What was that?” You ask, your words a convenient excuse to lean in closer, to settle into a spot that much closer to him without raising any brows. To brace for the shift, you leave your hand on his thigh with less subtly than your original movement, but it’s okay. It’s okay—only Lewis knows where your hands are, and you don’t want it to be subtle, don’t want anything to be lost in translation. “I can’t hear you over your ego,” you smile, and your fingers dance up his leg just a few, careful inches.

He drops back into his seat, drops his hands back into his lap. Under the table, he grabs yours and laughs, but it’s stifled, stunted, not quite relaxed. “Very funny,” he humors, and moves your hand back. His stays too, though, and he crosses one leg over the other under the table. His thumb moves over the fabric of your slacks in shudder-worthy circles.

“Someone’s gotta check you,” you smile, nod in the direction of your tablemates without ever looking away from him. “These two won’t.”

Bono scoffs.“Are you kidding?”

Your smile grows. “How do you want me to answer that, Peter?”

“Damn,” Lewis laughs so hard he coughs. “She Peter-ed you. That’s cold.”

“You’re the one comparing yourself to Michael fucking Schumacher,” Bono scolds.

“I didn’t say that, but,”

“But!” You interject.

“But,” Lewis laughs, threatens to continue even though all at the table know he won’t, knows that no matter how often the media and the girlfriends and the friends and the family tell him he should put himself up there with the greatest, he’ll never quite see himself in the same light. “But it’s about time I head up, I think.”

“Ah, see,” Valtteri chuckles. “Old man Hamilton can’t hang.”

“No, he can not,” Lewis remarks, pulling his phone and his hotel keycard from his pocket, setting the latter on the table and if you were feeling a little crazier than you are, you’d swear he nudges it ever so slightly out of his bubble and into yours. He types away rapidly at his phone, and you try to pay attention to the jokes Bono and Valtteri throw around, the pokes at Lewis they make, but suddenly you’re feeling like it’s a good time to head up, too. You try to shake the crazy, to leave it with your backwash in the final sip of your drink, and you do. You do.

You do, but then he’s slipping his phone back into his pocket. He’s leaving his glass just beyond his keycard and telling you to feel free to finish it. He’s saying his goodbyes while he moves out of the booth and his hotel room key is still sat on the table next to you. It stares at you—the hard, thin plastic. Stares at you in its white paper pocket with the intricate printing of the hotel label and dares you to look at him when he walks away.

You do, begrudgingly, subtly, and his eyes are already on yours. They’re expressionless, and yet, say so fucking much. You hold the remainder of his drink in his direction before downing it in a single gulp and then he winks at you. He looks at his keycard on the table, and then to you, and then he winks, and you’re sure you’re absolutely crazy.

You swallow.

“Oh, fuck,” Bono says, reaches over you to grab the keycard from the table. It’s like you were zoned out and he snapped in front of your face, the way it pulls you from Lewis to the table. “He forgot his key.”

“Oh,” you squeak, and then louder, “I can take it to him.”

“No, no, It’s okay,” Bono says, and he makes you stand up to get out of the booth. “I should be heading up anyway.”

“Really,” you half-insist, trying to convince him you can handle it without letting him in on why you’re convincing him. “It’s no problem.”

Bono pulls out his wallet, flips through the pockets of it and fiddles with his bills. “Our rooms are right by each other,” he insists, tosses his share onto the table. “I got it.”

“Okay,” you nod, accept your defeat. “Yeah, I should be heading up, too, I guess.”

968 notes · View notes

dovveri · 5 months ago

Note

I know this request is soo Y/n-ish but if ever you can read this, please make a fic including Momo and Sana where they are fighting over y/n which is me but I prefer Momo more huehuehueheu thank yah love lotss!!

if i die young

synopsis: you're saved by someone at work that you haven't met before and you quickly become close. your roommate isn't too fond of this though.

warnings: mostly fluff but gets vvv angsty towards the end, mentions of death, implied sex, cursing, cheating but not really if you think about it, heavy grief themes, trying so hard to not giveaway the story in the warnings

w/c: 8.4k

a/n: GIGGLE im pretty sure this is not what anon had in mind but i struggled soooo much w this prompt bcs I CANT DO THAT TO MY BABY SANA but i got this wonderful idea while in the shower to punish anon for sending me this prompt that i agonised over for a literal month that does technically fulfil the requirements 😋 enjoy the read mwahaha (and sorry for any plot holes that may come up- come yell at me in asks i have sm love for this fic and id love to yap abt it if anyone notices anything silly)

♰˚☽˚｡⋆

"y/n right?"

you look up, smiling at the woman who's hovering over your desk at work, nodding in acknowledgement.

"i think the boss was asking for you."

you widen your eyes in embarrassment, scrambling up and grabbing the relevant files, "oh shit i'm so sorry i totally forgot! i'll be there in just a second!"

the woman giggles, "it's okay. i told her my dogs ate all of your work."

you pause, looking at her in horror, "i-i- you what?"

"trust me. she's met my dogs. she'll believe it. your meeting with her has been postponed to next week. i'm momo by the way." she smiles, holding out a hand expectantly.

you're still a little in shock, but you take it, noting the way her hands are soft against yours, she must moisturise. "o-oh. t-thanks i guess..."

momo grins, "see you around y/n."

and then she's off, aloof to her surroundings, you think it's kind of adorable.

you sit back at your desk, still a little flabbergasted at your interaction with the strange girl from work.

♰˚☽˚｡⋆

"sana! i'm home!" you kick off your shoes, placing them in their allocated slot on your shoe rack.

"kitchen!"

you frown, immediately worried when you hear that word. sana's notorious for her clumsy nature. when you first moved in together, it was essentially an unspoken rule that she was not allowed in the kitchen without supervision.

you quickly take off your coat, rushing into the kitchen.

nothing seemed to be off when you walked in, nothing burning, no alarms ringing, no funky smells that attacked your olfactory senses, you can only hope for the best.

"y/n!" sana's bright smile gives you immediate relief. you narrow your eyes, carefully stepping around the kitchen, looking for any signs of anything wrong.

"what are you doing?"

"making sure that everything is supposed to be where it's supposed to be and nothing is broken."

"why would anything be broken?"

once you're finished with your inspection, you turn to sana, zeroing in on her and grabbing her face with your hands, squeezing her cheeks together.

it's kind of adorable when she frowns, pouting and starting to protest, but you shush her, patting her down and inspecting her face to make sure she hasn't done anything to herself or hurt herself in any way.

"okay it seems like we're safe." you let her go but she immediately latches onto you, bringing you into a hug with an airy giggle.

"i'll forgive you for thinking i burnt down our kitchen."

you roll your eyes but return her hug, only breaking away when the doorbell rings.

"i'll get it. go clean up." sana smiles sweetly, patting your butt as she moves around you towards the door.

you roll your eyes, heading into your shared bedroom, taking off your work clothes and changing into a more comfortable set of sweats and an oversized t-shirt.

when you walk back out, you see sana's set up the dining table with takeaway.

"what's this?" you smile teasingly when you sit down.

"i wanted to cook but then i thought about the last time i wanted to cook and i decided to get takeaway for us instead." she grins, "see i'm responsible! can't believe you thought i'd try anything again after last time."

"i scraped some cheese off the ceiling the other day."

"aaaand now there's no more cheese on the ceiling! problem solved!"

you both laugh, and you help her set the table, opening the takeaway boxes and beaming at the smell of tteokbokki.

once you're both settled in across from each other, content with filling your mouths with fluffy rice cakes and spicy sauce, you talk through your days.

"there was this person i've never met before at work today."

"oh?"

"yeah she was a little strange, but she was really sweet. i had forgotten that i had a meeting with the boss today and she made up some excuse about how her dogs had messed with my work and apparently the boss believed it so now i don't have to get my deadline stuff done until next week."

"that's cute. did you get her name?"

"momo i think. sounds japanese, think you know her?"

"what because all japanese people in seoul know each other?"

"i didn't mean it like thattttt!"

sana giggles, "i know i know i'm just teasing. but no i don't know her. thinking about replacing me already y/n?"

you roll your eyes, picking out a fishcake with your chopsticks and popping it in your mouth, "just waiting for the lease to end so i can finally get rid of you actually."

sana feigns offense, "good luck finding someone else who wants to sleep next to your blanket stealing ass then."

"oh you didn't know? now that i'm working a real job i can actually afford to not have to share bedrooms anymore."

"why haven't you done it yet then?"

you blush, stabbing another rice cake.

sana laughs, bright and loud, "you looooooove sleeping with me admit it."

"absolutely not."

"you doooooo you do."

"eat your food sana."

sana's laughing and you can't help but smile. her laugh was always infectious, it was the surefire way to make your day better when you were feeling a little down in the dumps, she was the epitome happiness.

♰˚☽˚｡⋆

it's a few days later when you bump into momo again.

normally you make your own food to bring for lunch but today, sana had woken up sick so you had spent the morning making sure she was okay and calling in sick for her at work.

so now you were stood in line at the cafeteria, wondering just what was taking the line so long to move, your break would probably be over by the time you got to the front of the line at the pace it was going.

"i'm sorry ma'am for the last time you can't pay for your food with vouchers to baskin & robbins! if you don't move along i'll have to call security so please-"

"no you don't understand! i was told that i could use these anywhere when i won them!"

you try peeking over the shoulders of annoyed corporate soldiers and you're surprised when you catch a familiar head of raven black hair at the front of the line.

you quickly push forward, excusing yourself as people look at you in irritation.

"momo!" you call out, shoving aside a 6 foot man with blue eyes that probably worked in the finance sector.

momo turns to you, looking a little frazzled with various coupons in her hands.

"hey! what's up?" you're a little breathless from pushing in line.

she pouts, turning back to the cashier who looks like he's about to start balding from stress. "apparently i can't use these vouchers that i won at drag bingo last week."

you grab the coupons and inspect the terms and conditions. "momo these are only allowed to be used at baskin & robbins."

"but they said i could use them anywhere!"

"at any branch sweetie. not literally anywhere."

"oh... i didn't bring my wallet." she frowns, pocketing her coupons again.

"it's okay i got it." you quickly pay the cashier who looks relieved to finally get the line moving again. you pick up her tray and gesture for her to follow you to an empty table.

"you didn't have to do that y/n!"

you shrug, sitting down and sliding her tray over to her. "it's no biggie. you kinda rescued me earlier in the week anyway. i hadn't actually finished all the work i needed to get done before showing the boss. i woulda come up with some shit excuse for not finishing it so you saved my ass."

"oh don't worry about that. mina and i have been good friends since our days in dance school together, she may be a scary boss but she's a real nerd outside of the workplace."

"oh? i didn't know boss myoi could dance!"

momo happily opens her sandwich, taking a bite and speaking with her mouth full, "you can actually find her on youtube. she was a pretty famous ballerina back in the day. woulda made it big if her parents didn't drag her back to run this company."

"and you?"

"what about me?"

"you dance?"

momo laughs, "yeah. i spend most of my spare time in the studio. unfortunately it doesn't really pay well. i was going to be evicted until mina was sweet enough to offer me a job here so i can afford my rent and continue doing what i love so i owe her a lot. oh speaking of- you weren't able to get any food! here-" she slides over her salad and soup.

"oh no no it's okay-"

"please just take it. it's not much anyway, i'll still have to come up with something to pay you back."

"you know what? those baskin & robbins vouchers. do you have anyone to go with?"

momo looks up at you from her sandwich in surprise, "no i don't."

"you free after work today?"

"i was just going to head into the studio but i could free that up."

"great. i'll see you in the lobby at 5 then. we can head to that store in gangnam, the one where you can taste test like all the flavours."

"really?!" momo's eyes brigten, "i've always wanted to do that but no-one's ever wanted to go with me."

"well perfect! sounds like a plan then!"

you grin at her excitement. you were always a little more than awkward, sana was the one who found it easy to go up to anyone on the street and befriend them. it was a little harder for you to make friends, you were lucky when sana found you interesting enough in your first year of college to strike up a conversation, and then find you interesting enough to keep coming back until you were inseparable and moved in together to save money on rent. you haven't really needed anyone else aside from sana since then, but momo was different, you felt an instant connection with her that you haven't felt since sana. she intrigued you, and you wanted to get to know her better.

♰˚☽˚｡⋆

you're laughing at momo's face when she cringes in disgust.

"eugh what is that? that was disgusting!"

"i think it was like pikachu something something." you manage out between laughs.

"eugh pikachu guts and blood for sure. i never thought pikachu would taste like banana and vomit."

"i can't believe you just ate pikachu! he's such a little cutie surely he can't taste bad!"

"oh yeah? you try it-" she's spooning a bit of the vile yellow coloured ice cream and shoving it into your mouth while you're still vulnerable from laughing.

the first hit of banana on your tastebuds has you coughing immediately. and now it's momo's turn to laugh at you, it's a bright, almost wheeze-like sound, you think it's cute.

"okay yeah- we need to ban the killing of pikachu- this shit should not be served-"

"i'm glad you're on the save pikachu agenda as well then. but there's no way we are finishing that one."

