#I’m sorry but it’s bad so I’m making up for it

[mugglebornmarvelite]

Game Night

Paring: Avenger! Bucky Barnes x Avenger! Fem! Reader (Grumpy x Sunshine)

Summary: Steve’s mandatory game night takes a turn when you and Bucky are paired up.

Word Count: Roughly 1.4k 

Warnings: Fluff, banter, friendly competition, implied threats, destroying property (Bucky and Sam), romantic tension everyone can feel, and some overprotective Bucky because that man does not play about his sunshine.

Author’s Note: Sorry for the delay; I was helping my friend with a research project. Ugh, it feels choppy, but I hope this is to your liking, babes ;)

Navigation

Divider by: @strangergraphics

The living room buzzed with energy as the Avengers tried to recover from the chaos of their most recent mission; the munching of chips and clinking of drinks in glasses filled the space.

Peter and you were talking animatedly about the mission, with Peter recounting how he flipped mid-air, webbing a bad guy to a nearby wall.

“I mean, I swear, the guy didn’t see it coming. I was way higher up than I thought, and then BAM!” Peter dramatically mimicked the motion with his arms, sending you into fits of laughter.

“It’s honestly kind of unfair that you can just flip your way out of everything, Pete,” you teased, elbowing him.

He shrugged, all smugness. “I mean, someone’s gotta make the web-swinging look good, right?”

Before you could reply, Steve stood up from his spot, clapping his hands for attention. “Alright, team! Time for some mandatory bonding!”

A chorus of groans erupted from the group, each one from someone hoping to escape Steve’s relentless enthusiasm for ‘team-building’ nights.

“Tonight is Charades.” Steve declared.

That’s when Steve decided to assign the partners. He glanced around the room with a twinkle in his eye and paired you with Bucky, clearly anticipating the fun to come.

You gave Bucky your signature puppy dog eyes, and he looked away with a scowl as he crossed his arms over his chest, not wanting to give in and show that he was happy to be partnered with you.

“Oh, great,” Bucky muttered, rolling his eyes. “This is gonna be a disaster.”

You didn’t let his grumpiness throw you off. “Bucky, come on!” you said, plopping beside him on the couch. “We’ve got this! We’re unstoppable!”

Bucky raised an eyebrow and shot you a skeptical look. “Sure, sure. We’ll see about that.”

He didn’t seem convinced, and as Sam overheard, he couldn’t resist adding his two cents.

"Oh, this is gonna be easy," Sam declared loudly, rolling his eyes. "Grumpy Barnes can’t even smile, let alone act."

"You’re gonna regret that," Bucky shot back, his tone thick with warning. 

His words weren’t loud, but they were laced with enough warning that Sam quickly leaned back into his seat, hands raised in mock surrender.

"Okay, okay, I get it," Sam laughed, but you caught the wariness in his eyes. "But not holding my breath, this will be easy."

Then, leaning in toward you, he whispered, “If we lose to that clown, I’m never letting it go.”

You gave him an exaggerated look of disbelief, pretending to be shocked. "Who knew you cared so much about winning?"

Bucky’s lips quirked into the faintest smirk. "Don’t mess this up," he teased.

You winked at him. “You’re with me. How could we lose?”

As the game started, it quickly became clear that Bucky treated charades less like a fun group activity and more like a tactical mission. His intense focus was almost comical, but you fell into an unspoken rhythm. 

When it was your turn to act, Bucky’s sharp eyes locked onto you, and after a few gestures, he almost always guessed your clues. When it was his turn, he leaned into the ridiculousness of it all, whether miming a gorilla or pretending to be a ballerina, just to keep your laughter ringing through the room.

By the end of the game, the scoreboard showed a landslide victory in your favor. Bucky allowed himself a small, smug grin as you squealed in delight and launched yourself into his arms, wrapping your legs around his waist. 

“We’re the dream team!” you exclaimed, giggling as you clung to him.

“Yeah, yeah,” he replied, though his grip on you was secure, his metal arm effortlessly supporting you. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

Much to everyone's amusement, he carried you back to the couch, where he promptly plopped you into his lap. “You’re comfy,” you declared with a grin, making yourself home. 

Sam, clearly displeased, waved a hand in your direction. “This has to be rigged. There’s no way those two didn’t cheat.”

Natasha snorted, leaning back in her chair. “They didn’t cheat, Wilson. They’re just disgustingly in sync.”

Sam grabbed a pillow and chucked it at you. “Sync this!”

The pillow hit you square in the face, and you burst out laughing, holding it in your lap. “It’s just a pillow!”

But Bucky didn’t see it that way. His gaze turned sharp as he caught the second pillow Sam threw mid-air. “If you throw another one at her...”

Sam, of course, took that as a challenge. “What are you gonna do, Barnes?” he quipped, hurling another pillow that you easily dodged.

Bucky’s eyes narrowed. “I’ll give you a five-second head start.”

Sam’s smirk faltered. “Wait, what?”

Without a word, Bucky carefully brushed your hair out of your face, placed you gently on the couch, and stood up. The room went silent as he walked purposefully toward the hallway. 

“What’s he doing?” you asked, looking to Steve for answers.

Steve sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, hiding a smile. “He’s going to smash Redwing.”

Sam’s eyes widened in panic. 

“Barnes, you touch Redwing, I swear-” He bolted after Bucky, and the two disappeared down the hall. 

Moments later, a loud crash echoed through the compound, followed by Sam’s yelling and Bucky’s retorts.

Natasha chuckled, shaking her head as she leaned back on the couch. “This happens all the time.”

You glanced between her and Steve, bewildered. “Doesn’t anyone stop them?”

Steve shrugged. “Nope. They’ll tire themselves out eventually.”

From a distance, the team could hear the muffled sounds of Bucky and Sam bickering echoing through the compound. 

“Touch Redwing, and you’re paying for a whole new one!” Sam’s voice was laced with fear.

“Oh, don’t worry, Wilson,” Bucky shot back, his tone mockingly calm. “I’ll make sure to recycle the pieces. I hear it’s good for the environment.”

A loud thud followed as if Bucky had knocked something over or thrown something against the wall. 

“Man, what is your problem?” Sam hollered. “You act like I threw a brick at her!”

“You hit her in the face!” Bucky retorted.

“It was a pillow!” Sam defended himself. “It probably felt like a marshmallow.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Bucky countered. “You don’t throw things at her. Ever.”

Back in the living room, you stifled a laugh as Natasha shook her head in amused disbelief. “It’s always like this,” she said, smirking. “I don’t know why Sam keeps testing him.”

Steve folded his arms, looking like the exasperated dad of the group. “Because Sam likes pushing buttons. And Bucky…well, Bucky only has so much patience.”

Another crash echoed from down the hallway, followed by Sam’s yell. “Oh, come on! That wasn’t even Redwing! That was my lamp!”

“You’ve got terrible taste in decor, Wilson,” Bucky said, completely unfazed.

“YOU OWE ME A NEW LAMP!” Sam shouted.

“I did you a favor.” Bucky said dryly. “So say ‘thank you,’ it's polite.”

You couldn’t hold back your giggles any longer. “Should we...I don’t know, step in?” you asked, looking at Steve.

Steve shook his head, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Nah. Let them hash it out. Bucky’s not actually going to break Redwing. Probably.”

“Probably?” Natasha echoed. “You’re really putting a lot of faith in him.”

From the hallway, Sam yelled again. “THAT’S IT, BARNES. YOU AND ME. SPARRING MATCH TOMORROW.”

“Fine,” Bucky fired back. “But don’t be mad when I wipe the floor with you, bird brain.”

Natasha leaned over to you, her voice low. “You know he’s only this protective because it’s you, right? He doesn’t care this much when we get hit with stuff.”

You blushed, glancing down at your hands. “He’s just…looking out for me. Like a guardian.”

Natasha snorted. “Yeah, sure. Keep telling yourself that, sweetheart.”

Steve smiled knowingly but didn’t say anything. 

The sounds of Sam and Bucky’s argument gradually faded as they came back.

Sam was glaring, his hair disheveled, and he muttered under his breath about never forgiving Bucky. 

Bucky, on the other hand, was smug, like he had just won a personal victory.

Sam threw himself back down on the couch, muttering something about "not talking to Barnes for the rest of the week," to which Bucky gave a half-hearted shrug.

He sat down beside you, his arm casually draped across the back of the couch. His eyes flicked down to you, and without a word, he reached out to brush his knuckles lightly over your knee.

“You okay, sunshine?” he asked quietly, only for you to hear.

You smiled. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

Bucky’s lips quirked upward, just slightly. “Good,” he said softly. “No one messes with you. Not even Sam.”

The others shared amused looks, but neither of you paid them any mind. Bucky’s protective side made your heart flutter in a way you didn’t quite understand, and you sank further into the couch, curling into his side.

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed!

Tags: @princess-lil-spidey @sapphirebarnes @mgchaser @sparklystarsandstrawberries @arcadia-smith @rnurse-kole @juliebluehufflepuff @sailorsenshiuranep @alexxavicry @ficcharsimp

If you'd like to be added to my taglist or just ask me, and I'll update it!

Much love x

- Maeve

[chxnsgirl]

방찬 x 한 x you ─── needy

♡  ― 󠀬󠀬[ minors do not interact! ] dom!bangchan x sub!han x sub afab!reader . hard dom!chan, brief sub x sub , praise kink , degradation kink , degrading praise , dirty talk , name calling , teasing , oral (m. & f. rec) , face fucking , hair pulling , overstimulation , cunt slapping , use of sex toy , aftercare at the end ♡ ♡ synopsis ― bored and horny, you decide to play with jisung while you wait for chan. however, it doesn't go as planned. [ 5.6k words ] ♡ ― this took me so long because i got caught up with work n had motivation problems.. im so sorry if this is bad jfdklsjgkflf semi proofread. ♡ masterlist

smut below the cut - minors gtfo.

you lay sprawled on your bed, fresh from a warm shower. the soft scent of lilies clung to your skin, and your pretty nightgown flowed loosely around you, paired with fuzzy socks that added to your cozy look. it was a quiet, almost too quiet, night. jisung was in his room across the hall, unusually silent, and chan was still at the studio, leaving the house with an air of emptiness that made you feel a bit lonely.

as if sensing your mood, han peeked into your room. his soft footsteps barely made a sound, but when his gaze landed on you, lying on your stomach with your phone in hand, his expression melted. you looked up at him, your face lighting up with a warmth that made his heart flutter.

“hi, sungie!” you chirped, sitting up on your knees and smiling brightly.

“hi,” he replied softly, stepping inside and taking a seat on the edge of your bed. his hands fidgeted slightly as he glanced at you. “what are you doing?”

“just scrolling,” you said, holding up your phone. without hesitation, you shifted closer, curling up beside him as you opened the app you’d been browsing. “look at these shoes! aren’t they cute?” your eyes sparkled as you showed him a pair of pastel pink platform mary janes, your excitement contagious.

han’s lips curved into a small, fond smile. “you’d look adorable in them,” he murmured, his hand drifting to rest gently on your thigh. his fingers brushed the hem of your nightgown as he spoke, the tender gesture warming you further. “i’ll tell chan to get them for you when he finally gets home—if he ever does.”

you huffed, a playful pout forming on your lips as you set your phone on the nightstand. “he’s been working late too much lately,” you grumbled, leaning back into the pillows dramatically.

han laid down beside you, propping his head on his hand as he watched you. “at least he warned us this time instead of waking us up at 3 a.m. banging around the kitchen,” he teased, his tone lighthearted.

you giggled at the memory, your pout giving way to a smile. “true. that was the worst. i almost threw a pillow at him.”

han chuckled, his face softening as he rested his cheek against the pillow. his fingers absentmindedly spun the silver ring on his finger while his eyes lingered on your face, admiring your playful demeanor. 