"we don't have to. these were technically free anyway because of your amazing bingo skills after all."

she giggles, "okay but i'm still going to see if we can get replacement flavours. i wanted to try that gone with the wind flavour as well anyway."

you wish her luck as she slides out of the booth, bringing your tray of tester ice-creams with her towards the counter and waving down an employee.

you turn on your phone, scrolling to your messages to find sana's sent you a few unread texts.

bestest friend in the world🐿️💜: u coming home tn?

bestest friend in the world🐿️💜: don't ignore me y/nnnnn

bestest friend in the world🐿️💜: am i eating dinner on my own? 😞

bestest friend in the world🐿️💜: u better be safe idiot if ur not home by 10 i'm calling the police and filing a missing persons report

you laugh a little at her messages.

y/n: don't call the police! i'm fine! i'm just out with that coworker i told u about a few days ago. the one who saved my ass w my boss. i'll be home afterwards don't wait up!

momo's coming back before you can see sana's reply. you slide your phone back into your pocket, grinning at her, "what abomination have you brought back for us to try this time?"

momo places the new tray down, "i kinda forgot most of the names but at least the colour palette this time looks a little more edible."

"really? this neon green looks edible to you?"

"hey! a lotta green flavoured foods are edible! most vegetables, apples, green tea, mint... besides there's no way anything here will be worse than pikachu guts and blood."

you scrunch your nose a little when she slides in next to you, "i wouldn't want to try a vegetable flavoured ice cream anyway."

"you're just a hater." she's grinning when she spoons out a bright pink ice cream and pops it in her mouth.

you scoff, "am not!"

"suuuuuure. i actually know this place that does this incredible carrot ice cream. you can prove you're not a hater if you come and try it with me next week. there's a new branch opening on friday."

"alright. it's so on."

you spend the rest of the night laughing and poking fun at each other. you got along really well with momo, it felt so easy to connect with her. your levels of awkwardness rubbed off on each other perfectly. you enjoyed hanging out with her, and you're glad work seemed a lot less lonelier now.

♰˚☽˚｡⋆

it ends up being really late by the time you get home. momo and you had decided to go for a round of karaoke after ice-cream and the mix of soju and trying to scream to reach the high note in twice's i can't stop me meant you had lost track of time. it was okay though because it was the weekend tomorrow so neither of you had work.

you slip off your shoes in the dark, careful not to make too much sound that could wake sana.

you're tiptoeing into the living room when the lamp light suddenly turns on, and sana's sitting on the couch with her arms crossed.

"you're alive."

you giggle a little at sana looking alike to an evil villain waiting for you to come home. she was much too happy-go-lucky to pull it off.

"what's funny?"

"noooothing."

she frowns, "are you drunk?"

"maaaayyybee."

sana stands up, walking past you and into the kitchen, you follow her like a lost puppy.

"drink this." she pushes a glass of water into your hand, watching you expectantly until you get the message and bring the cup to your lips.

"all of it."

you groan, gulping down the water, and cringing at the fullness you feel in your stomach from all the liquids sloshing around.

sana sighs, rubbing her forehead. "i was worried when you didn't return my texts y'know."

you frown now, realising sana was actually a little annoyed. "i'm sorry. i should've texted you i'd be home late."

she softens, always so forgiving, "it's okay. did you have fun?"

you grin dumbly, nodding, "momo's soooo funny."

"momo?"

"the coworker i was telling you about! she tried to-" you hiccup, "she tried to pay in the cafeteria today with baskin & robbin vouchers and held up pretty much the entire building. i paid instead and we went out and used the vouchers after work, theeeeeen we did karaoke!" you giggle, remembering the day you've had.

"oh..." she's frowning and you can't understand why so you poke her forehead, trying to undo the frown on her face.

"why are you sad?"

"i'm not."

"you're something."

sana rolls her eyes, grabbing your hands to stop playing with her face and leading you towards the bathroom. you're easily distracted, humming a silly tune that's come to mind while she sits you down on the toilet and starts wiping your makeup for the day off. it's a little more complicated when she tries to take your contacts out because you can't stop giggling and blinking but she manages in the end, making you rinse some mouthwash instead of brushing your teeth because she could tell you were falling into the sleepy stage of being drunk.

she's pulling you up and leading you towards your shared bedroom now, putting you to bed and then sliding in next to you, reaching to cover the blanket over the both of you.

you yawn, turning to face her and knock your foreheads together gently, but when you feel the wrinkles still there you open your eyes. "why are you still frowning?"

you can feel her immediately try and relax, "'m not."

"you were."

"ugh just go to sleep y/n. it's late and i'm tired." she's turning around and shuffling away from you which is weird because she was always the one who cuddled and latched onto you before bed.

you miss her warmth immediately, inching towards her and draping an arm over her midriff, entangling your legs and pushing your nose into her hair. "'m sorry."

she sighs against you, grabbing your hands and playing around with your fingers. "it's okay. just don't forget about me yeah?"

"how could i forget about you?"

"goodnight y/n."

you want to ask her more, but you can feel your eyes growing heavier, letting them drift shut, dreaming of ice-cream and cuddles.

♰˚☽˚｡⋆

it became a regular thing.

momo and you would hang out after work every friday, she was quickly becoming one of your closest friends.

one night, when you're spread out on a picnic blanket on a hill a little bit away from the city, counting the stars, she asks you, "are you seeing anyone y/n?"

you look at her surprised, "no. why?"

"why aren't you seeing anyone? surely it's not because no one's asked you out before. you're gorgeous and fun to be around. is it because no one's been good enough?"

you blush a little at the compliments, turning to lay back down and stare at the sky, "i think i just haven't been ready for a long time."

"ready?"

"for a relationship. i told you about my best friend sana right?"

momo hums, coming up on her elbow to peer down at you while you try and make out the various constellations in the night.

"once i found her, it kinda felt like everything was okay, like i never really needed anything more. i know a lot of people centre their lives around romantic love and finding their soulmate and whatever, but i've never been like that. with sana, everything was enough. i felt like if i wished for anything more it might disrupt that."

"is sana seeing anyone?"

you chuckle a little, thinking to sana's past romantic escapades, "she's tried but nothing's really worked out. i think we feel the same in that way. that as long as we have each other we don't really need anyone else."

there's a contemplative silence for a bit while momo studies your face. you let her, comfortable enough with her that it doesn't feel awkward even when it is silent. you connect the stars in your head, smiling when you realise you've made out the capricornus constellation.

"what about me?"

the words are spoken softly into the night, you almost don't catch it, but fate would have it blown softly your way, tickling your ears with the question. "what do you mean?"

"you say you and sana don't need anyone else. how do you feel about me?"

you sit up a little then, leaning back on your elbows as you avert your gaze from the arrowhead-like collection of stars to eyes that shine just as bright. "you're different. you're the first person to come into my life since sana that i've felt... like we were meant to meet y'know? all that soulmate stuff and whatever may be cringey but it's nice to believe in. sometimes i think there are just people that i'm meant to meet, and people that i'm not. and fate brought me you."

momo's leaning forward, her eyes drifting down to your lips, her next few words come out in a whisper, "so if i did this..." her eyes flicker back up to yours, letting you pull away if you wanted to, but you find yourself fixed on her lips as well. so when she closes the distance between the two of you, pressing her lips against yours, just barely there, you sigh into her. the smallest brush of your lips together has you feeling light-headed and hazy, she breaks away from you all too quickly, eyes filled with wonder. you can see the reflection of the night sky in her eyes.

you smile softly at her, lips still tingly from the brief kiss.

"if i did that... would that feel like i've disturbed the equilibrium you've found with sana?"

you shake your head gently, "no. it feels just right actually."

when you lean in again, it does feel just right, like the stars have aligned for this one moment. like everything that's happened to you in life has lead you to this.

♰˚☽˚｡⋆

someone else didn't feel that way.

she's sitting on the couch, up late again. it was becoming more and more often that she would find herself waiting up for y/n to come home.

she hears the telltale sign of the door unlocking and you stumbling in blindly, trying to adjust to the darkness of your apartment and slipping your shoes off to place carefully on the shoe rack next to sana's.

you're kind of expecting sana to be standing there waiting for you when you come back.

"hey sana. i'm home."

"late."

"yeah i was out with-"

"momo."

"yeah..." you rub your neck shyly, heading towards the kitchen to get a glass of water. she follows you wordlessly.

"is something going on between you and momo y/n?"

you raise an eyebrow, swallowing the water in your mouth before answering, "would it be a problem if there was?"

sana frowns, "no but... i just thought you'd tell me is all."

"i do tell you everything sana. every time i come home late i tell you what we've done. it feels like you don't really want to hear it most of the time though."

she pouts, "i do! i do want to know what's going on. i'm sorry i just... i told you i just don't want you to forget about me."

"and i won't sana. i could never forget you, i don't know why you worry about that." you step up to her, cupping a cheek and tilting it up so she's looking at you.

her eyes are slightly shiny and you suddenly feel terrible for making her wait up for you all these nights, "i just- ever since you started hanging out with her, i feel like you've had less time to spend with me. and i know! i knew eventually you'd find someone to spend the rest of your life with i just- i just didn't know it'd be like this and i wasn't prepared and i don't want to lose you yet-"

"woah! woah woah woah slow down! sweetie what? how long- how come you've never told me this before? i've always felt that- and i told momo this- but i've always felt that i never needed anyone else but you! i always thought that we were the ones that were going to spend the rest of our lives together, you're the only one i want to spend the rest of my life with. you'll never lose me sana i promise and momo- look just because i don't need anyone else in my life aside from you, doesn't mean it's that terrible if there is someone else that makes me happy right?"

"but- don't i make you happy?"

"oh baby you do, you do, you make me so happy." you brush a thumb across her cheek, "look how about i set up a meeting for you and momo to meet. it's about time anyway and i really think you'd get along really well if you got to know her."

she sniffles a little, thinking it over, before finally nodding albeit with slightl hesitance.

you grin, pulling her into a hug and she laughs against you, "you better be paying though."

you laugh as well, overjoyed your best friend was going to meet your... anyway, it didn't matter. sana was just happy to hold you and be close to you, letting her anxieties around you fade into the back of her mind.

♰˚☽˚｡⋆

"i'm so sorry momo she promised she'd be here." you sigh in frustration, picking up your phone again to check if sana's replied to any of your messages or calls.

momo smiles kindly, "it's okay. she's probably just caught up in something. don't worry about it!"

"eugh yeah it's just really annoying because we already rescheduled this twice and now she's just not even showing up. wait... do you think something's happened to her? she's not normally bad with replies- oh god what if something's happened-"

"y/n! it's okay! she's probably just somewhere with bad reception right now. i'm sure she'll get back to you soon. should we order first? get your mind off things?"

you sigh, flipping your phone over, not wanting it to distract from the date you were now on with momo. she smiles gently, taking your hand and squeezing.

"yeah that sounds good. have you had a look at the menu yet?" you glance over at the waiter who had seated you, whispering to his coworkers with a sour look on his face, probably from the fact that the two of you have been sat here for almost 40 minutes and only picked at the starter breads and water.

the rest of dinner goes by smoothly. momo is able to distract you from your thoughts about sana and you're thankful for that. being with her was easy, fun. you don't think any of your previous relationships held a candle to momo, and you've only known each other for maybe a month or so.

dessert comes and she's telling you a funny story about how her dog boo had pooped on a guest dancer at her studio and he had to clean it up, only finding out afterwards that his name was also boo. she had apologised profusely and was very embarassed but he was nice about it and had jokingly offered to babysit her dogs anytime.

"speaking of my dogs, i was thinking... do you maybe want to... come over after dinner and meet them?" she's blushing, twirling her fork around and stabbing small pieces of the cheesecake in front of her, eyes avoiding yours.

you beam, "of course! i'd love to!"

"really?" she looks up at you in surprise.

"yeah! i gotta put a face to these little demon dogs you're always talking about."

she whines, "they're not that bad i swear!"

"you know i heard that pets actually take on characteristics of their owners..."

"... what's that supposed to mean?"

"nothing." you tease, pretending to go back to your food.

she kicks you under the table playfully, pouting. you laugh at her, finding her adorable, spooning some of your gelato up and offering it to her. her expression changes immediately when she opens her mouth, accepting the bite with a hum of satisfaction and a grin in thanks.

after dinner, you decide to walk back to momo's since she didn't live too far from the restaurant you had eaten at.

the night air is cool and refreshing, and you don't hesitate to slip your hand into momo's as you stroll along the streets. it's not too busy in this area so you can enjoy the little sounds of the creatures of the night scuttling around in the trees and on the ground. you glance over at momo who has a soft smile on her face, swinging your hands gently with each step, her face adorn with the subtle glimmer of the moon.

she catches you staring, and turns to you with a grin, "something on my face?"

you smile in return, "maaaybe something just-" you step forward, leaning in and hear her breath hitch just slightly when your eyes drop to her lips, you kiss her sweetly, 2 seconds maybe, and then you're breaking away, "there."

she's blushing, and you have a stupid grin on your face like the lovesick fool you are.

"romantic." she rolls her eyes at you, continuing your walk.

"i'll get you flowers next time."

"i'm allergic."

"chocolate then."

"i was joking i'm not allergic but now that you offered, i'll be expecting both."

"what?!"

she laughs, cackles really, her nose scrunches in the most adorable way, hand tightening around yours.

by the time you walk through the door of her apartment, you're a little tired but in the best way possible. the kind of tired where you know you're tired because you've just had the most fantastic day.

the dogs greet you at the door with excitement, panting, tongues out, jumping at momo's legs as soon as she enters. she laughs and bends down, petting them and cooing.

"so this one is dobby, he's a little shyer but he's a sweetheart once he warms up to you. and this little rascal is boo." she points out the two dogs and you bend down, reaching out a hand and letting them sniff you while momo stands up and takes off her jacket, placing it on the coat hanger.

"hiiii nice to meet you boys, i'm y/n, momo's..." you look up at momo, a little hesitant.

she raises an eyebrow at you, crouching down so she's eye level with you again, the dogs between the two of you, thrilled at the attention they're receiving. "girlfriend?"

you beam, giggling and leaning in to kiss her, "girlfriend."

she grins as well, standing up again and heading towards her kitchen, dobby follows her but boo continues to lick at your hand.

"want anything to drink girlfriend?" you can hear her teasing lilt from where you are.

"i'll have whatever you're having girlfriend."

“soy sauce okay then babe?”

your heart stutters at the term of endearment, completely disregarding her drink of choice. “i-i u-um y-yeah!”

you stand up and follow the sound of her laughter into the kitchen, boo pattering along behind you.

"i'm not sure if i want to kiss you if you're the type of person who drinks soy sauce y/n."

"what?! i don't do that!"

"not what i just heard."

you gape at her, but she giggles, coming up to you and planting a kiss on your lips. you can vaguely feel the wag of the dogs' tails at your feet, wondering what exactly their mom's doing letting someone else lick into her mouth.

she breaks away with a sly smirk, "still kissed you."

"uh huh-" you quickly reattach your lips, addicted to the taste of her, the way her lips move against yours, how she smells so close to you, the way her hands grip your shirt tightly, pulling you into her when you push her against the kitchen counter, trapping her against it.

it suddenly gets a lot more serious when she nips your bottom lip softly, and you let out an uncontrollable, but very real moan, and you have to break away painfully.

"my room?" momo breathes against you, your foreheads placed against each other's, sharing the same airspace.

you bite your lip, exactly where she had sunk her teeth into only seconds prior, watching the way she stalks your action like a hawk, "mhm."

and she surprises you when she picks you up easily by the thighs, and you yelp, wrapping your legs around hers and feeling her grin into the next kiss she lands on your lips, navigating her living room and into the bedroom, closing the door behind the both of you so her dogs wouldn't be privy to the sights of you coming apart under your new girlfriend's tongue.

♰˚☽˚｡⋆

the next morning, momo kisses you awake with the smell of breakfast wafting into the bedroom. you blush at the sight of her only in an oversized tee, the marks on her thighs reminiscent of your activities the night prior. she doesn't fail to tease you at the red pigment blossoming on your cheeks, pointing out your own marks on your neck and chest.

you spend the morning cuddling on the couch, watching reruns of glee and feeding each other the waffles momo's made for breakfast, stealing kisses in between each bite, the dogs playing around on their own, sometimes hopping into your lap to nose at you or momo, asking for pets and pats.

you smile dreamily as you unlock your door, remembering your time with her, how she promised she'd buy a new toothbrush for you if you promised to come over again, which you did of course, that was obviously a given but you adored her asking.

you step inside finding it quiet. when you place your shoes next to sana's spot on the shoe rack, you realise she's still home when you thought she was meant to be working.

"sana?"

there's no response, so you drop off your things, entering your living room and finding she's nowhere to be found. you frown, heading towards the kitchen, then the bathroom, and finally your room with the door ajar. you peek inside and find a lump under the sheets, her blackout curtains still tightly shut.

you tiptoe inside, hovering over the bed and peeling back the duvet a little to see if she's still asleep.

you don't expect her to yelp, pulling the duvet back and burrowing deeper into the little nest she's made. you hear the telltale signs of her scrambling to cover up the fact that she was crying.

"w-what are you doing here?" her voice is croaky, shaky, you sit tenderly on the side of the bed.

"this is my home."

there's a sniffle, and then "people come home and sleep in their own beds. you didn't."

you sigh, trying not to get frustrated, "sana... you didn't turn up yesterday. and you never called me back or returned any of my texts."

"my grandma was sick."

"is she okay now?"

"y-yeah."

"was she really sick?"

"...no."

you hum, placing a hand gingerly on what you deduct to be her arm.

"i'm not mad."

"you shouldn't be."

you raise an eyebrow, "you stood us up."

"i had my reasons."

"and what were they?"

she sighs under the covers, then suddenly she's whipping them down and leaning into your space, planting her lips on yours.

you're stunned for a second, 2 seconds, and then she's pulling away, and burrowing back under the covers. you barely caught a glimpse of red cheeks and red eyes, your lips tingling from the press of her lips.

it's too late to pull her back out when you come to your senses, touching your fingers to your lips still in mild shock.

"i-i- s-sana i-"

she sighs exasperatedly, "is that reason enough?"

"w-why didn't you tell me?"

"because you were all over this new girl! you barely had time for me anymore!"

"what- that's not- how long have you felt this way sana?"

she groans, shuffling a little, "i don't know. i just know i didn't like it when you started seeing momo."

"so all that about not forgetting you..."

"well yeah... i think i've always liked you. i was just never threatened by someone else taking you away, even with all your past partners you've never- you've always come back to me."

you sigh frustratedly, running a hand through your hair trying to think what exactly this meant for you. "i'm with momo."

she scoffs, "i know."

"we slept together last night."

"... like in the same bed? yeah we sleep together too."

"no like- like slept together slept together."

there's silence for a bit, you can hear the breaths of the both of you, the wheels in her head turning.

"... you've slept with other people before right? what difference does this make?"

"i think i really like her sana."

she sits up then, hair a mess, skin blotchy, eye bags present, but her eyes are fierce. you're hit with a sudden wave of nostalgia. you really hadn't seen sana in so long. seen her smile, heard her laugh, ever since you started going out with momo she started acting weird and you knew why now, but she was right when she said you had pushed her away because of it, preferring to bask in the new romance momo offered you, avoiding dealing with the complicated feelings that arose when you thought about sana. you missed her.

"if this is you rejecting me just come out with it. stop beating around the bush and say it. say you don't love me like i love you."

"... you... you love me?"

she rolls her eyes impatiently, a crease forming between her eyebrows that you want to reach out and smooth out of habit, "yes."

"i-" you can feel tears welling up, you don't want to choose between your best friend and your new lover. you don't want to lose sana because of this.

sana notices because she notices everything about you, and her eyes soften, wanting to touch and comfort but resigning to fiddling with her fingers instead.

"just go." she says softly after you're unable to form words for the next minute.

"no but i-"

"i'm tired y/n. just go." she's turning around onto her side, preparing to lie down and curl up again, but in the spur of the moment, you grab her wrist, pulling her into you and kissing her again.

she lets out a sound of surprise, eyes widening, but lets you kiss her.

you're not even sure what you're doing, all you can think is you can't lose sana. not like this. not when the entire future you've planned out in your head includes her. not when she tastes like the saline of the tears streaming out of both of your eyes, that and a hint of something that was uniquely sana. not when you both still had so much life left to live together.

all of this remains in your mind when you follow her tear tracks, kissing her neck, her shoulders, down her chest. you can feel her still crying even when she sucks new marks into your skin, right next to the ones momo's left on you last night. the both of you don't know what this means, just that it's the end of something, and you were both going to make the most of it.

♰˚☽˚｡⋆

"so how's sana been?"

"huh?"

"your best friend y/n. was everything okay after she wasn't able to make dinner last week? you haven't talked about her much since then."

"oh. yeah she's alright." you're not really sure if she was alright actually. you haven't seen her since the two of you slept together. you woke up to an empty bed, no note, but all of her things were still around so you know she hasn't run off to another country or anything.

"that's good. is there anything you wanna talk about?"

"what do you mean?"

"you've just been a little distant since last week. is it- do you regret- do you still want to be together?"

you look up from pushing your food around your plate, surprised at the vulnerability in momo's voice.

"no- i mean yes of course i still want to be together! i'm sorry i've been off i just-" you sigh dejectedly, "there's something i need to show you after work today."

"oh?"

"yeah... it's not... it's not anything you have to worry about, and i think it'll explain a lot, but it's also pretty heavy so i understand if you don't want to-"

you're cut off when she grabs your hand, squeezing it gently and smiling, "i'd love for you to show me. i'm just glad you're not breaking up with me one week into the relationship." she jokes a little, trying to lighten the mood, and you smile, grateful for her, but feeling your anxieties pile up knowing that you were about to reveal something to momo that no one else except sana knew. if you wanted this relationship to work though, you needed to do this. you couldn't start this relationship off on the wrong foot, you wanted to do this right.

♰˚☽˚｡⋆

your grip on momo's hand is tight, but she doesn't complain, squeezing back every few minutes to remind you that you weren't alone.

after work, you had driven both you and momo to your destination, a park a little out of the ways. the drive was quiet, momo didn't mind though, humming softly to the music on the radio and staring out the window, glancing back at you every so often. you parked, stepping out of the car, already doubting the decision of coming here.

there are a few other people in the park milling about. momo smiles politely at an old couple who break away from a hug to nod greetings at you. you barely notice them though, your tunnel vision and your thoughts becoming louder as you get closer.

you pull along momo who's holding a large bunch of flowers that you had stopped by at the florist on your drive to pick up.

you spot her then. avoiding eye contact as you get closer to her.

then you're standing in front of her.

"y/n."

momo lets out a little muted gasp behind you, but you squeeze her hand, focusing forward.

"sana."

"i see you've decided to forcefully make momo and i meet like this."

"i didn't have any other option."

"there's always another option y/n."

"not when it comes to you sana."

she tilts her head, "what is that supposed to mean?"

you shuffle your feet a little, "you know what it means."

she sighs, stepping closer and cupping your cheek. "why are you crying?"

you're surprised at her statement, the hand that's not holding momo's coming up to wipe hastily at your eyes.

sana's hand drops along with her face. "i thought you said you'd never forget me."

"and i never will sana."

"what's this then? it feels an awful lot like goodbye."

you can't contain the tears streaming down your cheeks, "i could never say goodbye to you sana."

sana's crying now too when she looks up, "don't then. don't say goodbye. say you'll pick me. say we'll stay together for the rest of our lives, like we promised when we were kids. say you love me y/n."

"i-i- i can't sana! i can't do that!"

"why not?"

"because- because i still have the rest of my life sana."

she sniffles, wiping at her eyes. how you wished you could see her smile just once more.

"i guess this is it then."

"no. no this isn't- i told you sana i'll never forget you. you'll always be with me. everything i do i'll always think about you, every new person i meet, every new life stage i enter, i'll think about you. i- i- i loved you sana."

then sana's in your arms, crying into your neck while you hold her, sobbing nearly hysterically, clutching onto everything, a film roll of memories playing behind your eyelids, of the first time you met, the first kiss you shared drunk at a college party, the times you'd piggy back sana from the library to your shared apartment after attempting to pull an all-nighter, the time you first signed your lease together, the time she squealed and brought you into a hug after you got your first job, insisting on a celebration, every single birthday, graduation, milestone, every single moment you've shared with her crosses your mind.

"i have to let you go now." you croak into her ear, voice still shaky and laden with emotion.

she's quiet for a bit, then she pulls back, eyes wet but smiling. she's smiling. oh god you've missed it. "i understand." she says against your lips, foreheads knocked against one another's. you close your eyes, committing to memory her smile, each line, each crease, you were never going to forget her.

when you blink your eyes open again, she's gone, the only evidence of her existence, the headstone reading:

in loving memory of

minatozaki sana

1996 - 2019

you don't even realise you're crouching in front of the headstone now, having let go of momo's hand long ago, until you hear a small rustle behind you and you look up to see momo offering the flower bouqet to you and crouhing down. you smile in gratitude, taking it from her and placing it under the letters of the headstone gently, rearranging to make sure it fit perfectly.

you speak up after a while, having left momo in the dark for long enough now. "it was a freak accident. she was coming home late after work because there was this kid in her class who's parents didn't come pick them up until way after school ended. she was in a rush because it was movie night. no matter how busy our lives got, we always had movie night, something that was stable when everything else in life wasn't i guess. didn't see the car coming. she died on the way to the hospital."

momo's quiet, placing a hand gently on your shoulder.

"i'm sorry i lied to you. i haven't- it's been five years since it happened, but i haven't fully moved on i guess. not until now. you know this is the first time i've visited her grave since the funeral?" you chuckle brokenly, feeling the tears well up again.

"and there's not even anything under here. she was cremated and her parents took her back to japan."

"that doesn't mean you can't still grieve here."

you sigh, "i know. and it's silly y'know? to think i'm still grieiving after 5 years. everyone else has moved on except me. i still- i still saw her everyday- in that way i wasn't lying to you. i just- after the accident and then the rush of the funeral, it all didn't feel real. i still felt like i was going home to sana, and to laughs and smiles and movie nights and cuddles. it didn't make sense y'know? i know death is natural and whatever but it doesn't make sense to me, how someone is here one second and then gone the next. i couldn't make sense of it. so i didn't. she was still alive to me. i still saw her everyday, still packed both our lunches, sent her off to work, took care of her when she was sick, i never got rid of any of her things because in my head she was still using them. she still has her place on the shoe rack at home, her clothes are still mixed in with mine, her expired skin products are still on the bathroom counter. i never- she's always been with me momo i-"

you start blubbering, words no longer making sense and you feel momo shuffling closer to you, wrapping her arm around you tentatively, and you turn and bury yourself into her, crying into the arms of someone physical. someone who was real, who was here in the present with you.

momo doesn't say anything, letting you cry, running her hand through your hair soothingly, letting you take as much time as you needed.

when your sobs subside the sun's setting. you sniffle into her, breathing in her scent, a new comfort to you.