“still, he’s so mean for making me wait!” you whined, your fingers absentmindedly toying with the hem of han’s shirt. the soft fabric twisted between your fingertips as your pout deepened. “especially when i’m so…” you trailed off, your cheeks warming as the words caught in your throat.

han tilted his head, curiosity flickering in his gaze as he waited for you to continue. a sly idea sparked in your mind, and you bit your lip before finishing your thought with a quiet, mischievous tone. “…horny.”

han’s face flushed instantly, his eyes widening as if your words had jolted life into him. he blinked, struggling to process, his gaze flickering over you before landing back on your face. “you’re… but channie isn’t…” he began to stammer, his voice soft and unsure.

you placed a finger to his lips to shush him, your grin widening with playful mischief. “what if,” you suggested, crawling closer to him, “we played a little? just while we wait for channie to come home.” you knelt beside him on the bed, your eyes glinting with anticipation as you watched him wrestle with your proposal.

han’s face was a shade of pink that rivaled the shoes you’d shown him earlier. his gaze traveled down your form, hesitant and thoughtful, before he looked back up to meet your eyes. “but what if he gets mad?” he whispered, as if chan could somehow overhear your scheming.

your grin turned into a smirk, a spark of daring lighting up your features. “that’s what makes it more fun, hannie!” you teased, your voice bubbling with excitement.

han’s lips parted as if to protest, but he quickly closed them, his blush deepening as he fidgeted with the hem of his own shirt. “um… okay,” he murmured, his voice barely audible. “but i’m not really feeling, uh, dominant right now…”

you nodded, leaning down so your face was close to his, your voice soft and coaxing. “me neither. but we can make it work, right?” you tilted your head, your expression hopeful as you sought his approval.

han swallowed hard, his fidgeting slowing as he considered your words. finally, he nodded, a shy smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “mhm. yeah, w-we can.”

without another word, you leaned down, running your soft hands along his chest, and giving him tender kisses on his lips. he let out a soft moan in response, leaning into you immediately. 

you felt a spark of exhilaration coursing through you, a mixture of excitement and mischief that left your heart racing. the thought alone—breaking from your usual routine, giving in to this shared craving without waiting for chan—was equal parts thrilling and nerve-wracking.

usually, the three of you would play together. it was a dynamic you were used to, one that felt safe and familiar. you and han would put on a playful show for chan when he got home, teasing and coaxing him into joining. but now, this was different. you weren’t waiting.

the idea was so naughty, so completely against the unspoken rules you’d all naturally fallen into. it sent a shiver through you, equal parts apprehension and desire. the risk made it even hotter—knowing that chan might come home at any moment, that he might catch you in the act, might see how you and han had caved to your shared need before he could take control of the situation.

han seemed to be feeling the same rush, his nervous fidgeting giving way to a subtle shift in his expression. he wasn’t bold by nature, but there was something in his eyes now—a flicker of curiosity, of shared rebellion—that matched the spark in your own.

this wasn’t your first time playing with jisung, not by a long shot. the two of you had shared plenty of intimate moments before, exploring each other’s desires under chan’s guidance or as part of your playful trio. you were no strangers to each other’s touches, no strangers to the way your chemistry crackled when the mood struck.

but this? this was different. you’d never done this together when both of you were feeling like this—soft, shy, hesitant, both naturally leaning toward the same submissive energy. there was no one to take the lead, no steady hand or commanding voice to guide you.

in a frenzy of passion, you and jisung were already intertwined and touching each other. your movements were needy and hurried, driven by an insatiable desire for each other. you clung to him, wrapping your body around his as you straddled him. whimpers escaped your lips as you ground against him through his sweatpants.

jisung was already achingly hard, unable to resist the urge to touch and be touched by you. "y/n," he whispered desperately, his fingertips digging into your thighs as he guided your movements. "sungie," you moaned in response, leaning forward and clinging onto the pillows in an attempt to steady yourself.

his hands roamed upwards, pushing up your nightgown to reveal your light pink panties that were now rubbing against his hardened member with fervent urgency.

his voice was laced with sweetness as he asked, "can i see you, y/n?" you nodded eagerly, a giddy excitement bubbling in your chest. his hands clenched the bottom of your nightgown, pulling it up and over your head in one swift motion.

now clad only in fuzzy socks and panties, you resumed grinding against him, feeling his warmth through the fabric of his clothes. with each movement, he grew more flushed and his hands became bolder and more eager, exploring every inch of your skin with an intoxicating fervor. his fingertips dug into your breasts, pinching and teasing your nipples, while his palms kneaded and caressed your flesh.

lost in your heated touches and kisses, both you and jisung missed the text from chan, announcing that he’d be leaving a couple hours early. “lemme taste you,” han said shyly, slight pleading laced in his voice. he tugged a little on your panties and you whined at his words. “mmh, okay, hannie.” you giggled, rolling off him for a moment and pushing your panties off. 

he laid back against the bed, head by the foot-end, waiting eagerly for you to sit on his face. you crawled up, your soft, velvety thighs on either side of his head as you hesitantly hovered above his waiting mouth.

 he wrapped his arms around your thighs and impatiently yanked you down, immediately latching his mouth to your sopping cunt. his mouth worked urgently, his tongue swiped over your wet folds quickly, drinking you in. 

you let out a shocked moan, watching him bury his face in your mound. he flicked his tongue on your clit, the lewd noises making you both blush. “oh-oh, hannie, right there!” you cried, reaching down and gripping his hair in an attempt to hold his head still. 

lost in pleasure, you began to desperately ride his face, grinding your clit onto his tongue, your hips rolling quickly. you didn’t even notice that one of han’s hands left your thigh to pull his leaking cock out and stroke it. he whimpered against your cunt, his hand pumping furiously around his length as he ate you up like he was starving. 

“sungie, i’m s-so close,” you panted, tugging on his hair with both strands as you chased your orgasm. he let out a choked moan in response, too consumed by you to respond coherently. he cried against your flesh, only adding vibrations and heightening your pleasure. 

with a cry, you came, falling forward and gripping onto the footboard until your knuckles turned white, your overstimulated cunt still grinding up against han’s swollen lips. he made out with your sex, too pussydrunk to pull away on his own. you let out a weak whine, finally looking up from the floor to see chan standing in the doorway.

your breath hitched, and you pulled yourself off han’s mouth, making him whine from the loss of you. “y/n,” he pouted, before following your gaze. he blushed and tried to cover himself up. 

chan stood in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, his gaze fixed on the scene before him. his expression was unreadable, a mixture of disappointment, frustration, and something darker simmering beneath the surface. the intensity of his presence was enough to make you freeze, your hands faltering on the footboard as the weight of the situation settled over you.

“what,” chan’s voice was calm, low, and dangerously controlled, “do you two think you’re doing?”

jisung shifted uncomfortably, still flushed and disheveled. you squeaked, grabbing the nearest blanket to cover yourself as you avoided chan’s piercing gaze.

“channie, i—” you began, your voice trembling, but he held up a hand to silence you.

“i don’t remember giving either of you permission to start without me,” he said, his tone sharp but measured. he stepped into the room, his movements deliberate, his presence filling the space. “is that how we do things now? you just… indulge yourselves while i’m gone?”

jisung whimpered, sitting up on the bed with his head bowed, propped up on his elbow. “we didn’t mean to—”

“didn’t mean to?” chan cut him off, his voice rising slightly, though still calm. “because it looks to me like you knew exactly what you were doing. both of you.”

he turned his gaze to you, and the weight of his stare made you squirm. “look at me,” he commanded, his voice firm. slowly, you lifted your eyes to meet his, your cheeks burning with shame.

“do you know how disappointed i am?” he continued, his tone softer now but no less commanding. “i expect better from both of you. you know the rules, don’t you?”

“yes, channie,” you murmured, your voice barely audible.

“then why did you break them?” his question hung in the air, and the silence that followed felt oppressive.

“we were just…” jisung tried to explain, but the words faltered on his tongue.

chan let out a deep sigh, running a hand through his hair as he took a few more steps into the room, his commanding presence never wavering. “you’re both going to make this up to me,” he said finally, his tone leaving no room for argument. “but first, you’re going to tell me exactly why you thought this was a good idea.”

his eyes flicked between you and jisung, his gaze expectant. neither of you dared to speak at first, the tension thick in the room.

“well?” he prompted, crossing his arms again. “i’m waiting.”

“i was just so.. worked up, and.. you weren’t gonna be home for a few hours..” you trailed off, a blush of embarrassment painting your cheeks. 

chan was well aware that you were the instigator. han would never have dared to break the rules on his own; he was easily swayed into mischief, especially if it meant indulging in moments with you. chan knew exactly who the true brat between the two of you was.

his eyes roamed over you and jisung, and a playful twinkle sparked in his eye, as if he noticed something. 

he walked over to you both, tsking. “you two made quiet the mess, didn’t you?” he said lowly, eyes flicking from you to han, who was tugging his shirt down over his tummy for the life of him. “what? no..” you objected, straightening up. chan reached you both, pulling han’s shirt up to reveal his cum-covered stomach. 

“are you sure?” he asked, a brow raised. you bit your tongue, your heart thumping. han must of came while you were sitting on his face. you looked from the mess on his stomach to look at han. han blushed, avoiding eye contact with both of you. 

“clean him up,” chan said firmly, his eyes not leaving yours. “wh-what?” you stuttered, clutching the blanket to your chest. “you heard me,” he took the blanket from around your body, tossing it on the other side of the bed, before petting the back of your head. “clean him up.” 

you swallowed hard, crawling back towards jisung on trembling hands and knees. both of your faces were flushed a deep shade of red, feeling exposed and caught in this intimate moment. but you trusted chan, knowing he would never make you do something you didn't want to do. and you all had established a safeword to use if things ever got too intense.

seeing chan worked up and angry only added to the heat pooling between your thighs. jisung bit his lip, watching as you leaned forward and stuck your tongue out, licking up the droplets of his release that had landed on his stomach. you took your time, savoring the taste and the sensation of your tongue against his skin.

as you bent down to clean up the mess, a hand glided over your inner thigh, causing you to shiver with anticipation. chan was teasingly prodding at your swollen pussy, gauging just how aroused you were. his touch sent sparks of pleasure through your body.

suddenly, you felt a sharp sting on your sex, causing you to yelp and jolt. "such a dirty girl, playing without me.." chan almost growled, rubbing your clit with agonizing slowness. you couldn't help but whimper quietly, peeking back at him with pleading eyes. he met your gaze, his own dark with lust and something else that made your heart race even faster. "quiet," he ordered firmly before giving your cunt another stinging slap.

you bit back a moan, squeezing your eyes shut. han squirmed, the scene in front of him daring to make him hard once again. “play with han while i play with your little cunt,” he instructed, dipping behind you on the bed. you looked up at han, who was still a shy, fidgety mess. 

as you leaned forward, your heart raced at the intensity of the situation. you were hyper aware of every sound in the room—the rustle of fabric, the low hum of chan’s steady breathing behind you, and the soft, stifled noises jisung made as you wrapped your lips around the tip of his cock.

jisung shuddered beneath you, his fingers gripping the sheets tightly as he tried to keep still. his lips parted as a quiet whimper escaped, and you couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride at the reaction you drew from him.

behind you, chan’s hands gripped your hips firmly, pulling you closer to him as his other hand explored the wetness between your thighs. his touch was calculated, purposeful, and every slow stroke sent sparks shooting through your body.

“look at you,” chan murmured, his voice dripping with dominance. “so eager to please now that you’ve been caught. where was all this obedience earlier?”

you moaned softly against jisung, the vibrations making him squirm under your touch. chan’s hand gripped your hair, tugging your head up slightly to make you pause. “i asked you a question,” he said, his tone sharper now.

“s-sorry, channie,” you stammered, your voice breathless.

“sorry isn’t going to cut it,” he said, letting go of your hair and giving your ass a sharp slap that made you yelp. “you’re going to show me you’re sorry.”

he spread you open further, his fingers sliding into you effortlessly as he worked you with precision. you gasped, struggling to focus on jisung, whose flushed face and trembling hands showed he was on the verge of losing himself.

“eyes on him,” chan ordered, his fingers curling inside you just right. “he’s your responsibility now. make him feel good while i remind you who you belong to.”

you nodded quickly, returning your attention to jisung as your hand wrapped around his base, your lips sliding down his length with practiced ease. he whined, his cock becoming fully hard now due to your ministrations. he bucked his hips slightly, unable to control his reactions, his shy demeanor melting away as pleasure overtook him.

chan’s rhythm behind you was relentless, his free hand gripping your waist tightly to hold you in place. he leaned forward, his breath warm against your skin. “that’s it,” he purred, his voice sending a shiver down your spine. “such a good little whore, aren’t you?”

your body was alight with sensation, torn between the overwhelming pleasure chan was giving you and the thrill of hearing jisung’s soft, broken cries as he teetered on the edge. 

the room was suffused with heat, every motion and sound building the intensity between the three of you. jisung's broken whimpers filled the air as he trembled beneath you, his body straining against the pleasure you were giving him.

behind you, you heard the clinking of metal and the shuffle of fabric, you could only assume he was freeing himself from his pants. chan’s grip on your hips tightened, and you could feel the heat of his body pressing closer to yours.  

you gasped softly, feeling his cock brush against your slick lips, and he ground himself against them, lubricating himself.  before you could respond, chan leaned over you, his breath warm against your back as his fingers dug into your waist. “keep your focus on hannie, baby.” he commanded, his tone leaving no room for argument.  

you nodded obediently, your lips wrapping around jisung’s cock again, savoring the way he moaned your name in soft, desperate breaths. his hips bucked slightly, and you held him steady, your hand stroking him in tandem with your mouth.  

chan shifted behind you as he guided himself to your entrance. the blunt, thick head of his cock pressed against your soaked folds, and you tensed in anticipation, your body already aching to feel him fill you.  

“relax,” chan whispered, his hand stroking your back in a fleeting moment of gentleness. then, with one smooth thrust, he entered you, filling you completely. a sharp cry escaped your lips, muffled around jisung as the sudden fullness sent a wave of pleasure crashing through you.  

chan groaned low in his throat, his hands gripping your hips as he stilled for a moment, letting you adjust to the stretch. “you’re squeezing me, baby,” he rasped, his voice rough with need. “mm.. f-fuck.”  

you whimpered against jisung, your body trembling as chan began to move, his thrusts slow and deliberate at first, each one drawing a broken moan from your lips. jisung was a writhing mess beneath you, his hands clutching at the sheets as his own pleasure built.  

“don’t stop,” chan growled, his pace quickening, his voice sending a thrill through you. “make him come for me. show him how good you are.”  

driven by his command, you redoubled your efforts on jisung, your lips and tongue working in perfect harmony to bring him closer to the edge. the sounds of his moans and chan’s deep, guttural groans blended into a symphony of raw, unrestrained desire.  

every thrust from chan sent you spiraling further into bliss, your body caught between the overwhelming pleasure of being filled by him and the intoxicating power of watching jisung fall apart under your touch.  

“such a perfect little thing,” chan murmured, his voice strained as his movements grew rougher. jisung sat up, little whimpers leaving his lips as he neared release. he propped himself up on his elbow with one arm, the other hand leaving the sheets to grip your hair. “a-ah, g-gonna cum,” he whined, his brows knitting together.

chan leaned forward, pushing your head slightly. “take all of him, or i pull out right now,” he ordered, his voice low and intimidating. you whimpered in response, but you obeyed, leaning down and deepthroating jisung. 

his eyes rolled back into his head, and he fell back against the bed once again, both hands gripping your hair as he thrusted up into your throat. “c-coming!” he cried, holding your head down, your nose touching his base as he erupted in your throat. chan’s pace was unrelenting, he kept ramming into you as you throated han. 

you gagged and coughed, your eyes watering as you looked up at jisung. chan growled, slapping your ass harshly, making the sound almost echo in the room. he dug his nails into your stinging skin, making you yelp around jisung’s overstimulated cock. “swallow it all..” chan demanded, his voice hoarse. 

you obeyed and swallowed all you could, then licked any remainders off han’s length. han panted, nearly boneless underneath you and chan, his eyes glazed over. 

chan pulled out momentarily, his hands still on your hips. “sung, come here.” he said firmly as han tucked himself back into his sweatpants shyly. chan whispered in han’s ear for a few seconds, before turning his attention back to you as han left the room. he helped flip you onto your back, using his hands to part your pretty thighs. 