"grief is a monster. not everyone gets out alive, and those that do might only survive in pieces. but it's a monster that can be conquered with time."

you chuckle a little into her. "where'd you get that from?"

"a book i read. summer bird blue. i can lend it to you if you want."

you hum, pulling away from her and wiping at your eyes, smiling softly, "i'd like that."

she smiles as well. "do you think she would’ve liked me?"

you turn back to the gravestone, the cold words etched in marble. "yeah. i think she would’ve loved you. i kept on telling her that y'know? in my head. you two would’ve gotten along famously."

"i'm glad." momo turns to the gravestone as well, "it's nice to finally meet you sana. i promise i'll take care of y/n. you don't have to give me the whole best friend speech about how you'll curse me for the rest of my life or anything. she's special, and i'm grateful you were such a good friend to her. she loved you a lot."

you sniffle, listening to momo talk to sana. when she's done, she looks back at you with a smile, her face illuminated with the golden-orange hues of the sunset.

"thank you momo."

"hmm?"

"remember how i was talking about soulmates? how i think there's people i was meant to meet and people i'm not? thank you. i think sana brought you into my life to help me get over this. i haven't- the last five years has just been me in my head, i've been on autopilot. you were the first person to change that. to make me feel like- like there was a little more brightness to life again."

momo's tearing up now as well, you'll learn that it's not very common that she cries. "i'm glad fate has led me to you then. and i hope you know this doesn't mean sana's gone. she'll always stay with you."

you look back to the tombstone longingly, "i know. i promised i'd never forget her. she will always stay with me."

momo leans into you again, and you rest your head on her shoulder, the cool breeze blowing against you softly, the sun setting behind you.

maybe momo was right. it took you five years, and it'll probably take you a lot longer, but you were going to get over this monster, and you were going to live out the rest of your life, like sana always wanted for you, not in-your-head-sana, the real sana that you're not afraid to admit is gone now, but will always stay in your mind, your heart, with your soul.

#sana #minatozaki sana #twice sana #sana x reader #twice x reader #sana imagines #twice imagines #momo #hirai momo #twice momo #momo x reader #momo imagines #dovveri

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totaly-obsessed · 1 year ago

Text

Unexpected Meetings

Alessia Russo x reader fic

-> The reader forgets Alessia's team bonding and bursts into the room, her teammates don't know about the reader

➳ Masterlist

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

Alessia had been at the Arsenal Women’s Football Club for about three weeks now. She was settling in nicely. The girls were welcoming and happy to have her, most of them already familiar with each other in one way or the other.

Every Friday there was a team bonding session, those were quite helpful for the new girls to get to know the team and form friendships. The blonde had offered a movie night at her place for this week's ‘Team Date’ as she liked to call them.

None of the girls had been around to her place after the move. It was her family and Ella who helped her move. Oh – and you of course! Being the striker’s girlfriend of just shy of two years you were living with her. So, it was not only the blonde's move, but yours as well, being offered a position as a teacher at one of London’s many schools. It could not have been more perfect.

You knew that the girls were going to be at your apartment, you really did. A co-worker of yours, a quick new friend offering you a place to stay for the night. But somehow, you forgot.

The girls were arriving at your apartment, one after the other, getting comfortable on the large couch Alessia had insisted on buying as you moved in. The floor in front of the TV had been covered with a mattress as well as a mountain of blankets and pillows.

“Less this place is incredible. Just look at your kitchen, man!” Beth was in awe of the apartment. To be fair you had put a lot into making it as comfortable and homey as possible for the both of you.

“Yeah w- I am really happy with it.” With a deep blush, she was hoping, that no one noticed the deep blush on her face. And no one did – except the ever so attentive Leah Williamson.

“It is quite big though Less. Don’t you get lonely?” The Italian sputtered out some weird response about getting a dog to fill the void.

“Where is your bathroom then Russo?” Katie had been suspecting nothing to this point, but it was in the bathroom, where she noticed it. Two toothbrushes, towel sets, and bathrobes. Upon further inspection, she noticed the many shoes in the cabinet, many of them with heels and a lot smaller than the sneakers that undoubtedly belonged to her teammate.

The brunette saw Alessia’s gaze, wary of her wandering around her apartment. Then her eyes fell to Leah who had a subtle smirk on her face. “Oy, Viccy! Change with me, would ya?”

And just like that McCabe had gotten what she wanted, leaning close to Leah. “When do ya reckon she’ll tell us?”

The blonde shrugged. Carefully she pushed aside the fringe that had fallen into her eyes, once again. “We’ll see.”

Meanwhile: You have had a shit night. The school was holding a teacher conference until late in the evening wanting to discuss changes in the school. You had not even been there for longer than three weeks and you were already starting fights with misogynistic, homophobic, old, white men.

With all of that still fresh on your mind, you could not wait to tell Lessi everything. The footballer understood that you did not need or want solutions, you needed someone to be angry with you and still hold you when you cried.

And she could do that incredibly well.

In a hurry you threw the apartment door open, it was freezing outside and you could not wait to fall into bed with your girlfriend. How you did not notice the massive number of shoes in your hallway, you still do not understand to this day.

It was quiet, aside from a movie blaring from the TV. Alessia liked her movies and shows, always having something on in the background. “Less! You won’t believe what happened, baby!”

Hastily you threw your coat onto the bench, stumbling over one of your own shoes. The woman in question shot up in her position on the couch, as did every other woman in the room, looking at her with wide eyes, but keeping quiet.

“That old twat Mister Grimm, or whatever-“ you were out of breath stumbling over your words, still loaded with anger, “said, that it is ‘okay for boys to slack off but girls need to work even harder’.”

An angry huff could be heard from the hallway, where you were fighting with your scarf, not finding the way out of it. “And he wants the girls' grading to be harsher, because ‘boys need more concentration to pay attention than the girls’”, while Alessia couldn’t see you yet, she could imagine the air quotes you were inevitably doing – her teammates were quite amused by your annoyance, but interested nonetheless.

“What does that even mean? How can someone be so-“ By that point you had wandered into the living room, at least twenty women were looking at you.

Fuck.

You had forgotten Alessia’s team night. “

Less I am so sorry.” The blonde however wasn’t even mad (or surprised).

“It’s fine baby, I wanted to introduce you to them anyways – just made it easier.” She stood up, hugging you close to her. “C’mon Russo! Don’t be shy, give ya missus a kiss!” It was Katie who found her words first, wanting to embarrass the Italian.

But Alessia was not as bashful as expected, and instead pulled you into a bruising, passionate kiss – her teammates cheering in the background, hollering at the two of you. After pulling away, because you were still out of breath due to your ranting, she mumbled a quick “I missed ya, amore.”

Now it started to sink in, the reality of standing in front of the entirety of the Arsenal girls, who didn’t even know you existed up until now. Alessia however was beaming next to you, swaying your joined hands between you. “Guys, this is my girlfriend. Baby, these are my teammates.”

“Hi. Nice to meet you guys.”

It was silent for a second, but it was Caitlyn who started the conversation – “So what did that Mister Grimm say?”

Just hours later Alessia could not help but smile – you were cuddled on top of her, in a deep conversation with Lotte, next to her, about some book both of you had read.

This day could not have been better if she tried. She was home.

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

liked by stanwaygeorgia and 44.331 others

alessiarusso99: Team-Bonding Movie Night style!

#woso x reader #woso imagine #arsenal wfc x reader #engwnt x reader #alessia russo x reader #alessia russo

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overtake · 2 months ago

Text

Trying to do something resembling coping after Singapore. Have some Max/Daniel hurt/comfort (1.3k). Also on ao3 if you prefer.

The press of a button freezes Max’s watery blue eyes, the space between them bifurcated by the crease in his forehead.

“Is now really a moment to remember?” Max asks in a raspy voice. His throat isn’t clogged by tears, but there’s almost a decades worth of race starts together sitting uncomfortably in there and congesting each word.

His hand hasn’t strayed from Daniel since he found him after the race. It’s somewhere on some part of him every time he’s close enough to touch.

Normally he’s halfway home by this point, Air Max somewhere over the circuit skies and headed back toward home.

He’s stayed, this time, in case this is it. In case this is his last chance to neatly fold Daniel’s clothes into his bag, even though his own are always wrinkled under pairs of stained shoes and dirty briefs. In case this is the last time they both exit the paddock as drivers. In case this is the final chance Max has to trace the shape of Daniel’s jawline and tell him, “Good race.”

Daniel’s mum is giving them a last minute alone. She’s standing guarding outside the door and leaving them be for now. Daniel knows, though, that when they stand, she’ll hug Daniel close, wishing he was little enough to hide in the crook of her neck while she covers all his gaping wounds with plasters and a kiss on each one to ease the ache.

Despite his complaints about the camera, Max still moves from where he’s crouched in front of Daniel to collapse into his side and observe the photo. He wraps one arm around Daniel’s back to tug him impossibly closer and rests his mouth on the top of Daniel’s shoulder in an exhausted kind of kiss.

“I look like shit,” he says, statement muffled by the fabric of Daniel’s shirt. He sounds like he wants to poke fun at himself until he makes Daniel laugh, but they’re both too hollowed out to muster up the energy. Instead, Max reaches out and turns off the display.

For a second, their fingers linger together on the camera’s body, until Daniel lets the camera drop back against his chest so he can entangle their hands instead.

“It’s not a nice memory,” Daniel agrees. Unlike Max, his voice right now can all be attributed to tears. “But in December, no matter what happens after today, I’ll get a retake on the farm. I’ll be happy, and we’ll be together, and life will go on from now.”

Daniel feels the dampness on his shoulder when a single tear breaks containment, then another, and a shuddering breath, until Max rights himself and pointedly looks away from the tiny patch soaked in cotton.

“It’s not fair,” he says tightly. For a second, he sounds every bit the bullish teenager with a black and white view on the way the world ought to work and bitter frustration that sometimes reality dapples in nuance. It’s the first thing to get Daniel anywhere within city limits of smiling since he set the lap record and gave himself a final moment in the car to reflect on everything this sport had given him, and that he had given this sport.

“Yeah,” he agrees hoarsely. “It’s not fucking fair.”

He’s done with excuses and niceties and dancing on the Red Bull puppet strings in hopes that playing their game might finally net him a seat he’d killed himself to earn. It’s not fair. It’s callous and cruel, the way they’ve strung him and everyone who loves him along for a race they aren’t even brave enough to tell him is his last.

They’re silent for another moment. Daniel closes his eyes and soaks it in: the tendrils of freshly washed hair still trailing water down his spine. The din of dog-tired employees breaking down the paddock, to be quickly vanished away as if it was never here. The ragged in-and-out of Max’s lungs as he tries to coax both of their breaths into something resembling normal.

“Thank you, by the way,” Max says softly. “And congratulations on your lap record.”

“You owe me a really nice Christmas present.”

Max presses a whisper of a kiss over Daniel’s drying curls. “You always deserve the nicest presents.”

Daniel’s mum slips in then, gently shutting the door behind her. Unlike Max, she’s made no secret of her tears. Her eyes are red-rimmed, but she musters up enough of a smile when Daniel heaves himself up into her arms.

“Come here, Max,” he hears his mum scold. A second later, Max is in an awkward three-person hug. Grace’s short arms struggle to embrace them both, but smelling her vanilla perfume and knowing she’s there is enough to surround him in all the ways that matter.

She whispers in turn to each of them, but they’re all so tightly wound, they can all hear every word.

“Thank you for being here every time I couldn’t be,” she tells Max. He murmurs something back, but he manages to keep it quiet enough that Daniel can’t make out all his words. It’s something about thanking her for trusting him with Daniel, but the rest is lost. All he knows is that his mum’s tears start flowing again.

When it’s his turn, she can barely choke out the words. “I’m so proud of you. For your career, of course, but for who you’ve grown into. I couldn’t have asked for a better son.”

“I love you,” is all Daniel manages. He buries the nose shaped like hers into the brown curls that his genes copy-pasted and soaks in gratitude that he has both her face and her endless capacity to love.

Daniel walks into humid night air with his head held high and a career most drivers would kill for, surrounded by people who love him for more than that list of achievements, and knows that he’ll survive whatever comes next.

“That’s a terrible photo,” Max complains three months later. His eyes are scrunched up all cute in it, framed by long lashes and sun-soaked freckles that are almost hidden by the streaks of dirt on his face. He’s smiling, both in the picture and right now, so Daniel knows he doesn’t actually mind.

Two weeks of busy Australian summer have left Max various shades of pink and tan. He'd somewhat learned how to use the grill that Daniel was too scared to touch and now had matching grill aprons with Daniel's dad. He christened the new baby cow the wholly uncreative name ‘Lilly’, because god forbid any animal in his vicinity not be named after Monaco nightlife. He’d also 100% taken to the dirt bikes as easily as everyone would assume and had absolutely, definitely not sworn Daniel to secrecy about where he got that giant bruise on his side after their first go.