“there’s my dirty little girl,” he ran his hands up your sides, before groping and kneading your tits. “sungie’s getting you a surprise,” he grinned, squeezing your mounds roughly. your heart raced in anticipation, and as if on cue, han returned, a wand vibrator in hand.

you whined, knowing what was coming. “no, channie, please, i-” 

chan interrupted you with a sharp slap to your cunt, making you cry out in a mix of pain and pleasure. “you don’t get a say.” he growled, gripping your thighs and tugging you closer to him. “you lost that when you decided to be a bad girl and play without me.” you whimpered, biting your lip as he caught his dick with his thumb and pushed it back inside you. 

jisung looked down at you with a sympathetic look as he sat next to you on the bed. he felt bad that you were getting the punishment, even though technically you did start it. chan’s strokes were slow, deliberate, and teasing. his strong, veiny hands pushed your thighs down against your torso, practically folding you in half. 

“do it, han.” chan said, making sure to give han access to between your legs. han turned on the massager, putting it on the highest setting. he dragged it against your pubic bone before pressing it to your clit right away. you cried out, whimpering. your cunt fluttered around chan, earning a quiet groan of satisfaction from him. 

chan leaned back, giving han room to press it firmer against your skin. you clawed at the bedding under you, your thighs shaking violently. “n-no, too much!” you gasped, looking up at chan with pleading eyes. he just smirked, speeding up his pace, short pants and breathless moans occasionally leaving his lips. “you say no,” he started, he fingertips digging into your inner thighs. “but your little cunt is saying the opposite, babygirl. gripping me so good, fuck,” 

han pressed the vibrator firmer on your clit, making you squirm and cry out. your legs couldn’t stop shaking, and you were sure you were starting to see stars. 

your body trembled as the relentless sensations built, overwhelming you completely. the combination of chan’s unyielding thrusts and the intense vibrations against your clit sent you hurtling over the edge. a choked scream tore from your lips as your orgasm crashed through you like a tidal wave, leaving you gasping and clutching desperately at the sheets.

your walls clenched tightly around chan, drawing a low, guttural moan from him as he fought to maintain control. “that’s it, good girl,” he growled, his pace never faltering. “come for me—show me how much you can take.”

but even as your body spasmed and your release soaked his cock, neither of them stopped. the vibrator pressed insistently against your oversensitive clit, and chan’s movements only seemed to grow rougher, pushing you past the threshold of pleasure into the realm of overstimulation.

“p-please, channie,” you whimpered, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes as your body writhed beneath them. “i can’t—it’s too much!”

chan’s eyes darkened with lust as he leaned closer, his lips brushing against your ear. “you can, and you will,” he murmured, his voice dripping with dominance. “i’ll decide when you’ve had enough.”

han, emboldened by chan’s control, kept the vibrator pressed firmly to your swollen clit, his own breath hitching as he watched your every reaction. “she looks so pretty like this,” he mumbled, his cheeks flushed with heat.

chan smirked, his hand trailing up your trembling thigh to grip your waist. “she loves it,” he said, his tone firm and confident. “don’t you, baby? you love being pushed past your limits.”

a strangled moan escaped your lips as another wave of pleasure threatened to crest, your overstimulated body betraying you. your hips bucked uncontrollably, chasing the sensations even as they overwhelmed you.

“look at her,” chan continued, his voice laced with pride as he pistoned in and out of you. “she’s taking it so well—my perfect little slut.”

the praise sent shivers down your spine, and before you could protest again, the coil in your tummy snapped once more, a second orgasm crashing into you with devastating force. your cries filled the room as your body convulsed, tears streaming down your cheeks.

still, chan didn’t stop, his cock driving into you with relentless precision, and the vibrator continued to torment your overstimulated clit. the intensity was unbearable, your mind teetering on the edge of blissful oblivion.

“that’s it, sweetheart,” chan murmured, his tone softening just enough to make you feel both cared for and completely under his control. “you can take it. i know you can.”

your body was trembling uncontrollably, every nerve alight with sensation as chan and han worked you mercilessly. the overwhelming combination of chan's deep, unrelenting thrusts and the vibrator against your throbbing clit had you sobbing with pleasure. you had lost track of how many times you’d come, your body wrung out and still teetering on the edge of another release.

“p-please,” you sobbed, your voice cracking with desperation. “it’s too much… i can’t—”

“can’t?” chan repeated mockingly, his smirk dark and unyielding. he leaned down, capturing your tear-streaked face with his intense gaze. “you’ve been saying that for a while now, sweetheart, but look at you.” he punctuated his words with a sharp thrust that made your back arch and another broken cry spill from your lips. “you’re still taking it so well. you were made for this.”

“come on, baby,” chan said, his voice low and laced with hunger. his thrusts grew rougher, each one pushing you closer to the breaking point.

your body arched off the bed as the pressure in your core became unbearable. your moans turned into cries, your legs trembling uncontrollably as another orgasm ripped through you. but even as you came, chan didn’t stop. the overstimulation sent shockwaves through your entire body, making you sob as the vibrator continued to torment your oversensitive clit.

“channie, i—” you tried to form words, but they dissolved into a choked scream as the pressure in your core shifted. the sensation was overwhelming, a heat spreading through you as your body teetered on the brink of something even more intense.

“let go,” chan growled, his pace unrelenting. “come on, sweetheart, one more big one. that’s it.”

han’s expression was full of anticipation as he watched you, his hand caressing the inside of your thigh. 

before he could say something, the dam broke. a gush of liquid escaped you, soaking chan’s thighs and the sheets beneath you as your body convulsed in release. a strangled moan tore from your lips as you completely unraveled, your mind blank and your body overwhelmed by the force of your climax.

“fuck, that’s it,” chan groaned, his hips stuttering as he watched you squirt, his grip on your thighs firm but steadying. “that’s my good girl.”

“are you okay, jagi?” han asked, his voice filled with awe and concern. he reached out hesitantly, running his fingers gently along your trembling thighs. as chan slowed down, giving you time to recuperate. 

you gave him a slow, tiny nod as you lay there, utterly spent, your chest heaving as your body twitched from the aftershocks. chan resumed, gradually speeding back up and giving you the option to tap out if need be. 

chan's thrusts resumed at a steady rhythm, his eyes never leaving your face as he watched your every reaction. his grip on your thighs was firm but gentle, ensuring you stayed grounded even as the intensity built once more. your body trembled under him, every nerve still raw and sensitive, but the way he looked at you—equal parts adoration and desire—kept you anchored.

“just a little more, sweetheart,” chan murmured, his voice low and soothing. “you can take it. almost done.”

han stayed close by, his hand still stroking your thigh in comforting circles, his expression soft with concern and admiration. “you’re doing so well, jagiya,” he whispered, his voice barely above a breath. 

the pace of chan’s hips quickened as his breathing became heavier. his hands slid up to hold your hips, pulling you closer with each thrust. you whimpered softly, your body instinctively responding despite the overwhelming sensations coursing through you.

“i’m close,” chan groaned, his voice strained. he leaned down, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. “just stay with me, baby. almost there.”

with a few more deep, powerful thrusts, chan buried himself fully inside you, a guttural moan escaping his lips as he reached his peak. his hips stilled as he released, warmth spreading through you as he held you close, his face buried in the crook of your neck. he littered soft kisses on your jawline and cheeks, then ending them on your lips. 

for a moment, the room was quiet except for the sound of your combined heavy breathing. chan stayed still, letting you both come down from the intensity. then he carefully pulled out, making sure not to cause you any discomfort. han immediately went to go get a warm, damp towel, then he returned, gently pressing it against your thighs and stomach to clean you up.

chan helped you change into something comfortable, and han changed the bedding for you since you ended up making a mess of them just moments prior. 

“you did so well,” chan murmured as you both lay back down, his tone full of pride and affection. he helped you shift into a more comfortable position, pulling the covers over your trembling body. “so proud of you, baby.”

han slid into the bed with you, his fingers brushing your hair back as he leaned down to press a soft kiss to your temple. “you were amazing,” he said softly. “so beautiful.”

the two of them worked together seamlessly, their movements tender as they made sure you were warm and comfortable. chan lifted you gently into his arms, cradling you against his chest as han brought you a glass of water and held it to your lips.

“drink, baby,” han coaxed, his voice sweet and soothing. “you need to stay hydrated.”

you sipped the water gratefully, your body still trembling slightly as the aftereffects of everything began to fade. chan stroked your back in slow, calming motions, his lips brushing against your forehead as he whispered words of reassurance.

“you’re safe,” he murmured. “we’ve got you. always.”

the three of you settled into the bed together, chan holding you close while han cuddled up on your other side, his fingers intertwined with yours. the warmth of their bodies and the gentle rhythm of their breathing lulled you into a peaceful state, a soft smile tugging at your lips as you drifted off, feeling cherished and loved.

tags: @ritsmith @bluesungology @jeonginsleftcheek @babigriin

©chxnsgirl do not repost, translate, or copy my works in any way, shape, or form.

[no-144444]

total wipe out- l.norris

summary: lando has a chance encounter that changes his life

pairing: lando norris x fem! single mom! reader

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

Lando had a habit of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. This time, his skiing holiday had turned into a disaster when he fucking ran over a child. Impressive, I know. The second he did it he slowed down and started to book it back to the kid who was probably sobbing crying (he’d hit it at full force). 

“Are you alright?!” he stressed, picking up the kid (who had been stuck in the snow). 

And the fucker was giggling. 

“That was fun!” he cheered, clapping his hands. “Do it again!” 

Did he have brain damage? Did he just give a child fucking brain damage? 

“Alex!” you shouted, stopping beside the two of them. “Are you alright?” you asked, taking him in your arms and checking him over. 

“I’m fine mommy! I had so much fun!”

You stared at your son, unimpressed. The mini heart attack you’d just had was all for nothing. “You’re a weird fucking kid,” you mumbled under your breath, making Lando laugh. You turned to him. “I am so sorry about him, I always tell him to stay by me, but he doesn’t listen-”

Lando chuckled, holding a hand up to stop you. “I am almost sure it was my fault, so I am very sorry. I hope he’s alright and I didn’t give him brain damage or something.”

You laughed. “Let’s hope not,” you smiled. “Sorry again.”

He shook his head. “I’m sorry too.”

And with that, you and Alex skated off. 

“What the fuck was that?!” Max shouted, coming up beside him with Pietra hot on his tail. “YOU JUST WIPED OUT A KID!” 

Lando rolled his eyes. Max, ever the pessimist. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

As he sat in his cabin, just finished winning a game of poker, he sighed, thinking of you and Alex. Obviously, Lando hadn’t seen anything other than your hair (which he thought was gorgeous), and your eyes when you’d lifted your sunglasses to look over Alex. You had hauntingly beautiful eyes, and he was slightly upset with himself that he hadn’t tried to chat with you longer. You were sweet, kind, funny, beautiful (he just knew you were gorgeous). He wanted to know more. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

Hanging around the same slope as yesterday in hopes of seeing you there was probably not his best idea, but alas, his dumb plan worked. He saw the familiar dinosaur helmet on the 4 year olds head, and he smiled when he noticed Alex whizzing up to him. 

“Alex!” he cheered, watching him come down the mountain, a bright smile on his face. 

Alex walked over and wrapped his arms around Lando’s legs. “Did you see?” he questioned, looking up at him. 

Lando’s heart ached, he adored children. Alex was definitely not helping his raging baby fever. “I did bud! That was awesome.”

“Are you a professional skier?” he asked.

“No,” Lando smiled, kneeling down to meet his eyes. Your eyes, just smaller. “But I am a professional athlete.”

“What sport?!” he asked, his eyes going wide. “My favourite sport is Formula One, but I like all sports anyway.”

“Who’s your favourite driver?” Lando asked, suppressing a smirk as he took his balaclava down. 

“Lando Norris!” he cheered, jumping up and down. 

Lando finally took off his goggles and Alex’s jaw dropped. “Holy shit!” he almost shouted, making Lando laugh. 

“Alex!” you scolded, walking over to him. “What did we say about bad words?” 

“Momma look, he’s Lando Norris!” Alex cheered, pulling on your jacket. 

“Holy shit,” you mumbled, looking at him. “Hi, I’m Y/n, and this is Alex,” you introduced. “We meet again.”

He smiled. “It’s nice to see you again.”

“Do you mind if Alex gets a picture with you? You’re his favourite driver,” you asked, trying to sound less awkward than it felt. 

“Of course, I’d love to,” Lando smiled, more than happy to get in a photo with him. Alex stood up beside him, hugging him, as Lando smiled wide and bright. You quickly snapped a picture and thanked him. 

“Momma, can we go again?” Alex asked, pointing at the top of the mountain. 

“We should probably head in for dinner darling,” you said. Alex frowned. “You’re hungry, I know you’re hungry.”

Alex huffed. “I want to go again though.”

“We’ll go again tomorrow,” you smiled, patting his back. 

“Alright,” he smiled. “Bye bye Lando!” 

“Thanks again,” you smiled at him. 

“I’m heading in too now,” he said. “Mind if I join you guys?”

You stared at him for a second. “Um, yeah, sure,” you smiled. “Of course.”

Alex beamed and held Lando’s hand as you all walked back to the resort. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

Dinner was just listening to Alex ask Lando questions about his life, about the cars, about everything. It was cute, and Lando was so willing to listen to every question, and adequately answer them. As dinner went on, you noticed the way he kept looking over at you, soft, sweet, staring that didn’t make you uncomfortable. And when he was the one carrying Alex back up to your hotel room, and wishing him sweet dreams, he didn’t mind it. 

“Thanks for everything today, you’ve definitely made his year,” you chuckled. 

“It was nice to meet you guys. Alex is a lovely kid,” he nodded, but there was still something unsaid. He wanted to ask for your number, but didn’t want to overstep, and he could feel the tension between you two. “I’m just going to say this, and you can totally say no and I’ll back off but could I get your number?”

You stared at him. “Is that a joke?” you asked, unsure. 

“Oh shit, are you married? Fuck I didn’t know-”

“No, no! I’m not. It’s just… you’re… y’know, and I’m not. I’m a single mom and you’re a racecar driver.”

He shrugged. “And? I really like you, and Alex.”

“Be realistic Lando, what would people say?” 

“That I’ve got a very hot and sweet girlfriend and a cute stepson?” he smirked and you playfully pushed him. 

“You can have my number, but I’m not promising any of that,” you chuckled, grabbing your phone.

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

Australian GP. First race of the season. 

And you were sitting in Lando’s hotel room before he had to go to the track. How your life had changed in the past few months. You were officially dating an F1 driver, you’d been to Monaco a lot, Lanod had visited London a lot, and you were happy. Alex adored Lando, they literally went on day trips together without you (Lando says it’s so you can have time with your friends, but you know it’s just because he wants to hang out with him). 

“You ready to go, bud?” Lando knocked on the door of the hotel bathroom, trying to get Alex out of there. 

“Almost, just need to wash my hands!” he answered. 

“You ready?” he asked, turning to you and pressing a kiss to your cheek. He was excited. Extremely so, to have you in his garage and to show you off to the world. 4 months of dating hardly seemed enough, but he had convinced you anyway. 

You nodded and took a deep breath, slightly terrified for this weekend. 

“You’ll do great,” he whispered, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you against him. “Everything will be alright.”

You nodded and smiled, taking his hand instead as Alex came out of the bathroom. “All finished mom,” he smiled and took your hand. 

Lando stopped you two and smiled. “Pre-race weekend selfie?” he smiled bashfully. You smiled back at him and lifted up Alex, all three of you posing for the photo. “Perfect,” he smiled, looking at the photo, then kissing your cheek. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

navigation for my blog :)

mclaren masterlist

[phosphns]

⌗ . . . bathroom sex with dealer!chris

warns. smut. oral [f. receiving]. unprotected sex [don’t be silly]. porn without plot. creampie. explicit language. degradation kink. pet names [doll, baby, princess]. teasing, lowercase intended.

“chris — please — move!” your hips instinctively nudged forward, searching for just a shred of contact with his fingers, which where buried deep inside you, still.

he shook his head, amused by your pathetic reaction at his touch. “uh-huh. you’ve been such a bad girl the instant we stepped into this party,” he said, keeping his free hand at the side of your head, trapping you between his body and the wall.

when he dragged you into this bathroom by the arm you knew what was coming. you actually had seen it coming from the moment you decided to wear that tight, little dress — the one he expressly affirmed he didn’t want you to wear.

“you knew this would happen, didn’t you?” he suddenly curled his fingers inside you, caressing your insides, making you let out a load moan. “you acted so bossy out there with that douchebag, what happened now?” he added, alluding to your wasted status.

he had in fact barely touched you, pushing you against the cold tiles and lifting your slutty garment up to your navel as soon as you entered the bathroom and you already were a moaning mess, craving for more of his touch.

“please chris — i-i need you,” you said blubbering. he smirked down at you. “need me to what?” he teased. you could tell he was holding back. his eyes were dark and glossy in lust and desire and if you only moved your leg a little bit you could’ve felt the hard-on that was starting to grow between his legs.

“need you.. need you to- to make me feel good,” you were slurring your words, trying to stay still to not upset him more, even if everything you could feel in that moment was your aching core begging to be relieved.

he bit his lips, moving his head in disapproval “gonna need something more, princess” the brunette said, approaching dangerously to your face. he started to leave a trail of wet kisses all over your jaw and neck.

you swore you were about to lose it and starting fucking yourself on his fingers on your own.

“chris — chris — please make me cum. i need it- need you so bad,” you begged him miserably, closing your eyes at the overwhelming sensation of his mouth on your collarbone.

“look at me — he grabbed your chin with two fingers, making your eyes flutter open — y’think you deserve it?” he said, pulling away from your chest and looking at you in your eyes, which were imploring for some kind of contact. “you deserve to cum after acting like a slut in front of me and the whole party? mh?”

he started to move his middle and pointer finger inside you painfully slowly, making your spine shiver and your mouth let out a whimper. his thumb reached your swollen clit, rubbing it just as slowly. you tried to say something but a low whine broke the words in your throat.

“mh? fuckin’ answer me,” his fingers went abruptly deeper, while he placed his knee between your legs, blocking them to close.

“i don’t! i was such a slut! i’m sorry- please i’m sorry!” you almost screamed in frustration.

he sharply removed his fingers from my heat, grabbing you by the waist and turning you around, making you face the big mirror. “i think you need a reminder of who you belong to,” he roamed his hands all over your body, caressing your hips sensually.

you could feel his boner pocking onto your ass, so you pushed back on purpose, trying to have some friction. “mhm, you surely need it,” he added, before shoving two fingers inside your pussy once again, this time his pace was fast and rough.

your eyes closed again due the overstimulation that you were accumulating. “didn’t ya understand me? i want those pretty eyes open,” he repeated. what you saw once you accomplished was your reflection being fingered-fucked by your boyfriend, and that did nothing but turn you on even more.

your mouth kept letting out a sequence of moans and whines, as you felt the familiar tension building up in your stomach. “god — right there, don’t stop, please”

his gaze was fixed on his digits appearing and disappearing inside you, moving it on your face when you letted out a nearly pornographic moan. “you like bein’ treated like the whore y’are, don’t you?”

“yes, yes, yes,” you repeated like a mantra, getting off on the wet sounds that the contact made. he speeded up his pace, pumping his fingers furiously in and out of you, knowing that you were getting closer and closer.

as you were about to reach your climax, he stopped again, making you groan. “no, no please, i was so close!” you cried out.

he ignored you, removing his hand for the umpteenth time that night to hook his fingers onto the fabric of your panties, pulling them down to your knees. “if you’re gonna cum, you’re gonna do it on my cock,” he said, pushing your back down, so that you were bent over the counter.

he didn’t waste time to pull down his zipper and take out his length, that slapped on his stomach because of the stimulation. his red mushroom tip was leaking pre-cum, streaming down his erection.

he took it in his free hand and beat it a few times, before lining it up with my entrance. he rubbed it between my folds, gathering some of your juices as lube. “these were your intentions f’this party, isn’t that right?” he kept teasing.

you arched your back, trying to have his dick finally buried deep inside you, as you, indeed, had tried all night long. “please chris — i-i need it” you mumbled, biting your bottom lip so hard that almost bled.

“you knew i had deals to take care of, and yet, there you were, grinding yourself on some random jerk” he traced a finger on your back, from your neck to your ass, delivering an harsh slap on your right cheek.

you were a mess at this point, your stare on his face, on his lips, on his body, in the hope that he would’ve done something anytime soon.

suddenly, he slammed his hips forward, making your eyes roll back in your head from the shock. he didn’t give you time to adjust to his size, he just began to move in and out roughly, his pace fast and constant. his hands rested firmly on your hips, you both breathing heavily as he hit all the deeper spots.

one of his hands flew to your bundle of nerves, grazing against it to add pleasure at your already near climax.

“chris” you moaned, saying the only thing you were able to vocalize. your face was contorted in gratification, your knuckles becoming white due the hard grip you had on the counter.

“shit — i know baby,” he whispered, continuing to slam his hips on your ass, his balls on your clit. his grasp grew harder on your skin, sign that he was close too.

you started feeling the peak in your stomach, your legs becoming jelly and trembling. you couldn’t hold back anymore. “i’m gonna come — god, chris i’m ‘bouta —”

“fuuck — cum for me, doll” he told you, continuing thrusting in you nonstop.

it only took you one sentence and a few moments to start creaming on his cock, feeling it twitching inside you. “aah — chris… oh my god” 

you finally felt l his cum spurting in your cunt, the warm liquid filling you up. he pulled out, letting out one last moan, the two of you trying to re-stabilize your breathing. 

you tried to lift your back, but chris stopped you, making you bend over again. you felt his fingers on your core once again, “chris — no more — m’too sensitive,” i cried out.

“nuh-uh. not letting any of it going wasted” he said, collecting his semen and yours that was leaked out your pussy to put them back in. your cunt hurt for the overstimulation, all red and puffy — to him, it hadn’t never looked prettier.

when he finally pulled away, you raised your panties up and lowered the dress down, fixing — or attempting to — your hair and make up to make it seem like you hadn’t occupied the room for over thirty minutes.

“you okay?” chris asked you, turning you around. he wrapped his arms around your waist, your back hitting the counter. i nodded, “yeah, i think i remember now” you said making him smirk.

“you made me lose a buyer — we’re not done” he added, half joking and half serious. i let out a chuckle, my hands flying around his neck, brushing my lips on his.

he closed the gap and gave me a soft kiss, before pulling away and putting his arm around my shoulder. we leave the room, acting like nothing happened under the judging gazes of the long queue of people who were waiting to use the toilet.

“i hope you enjoyed your fuck, fuckin’ almost made me piss myself”

yaps. it was supposed to be shorter but i got too involved… anyway i need him so bad it’s concerning.

wc. 1,5k

[beloveds-embrace]

I'm sorry, but I'm a big angst lover and i just read the angsty spinoffs of the duchess au. Kinda combining the general Jonny-purposefully-fucks-up-the-food, and the duchess gettin sick Can i ask what would happen if the illness wasn't from the weather but from eating raw food (ex chicken). Assuming she lives, i doubt she will touch Johnny's food again - leaving price with the option of hiring duchess reader a new chef or letting her starve and hope she relents. Anyways, i just wanted to say i love your poly 141 fics, so if you don't feel like writing this ask, it's completely fine. Thank you for all your work in writing!

Thank you sm anon!! 💕🫶🏻

Dukedom masterlist

All I can think about is the abysmal shame Johnny would be feeling. Yes, he served you bad food on purpose but fuck- flat out raw? And in that time period it might as well nearly be a death sentence on its own and they all know it.

John sits at your bedside, his face carved with an unreadable expression. Guilt flickers in his eyes, barely veiled by his usual stoicism, though he says nothing at first. He’s been here for hours, watching over you, but you’ve hardly acknowledged him.

A tray of food rests untouched on the small table near the bed. You haven’t looked at it, haven’t even turned your head in its direction even when it was brought in steaming, and the silence stretches thin and sharp between you.

“Duchess,” John finally says, his voice a low sigh. “You’ve got to eat. You won’t recover if you don’t.”

You shift your gaze to him, dull and tired. For a long moment, you just stare, your chest rising and falling with the effort of breathing. When you finally speak, your voice is hoarse, almost as numb as you feel.

“I’m not eating anything from Johnny.”

The bluntness of your words lands like a physical blow. John straightens slightly, brows furrowing.

“You don’t mean that,” he starts, his tone more defensive than he intends. “He-“

You interrupt him, your voice cutting through the air like a blade.

“He served me raw food, John. And none of you noticed. None of you cared.” Your tone is flat, devoid of anger or venom, but it’s the emptiness behind it that makes his chest tighten. “I got sick because of him, and not one of you thought to check on me until I couldn’t get out of bed.”

He opens his mouth to argue, to defend, but the words die before they reach his tongue. Because you’re right, of course.

“I won’t eat anything from him, not anymore,” you repeat, your gaze falling away from him and back to the ceiling. “Or from the chefs in this manor. I don’t trust any of you to care enough to make sure I’m not poisoned again.”

“Poisoned- ?” John recoils slightly, faltering.

You let out a bitter, hollow laugh, the sound scraping against your raw throat painfully. “What else would you call it? Carelessness? Neglect?”

The silence that follows is suffocating, just as you’d hoped it’d be. John leans back in his chair, rubbing a hand over his jaw, guilt now a tangible weight pressing down on him. He knows you’re justified- knows that your trust, fragile as it was, has been shattered by their collective apathy.

“I’ll… I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again,” he mutters eventually, the words heavy with shame. “I’ll handle your meals myself if that’s what it takes.”

You don’t respond beyond a derisive huff, don’t even spare him a glance. You’re too tired. His promises feel like empty air now, incapable of undoing the hurt and mistrust that has settled deep in your bones and now landed you sick in this cold bed.

All you can do is close your eyes, shutting him out, and hope he gets the message.

Johnny stands just outside the cracked door, his back pressed against the wall as your words seep into the hallway like a cold wind. He wasn’t trying to eavesdrop- at least, that’s what he tells himself- but when he heard John’s voice through the door, something made him pause.

And now he wishes he hadn’t.

Every word cuts deeper than he thought possible. The way you said his name- not with anger, but with the hollow finality of someone who has already given up- makes his stomach churn. You don’t trust him.

He can’t even blame you. He made- a terrible mistake. An unforgivable one. His parents would likely never forgive him if they ever heard of what he’d done.

His hands tremble at his sides, fingers curling into fists. He wants to step in, to apologize, to defend himself, to say it was a mistake- a terrible mistake he regrets more than anything. But what could he possibly say to undo the damage? Nothing.

The knot of guilt in his chest tightens as he hears John try to reassure you, his own voice betraying his shame. Johnny doesn’t wait to hear more. He turns and walks away, each step feeling heavier than the last, his heart pounding with the weight of what he’s done.

How is he meant to ever find pride again in what he does best?