When Daniel transfers the photos to his computer later, his finger pauses on the photo captured in a melancholic driver’s room. In it, Max’s eyes are dull and weary, but they’re looking at Daniel with the same unblinking love from today’s picture.

It’s proof, memorialized in expensive pixels, that Daniel’s life did not end on the streets of Singapore; that his worth to the world never depended on his points or podiums.

He closes the lid of his laptop and joins the gathering in the living room. Max is pouring fake tea for Isabella’s dolls. Isaac is politely sipping an empty teacup, one pinky in the air. Isabella is nowhere to be found, probably busy dragging Daniel’s poor parents to see Lilly the cow for the fifth time today.

“Daniel!” Max says, in the sweet, distinct way his mouth always forms the name. His face brightens when Daniel walks in. When Max smiles like that, it’s as if the sun has come through the roof and taken human form in broad shoulders and rumpled t-shirts.

“Max!” Daniel says back, matching his enthusiastic tone. He sits cross-legged in Isabella’s empty spot and slides his fingers between Max’s.

The tea party continues, and life moves forward.

#maxiel #fics #i’m a total inconsolable wreck today. so tried to write something with an air of hope and love and positive outlooks #not necessarily hopeful re racing #but its not about that #i actually cannot read or see anything about this so you're a braver soul than me if you actually read this #i feel like most of us are just sad and avoidant right now #but i'm posting this for myself bc it was cathartic to write

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abbysbasement · 2 years ago

Text

(Abby Anderson x Fem!Reader)

— PAPI BONES

A/N: Hi, this is the formerly scrapped, 3x longer, 2 months writing project that I had because I wanted to fuck abby in a closet! this was actually supposed to be my first post on tumblr, but i got mad at it and sent it to the dungeon for two months :/ but yall wanted it, so I'm super happy i got to finish it, even though it took multiple days and cups of coffee to power through. sorry for the wait, hope you fuck wit her.

content tags (can you tell i don't want to write anymore ;w;): college au, childish antics at a big age, drinking, cool, ellie and dina are in this! kind of abstract sexual descriptions, assplay, cunnilingus (r!receiving), boob... touching? small mention of drugs because dealer!ellie, drunk sex, enthusiastic consent! :D, reader is kind of annoying sorry, men being assholes, reader catching feelings for a girl she fucked once, real.

wc: 7.6k ;w; (send help)

proofread?; barely.

tl : @clearheartgreyflowers, @oatmilkchaii, @ghostfacebunny, @ellsbclls (thank you to the sweetest deb @ellsbclls for helping beta read this, i appreciate your suggestions and encouragement and this would probably have been scrapped TWICE without your help ;w; )

synopsis: your best friend dina drags you to a college frat party. you hate shit like this, and you're painfully shy but when she does those puppy dog eyes you can't say no, so in a cruel twist of fate you end up in the closet with abby Anderson, and lose your virginity. yay college! (apart of the 'jackson university' thematic!)

Your idea of a Saturday night well spent wasn’t squeezing through a sea of sweaty backs; but like many things in your life, it wasn’t up to you, because you were easily swayed. Everything was overstimulating, the waves of bodies on bodies that pulsated and threw you between different poses and balances to keep on your feet, the ringing of laughter, of music, of every sound echoing in your head, around your body, vibrating through your very core. The smell of liquor and drunken antics and that one guy puking in the corner made you sick. But somehow, you were here, spurred on by peer pressure friendship and goodwill, trudging through the blackened room to your target; the snack table.

Dina, your roommate, and determinant best friend held a firm hand on the small of your back, pushing you through the crowd and causing a small jolt to run down your body as she steered you around every obstacle and corner in the room. She was a woman on a mission, and the one who dragged you out of bed, convincing you - against your better judgment- that it was fatal that you accompanied her to a frat party. You knew she was good-natured, and your first friend when you moved 500 miles away from home to college. It was an instant click, but you were opposite best friends.

Dina, ever the social butterfly, had connections in all different spaces; she could party with the sorority girls –hold the coke, please,– out-cram everyone, even the National Honor Society kids, all the way to the top of the class, hell, she was on the damn debate team, which was probably why it wasn’t a struggle to get a ‘yes’ out of you. You, on the other hand, were uncomfortable at bars, school sporting events, and parties, and one time you even thre– fuck, never mind. It was all effortless to her, in almost an enviable way. Dina loved to go clubbing, loved to hang, out, and she had been near-begging you to come out with her and her cool friends for months, not that you’re not cool, I mean.

And somehow, despite everything, it worked.

You could almost remember how you got there if you put away the sticky crunch of coke sticking to your shoes with each step, and reached back into the recesses of your mind. Or at least, back three-and-a-half hours ago.

“They’re all great people, no weirdos, promise!”

It was the emphatic plea made to you as you lay on your bed, queuing up the next episode of the apocalypse show you watched each week, watching her make Dina list off every reason why you just had to follow her out tonight. It was clearly very life-or-death shit to her, but you were unconvinced. It was just a party but there was going to be a smaller, more intimate kickback in a friend-of-a-friend’s basement. She was in the middle of getting ready, sitting at her school-issue desk and looking at herself in the mirror, dark hair coned over her head in a bun as she sat in deep concentration, words slurred and simple as she applied mascara, her mouth slacked into an O position.

“So you’re gonna like, fucking go, yeah?”

She said it as though it was obvious, like it wasn’t a question, but one look at you, –curled up in covers, laptop on chest, martini glass pajama pants and teddy bear teeshirt ON, unbothered– showed her that it would be a tall order, and that big guns would be needed.

“Not interested, sorry.”

“Not even a tinyyyyy bit?” Dina squeezed her fingers together for emphasis, throwing her head back in mock exhaust, a theatric groan rumbling out of her throat. “Not even a little bit.” You echoed, your roommate cutting her eye at you through her handheld mirror, but it was what it was. You weren’t into all of that stuff; the bump and grind of sweaty bodies wasn’t alluring, listening to someone else’s shitty music at ear-bleeding levels felt like hell, and if you wanted to get pitifully drunk and throw up all over yourself, there was a garbage can right under your bed. But your friend really, really, wanted your company and it made you feel, really, really bad to always blow her off.

“Why are you going so hard on this?” You bemused as you propped up on your elbows, watching as she stalked around the room in her newly painted face, quickly rummaging through her drawer for a spare outfit.

“Maybe because it bums me out to see my super cool roommate wasting away in her dorm every weekend?” In Dina’s mind, she was making a lot of sense. She was waiting for you to chime in, to say you know what, Dee? You’re right, I get it. But instead, you stared blankly, and she threw down her arms in exasperation. “You’re in fucking college, man! You don’t even wanna have one night of fun?” She punctuated the ‘fucking’ with a wild gesture around her head, which made you chuckle to yourself.

“I mean, I was planning on wa–”

Your body was jostled by an insane amount of weight, almost turned completely over by two roughhousing dudes– a mess of limbs and arms, who looked at you and then at each other, as though they had spontaneously sobered up. You didn’t even have the time to start to be angry when they prattled off a blended, slurred apology and thrashed somewhere away through the mass of hands and faces in the dark room.

Fucking assholes, ruining the flashback sequence.

The room was lit only by haphazard mood lights; soft LEDs and gaudy, flickering Christmas baubles, a solitary television, camped by stoners who laughed madly, and the dim auburn glow of the odd ceiling lamp nestled in the far back of the house. You were out of your element; you couldn’t dance, weren’t the most social, and even though you were with a friend, all of this made you feel very alone.

Dina cut through the crowd with her elbow, bellowing out “Ex–cuse me!” while she pushed you through gaps as they formed. Her voice fell to mutter again, barely audible, chunked and cut by the music bouncing from wall to wall, grumbling that she had places to be, and if E*&^$ didn’t get her off at least once, there would be hell to pay. She was determined to get to the other side of the room, where it was arranged that by the chips, as smokers usually are, she would find her current fuckbuddy and her friends, waiting to hotbox and pregame a bit more before the room peaked. She was driven by horniness and selfishness, as one typically is after four shots of Tito’s vodka, and getting smoked out and ‘taken care of’ upstairs was half the reason she even came.

You’d never met her most recent suitor, and the question of her girlfriend was always met with a ‘no, she’s just my sneaky link.’ but you didn’t question it enough to know more. She was just the girl who Dina would go off campus to meet, and as long as she wasn’t a slasher, and her pre-rolls knocked you on your ass, it would be what it was. You were carried away by your friend’s excitement, by her heavy hand nearly lifting you off of your feet as she beelined to the kitchen, wrangling your twin bodies every which way.

“Ellie! Ellie!” She yelled, jumping up and down a bit to compensate for her voice being swallowed by the bass. She burrowed through the wave, pushing you towards a girl leaning against the sink, nursing a red cup and low, hazy eyes. Her auburn hair was swallowed by a black docker, and a dark-coloured backpack jutted out from behind her as she smiled and waved the two of you –mostly Dina, into her orbit. She looped her head under your shoulder to be pulled into the strong hug of firm biceps, and Arms looked you over, offering a friendly nod.

–

“It’s on streaming. You can watch ‘Many of Them’ literally whenever!”

“Live tweeting is a part of the experience.” You chided matter-of-factly, sitting up cross-legged. It wasn’t like the brunette was wrong, exactly, but you couldn’t give up too much at once. Going soft was not a part of the plan.

“Fuck, whatever– You know the girl I’ve been hooking up with, right?” Her eyebrow raised at your dispassionate ‘not really.’ “Well you know her fucking joints, she sells– weed, shrooms… pills?” Dina listed off with her finger, mulling over the last detail for a second, then confirming in her head with a nod. It’s fine, you’re cool, and the two of you had always bonded over your love of recreational joy anyways. “So, if you wanna smoke orsomething– I got you, all you have to do is show up.” Her hands were up almost sheepishly as she tested the waters, but you weren’t super convinced, and your idea of fun wasn’t exactly playing wingman while she got tongue-fucked by a drug dealer, and the pregnant pause was enough to cue her into having to bring out the big guns.

“-And, and! I'll wash all our dishes, and cleanyoursideoftheroomforaweek.”

Damn, she practically ran through that last part, so under her breath you knew she was hoping that you didn’t hear. But you did, and for a second you could almost see a smirk play on her face as your eyes lit up. She was always up for a good bribe, and even though she would act annoyed, it was great for breaking you out of your shell. She would offer to watch the zombie show if you came out to the bars in your college town with her, pizza if you confessed to your crush instead of instastalking them three times a day, even though it didn’t work, –oh well, shooters shoot– and tonight? A week free from chores if you just spent a couple of hours in your own personal hell. Yeah, you would give her this one.

“Now we’re talking. If you want someone to be the lookout while you and Jesse Pinkman go at it, who am I to deny?” You teased, kicking your legs over the edge of the bed.

Your roommate craned her head up, momentarily stopping her mission of rifling through her clothes. “Who said that?”

“You’re in your ‘good panty’ drawer.” You whispered cheekily.

“Well, you got me. Someone has to get fucked around here.”

“Oh fuck you, bitch!” You laughed, throwing your pillow, hitting smack in the center of her chest.

Dina bounced around the room, practically billowing with glee. There was a descending, barely audible ‘fuck yeah’ as she traipsed down the hall towards the bathroom, rounding the corner and disappearing from your periphery.

“By the way, you know Jesse’s last name is Huang, right, not Pinkman? And we’re uh– not together anymore.” Dina shouted through the silence.

“That’s a character from Breaking Bad. It was a joke– because he’s a drug de–” You stopped yourself midway. “Never mind. It’s not funny if I explain it.”

“Oh– I never watched Breaking Bad. Too Long.” She deadpanned. You chuckled to yourself, shaking your head as you slid your way off the bed.

That’s how you found yourself in a dimly lit bathroom, missing the comfort of your memories as ‘Ellie’ rolled a blunt. You stood leaning against the door and Dina sat on the closed toilet seat. The dealer sealed the last of the leaf with a flick of the tongue and a lick of spit, maintaining direct eye contact with Dina so she could not-so-subtly show off. She passed it to the brunette first, who mimed a cheeky, ‘why thank you’ and drew poutily. You three sat there for a while, smoking and talking, steam from the hot shower wafting above your heads as music pumped through the foundation of the house.

There was laughter outside of the door and it soon became awkward for you, Ellie and Dina finishing the blunt, –you were a lightweight– and chatting idly as Dina traced a fingertip against the outline of the tattoo Ellie was showing off.

The temperature of the tiny room ran hotter between their reddened eyes, and it was as though you were being banished by a galactic force. You couldn’t mistake how the red-haired girl’s glance caught an extra second or so at the way Dina’s body was hugged just right in her party dress, cleavage strained against the fuchsia PVC of her neckline, and how she bit the corner of her lip when her eyes hooked on a dark mole on Dina’s breast that was framed by the feathers of her black hair.

It was time to go, unless you were interested in seeing your best friend get dug out on the countertop.

You were already a little bit wobbly, hearing a giggle that slipped from Dina’s lips morph into a squeak as you slipped out of the crack you pulled in the door and into the fray, getting carried down the stairs and back over to the drinks. You crossed over a kissing couple, cutting into their makeout and heavy petting session, and through a huddled together group of girls whispering something about seeing an ex across the room.