[fear-less]

₊˚⊹˚ 𐙚 this is awkward..

pairing: james potter x f!reader

➥ In which, you were fed up with James, deciding to put aside your pettiness you drag him away from the gryffindor party to talk to him.

Warnings: angst, fluff, james pov, this inspired by awae (aka the best show ever), r and james speaking is 𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓿𝓲𝓵𝔂 inspired by gilbert confessing that he wants anne so effing bad bc he 𝓯𝔀 𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓿𝔂, lowkey dont hate me for making the “dreams” u want so like…. I just didn't know what to do bc like idk smh i set back women 50 years by that

a/n: tysm for all the love on this series!! y’all are NOT ready for the next chapter, writing it rn and 😭🙏 BUTTT tysm for 300🫶🫶 also I finished the last chapter... do y'all want me to post it today or edge y'all and post it tomorrow

series masterlist ! - divider creds: i-mmaculatus & dollywons

It was now nearing the end of the school year—even if there was still a month to go. James could now be in the same room as you without glaring daggers at whoever you were talking to. Though he told himself he was over you, he knew deep down that the feelings never faded.

He told himself it didn’t matter. He told himself he was fine. And yet, every time he caught sight of you, every time your laughter reached his ears from across the room, it was as if someone had set fire to his resolve.

He wanted to talk to you so badly it was almost pathetic. But it was like the universe itself was conspiring against him—or, more specifically, like Finn Laurier had developed some sort of sixth sense for James’s intentions.

Because every single time James gathered enough courage, every time he braced himself to walk over to you, Finn would appear out of nowhere. Whether it was in the Great Hall, the library, or even during Quidditch practice, Finn always seemed to materialize by your side at precisely the wrong moment, stealing away your attention and leaving James feeling like the outsider in his own story.

It was infuriating.

“Mate, you’re grinding your teeth,” Sirius remarked casually one afternoon as they sat under the beech tree by the lake.

James startled, realizing with some embarrassment that Sirius was right. He quickly unclenched his jaw and let out a frustrated sigh.

“Sorry,” he muttered, running a hand through his messy hair. “I’m just…”

“Just what?” Sirius prompted, raising an eyebrow.

“Nothing,” James lied, though his voice betrayed him.

Sirius gave him a knowing look. “If this is about her again, just—”

“It’s not about her,” James interrupted quickly, though he winced as the words left his mouth. He knew Sirius wouldn’t believe him, and he wasn’t sure he even believed himself anymore.

Sirius sighed, shaking his head. “Prongs, you’re going to drive yourself mad if you keep this up. Just talk to her already.”

“I’ve tried!” James snapped, louder than he intended. He lowered his voice and added, “I’ve tried, but every bloody time, Finn shows up. It’s like he’s got a bloody tracker on her or something.”

Remus, who had been quietly reading nearby, finally chimed in. “You know, maybe you’re overthinking this,” he said, not looking up from his book.

“How could I possibly be overthinking this?” James demanded, throwing his hands up in exasperation.

“Maybe Finn’s not doing it on purpose,” Remus suggested calmly. “Maybe it’s just bad timing.”

“Bad timing?” James repeated incredulously. “Bad timing doesn’t happen this often, Moony. This is a pattern.”

Remus gave him a skeptical look but didn’t argue further.

James leaned back against the tree trunk, closing his eyes and letting out a long breath. He hated how much this was bothering him. He hated how much control this entire situation had over him.

But most of all, he hated the thought that you might actually be happy with Finn.

It wasn’t that he thought Finn was a bad guy—quite the opposite, really. Finn was charming, talented, and annoyingly good at everything he did. He was the kind of guy parents adored, the kind of guy professors went out of their way to praise. And worst of all, he was the kind of guy who could make you smile in a way James had only dreamed of.

James opened his eyes, staring up at the branches overhead. “Maybe I should just give up,” he muttered.

Sirius snorted. “Yeah, right. That’s the most ridiculous thing you’ve said all day.”

“I’m serious,” James insisted.

“No, I’m Sirius,” Sirius quipped, smirking.

James groaned, throwing a small pebble in his direction. “Not the time for jokes.”

“Fine, fine,” Sirius said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “But seriously, you’re not giving up. You’re James Potter, remember? Stubborn, arrogant, never-takes-no-for-an-answer James Potter. You don’t give up on things you care about.”

James hesitated, staring at the rippling water of the Black Lake. He wanted to believe Sirius. He wanted to believe that there was still a chance, that you weren’t as far out of reach as you seemed.

But as he watched you across the courtyard later that day, standing beside Finn and laughing at something he said, James couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe, just maybe, it was too late.

But his doubt soon melted into something far more unsettling when he noticed your gaze shift. For the first time in what felt like forever, your attention wasn’t on Finn Laurier—it was on him.

James felt like he might throw up.

His heartbeat thundered in his ears, and his hands fidgeted with the hem of his robes as he quickly looked away. In fact, he didn’t just look away; he turned his entire body in the opposite direction, hoping to mask the flush rising to his cheeks.

“C’mon, James, you’ve got a Quidditch game to win today! Channel all that anger you’ve got towards Laurier into winning us the Cup!” Sirius said, clapping a hand on James’s shoulder with his trademark grin.

James gave a faint nod, trying to let Sirius’s words sink in. He wasn’t sure if it would work, but he had to admit—focusing on Quidditch might be better than brooding.

As the match began, Sirius’s advice started to help. Flying through the air, the roar of the crowd, and the adrenaline coursing through his veins almost made him forget the mess he was tangled in. Quidditch always had a way of making the weight on his shoulders feel lighter.

Almost.

At first, he wasn’t paying much attention to the game. His mind wandered back to you, back to everything that had gone wrong. He thought about what he would say, how he could even begin to fix things. And, like always, he couldn’t resist scanning the crowd for you.

Even in the middle of a fight, even when he swore to himself that he was done, James always looked for you in the stands.

And he found you—right where he didn’t want to.

You were sitting with Finn Laurier, your hand clasped in his. James’s stomach twisted painfully at the sight, and he forced himself to look away, though the image burned into his mind.

Of course. Finn fucking Laurier.

He sighed, his grip tightening on his broomstick. There was no point in hoping anymore. Whatever chance he’d had—if he’d ever had one—was gone now. Maybe he’d already been downgraded in your life: a friend at best, a stranger at worst. The thought stung, and James shoved it down, refusing to dwell on it any longer.

And then, something golden caught the corner of his eye.

The Snitch.

For the first time all game, James’s focus snapped into place. He leaned forward on his broom, his heart pounding—not from heartbreak this time, but from the sheer rush of competition. If nothing else, he could still win this. He could still bring home the Cup.

James shot after the Snitch with everything he had, the rush of wind against his face only fueling his determination. The crowd roared, but their voices blurred into the background. His world narrowed to one thing: the golden glimmer darting just ahead.

The Hufflepuff Seeker was hot on his trail, but James barely registered them. This was his moment. The Snitch veered sharply to the right, and James followed, his reflexes razor-sharp. He could feel the weight of his emotions—anger, heartbreak, frustration—all pouring into this chase.

The Snitch dipped low, skimming just above the grass, and James dove after it, his fingers outstretched. The Hufflepuff Seeker was closing in fast, but James didn’t care. He pushed his broom harder, faster, his body leaning forward so much it felt like he might fall off.

And then, his fingers closed around the Snitch.

The Gryffindor stands erupted into cheers, deafening and jubilant. The sound echoed across the pitch as James pulled up, the Snitch held high in triumph. For the first time all week, a genuine smile broke across his face.

He’d done it.

Back on the ground, his teammates swarmed him, yelling and celebrating as they lifted him off the ground in a flurry of hugs and pats on the back. Sirius was the loudest, of course, laughing as he shouted, “That’s my best mate! Did you see that dive? Bloody brilliant!”

James grinned, allowing himself to soak in the moment. But as the initial adrenaline rush faded, his thoughts drifted back to you.

Through the crowd, he spotted you walking toward the castle with Laurier. You looked happy—laughing at something Finn said, your hand still in his.

James’s chest tightened, the pain creeping back in.

Sirius slung an arm around his shoulders. “Oi, don’t let that git ruin your moment. You just won us the Cup, Prongs. Focus on that, yeah?”

James forced a nod, plastering a smile on his face. “Yeah. You’re right.”

But deep down, as the team carried him back to the common room, the ache lingered. Winning the match had been a distraction, but it wasn’t enough to erase what he felt for you—or the sting of seeing you with someone else.

Still, James promised himself one thing: he’d get through this. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but eventually. And who knew? Maybe, someday, you’d see him the way he saw you.

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

The Gryffindor common room was a chaotic blur of red and gold, filled with triumphant cheers and laughter. The moment the team returned from the pitch, the party was already in full swing. Someone had charmed a banner to flash "Gryffindor Wins the Cup!" in shimmering letters, and butterbeer bottles floated around the room, courtesy of a cheeky charm from Sirius.

James stood in the center of it all, grinning as his teammates and housemates patted him on the back and congratulated him. For a brief moment, he allowed himself to bask in the glory of the victory, letting it drown out the knot in his chest. He’d won the game, and Gryffindor had the Cup—he deserved to enjoy it.

“Prongs!” Sirius yelled over the noise, shoving a butterbeer into his hand. “You’re the man of the hour! You better milk this for all it’s worth, because Merlin knows you deserve it.”

James laughed, shaking his head. “Don’t let me hear you say that too often, Padfoot. I might start believing it.”

Sirius gave him a devilish grin. “Oh, you will. Now, c’mon, let’s make some noise!” He climbed onto a table, raising his bottle high. “To Prongs, our Quidditch hero!”

The room erupted in cheers, and James couldn’t help but laugh, taking a sip of his butterbeer as the noise washed over him. For the first time all day, he felt lighter.

As the party went on, James moved through the crowd, chatting and laughing with his housemates. But no matter how loud the celebration got, his eyes kept drifting to the door, half-hoping, half-dreading to see you walk in.

And then, you did.

James froze mid-conversation, his heart doing that familiar stutter-step it always did when he saw you. You looked radiant, wrapped in Gryffindor colors, your cheeks flushed from the cold. But his chest tightened when he noticed Laurier trailing behind you, his hand resting casually on the small of your back.

James quickly turned back to his conversation, forcing a smile and pretending not to notice. He wasn’t going to let Finn Laurier—or his own stupid feelings—ruin the night.

“Oi, Prongs,” Sirius said, appearing at his side again. “Stop moping and do something fun. We just won the bloody Cup, mate! At least pretend you’re having the time of your life.”

James forced another grin. “I am having fun, Padfoot. Loads of fun.”

Sirius narrowed his eyes. “You’re staring at her again, aren’t you?”

“I’m not,” James lied, taking a long sip of butterbeer.

Sirius groaned, grabbing James by the shoulders. “Look, here’s what you’re going to do. You’re going to stop torturing yourself, and you’re going to have a bloody fantastic time tonight. And if that doesn’t work, we’ll prank Laurier so hard he won’t know which way is up. Deal?”

James couldn’t help but laugh at that, shaking his head. “Alright, deal.”

Hours later, the party was still going strong. Someone had turned the music up, and the common room had transformed into a dance floor. James found himself dragged into the middle of it by Lily Evans, who gave him a pointed look.

“Stop sulking, Potter,” she said, smirking. “You just won the Cup. Act like it.”

“I’m not sulking,” James said, though his half-hearted smile gave him away.

Lily raised an eyebrow but didn’t press further. Instead, she tugged him into the rhythm of the music, and for a while, James let himself get lost in the moment.

It wasn’t until he caught sight of you again, laughing at something Laurier said, that the knot in his chest returned. He took a deep breath, plastered on another smile, and decided that, for tonight, he’d keep pretending.

He watched you from across the room as you and Laurier continued talking, laughter bubbling between you two. He could see the way you looked at him now—so different from the way you looked at him before. It was like there was a barrier, a wall that hadn’t been there when he first met you.

“Prongs,” Sirius appeared at his side again, his voice low and concerned. “Look, I know you’ve been through a lot, but this is ridiculous. You’re letting Laurier ruin your night—and you just won us the Cup, for Merlin’s sake. You’re allowed to be happy tonight. So go talk to her. If you don’t, I swear I’ll do it for you.”

James frowned at him, irritated. “I’m not talking to her, Pads. Not now.”

“Then at least get out of here and enjoy yourself,” Sirius pressed. “We’re celebrating, mate. You’ve earned it.”

James looked over at you one more time, and for a second, he almost gave in. But the knot in his chest was still there, tightly wound, and it made everything feel so much harder than it should’ve been.

But maybe... maybe he could find a way to feel better. Maybe he could lose himself in the celebration.

“I’ll think about it,” he finally muttered, glancing at his friends.

Sirius didn’t seem convinced but let out an exaggerated sigh. “Fine, but I’m not letting you go off and brood in some corner. The whole bloody school’s celebrating with you tonight.”

James smirked faintly, feeling a little lighter. Maybe he could pretend to be okay, at least for tonight. He could let the victory, the laughter, and his friends drown out the ache for just a little while longer.

But as the night continued, and as the music played on, James found himself once again looking toward the doorway, hoping—just hoping—that you’d look his way.

For the first time in forever, the world was finally on his side as he saw you quickly leaving Finn and walking straight to him.

“May I speak to you, please?” James nodded, Dumbfounded. 

You quickly grabbed his hand and went outside the common room and into the corridors. 

You took a deep breath, your fingers twisting nervously. “James… I’ve been meaning to talk to you for a while now.”

James’s throat went dry, his pulse quickening as he struggled to find his voice. “Yeah?”

You nodded, glancing down at your hands before meeting his gaze. “I—I’m sorry.”

That wasn’t what he had expected. Of all the scenarios he’d played out in his head, an apology hadn’t been one of them.

“For what?” he asked, genuine confusion coloring his voice.