You gripped onto the countertop for stability when you finally broke free from the pulsating wave of bodies. There was a bit of everything surfing in deep bowls of ice and water, open bags of chips and snacks bunched up together on the island. You could not be sober for this shit. You wedged up the pop cap on a hard seltzer and brought it to your lips, the spirit coating your tongue and boiling its way into your stomach. There it was again, the familiar warm feeling in your hands and feet, the soft pressure already creeping across the flat of your face. Yeah, now that was it. The anxiety began to melt away, and you leaned against the countertop, flexing your legs.

Wow, they’re inviting giants to the shindig too. You laughed to yourself as the scarlet-lit ocean parted, and a tall, wide figure walked through and into the darkness of a descending flight of stairs. If only it was that easy when you needed to piss, notwithstanding that you had already been in the bathroom.

It’s fun being sardonic sometimes.

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see your roommate coming down the stairs, the dealer’s deft fingers pulling down part of her dress that rode up her ass. She arched her head up, straining left and right like the eye of a submarine as she looked for you; her eyes lit up, waving to you as she fisted her companion’s belt loop, bouldering through the sea of people. She was high as fuck, if her bright pink eyes were enough to speak to it, and your gaze lingered over the new expanse of a deep purplish hickey on her neck, small indents from teeth glimmering with saliva in the light.

There was that hotness again that burned in the pit of your stomach, not from drunkenness or anxiety, but the can of fruity liquor in your hand covered up for the embarrassing flush of your wild cherry-coloured cheeks. You peeled your eyes back up to her face and smiled dumbly. You’d never had *that* before. You’ve watched things before at least, and obviously, touched yourself to the thought, but you’ve never had someone to fool around with in bathrooms or hold your skirt when it rode up.

There was your first kiss, but it was in middle school, so it didn't count. It was all clammy lips, two noses that couldn’t get the space between them *quite* right, and an overzealous set of chompers that left you with a bloody lip. Actual horseshit, but somehow, a core memory. It was annoying in a way, how it just didn’t come to you, but you wanted to be wanted. To be lusted over, desired even in that casual touchy way that simmered between your best friend and the girl you didn’t know very well. Dina was making grabby hands at you, wide-eyed and bushy-tailed. Your drink bobbed as she whisked you to her will, you and Ellie sharing a knowing look as she pushed your bodies through the hall and down the darkness of the stairwell.

–

“RULES ARE SIMPLE,” some asshole in a hat bellowed as he stood over all of you who sat in the circle, mildly drunk off your asses and looking for easy fun. He held up a black beer bottle, carrying it like a trophy and swishing it around your noses for a closer look. “You kids might know seven minutes in heaven.” You didn’t know him, but according to Dina, this was his house, his party, and his very annoying rules. A light patch of raised skin played against his nose as he scrunched his nose over and over again, hands on hips, clearly trying to steal back whatever thought the liquor took from him. Jason, right?

Whatever.

“But we’re all grown-ups here, so I present to you–” He rolled the bottle in hand, clearly soft-launching his bright idea. “Fifteen minutes in purgatory!” There was a deep groan radiating from some, but there was a small minority that exploded in cheers, and whoops. “Pretty self-explanatory, two adventurers venture deep into purgatory, and come out forever changed.

“Two adventurers go deep into purgatory,” He gestured his head at the foreboding broom closet in the back of the room. “And return forever changed.”

“We’ll use the bottle to choose our unlucky voyagers, and you’ll spend fifteen minutes in the closet.” He explained, dropping the mystique in the second half. “Alright kids, let’s start; and just for the record– If you’re a pussy, get the fuck out of the circle!”

The drunken cast of partiers whooped and cheered, hyping each other up, spilling beer out of red cups as they gestured wildly, entirely too grown for this. The room played ‘not it’ to pick who got the first spin, and the unfortunate soul was a blonde who sat cross-legged, blank-eyed at the black glass handed to her, nodding her head tersely.

“We got our very own Abigail Anderson– !” Her eyes narrowed. “Andddd��.” Hat praised, cueing her to spin. She took the bottle, pointing the tip towards herself and then spinning it, the glass doubling, tripling the circle, making you dizzy chasing it with your eyes, and everyone sat with bated breath. It slowed and slowed and slowed, until, like ugly fate, it stopped at your feet.

“Our newbie!” He got up to cheese, leaning over you, placing his hands over your shoulders, and rocking you from side to side. You laughed awkwardly, putting your palms up defensively at nothing.

“Um– uh…” You were at a loss for words, only cut off as his head shot into your field of view, hot, hopsy breath tanging your nostrils. “What, you scared?” He taunted, all eyes on you, watching as you nursed a deep discomfort about the whole thing behind an uneasy smile.

“You’re a fucking asshole, Jordan.” The girl, Abby, groaned. She looked up at you from her downward pointing head, swishing her bottle of hard cider in the hand propped over her knee. Jordan, that was the name of this dickhead. Yeah, fuck him. “If she doesn’t want to get in the closet, she doesn’t want to get in the closet. I’ll just spin again.”

Dina cut in, the redhead still leaning lazily against her. “Yeah, don’t–dont be a dick, Jordan.” Her face was tight, and Ellie was annoyed because Dina was annoyed, and the room held a pregnant silence, and even though it wasn’t your fault, you felt all too responsible and all too uncomfortable with all of the eyes watching you.

“It’s fine, guys. Let’s all– eh, chill out, okay? I’m going to take the dare.” You leaned in, voice dropping to a whisper, trying to steal back the vibe, trying to replace the tension with playful drama as you circled your head around, wiggling the fingers slightly of your held-up palms. “Because I’m not a little bitch.”

The crowd exploded in raucous laughter, each voice clashing together and mimicking the sound of a pipe bursting. You looked over at your partner, who seemed pleasantly surprised, a smirk playing on her peach lips. She placed down her bottle and stood, and as she towered over you, you realised that maybe you were playing with fire. She was scary and nonchalant, but the outer workings of her face were soft and gentle. She didn’t look like the girls in the videos you watched at night; she was something different, uncharted, and before you knew it, a nervousness, and something lower, darker, ran through your body.

Then it was time to go, you piling in first, looking around at some of the half-darkness in the room, barely enough to fit two people in.

The asshole patted the girl’s back, corralling her into the closet behind you. Blood rushed to your head, the pressure was too great, like getting skullfucked through your ears. show her a good time, you could hear him say, and then something that you couldn’t quite understand over the bass. The mountain’s eyes narrowed, but before she could shoot back, her large body crashed into yours and the space became tighter and tighter, just enough for the two of you to put your arms out to either side or turn around. For a split second, you could see Dina’s face from over Jordan’s shoulder, tightened in concern, a timid thumbs up at the side of her head. Then, he closed the door, and the last of the light slipped out through the crack in the wall.

There was a deep silence, and somehow, like the hazy feeling you get right before you wake from a dream, you were chest to chest in the darkness with her blue eyes staring back at you, damn-near bioluminescent. You’d seen her around, because everyone sees her around, but it hadn’t registered that the giant who had parted all of those people in the crowd like they were just water, was standing right in front of you. Outside you could hear the rumble of the music, vibrations of the bass wrapping around you and shaking you from the inside out. The closet was too tight, too warm, too filled with smells from towels and coats and folded blankets and dusty boxes of light bulbs and two cramped, awkward bodies.

Suddenly, you felt all too intimidated.

“You’re Abigail, right?” You questioned. “Off the rugby team?”

“Abby.” You couldn’t read her face in the dark, and though she spoke pointedly she didn’t seem angry, but the accidental overstep was enough to make you want to dig a hole through the floor with your bare hands and die in it. “And yeah– captain, of the rugby team.”

“Oh, sorry, sorry.” You yielded. “So… what are we supposed to do? In here, I mean.” You gestured at nothing, knocking some washcloths from a top shelf down in the dark. “Ah, damn it.” You cursed under your breath, bending down to pick up the small stack. You could hear Abby behind you, sucking her teeth with a judgy hum. Her brows were almost touching her eyelids, captured in secondhand embarrassment, and she almost felt bad for how awkward you were, scrambling to pick them up from the floor.

If you could see her face, you’d be able to tell how her eyes flicked up and down her body, taking everything in. Your black skirt slid slightly to bunch at the front, uncovering portions of your doughy thigh and the ever-so-tiniest range of fabric hiding your prettiest secret. She had to tear her eyes away, almost. She jumped, even, glad you couldn’t see as you popped back up.

You were cute, holding the disheveled stack in your hands, a look of sheer pride on your face. You looked over to the side, tossing them unceremoniously on a free shelf, gravity taking a couple back to the ground. Your sated chuckle, the way your tits pushed up slightly, illuminated, almost framed like art by the neckline of your cream cardigan made her hungry. She pushed the ideas of what she wanted to do with them out of her mind, but damn, she could think about some things that would make the devil embarrassed. She stomped down her desire, stoicism crossing her for a second, only for her to open it back up on second thought.

“They want us to fool around, fuck, ideally.” She started, analysing your expressions for any hint of discomfort at the conversation. “But– we don’t have to do anything.” She tried to cut some of the thick discomforts with a placating smile, almost lost in detail in the low light. She was huge, more so than you, or most anyone else you knew, the jutting-out edge of a shelf knocking the back of her head every time she leaned her head back in the tight space. The hard washboard of her torso was framed by an opening of a grey hoodie and barely much else, just the thick band of her boxers peeking from her sweatpants, and the black of a cropped tank top that stopped right below her bra line.

“Jordan… is typically a good guy, but when he gets drunk he’s a total POS.” Abby was sallow-faced, pursing her lips, tension running through her jawline. “I shouldn’t have let him put you on the spot like that. So… I’m sorry that you got pressured to get in here.”

“It’s fine, I just.” You started, ready to say that big phrase, the one that slightly burned your back to admit. “I’ve never done anything like this before.”

“What, played seven minutes in heaven? Yeah, kind of a jackass thing to suggest in your twenties.”

Shit. She was going to make you say it.

“No. I mean I’ve never–” and you thought your tiny voice couldn’t get any tinier. “had sex before.”

Abby breathed in the deepest sigh, pure anxiety crossing her face for a split second, before she was feeding you apologies. “It’s fine, we don’t have to do anything we can just sit here and talk. Or be in silence if you want it’s alr–”

“I want to do it.” You said doggedly, pressing yourself into a tiny corner. Her brow perched, and there was something in those narrowing blue eyes that said she didn’t believe you. You were pigeontoed, legs shifting against one another, declaring in your firmest voice that you wanted her to take your virginity.

“Are you sure?” She breathed out, stepping a bit closer. “You don’t have to feel pressured to do anything because you think they want a show.”

“Oh, my god.” You were pouting, annoyed. “I can choose if I want to have sex you know, and I want to have sex right here right n–”

She kissed you, softly as possible, testing your waters to see how far you were willing to go. Her hands were patient, one lightly knotted in the woolen knit of your cardigan to lightly pet your lower back, the other making gentle grips on your sweatered arm. Her fingers were barely bruising, gripping around your wrist almost tight enough, and a tiny shockwave coursed between your thighs and convinced you that you wanted more. In this low light, in this dark room, in this place between space and time, you wanted to be her conquest. To be taken, touched, manhandled, to be made to weather the storm of her overwhelming strength against you, lost in the middle of the ocean.

It was perverted, almost, how the idea of her showing restraint raised hairs on your skin, how you deepened the kiss like you were being overcome with an insatiable, bloody hunger. You had to take back the moment, to steal her attention in a way she couldn’t deny before she thought you were all talk; you stepped closer, positioning yourself so that her thigh hovered right below the heated space under your skirt. Her hand was warm, soft as you grabbed it, moving it lower, deeper down the divot of your back and where the fat of your ass connected. She caught on, groaning into your lips as she kneaded around your body, her tongue sweeter and heavier against yours, working that one damned hand up your skirt to cup bare skin.

You jumped.

As fast as it had come, her hand slipped back from under your skirt and the touch was lost completely, awkwardly hovering for a second until Abby pulled it back into her pocket and stepped back. You were miserable, eyes welling up in frustration like a lost dog at the lack of feeling. She was pulling you into insanity but was too chivalrous to drown you in it, rubbing the back of her neck sheepishly as she looked down at you.

“Fuck– didn’t mean to be aggressive like that. I–” The redness bled across her cheeks, freckles on full display as her fingers met the wet spot that you were hiding, your hands guiding hers to the space between your thighs. There was a pause, a knowing, a challenge between the two of you as an unknown heat spread throughout your bodies, and you collided once more. The blonde’s mouth sucked a nasty pressure into your throat, agitating it with bites and licks as her head traveled deeper, hands playing at the front of your sweatered torso to undo the buttons that held your breasts hostage.

Her entrance was assured as she popped the loops open, fingers gripping the fabric of your camisole and lifting up, taking your bra with it. She nipped at the exposed flesh, heat from her mouth traveling directly to your vagina, clit throbbing hard with need. Abby engulfed a nipple with the wetness of her tongue, closing her lips around the rapidly hardening bud to pull it to full attention, chuckling as she scraped the flesh with her teeth. The wet head was replaced with her palms, each thumb and forefinger rolling one or the other. The sensitivity of the tiny flesh was insane, enough to make you whine out loud as she continued, better than anything you had ever done to yourself.