“For everything,” you said in a rush, your words tumbling out before you could stop them. “For avoiding you. I was confused—about what I did that made you ignore me. And I guess I wanted to get back at you for ignoring me, so I decided to do the same to you. And… I’m sorry for whatever happened between us that made things so weird.”

James stared at you, your vulnerability hitting him like a Bludger to the chest. His heart ached at the uncertainty in your voice.

“You don’t have to apologize,” he said quickly, shaking his head.

“Yes, I do,” you insisted, your voice firm despite the tears welling in your eyes.

“No, you don’t,” James countered, his tone soft yet resolute. “It’s not fair to put all of this on yourself. You’ve always been there for me, and I—well, I’ve been a terrible friend lately. I was practically acting like you didn’t exist.”

James faltered when he saw the blank expression on your face. Panic flickered in his chest—had he said too much?

But before he could say anything more, you stepped forward and wrapped your arms around him.

“Oh, James,” you murmured into his shoulder. “It’s okay. I—I was acting like you didn’t exist too, but only because you were doing it to me.”

He blinked, caught off guard, before slowly relaxing into the hug. He looked down at you, his hand instinctively reaching up to brush away a stray tear trailing down your cheek.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

You shook your head, a small, watery smile breaking through. “We’re both sorry. Let’s just… not do this anymore, okay?”

James nodded, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Deal.”

“It feels so much better having my best friend around again.” James’ smile faltered again, he never liked the word “best friend” when it came to you, he always wanted more.

“Definitely”

You two let each other talk for what felt like hours even though it was barely fifteen minutes. He enjoyed every second though, until you brought up Finn and future plans they may include him. He couldn't believe it, when had your parents met his? He remembers your dad telling him how much he was rooting you and him to be together, now he's okay with you dating some other dude? And worst of all, your father was okay with that same dude wanting to marry his daughter? James felt like throwing up.

“Then he said that my father laid it out on a silver platter.”

“Laid... what out on a platter?”

“My future! Gave him the blessing to...to propose. I don't know what to do.”

“You told me you don’t mind being married straight after Hogwarts if you truly loved the man. That being a wife and mother... is your dream. Finn is.. nice, and both of your guys’ parents are supportive. I don't understand. What's holding you back?”

“Just… one thing.”

“What am I supposed to do? Everyone else is just... moving on, and now you’re... and I’m still... We never even... And he’s there, and you’re—Merlin, you’re never going to find someone who—” James stopped, his voice cracking. “I know that much, so how... how am I supposed to... I can’t... I— We...”

Before you could speak–a drunk Sirius somehow found you two. “Woah James you're really speaking to her? Atta boy, now, let's get back to the party, cmon, we are going to do something cool, have you heard of ....” Sirius rambled on, tugging on James’ arm to drag him back to the party.

“I’ll be off, then.” You said, voice quivering as if hesitant to leave.

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

All James could think about was the previous night—the talk you two had shared. Your words, your voice, the hesitation in your eyes—it all replayed in his mind like a haunting melody. What would’ve happened if Sirius hadn’t barged in, if James had told him to leave, if he’d been brave enough to stay in that moment with you?

“I think…” James began, his voice breaking as he paced the Gryffindor dormitory, “I think she might’ve been asking if I love her. And—and I think I told her to marry someone else.”

Sirius, slouched in the chair by the window, looked stricken. “Mate…” he started, his tone heavy with guilt. “If I’d known—if I knew what was happening—I wouldn’t have gone looking for you. I—I practically ruined your chances. Merlin, I’m so, so sorry.”

James stopped pacing, running a hand through his already-messy hair. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t even know if she meant it. She said so much without really saying anything, and now I don’t know if I imagined it all.”

“‘Sure, take option two,’ when option one is all she wants for her future?” James muttered, his voice thick with frustration.

“What is option one?” Peter asked, his curiosity breaking the tension.

James scoffed, bitterness creeping into his tone. “It’s Finn, obviously.” He paused, his anger flaring. “But both their parents support it, and she told me that! Before she spilled all of that on me, we were talking and laughing like nothing was wrong. But now…” He exhaled sharply, his voice softening as he sat down on the edge of his bed. “Now it feels like I’m being asked to explain the rest of my life on a bloody ticking clock. And if I make the wrong decision, I’ve either ruined my life—or hers.”

The room fell silent. Sirius and Peter exchanged uneasy glances, while Remus seemed lost in thought, unsure of how to respond.

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

Meanwhile, you had confided in your mother about your plans the night before: to finally tell the man you truly loved how you felt. You hadn’t wanted to bring it up while you and James were laughing and enjoying each other’s company, but you knew if you didn’t seize the moment, you’d never say it at all.

What you hadn’t expected was for him to turn you down. To tell you—calmly, almost dismissively—that you should marry Finn.

Your mother was waiting for your response. You knew she expected good news, a letter confirming that you and James were finally together. Instead, you sat at your desk, penning words that left a bitter taste in your mouth.

Dear Mother,

I did what you told me to do, but I fear I shouldn’t have. We were talking just fine, and then I told him everything. I told him how I felt. And he told me to marry Finn.

Finn is lovely, yes—but he’s not James. I asked James if there was any chance for us, and he said no. At least now I have clarity on where I stand with him. And I know it sounds awful to compare Finn to James, but... maybe knowing what I know now, I can learn to be happy with Finn. Father and Finn’s family are all thrilled, after all. I don’t even want to think about what I would’ve done if James had said he felt the same.

You sighed, folding the parchment carefully and sealing it in an envelope. The weight of your words sat heavily on your chest, but you couldn’t dwell on them any longer. You needed to send this letter immediately.

Pulling on your cloak, you found yourself heading for one of the secret passages to Hogsmeade—the ones you and James had used so often. The memories stung, but you pushed them aside. This time, you’d be using the passage alone.

The quickest way to deliver your letter was through the owlery. You knew exactly which owl was the fastest.

As you walked, you let your mind wander to James one last time, allowing yourself the quiet ache of what could’ve been. You would never speak to him again, not like before. That part of your life was over.

Finn was your future now. And while it hurt to admit, deep down, you knew it was for the best.

enjoyed? check out my navigation

taglist!!! @daemontargaryenwhore , @ellitheflower , @lolalleins , @happycatanxie , @somwhereonwenus , @reneeblack6230 , @doiejwi , @spidermansfangirl , @mallowsweetie , @trulyyoursniki , @luvv-danielle , @strollnstroll , @joeytribbiani18 , @mimisamisasa , @noihatemyself , @ravisinghs-wife , @moonymeloncholymoney , @evangelquill , @hisparentsgallerryy @watchmerora , @accioxtina , @akanmizuki-blog-blog , @pottersdeer , @lovelyteenagebeard , @adri4na , @yeolliedokai , @mlnscloud , @heinmypocket , @lalalandincraz , @arey0usirius , @froggiedragon , @riotrose8 , @miyo-0oo , @iloveremmy , @coolerthananicecubeeee , @littlelunatica , @iheartelira

[samkerrworshipper]

lights are on, but nobody’s home

barca femeni x reader

it’s unedited. i’m not sorry about it, if it puts u off then soz icbf. this fic has been in my drafts since october so it was about time i finished it! combined to fics lol to get it done and its a fast paced very vague mess but have fun :) loved the idea not the execution!

warnings: kinda angsty?

Red cards exist in the game for a reason. You don’t deny that. Red cards are needed to keep people safe, to set a boundary between safe and unsafe play. But there had been something so undeniably unfair about yours.

You’d hurt somebody, you weren’t going to lie about that. It had been unintentional, but a risk you’d taken had ended up with the world’s best player being stretchered off the pitch, and for just that, you deserved a yellow. But a red, for a tackle that was mostly legal, seemed ridiculous. Tackles happened. As a defensive midfielder, it was your job to get the ball off attackers, it was your responsibility to make sure that you stopped the ball from being kicked in the direction of your keeper or down the field to another player. It was what cemented your spot in the English midfield; you weren’t just a good attacker; you were ferocious in defence. You averaged at least 5 tackles per game; it was the most crucial part of your game; it was fundamentally what made you a good footballer.

Arguing with the ref and using some particularly vulgar language definitely didn’t help your case but in your defence it hadn’t been a red cardable offence. It was all pointless though, the card had already been raised and pointed in your direction, you’d been booked, in a friendly of all games.

It was bad, you’d know that from the moment your cleats had stepped over the line, the incessant booing being directed towards you as you walked past Sarina the grim frown etched into the details of her face was enough of a sign. You were in a bad situation, but you’d just put your team in an even worse situation with a one less player on the field to continue the fight in the world cup final rematch. It wasn’t good, it was your job to make sure that your team was in the best situation to achieve success on the pitch and you’d jeopardised that. What you hadn’t realised was that action wasn’t only jeopardising your team, it was jeopardising you as a whole.

It had begun from the moment you’d gotten back to your hotel room later that night. Your teammates had focused all of their energy on trying to lift your spirits, with the game ending in a 1-1 draw, everyone was happy. The England team was your second family, and considering you didn’t play in the WSL like the vast majority of them, national team time was valuable to you. You sat next to Beth on the ride back to the hotel, happy to listen to her non-stop talking as a distraction for the disappointment that had settled inside of you. At team dinner, you sat sandwiched in between Grace and Ella; most dinners spent on your normal table, you struggled to get a word in, but it was the constant surrounding buzz that kept you out of your head and specifically off of your phone, and you were more grateful than usual that you had that. By the time you’d even made it to your room and gone through your nighttime routine, you still hadn’t checked your phone. It was only as you began to prepare yourself to get into bed that you headed towards your bag to fish it out. You climbed into bed, finally opening your phone for the first time, and instead of it having a handful of messages from your family and a sprinkle of Instagram notifications, there were thousands. Twitter, Instagram, TikTok, newsforums, both English and Spanish; as you scrolled down the list, it only got bigger. All of it was the same, about how you’d ‘intentionally’ injured your own club teammate to benefit your national team, how you were malicious, how you had played beyond the line of safe play, how you deserved to be penalised, how you had ruined sportsmanship. It was never-ending, and the more that you read, the worse it got. You felt like a shell of yourself as your eyes scanned the different words; you completely dissociated it all. It felt like you were reading about somebody else, like there was absolutely no possibility that the sentences you were absorbing could possibly be about you. There was so much falsity behind all of it that it was hard to understand it. You’d played the same you always did, you hadn’t played dangerously, you’d played within the rules as you always did. Beyond that, you’d visited Aitana in the change rooms after the game, desperate to apologise and make sure that you hadn’t done any damage or hurt her in any way. Your play hadn’t been malicious, there hadn’t been any ill intention or hatred fueled behind it, even though every single article or post was making it seem that way. Aitana had come off after the clash purely as a caution, when you’d gone to see her, all she was dealing with was a little bit of inflammation. By the time you were both back in Barcelona, she’d be as good as new. Even after watching the replays, it was clear to anybody with eyes that all you were doing was fighting for the ball, the same as every other 1-on-1 battle throughout the game. Yet as soon as a spotlighted player got injured, it was suddenly a different story being told.

Normally you would shake it off, in general, you were the kind of person who didn’t get bothered by much, You were a bubbly and happy person, you were the kind of teammate who was always smiling and trying to make other people laugh. Usually, if you had a teammate who was in the same situation as you were now, you would be the one picking them up and trying to help them shake off all of this. It wasn’t normally a struggle for you to overcome a little bit of hate, but there was something so shattering about this. Whilst you still believed deep down that you’d done nothing wrong, it was hard to convince yourself of that when there were so many people who were telling you otherwise.

You weren’t the kind of person who regularly fell into the mind numbing action of doom scrolling, you weren’t big on social media in general, it was something you had to do because of your job but not much else beyond that. Yet right now it felt impossible to deviate away from it, every time you saw your name pop up again somewhere you were drawn to another dark place of the internet where you kept reading until you were mentioned or tagged in another post and your phone lit up with a new piece of media.

It was never ending, it just kept coming, and the longer you indulged in it, the sicker you started to feel. Had you done something wrong? Were you truly as malicious as everyone wrote? Were you the bad person they were painting you to be?

It was impossible to not consider that potentially everyone else was right, maybe you were the problem.

It was a good day to be roomed with Lucy, she’d been in bed before you’d even made it up to the room and asleep whilst you’d been showering. If the sounds of snoring were anything to go off of then she was long gone, which made you feel more secure as you muffled a sob into your pillow. It was going to be fine, by the time morning rolled around it would be forgotten. Or at least that was what you thought.

The convenience of playing your games in Spain was that unlike majority of your teammates, you were able to sleep in the following morning instead of flying back to their club teams. Lucy was gone long before you woke up, something you were specifically grateful for because whilst Lucy was mostly oblivious, you weren’t sure if you would have been able to hide your red eyes and puffy face. You hadn’t had much sleep, but even in the few hours that you had managed to get, the notifiations on your phone had only multiplied significantly. Every second your phone lit up again, and for the sake of your own brain you chose to switch it off completely. If you stayed in the shower a little longer because you got so lost thinking about it all that your feet started to go numb from the water pressure there was nobody around to say anything about it. If you happened to space out halfway through your skincare and accidentally spill half of your serum down the sink it was nothing a bit of water from the sink couldn’t fix. Every time you thought you’d forgotten about it all, like you’d drifted away from everything you’d read and then suddenly it all came back to you like some sick fever dream. It was the same words that kept circulating, and every time it came back to you it was impossible to just let it go.

You were half way dressed when your door was knocked on. It was what woke you up to the fact that you had absolutely no idea what time it was or how long you’d spent spaced out and in your brain.

You weren’t shocked to find Keira waiting outside your door, looking significantly more put together then you were.

“Mate, I’ve texted you about 30 times. The taxis here to take us to the airport.”

Fuck. You’d forgotten that you were taking a group taxi instead of leaving the hotel individually.

“Give me five minutes, I slept in and forgot to pack up last night.”