You were biting your lip, eyes big and doe-like as you waded through your pleasure, soft pants heaving your chest. She fished it out from between your teeth and hooked it within her own, popping the plump flesh into her mouth as she pared yours with her tongue. You swore the room was spinning, a wetness slicking between your thighs, a drip positioned between two pairs of hungry lips. You could’ve spent all fifteen minutes– or an eternity, in this beautiful hell, giving and taking and relishing in a different, sort of strange type of want.

“Don’t stop.” You moaned in between stolen breaths, the blonde chasing your mouth each time you pulled away.

“For you, pretty?” Gripping you tighter for emphasis, pressing you closer into the wall, angling further between your spread legs. “Never.”

It was like you were some weird intoxication to her, a drug that she couldn’t get enough of. How your ass molded right into the divots of her palms, those tiny moans that rang through the cage you two were in, the rapid beating of your heart rippling through your body. She wanted to peel your cardigan from your shoulders, wanted to shred your clothes from your body and take you however she liked, and make you feel better than you knew what to do with. Needed to make you scream and fuck you until you cried. But it was your first time, so she resigned to being gentle and soft, like you were a little deer in the forest, and she was trying to get close without scaring you off. so she would give you only what you needed.

She didn’t have a lot of strong feelings about that nickname she had earned in sophomore year, War Machine, from all of the pretty girls she ran through and left unable to walk, unable to talk for a couple of days or more. but when Jordan said it, in front of you, in front of sweet and innocent, pretty and tiny *you* she could’ve reeled back and torn him apart. But she still didn’t want to scare you. So she had forced an alright, the one a child forces when they get scolded, and hid the burning in her palms that made her want to fight in the pocket of her pants.

Your eyes bored x-rays through her formidable thighs as she bent her knees to squad before you, strong hands rubbing up and down your thighs with contrasting gentleness to the hard angles of her face, the brow that was crooked down slightly in concentration, the slightly parted lips playing with mischief as they took you in. You were frightened for just a second, until Abby looked up at you with sympathetic eyes, a hand leaving your thigh and linking with your fingers, guiding you to the base of her skull to envelop her honeyed strands.

She was back at you, the darkness in your stomach leaking out as you palmed her head, and she ran her hands upward, more upward, until the ruffles of your cotton skirt were overturned in her palms. From the waist down, you were completely exposed, a wet spot working itself into your panties from your innermost recesses and a musky scent betraying your shyness.

Abby pressed herself gently into the fabric, her fat lips creating a cool pressure against the hot flesh, her nose itching lightly into your pubis. You bucked your hips unconsciously, nearly fucking her face in your abandon. A vibration from her laugh traveled through you, nestled inside of you, and more wetness began to slick your channel. That friendly ache formed in your rapidly hardening clit, and a similar pain throbbed in your pinkie and middle finger. Her other hand moved up, gripping fistfuls of your ass, less forgiving now, and forcing a squeak from your lips.

You were dumbstruck; a stranger’s hands all over you, mouth nearly on top of your sacred place, nearly leaking from sheer lust. She had barely done anything. Your jaw slacked, and in your mind you felt like a fool, lamenting how you thought your first time would be special. Soft circles rubbed into your inner thigh as she pulled your legs apart, peppering angel kisses throughout the little divots.

“S’okay, baby.” Her voice was barely a whisper, a tiny encouragement that calmed the buzzing in your mind. “Tell me how you want me. I’m yours.”

and you thought that declaration would destroy you,’ I’m yours.’ and it felt very, very real.

“I want you to touch me.” You said, barely a whisper, nodding as she pressed her face to your thigh, sliding down your panties to about knee-level. It was as though she had seen heaven’s gate open, awestruck at the blood rushing to engorge your lips, how your clit stood on end without even being touched. The thatch of hair curling between your thighs and around your depths. She had to have a taste, and there wasn’t much room for second-guessing as she pressed her mouth to the hot spot and flattened her tongue directly against the wettest space.

Juicy noises slid from her mouth as she rolled your clit between her tongue and sucked sharply with her lips, and it was as though you could’ve sunk to the floor, the way your legs became distinctly not yours. It was enough, enough, not enough, then too much. It was like you were an endlessly gushing fountain as Abby’s wet, firm tongue parted your lips, dipping ever so lightly into your hole as she licked out a string of nectar from your drooling cunt. It was as though you were animated, possessed even, as your hands flew into her hair, pushing her head down further and further, to that release you chased violently and madly.

Abby was humble, letting you guide her where you needed her; she was soft at first, but you didn’t want soft, you wanted more.

She obliged.

The blonde slipped her fingers between your thighs and parted your slit, opening up an endless, waiting tightness. She was intrepid, pressing through your clenching muscle and opening you up more than you had ever done; thick digits tearing through you, fucking your pussy at an unforgiving pace, concentration forming in the muscles of her neck. You hid an inhuman growl in the pit of your throat, in the crook of your sweatered elbow, and she moaned out, satisfied with that which she had created inside of you. You were fucking her face in a tight, dirty closet, calf propped over a muscled shoulder for support, the heel of your booties pressing into the wall, locking her in.

It was as though the two of you were fighting, every roll of your hips she chased with her head, every time you shied away from the pleasure she held you harder, taking you even hungrier, diving deeper to a spot you didn’t know was there; every taut pull at her scalp met with an even tighter grip into the flesh of your plush ass. The pads of her fingers violated the sopping warmth of your cunt, and you clenched your stomach unwittingly, walls flexing, holding her hand there. Drool dripped from between her lips, pooling and soaking down into the fibres of an old shag rug, caked with dust and whatever else.

Your own slipped between your lips before you could suck it back in, and the silver trail bounced, the way it does when it breaks, and the thick drop cascaded down her temple, getting lost in your brow. The piece that was yours snaked down your collarbone and between your breasts and somehow, you felt a connection.

Abby snorted, sucked in a breath as her fingers left you empty. Fuck. She didn’t go for her face, wiping them on the skin of your pussy, they traveled upwards, firm grips on your ass. She rubbed the flesh as though she was throwing clay, stretching the skin between her rough fingers, calluses on her palms coasting over every bump and groove. She had found what she had wanted, craning her neck lower, lower, until you could just barely see her eyes. Her fingertips prodded, greedy, opening your lips, tongue leching against your soft fruit as though she was funneling the juices directly into her mouth. You thought your thighs would give out but she held you, stronger, and you fed her willingly.

Her middle finger dipped down into the slit, collecting juices, stealing a breath from your lungs, you wanted to scream her name but it was caught inside of you, so you stood slack-jawed, fuck drunk as she abused your walls, fucking every ridge painfully slow. The tight hole stretched around the meatiness of her finger, and she hooked it as though she was searching, retreating from the warmth, slick with your nastiest of liquids. Again, she split your ass with one hand, and you clenched your tightest hole without thinking about it.

“Don’t worry,” She said, muffled against your mound as she latched against it once more, “gonna help you so fucking good.” You were confused, but you trusted her, a complete stranger. For a second you began to ask what there was to worry about, but your mind was pried away from you as you felt the pressure of her coated fingertip tracing around your asshole. A gentle kiss played at the head of your pussy, comforting you as you nodded your head wildly, something of a ‘yes’ flying from your throat as her middle finger parted that threshold.

Your mind exploded, head shooting straight up into the air, a small yelp burning into a silent open-mouthed cry. You were spinning, the room was spinning, your body heated up instantly. Then, the wet warmth traveled back to your clit, her opposite hand nestling two fingers into your aching, needy twat, her tongue lapping as her fingers resumed digging and that one damned finger fucked in and out of your tightest hole painfully slow.

She fucked you like an animal; you cried out like a bitch in heat. The music trembled through your ears, and you were afraid it wouldn’t be enough, that everyone would hear, everyone would know. You were both drunk and this didn’t matter, didn’t mean anything, but she was bottoming her tongue out in you and you wanted it to mean a lot. Girls talked and you fucking hated them all. She was loose, she got around, and you wanted to be hers.

You wanted to capture her and be interesting to her and walk with her hand on your lower back around campus. Wanted her callused fist in your hair, around your neck as she took you every night. Wanted badly to fucking cum, to open the portal, to wash her face with this unholy water, wanted to kiss wet lips and taste everything. Wanted to know if she could ever like you, after you gave it up, quickly, bellowing like a foghorn against a rack of coats. You wanted to be kept, to keep her spit inside of you like a keepsake but she sucked it back in a quick second, before you could even feel her cheeks hollow between your thighs, and felt dirty for even thinking of it.

A sweet pain formed between your thighs and you couldn’t stop the groan that rose from your throat, every muscle in your face clenching and unclenching, your eyes crossing as your orgasm came quickly into view. Abby fucked you through it, fingers slow and forgiving. It was as though a stream of slowly descending tidal waves were crashing against you, and you needed more, it hurt but you needed more. Something deep burned inside of you, endlessly hot, and you wondered how she could stand the heat as she hit it over and over again. You sobbed, and swore that you could feel a tear roll down your cheek, feeling the need to rub your eyes for good measure.

She looked up, entranced, face softening for a second, watching as you gave up your mind to your body. There was a hard knock at the door, the music lowered a decibel, silence filling the two of you, her fingers still deep inside of your two holes. A sing-song voice bellowed out ‘five minutes!’ and the darkness ridged her eyes.

For the first time, her voice was hard, removing her hand from your cunt, making sure to curl the one in your ass tighter in compensation. She slammed the door twice with her fist, the frame bulging in a way that made you fear the whole thing would just fall down. “Fuck off.” Her voice was loud enough to tear through the uncomfortable tension. There was an apprehensive, ‘woah man,’ that you could barely hear, and the music regained, the party rejoiced, and hopefully, the fear of God being struck enough in your host to leave well enough alone.

Her lips were still slick, soft, kissable with your juices. She flashed you a genuine, pretty smile. Her hands gripped a little too tight but you wanted it all. She looked down at the mess between your trembling thighs, then at your heavy, panting face. She leaned back on her heels as a wide smile played on her face, satisfied with herself. A windy chuckle passed through her glistening lips, wiping her mouth and chin on the inside of her hoodie. “Fuckin’ insane.” She breathed out in between pants.

“Abby.” She said, as though the strength of your orgasm traveled through your brain and made you forget the events of the last 15 minutes. “Constance Hall. Dorm 425 on the second floor.” It was as though your heart skipped a beat, but you punched it down, a weak smile playing against your lips.

She was fucking disheveled, almost inhaling the last sweet smells of your pussy, creating a memory of the flavour and filing it away in her mind for safekeeping. She was delicate, pulling your white panties up to your thighs again, soothing a finger where those soft, curly pussy hairs were hidden again. She let down her hands, skirt furling down, covering the marks of dark possession that she left behind. “Come see me again sometime, ‘kay?” She chuckled, giggled even, and that glint in her eyes was enough to make you faint.

She stood up, waiting for you to compose yourself and straighten everything out before she pushed open the now-unlocked door and peeked her head out.

Jordan was already on her as the door flew open, and you could hear his hushed nosiness as you hugged the wall and tried to act casual, eyes locked on her retreating back as she reentered the room, light haloing her. ‘So what happened?’ you swore his lips read, and your stomach dropped. But she cut through his questions, loud enough for you to hear, convincing enough that he wouldn’t have anything to run his mouth about later on.

“Nothing man, we were just talking.”

Maybe she was actually just that charming.

Yeah.

#tiki writes #abby x reader #abby anderson x fem reader #abby anderson ff #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson smut #abby tlou #abby tlou smut #abby smut #abby anderson x female reader

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cabinetofquriosities · 11 days ago

Text

1950

Agatha x Rio AU || Warnings: smut

Fic Playlist

(Listen along while reading)

——————————————————

Rio had been tracking her mark for two nights now. Being a private eye in her time was easy, given that no one ever suspected a woman of anything.

She had been paid by Ralph Harkness to see if his wife had another man on the side. It was a pretty routine case for her to get. She would either get proof of her in bed with someone or of her going to a book club. She hoped for the book club, if just to avoid having some blubbering man who never treated his wife right in the first place breaking down in her office.

She had blended well into the background of Agatha’s life, situating herself as another face in the crowd. When she shopped, she was a few aisles over. When she drove, she tailed her two cars back. Now, she was parked around the corner, hidden on a fire escape in a shady neighborhood, watching Agatha through her binoculars.

While Agatha normally wore elegant dresses, she was wearing something closer to a feminine suit with suspenders and the blouse beneath it having the top few buttons undone. Her makeup and hair were flawless, her red lip drawing attention. She adjusted her suit jacket before walking down the street in wing-tipped shoes. It reminded Rio of something that Katherine Hepburn would wear. She looked both beautiful and dashing all in one.

She completely that she was at work as she watched the woman slid past the person guarding the door into what looked like a private club.

“Shit…” she whispered to herself, not having gotten one photo of her.

She decided to go inside. After snapping a picture of the club entrance and Agatha’s convertible, she left her camera in her own car. She made her way to the door of the club, knocking when she realized it was locked.

The door opened, revealing who she thought was a man at first, but was a very masculine woman.

“Hello, Dolly,” she said with a smirk, “First time here?”

Rio smiled nervously, saying, “Yes.”

“Relax, you’re safe here. Have fun,” she said, stepping aside to let her in.

Rio walked inside, her dark green satin dress hugging her form, falling to her knee. Her black hair swept down in a perfect wave to kiss her bare shoulders. She looked around, seeing women everywhere. They were drinking at the bar, dancing on the dance floor, and wrapped up in each other in dark cozy corners. Rio had known of places like this for certain men who lived their lives in secret, but never women.