Keira cut you off before you continued your ramble of excuses.

“I’ll help you pack up, you focus on getting dressed and sorting yourself out, okay?”

Keira wasn’t your closest friend, she was one of the few people on the Barcelona team that spoke fluent english which grouped the two of you together. She was also one of your idols coming through as the youngest midfielder in the English and Barcelona squad. But personality wise the two of you didn’t jell, you were too energetic and a little bit too immature to buddy up with her. It didn’t change the fact that she was basically an older sister to you. She wasn’t exactly the person you’d go to for relationship advice or confess your troubling thoughts to. But she was the person you could rely on to help you in any situation without asking questions, and this really was an extension of that.

Keira made quick work of packing up your things from around your room whilst you finished getting dressed and putting your hair in a messy bun.

By the time you’d made yourself look just enough presentable for the public eye Keira was done, all of your bags piled together at your hotel room door.

“I found your phone at the bottom of your bag, looks like you might want to charge it before the drive.”

Right now, your phone felt like a block of dynamite, balancing in Keira’s hand, ready to explode at any second.

“No, I just turned it off.”

You didn’t really think about how odd your words could sound until they’d left your mouth, and Keira’s eyebrows were raising quickly.

“You just turned it off?”

It’s an unusual behaviour for you, one that Keira has clearly picked up on by the tone in her voice. Your phone is practically an extension of you, the team didn’t joke about you having square eyes for nothing. Always getting people to film tiktoks or do stupid challenges.

“Yes?”

You actively observe all of the cogs in Keira’s brain turning, she looks like she has a lot to say, but then she glances down at her watch and it’s clear that the fact that you are running well behind time takes priority.

“Let’s go, the taxi is waiting.”

Keira practically pushed you out of the hotel room, all of your bags in her hands and ushering you straight towards the elevator.

As she’d said, the taxi is waiting in front of the lobby, the driver looks particularly ticked off as he waits outside the drivers side door, his foot tapping and a cigarette hanging halfway out of his mouth. Keira loads your suitcase into the boot of the car whilst you take your backpack off of her and hop into the back of the car, Keira follows and sits down across from you.

The first five minutes of the ride are silent, Keira flicks through her phone whilst you stare out the tinted window and pretend that you can see the things passing by.

“You can talk to me you know? I know we’re not exactly the closest, but I’m here for you.”

You don’t bother to look in Keira’s direction, you keep your eyes and facial expression schooled and focused on the window.

“Anything the media writes is bullshit, you ought to just ignore it.”

You wished you could have ignored it last night, when theoretically you were at your most vulnerable. Maybe if you hadn’t of read so much when you were already in a bad mindset it wouldn’t have imprinted so much, regardless it has and you can’t just ignore it.

“Kei, I’m fine. When have I ever cared what the papers write about me?”

Now, right now is when you care. It’s a fair statement though, you’ve never been affected when tabloids have written far worse things about you, when you came out and for months there was homophobic slander everywhere you looked. In the past it hadn’t been based off of facts, it had all been fictitious. But now that there is just a inkling of truth behind what’s being written it feels far more real and you aren’t sure how to get past that.

“I’m just saying that there isn’t anything wrong with being affected by it. Especially after last night, there’s nothing wrong with admitting that.”

This is the trouble between you and Keira, she’s a lot more frank. In your opinion it’s a thing that comes with age, whilst she’s very happy to admit when she’s going through a hard time you’d rather cover it up with jokes and pretend that it doesn’t actually bother you. The trouble with your approach is that it only works for so long before people start to see you fraying at the edges or you completely break down from the pressure.

“Just mad I hurt your bestfriend, huh?”

The only response you get from Keira is a loud exhale, the same a mother would when her child makes a immature joke at a immature time. Immaturity is your coping mechanism, because by default people tend to be put off by it, they naturally gravitate away from it. Furthermore they gravitate away from whatever conversation or confrontation they were going to have.

“I’m not mad, I’m concerned for you and how something like this can affect a persons career.”

It’s too many feelings, to much concern, too much. You don’t deserve it and you definitely do not want it.

“I’m fine, we play football, it’s part of it all.”

You still haven’t looked at Keira but you could make an educated guess and assume that she looks deflated. It’s another reason that out of Keira and Lucy you’d always gotten along better with Lucy, you didn’t care to admit it but she knew how to get to the bottom of all of your weird cues and knew what was right and wrong to say. Keira’s too smart for her own good, and it doesn’t work on you, it never has. She’s all you have at Barca now though, besides Roebs, whose been too focused on her rehab and getting back on the pitch to be much of a friend.

“Hate shouldn’t be part of it. If you need to talk about the fact that some part of it is clearly bothering you then I’m here, anybody else on the team is here. Okay?”

You nod purely for the sake of ending the conversation, you can’ even figure out how you feel about it all, let alone trying to rationalise it with Keira. You’re upset, yet you can’t quite get to the bottom of it. You’ve never been upset before when your actions have ended in somebody else getting injured, it’s a rare occurence and when it happens you feel a little bit of guilt but usually it fades. Injury is part of the game, it happens all the time right in front of your eyes. You suppose Aitana isn’t actually injured though, she’s sore and has a low grade ankle sprain but it’s nowhere near the same as her tearing her acl or breaking a bone because of you. You just feel drained, it’s odd, you put it down to the fact that you hardly got any sleep last night but you have this underlying feeling that it’s somehow more than that, yet you have no explanation for it.

After a long break of silence Keira and yourself fall into a fairly bland conversation about the upcoming fixtures and winter break plans. It’s so evident that there is tension in every word each of you speak, like you’re both a few syllables away from saying something that neither of you want to.

Luckily Keira is a lot more cautious than most people, unlike most of you friends or teammates in general she can control herself to a respectable level and can stop herself from word vomiting emotion fueled spieles.

By the time the driver pulls up in front of your apartment building not much has been said at all, but the overarching feeling is tense, it doesn’t feel good and the mixture of it with the everything else is making you feel sick. Keira gives you a hug after helping you unload your luggage and then leaves you. You know that outwardly you’re presenting that you want to be left alone yet everything in you is being used to stop yourself from clinging onto Keira and asking her to stay with you.

Your week is a lot of the same feelings. You have two days to yourself before training starts again and the two days are spent in bed. If you aren’t scrolling on your phone andreading every single thing that has your name mentioned then you are sleeping, or crying, or lying in bed thinking about it all. Every text from one of your teammates is left unopened, none of it matters when every single waking moment of your life is being spent thinking about the moment over and over again. It’s not just your career, not just the fact that you’re going to have to sit out in the next fixture and potentially tarnish your relationship with Sarina. You hurt Aitana, you hurt your ownt teammate. Your own actions had caused harm to somebody that you cared about. Every article, tiktok, post they were all painting you in some kind of negative light, like you were a demon hiding behind smiles. It was hard not to consider the truth behind it all, had you done what you did with malicious intent?

By the time training finally rolled around you were feeling even worse than you had a couple of days ago. Even though you’d been sleeping for hours a day there wer ebig eye bags under your eyes, you were pale and looked like you were sick. It was noticed by your teammates almost immediately, you weren’t even fully dressed in the change rooms before Pina was punching on you, talking rapidly in Catalan that you didn’t remotely understand.

“Chica, you missed our games night last night. To busy sleeping off the four goals you scored over the break, no? You need to leave some goals for other people.”

You shook Pina off as quickly as you could, you had a focus for the day and that was getting all of this over with. You had a game in three days, a game that you couldn’t ruin for your team again.

“Estas bien?”

You finish pulling your training top on and sit down on the bench in front of your locker.

“Estoy Bien.”

You focus on getting a sock on each of your feet and then your boots.

“Chica?”

There is concern laced in Pina’s voice, she’s still standing in front of you. Almost everybody else has made their way out onto the pitch, leaving the two of you and a couple of stragglers behind.

“You don’t look so good chica, are you feeling okay?”

Your boots are easy enough to lace up, once you’re done you reach behind you for your jacket, not quite sure if it’s warm enough to train in just your shirt.

“Estoy Bien. Vale?”

Before Pina can ask much more, you begin to walk towards the doors of the locker room. It’s breezy enough outside that you choose to put your jumper on, as do most of your teammates.

Aitana is doing individual training, because of her ankle. Pere says that it’s precautionary.

If you weren’t already feeling like you were on the brink of vomiting then now it’s the only thing you can feel. You feel ill, you feel completely absorbed by the sickness pooled at the bottom of your stomach. When Pere asks if you’re feeling alright you can’t say no, because you have no reason to feel as badly as you do. But it’s all the words, they’re spinning around in your head, every article, every single word.

It shows on the pitch, every decision, every pass, every shot, every tackle is helf back. You’re fearufl and it shows.

When training finally does finish, and Aitana is still working by herself with one of the coaches on another pitch you feel like it’s almost your breaking point. Until Pere pulls you over again and lets you know that you’ll be starting for the match on the weekend as a replacement for Aitana.

That’s your breaking point. You have nothing to say, nothing to think. You feel like a zombie as you walk towards the locker room. You sabotaged your teammate for your own good.

As soon as the team list is out that’s the only thing people will be saying, You don’t even want to think about what people will think when they see the photos of Aitana training by herself with her ankle all taped up. Whilst you were out on the pitch with all of your teammates. What was just starting to get better for you was only bound to relapse with the new information.

All of the girls notice your shift in behaviour. It’s Pina though who approaches Alexia on your third day of training back. Aitana is still training individually, purely for precaution and preservation. There are more important games then the one coming on the weekend and it’s not worth aggravating the small injury. It doesn’t feel like that to you though, and it’s been abundantly clear to everybody that something is up with you.

“Alexia, can I talk to you for a second?”

Alexia’s been talking to Irene about ….. for at least ten minutes and whilst Pina has no interest in interrupting it’s getting boring waiting around for a conversation to end that’s clearly dragging.

Alexia looks so care free, and Pina asking to talk to her shouldn’t change that, but the look that’s on her face changes Alexia’s demeanour almost immediately.

“What’s up?”

Pina looks at Irene awkwardly, like she’s not sure if the information she’s about to share with Alexia is for Irene’s ears. Irene seems to get the message, farewelling the two of them before heading off.

“I’m worried about y/n.”

Alexia’s silently been wondering whether to approach the subject. She’d thouyght about asking Keira is something had happened on England camp, considering that your particularly filthy mood had seemed to start afterwards. It was out of character for you, and originally Alexia had thought it was all part of some sort of prank plot. But as the last couple of days had passed it had become drastically clear that there was something else wrong. She’d thought it would be smarter to give you the benefit of the doubt, everyone had bad weeks. Alexia wasn’t aware of any relationships you were in but she wouldn’t have been shocked if your mood had been due to a breakup or something of similar origin.

“Ale, she’s been acting strange. She comes in everyday and hardly talks to anybody, she doesn’t joke around with use like she normally does, she hasn’t been answering our groupchat, she’s been avoiding all of our plans to hang out. Out on the pitch she’s been cautious but so unphased and she won’t talk to me or Ona or Patri or Kika or Esmee and I don’t know what to do anymore. Somethings really wrong, normally she’s so happy, I mean everyones noticed that the locker room has been more quiet. I thought it was going to pass, but she’s seemed really upset, like somethings really wrong and what’s happening on the internet can’t be helping it.”

The problem is that Alexia doesn’t disagree with anything that Pina is saying, she can’t dismiss any of it as overreaction because whether it’s been conscious or not she has noticed all of the things that she’s being told. She hadn’t yet pieced it all together as one thing but now that all the puzzle pieces are being laid out in front of her it seems impossible to ignore that it’s all coming together.

“On the internet? De qúe estás hablando?”

Alexia is the first to admit that she’s not exactly the best with technology, sure she’s got all the social media apps and Olga is constantly trying to teach her the ways of all of them but it doesn’t particularly interest her. She finds it easier to look at them as another means of work, it’s how she makes money, posting about football and endorsements. Otherwise she finds enjoyment in places besides her phone. Does it keep her slightly out of the loop? Yes. Does she have younger teammates to keep her up to date? Also yes.

“All the stuff about Aitana. I haven’t read into it much, but I know it’s not good. The media have been slaughtering her for that red card. She punishes herself enough after a bad tackle or pass, I can’t imagine what a red card would do.”

Alexia makes a mental note to look into it later but for now she knows that she needs to deescalate. Because if Pina is telling Alexia now then it’s not long before it blows up within the team.

“Okay. I’ll talk to her tomorrow after the game, if she’s still off I’ll talk to her. I’ll have a chat with Keira and ask if anything asked on camp, bueno? Whatever it is Pina, it can be fixed, all problems can be fixed. I’m sure it’s just been a rough week with all the travel and games, not everybody can adjust well, mixed with the recent fixtures it would be expected that everyone is feeling a bit more exhausted.”

It’s the rationalisation that seems to calm Pina down more, which was ultimately Alexia’s end goal. She can deal with you tomorrow but for now it’s crucial that she stops this from escalating within the team. When things spread it all becomes more drama and it’s not good, distractions are not what everybody needs leading into the next fixtures.

Alexia honestly forgets about the conversation completely. Between organising dinner the night before, stretching, spending quality time with her girlfriend and generally just getting herself game ready and in a good head space. She woke up feeling rested and prepared for the game ahead.

You however, were quite simply a mess. You’d hardly slept in over a week now, if you did sleep you woke up in a sweat after a particularly brutal nightmare, you were hardly eating because you always felt so nauseous from the anxiety and your performance on the football pitch had been dismaying.

Alexia, and your teammates, weren’t noticing the smaller things. You lived in your own apartment, in your own building. Nobody was aware of everything that was contributing to all the things that were beginning to show.