She walked up to the bar and ordered a martini. She drank it instantly before ordering another, needing a dose of courage. She had followed others into dangerous and sordid places where she felt unsafe, but this place made her uneasy in an entirely different way.

She nursed her second martini, perched on one of the stools as a dapper woman named Syd chatted her up. She caught sight of Agatha across the room. The other woman leaned against the wall, flirting with a young, blushing blonde. As if she felt Rio watching, her eyes flicked over and found hers. Rio’s heart stopped a moment as she looked away. After a few seconds passed, she chanced another glance, finding that Agatha’s eyes were still on her.

Rio looked back at Syd, who had caught on that her attention was somewhere else.

“Sorry, you were saying?” Rio said, sipping her martini.

“Agatha,” Syd said, catching her off guard.

“Syd,” said a familiar voice right behind her.

Rio just about jumped out of her skin. She was normally so calm when out on a job, but something about this woman knocked her off balance.

“Take a walk, Syd. Your girl’s looking for you,” Agatha said, nodding toward a very angry looking woman.

“Shit,” Syd muttered before running over to the other woman with profuse apologies.

“Such a dog,” Agatha said with an arched brow, “So, I haven’t seen you around here.”

Rio played with the toothpick in her drink.

“Yeah… it’s my first time at a place like this.”

“Oh! Well, welcome to the greener grass. No man in sight.”

Rio laughed and said, “Thank you. It is definitely better than any nightclub I’ve been to.”

“I’m Agatha, by the way,” she said, reaching her hand out.

“Vera,” she said, giving her an alias.

Agatha brought Rio’s hand up to her lips, kissing the knuckles, leaving red lipstick behind. Her cheeks burned as she blushed, her reaction betraying her professionalism. Agatha kept her hand in hers.

“Would you like to dance?” she asked as a slow song came on.

“Sure.”

Agatha led her to the dance floor. In one smooth motion, she spun Rio before pulling her in. Her hand rested on her hip and the other held Rio’s.

“So, Vera, are you married or single?” She asked.

“Single, of course,” she said.

“It’s not always the case here. A lot of women need to hide themselves behind a husband.”

“You?”

“Married. Unhappily. I hoped it would at least be peaceful, but that man is drunk most of the time.”

“Oh,” Rio said, “I’m sorry. That sounds terrible.”

“It is. I can’t leave, though.”

“Why not?”

“He would get everything.”

“You… don’t have anything on him?” Rio asked, unable to turn the investigator side of herself off.

“Like what?”

“Well, if he was cheating..”

“He would still get everything. No one would hire a divorcee either. No, I just need to outlive his liver and hope he never notices that his wife prefers the company of women,” she said.

Rio swallowed, realizing how privileged she had been to inherit the money she had to start her investigation business. Most women couldn’t earn the money she did. Now, she was about to completely ruin Agatha’s situation when she had nothing to fall back on.

“Well, I hope his liver fails,” she said.

“Thanks,” Agatha said with a smirk, swaying with her.

Rio pressed her cheek to hers as they danced. Her front was against Agatha’s as she was held by her. She breathed in the other woman’s expensive perfume, finding herself dizzied by it all. She had always told herself that romance was never something that mattered to her. She never felt that spark of attraction with any man. Now, she felt a rush of new emotions swirling around in her mind.

“So…” Agatha whispered, “Why have you been following me?”

Rio’s eyes went wide as she tried to step back. Agatha tightened her hold, clicking her tongue.

“I-I don’t know what you mean,” Rio replied.

Agatha turned her head, her face an inch from Rio’s.

“I suppose he hired you. For a PI, you don’t lie very well. Do I make you nervous?” she asked with a cocky smile.

“I.. n…” Rio stuttered before sighing, “Yes. He hired me. I’m sorry.”

A bit of worry and fear flashed in Agatha’s eyes at the confirmation. Defeat settled into her posture.

“Well, I guess I’m going to be out on the street. No way will my parents have a homosexual daughter in their home.”

“No,” Rio said, “As far as I’m concerned, I found you volunteering to help the homeless.”

“Really?” Agatha asked, stunned as a person who had never been given the benefit of the doubt.

“Really.”

“Thank you, Vera.”

“It’s Rio, actually,” she said.

“Rio, that’s beautiful. Well, thank you Rio,” Agatha said, leaning in and kissing her cheek.

Rio’s blush returned, making her cheeks glow scarlet at Agatha’s touch.

“I’m sure you want to be anywhere but here, now that you don’t need to follow me, but I would like to buy you another drink if you’d like,” Agatha said.

“Sure,” she said, “I actually like it here… I mean, because it’s nice to not have men pawing at me…”

“Of course, Sweetheart,” Agatha said with a smirk.

She ordered them both whiskeys and handed one to Rio.

“Cheers,” she said, sipping hers.

The two talked for another hour. Agatha had Rio laughing and Rio captivated Agatha with work stories. The other people around them seemed to fall away as they only focused on one another in the crowded club.

Agatha rested her hand on Rio’s thigh as she laughed at a joke, kicking up a burst of panic within her. The entire night had been so wonderful but also so confusing.

“I should go,” Rio blurted out.

“O-Oh, okay,” Agatha said, crestfallen and retracting her hand.

“I just need to make sure I get some sleep,” she lied.

“Well, can I walk you out to your car? I mean, I already know what it looks like since I’ve seen it behind me all week.”

“I really need to work on tailing people…” Rio said, “Sure. I would like that.”

She walked outside with Agatha on the empty street, a single light illuminating the sidewalk. Agatha rested her hand on her lower back, guiding her toward the car. Rio felt more from that touch than she had from any kiss she shared with a man.

Once they reached the car, Rio turned to face her.

“Thank you for the drink,” she said.

“Thank you for not ratting me out,” Agatha said, “I really did enjoy your company, though.”

“I did too,” Rio said.

Rio leaned in, hugging Agatha. They held each other for a while, Agatha’s hand rubbing her back. She pulled back slightly to look into Rio’s eyes. Their noses brushed against each other. Rio felt something surrender within her. She closed the distance between them with a kiss. Agatha sucked on her lip, the kiss intensifying immediately.

Agatha pulled back, smiling with smeared lipstick, the two of their shades mixed.

“We should go somewhere less out in the open if we are going to continue this,” Agatha said.

“My place,” Rio said, her usual boldness finally returning to her.

“I’ll follow you for once.”

The two drove their respective cars to the brownstone Rio had bought years ago after her parents passed. She led Agatha inside. The other woman pulled her in by the hand and kissed her slowly, pouring every bit of tenderness she had into it.

“Bedroom?” Agatha whispered.

“Huh? Oh…” Rio asked, every thought having vacated itself.

She took her hand as she brought her upstairs, opening the door to her room. She turned on a lamp, turning to see Agatha stripping her jacket off. Rio walked towards her, taking her suspenders and pulling them down. She unbuttoned the rest of Agatha’s shirt while kissing her again. She felt Agatha reach around her and tug on her zipper, pulling it down to release her from her dress.

Rio was left in her stockings, garters, and brassiere. Agatha pulled back, shamelessly admiring her.

“Wow…” Agatha said softly.

Rio tried to avoid slouching or nervously playing with her hands. She was not used to being regarded in this way. Agatha kept her eyes on her as she stripped herself. Rio was rendered speechless in the presence of a beautiful woman naked in her bedroom.

“Wow…” Rio echoed.

Agatha crossed the room, cupping Rio’s cheeks in her hands. She began to lean in. Rio gripped her wrist with her hand.

“Agatha-“

“Yeah?” Agatha said, her eyes still on her lips.

“I’ve never..”

“Been with a woman before, I figured,” she said.

“Been with anyone before…” Rio said with an air of embarrassment.

Agatha looked into her eyes, taking in the new information. She ran her thumb over her cheek.

“Do you want to stop?” she asked.

“No… I just… thought you should know.”

“I’m glad you told me,” Agatha said with a smile, “We’ll go as slow as you want to.”

She leaned in, locking lips with Rio. She sat at the edge of the bed, pulling Rio to straddle her. She smoothly unhooked her bra, tossing it aside. Her hands cupped her breasts, earning a gasp from Rio. Sitting up, Agatha pressed her lips to her chest. She sucked on the skin beneath it and sucked hard. Rio whimpered at the delicious pain as she was marked.

Her hips rolled over Agatha’s as the more experienced woman teased and toyed with her. Her lips and teeth seemed to be everywhere, leaving love-bites wherever she could. Rio was left breathless once Agatha had claimed every available inch of her.

Agatha pulled back and looked at the flushed woman on her lap. Her lips had faded, smudged lipstick, her hair was mussed, and her eyes dilated. She looked ruined for the first time in her life and the fact that she had caused that fueled Agatha. She moved them, laying Rio down. She wanted to keep Rio’s stockings and garters on, so she elected to grip her panties, tearing the fabric. She tossed the scrap aside and kissed along Rio’s inner thigh, making her squirm.

Agatha was driving her to the edge of her sanity. She looked down at her as the other woman settled between her thighs. Rio’s mouth fell open as Agatha’s lips melted into her.

“Fuck! Agatha… please don’t stop…” Rio breathed.

Agatha moaned against her. The sounds of Rio’s pleading made her hungry for her. She circled her arms around her thighs. Her tongue explored her, parting her and sliding inside. Rio let out a yelp when Agatha found a certain spot hidden inside of her. She ground her tongue against it before pulling out. She pressed her lips to her clit, licking and then sucking on it. She slid a finger into Rio, being gentle while opening her up.

Rio was already embarrassingly close to cumming once Agatha began to fuck her. She felt her heart pounding against her chest, resounding in her ears. She gripped her sheets in her fists and twisted as her body gave in. A moan tore itself from her throat as her pleasure spilled over the edge.

Her body shook as she came down from her high. Agatha kissed her way up her front to her lips. She cupped Rio’s jaw and leaned down, kissing her with her arousal on her lips.

Agatha smirked as her hand stayed between her thighs, drawing out the aftershocks while watching Rio closely. Whimpers left Rio’s lips between shaking breaths. She held the gaze from Agatha’s blue eyes as she tried and failed to regain her senses.

There was a glint of mischief in Agatha’s eye as she slid a second finger into her, moving it slowly to allow her to adjust. Rio let out a shocked moan while Agatha sped her thrusts, her thumb working over her clit. Her pleasure built on top of her previous climax, quickly rushing to a new one.

“You’re being so good for me,” Agatha purred.

The praise washed over her, making her cunt clench around her. She felt her walls flutter around her fingers. Her breath caught, her brows bunching together as she looked into Agatha’s eyes. Agatha was left speechless at the sight of Rio cumming. She stroked her through her aftershocks again before sliding out of her.

Rio ran her hand along the length of Agatha’s side, stopping at her hip. She bit her lip before moving Agatha onto her back.

“Hey, tonight’s about you. You don’t need-“

“I want to,” Rio said, “Just… tell me what to do.”

Rio moved down between Agatha’s thighs, looking at her sex with nothing short of fear. She leaned in and ran her tongue along her slid, earning a whine from Agatha. The feeling of drawing that little bit of pleasure from her had Rio hooked. She gave her clit and cunt kitten licks, testing what worked and what didn’t.

“Inside… slide it inside…” Agatha moaned.

Rio did as she was told, the taste of desire exploding on her tongue. She moved and flexed her tongue, looking for her most sensitive spots. She finally found one that made Agatha buck her hips. She gripped her hips and pinned them to keep her from moving out of reach. She felt a hand in her hair while she fucked her with her tongue. Agatha’s grip made her grind herself against the mattress. She was pulled closer, nearly being suffocated in the most delicious way. Agatha panted faster before her thighs shook and her walls collapsed around Rio’s tongue.

Once the hand in her hair loosened, Rio came up from between her legs, her lips and chin slick with arousal. Agatha cupped her face and pulled her down. She kissed and licked the remnants of her own desire from Rio’s face. Rio held her close, the two of them falling into the same breathing rhythm.

“That was… thank you,” Rio whispered.

“I hope your first time was worth the wait,” Agatha murmured before capturing her lips in another kiss.

“It definitely was. Can I… see you again?” Rio asked with an edge of nervousness.

“I would love that,” Agatha said, kissing her forehead, “I do need to go before Ralph wakes up.”

“Right. Him,” Rio muttered.

“Tomorrow?”

“Where?”

“If you’re any good at your job, you’ll be able to find me.”

————————————

6 months later…

Rio had spent every moment Agatha could get away from the house with her. She fell quickly and deeply in love with the other woman. She knew she would always need her in her life.

She waited in her car with a long ranged lens, her camera aimed at a motel. A man walked out with a half-tucked shirt and a woman half his age. She leaned up and kissed him, his hand gripping her ass.

A smile broke out over Rio’s lips at the sight as she snapped a number of pictures. She drove off and met Agatha at the club.

“So?” Agatha asked.

“You have enough to petition for divorce,” she said.

Agatha beamed at her, nearly tackling her with a hug. The two had agreed to have Agatha move in with Rio once the divorce was granted. The two would run the business and spend their lives together. Agatha pulled Rio into a deep kiss.

“I can’t believe how lucky I am,” she whispered against her lips.

“I’m the lucky one,” Rio said back.

She pulled Agatha out to the dance floor as one of their favorite love songs played. The two danced, holding one another until closing time.

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