Alexia, hyper vigilant after Pina’s admission decided that she’d try and find you before everyone hopped on the bus to head to the opposing stadium, yet you were nowhere to be found. As everyone loaded onto the bus she almost missed you. Usually, you sat at the back, with the younger girls. Normally, Alexia gravitated somewhere in the middle of the bus, she was too old to be singing or messing around at the back but she liked to still be kept in the mix.

It was why she almost missed you, hunched into a seat almost at the very front of the bus.

“Chica?”

The way your whole body darted upwards as soon as you heard Alexia was another concerning thing that she was adding to a mental list.

“Capi.”

You pull your headphones off as a courtesy, but the reintroduction to the sounds of earth and the environment around you brings you right back to everything you’ve been feeling.

“Are you waiting for Kika or Vicky?”

Alexia feels like she already knows your answer, but she’s hanging on to a thread of hope that whatever Pina is feeling isn’t as bad as it seems.

“No, I need some sleep and it’s impossible to get any back there without somebody sticking something in my mouth or posting videos of me with my mouth half open.”

Alexia laughs, it’s the exact reason she can’t sit up the back anymore, it’s too much stupidity in a concentrated space.

“Ah, normally you’re more than happy to terrorize the rest of us, normalmente eres la reina de los estupidas.”

When your face doesn’t even respond slightly to Alexia and you have no witty comeback about her being boring or something else it’s another clear sign that something is up, she just can’t quite pin point what.

You’ve tuned out from her though, and as much as she is worried and thrown off, the bus is not a place to make a scene, specifically before a match. You will not take well to Alexia interrogating you and potentially causing any kind of emotional distress.

So, even though it pains her to do so, she walks on, she leaves you in the sinking ship you’re currently n in, taking on more and more water as every minute passes.

You’re at a point where you can admit to yourself that you are in no way fit to play.

You don’t want to be on the pitch, the fans don’t want you on the pitch, your teammates musn’t want you on the pitch, Pere wouldn’t have you on the pitch if Aitana was available and when you think about it the whole footballing world doesn’t want you on the pitch.

You flinch when you walk out to warm up and are met with boos, the Spanish fans are unlike all other fans, their passion is palpable and when one person starts booing everybody follows suit. It’s not even Barcelona fans, which is undecidedly worse and better. The overall impression is that you’ve aggravated the Spanish people.

It takes your teammates a couple of seconds to catch on to who it is the anger is being directed at but once they do it’s a domino affect of everybody turning to you, and then turning to each other and back to you. You try your best to not let it affect you, you’ve been booed before and have dealt with many angry fans, but when it starts to echo from the away side of the stands you honestly question if you’ve pushed yourself a little bit too hard.

Alexia regrets her decision not to say something to you when she sees the complete fear in your eyes as you look around at the crowd, who are vehemently booing you. It’s not a good feeling on any day to clearly have a crowd so against you but when you’re clearly off kilter as it is it’s clear that it all throws you off even more.

Before Alexia can think about it, she’s beelining straight to Keira.

“What happened on camp?”

Keira is just as thrown off by what is occurring as everyone else.

“England camp?”

It’s clear in the bewilderment in Keira’s face that she’s not understood what Alexia’s asking.

“With y/n, did something happen that nobody knows about?”

The booing finally comes to an end, but it doesn’t change the overall energy in which a whole crowd is sending your way.

“She was fine all camp, being an idiot with grace and beth and being her usual self. All the other games she was fine, and then after the Spain game, after the red card, she’s just been acting different. It’s like G at Man City all over again.”

Alexia understands everything that Keira’s saying, until the last sentence. Her English is pretty good, hger understanding is almost perfect, speaking less so but the last few words completely surpass her level of interpretation.

“G? Man City?”

Alexia notices you in the corner of her eye doing shooting practice, every time you miss and echo of cheers erupts.

“Georgia? Stanway? A couple of years ago, when she was young she got a stupid red card, it wasn’t pretty not dissimilar to the challenge on Aitana. Big mess with the media, got some really nasty messages.”

She doesn’t remember the moment itself, but she does remember reading something about it a couple of years ago.

“Gracias.”

You’re red hot with rage already, the crowd has you amped up. When Pere questions you in the locker room about your state of mind, you are quite literally in a blinding fury. It the kind of sadness fueled anger, youa re literally ripping apart at the seams and instead of actually feeling all of the innate anguish you are experiencing you turn it into anger.

“Why the fuck did you go to Pere and tell him I wasn’t ready to play.”

The tunnel is the only time you’ve been able to talk to Alexia, she’d been so held up with the pep talk, then talking to Pere, then giving inspiration to everybody else. But now that you have the opportunity you can’t ignore it.

Alexia’s eyes are ahead, you’re stuck standing behind her but she can hear you perfectly clear.

“After the game.”

It had taken enough effort for you to convince Pere that you were fine. You were begging for a starting spot that you didn’t even want, a spot that is actually making you feel sick to your stomach. It’s the doubt though, you doubted yourself in that stupid tackle that got you the card, so if you doubted yourself what was to stop everybody else from doubting you?

“No, what makes you think that you can talk to our coach about my game fitness without even talking to me? Do you have any respect for me at all?”

Alexia turns around, and it makes you feel slightly validated and slightly less like you’re about to punch her in the head.

“It’s not about your fitness.”

The punching in the head feeling returns pretty quickly.

“Not about my fitness? What the fuck else is it then? Just because I don’t act like a dickhead on the bus and decide to take a nap?”

Alexia gives you on final look before turning around, the look on her face only adds to your sickeningly consuming anger.

You go onto the pitch angry, which isn’t good for anything. Every time the ball lands at your feet, boos echo out. Every time you get tackled, which is fairly frequently because the opposition has chosen you as the punching bag for the game, cheers erupt. The game is easy enough, 90 percent of possession is with Barcelona, with you spot in the midfield the ball comes to you every few seconds. It’s mostly fine, for the first ten or so minutes. Until the tackles start to get rougher, and you’re mad, and the crowd is loud and everything feels so incredibly wrong.

It’s working you up at a fast rate, then the ball lands at your feet for the 50th time in the match already, and without even looking up at your defender, who three seconds before was standing right in front of you, her studs are placing themselves directly into your calf. It’s not a comfortable feeling, to put it lightly. You manage to clear the ball before you’re on your back, clutching at your leg and trying your best to breathe as the crowd cries out, your opponent mutters something aggressively in spanish and your teammates argue with the referee.

It’s all too much. Your just angry, and upset. Not even at your defender or at the tackle, just at all of it. You think in a roundabout way that this is all karma, that this is your punishment for whatever you did to anger everyone and yourself. You’re tired and fed up and want it all to go away.

You want to sink into the grass of the pitch and just disappear, it would make your life so much easier if in this moment you could just disappear and not face any of the stuff that is happening.

Then there are hands on you and you’re reminded that it’s nowhere near that easy.

“Estas bien? Necesitas la medica?”

You force yourself to stand up, push through, get it over with. You need to prove everybody wrong.

Whether you can see it or not, you are spinning out. Everybody else can see it, you’re frantic, timid and shaken. Patri is the one to put her hands on your shoulders and steady you before you try to return to play.

“You need to go off.”

Twenty minutes have passed, you aren’t going to force a sub when it is unnecessary.

“I’m fine.”

Patri shakes her head, in the same way Irene or Marta would when they are being tough.

“You are not okay, and you need to go off before something worse than that happens.”

You shake Patri off, and when she tries to come back you give her a shove.

“I’m fucking fine. I know when I can and cannot play.”

Like every other attempt that’s been made to try and stop you, she just frowns and walks away. The ref gives you a once over before allowing the game to return to play.

It’s not fine, nothing is fine. Your defender continuously gets away with dangerous tackles that should be continous yellow cards, the crowd is getting to you with every passing second. By gods grace three goals are scored in a few minutes, not only does it silence the opposition it puts you at ease a little bit. For the most part, you’re doing okay, or as okay as possible.

Until it gets to a corner.

There is two minutes of stoppage time, which have well and truly been used up. The corner is going to be the last play and it’s impact is not super important but the pressure is still there. You end up sandwiched between the two centre backs, and for whatever reason when the boot releases off of Patri’s foot from the corner instead of running to make room like you’re supposed to, you are yanked directly to the ground, with two boots stepping directly onto your legs.

It’s not agony, it’s definitely not good but you’re spending more time trying to not cry and collect air then focusing on everything else.

You can’t breathe, and you physically can’t stop the sob that leaves your mouth, it’s pathetic but it’s been building and you can’t stop it.

You don’t bother with listening to the call, or letting your teammates help you up or worrying about the play. The whistle has blown and you have one mission, to go anywhere away from people. You force yourself to stand up even though your back hurts from falling flat on it and your thighs hurt from being stomped on, and walk off.

Pere and the bench are still waiting in the dug out, normally you’d hug or talk or anything but right now the only thing on your mind is getting away, because if you don’t then what is now only tears is going to turn into a full panic attack. You’re working simply off of pure instinct, you have the shutters on and the only thing you are focusing on is your end goal and getting there. When you get to the changing rooms it’s empty, you bee line straight through to the bathroom and lock yourself in a stall before you actually let yourself think beyond the orders that have been set out in your mind.

Like everyone had said, you aren’t ready. You are living with the knowledge that because of your actions, your stupid actions you are being given a spot and opportunity that you didn’t deserve, you got it purely based off of the fact that you injured one of your teammates. Now you can’t even live up to the expectation of being a replacement.

The feeling that was initially what you had thought to be anxiety sickness builds up and all of a sudden you’re grateful your in the bathroom because within a couple of seconds you are kneeled on the floor letting your whole stomach contents out. It’s not a good feeling, you’ve been slowly descending towards rock bottom for days now but you’ve come to the realisation that this is it, this is your lowest point. Every time you think about the pitch you subsequently think about the crowd which leads you to think about everything happening inside your phone and then the sick feeling is back full force. The you think about Aitana, her ankle, her spot, her training, everything. All of that combined and all you can do is cry, it’s the only emotional outlet that you have enough energy for. You’d love to be able to punch something or throw something but you don’t have the energy, you’re running off of no sleep, hardly any food and now the fatigue of playing a half of football.

“Chica, can you open the door?”

Truthfully there are not many people you want to see in this moment or really ever again but Alexia might be at the top of the list. You’d been a little bit star struck when you’d gotten to Barcelona, you were an up and coming and to be on a roster with the best midfielders in the world was something you were in awe of. You were still slightly in awe of the fact that you were sharing a bench with two ballon d’or winners.

“I’m fine.”

You force yourself to stay as silent as possible even though it’s hard with the constant sobs building up inside of your chest.

“Please open the door.”

You’re at rock bottom and even if you try to swim out you’re going to need some help at some stage you suppose.

As soon as you open the door there is a resounding gasp, you close your eyes to keep a little bit of your inner peace whilst Alexia steps into the stall and locks the door behind her. There is just enough room for her to squeeze down on the floor next to you so she does without any hesitation.

“I don’t need you telling me that you were right to question me playing and that it was a bad idea, I’m already aware.”

You’re not sore from the match and yet everything hurts, you actually feel like your limbs are slowly being ripped off of your body and everything is being split open.

“I wasn’t going to say that, I was going to ask if you’re okay.”

It’s a complicated question.

“Physically yes.”

Your eyes are still closed, if you look at Alexia then suddenly this all becomes a whole lot more real.

“Mentally, emotionally?”

Just the question is enough to essentially demuzzle you, everything you were doing to stop yourself from crying out fails, and you start sobbing, in the loudest and ugliest way possible.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

Alexia bunches up jext to you, slings an arm around your shoulders and brings you in closer.

“Don’t apologise when you didn’t do anything wrong, even if everyone else is making it seem like you did.”

Deep down you do believe you did something wrong, you don’t exactly know what but you must have, you must have done something because why else would all of this have happened.

“I hurt Aitana, I took her spot, I sabotaged her.”

The crying is cathartic, you’ve been crying for days but in an unemotionally detached way to expel some of the depression instead of actually feeling it.

“No you didn’t. You mis-timed a tackle that ended in a very minor injury. Football is a game of injuries, it happens. I don’t care what you’ve read online or what you’ve heard, the facts are simple. Anyone on our team or the england team can tell you that. Nobody blames you for what happened, not even Aitana. So you shouldn’t blame yourself.”

It’s easier to blame yourself you think.

“Everybody hates me, all I’m getting are messages about how I deserve to die and how people wish I’m never able to have kids or that I get injured as payback.”

Alexia’s deep breath makes you feel queasy all over again.

“What we’re going to do is delete all of your social media apps for the next few weeks, nothing is going to make people stop being putas, si? So for your own sake you’re going to delete all of them, turn all of your comments off, turn your messages off. There is nothing more important then your peace of mind, once that’s gone then this happens. You deserve better than this, you deserve to feel better than this. You also deserve to have fun and enjoy being a part of this team, nobody thinks you sabotaged Aitana, nobody blames you. You are just as welcome here as you were before the break, you are just as valued here as you were before the break. This stupid situation is not worth your health, si?”

You wipe away some of your tears, even though they’re still coming and nod.

“You deserve better, and until people realise that we need to focus on making sure that you know that.”

You feel specifically worthless, and it’s completely your own doing.

“Now, we need to get up before my legs go to sleep and my old body is stuck on the floor in here. Not everybody has young bones like you kids.”

You flush whatever parts of your stomach decided they wanted to resurface and force yourself to stand up, but as you do so the realisation that you are midway through a match comes back and all off a sudden you feel the need to sit down again.

“I told Pere to take you off for the rest of the game, I was coming off anyway, managing minutes. You can get dressed or shower, or do whatever you need to do and then we’lltalk a bit more about how we can turn this around. I’m serious when I say that the main focus is you right now and supporting you.”

You ignore the fact that nothing was ever mentioned about Alexia managing minutes and just accept that it’s a pointless argument and you don’t exactly mind her company right now. It’s nice to know that there is somebody shining a light for you at the end of the tunnel.

[finelinevogue]

take care of you

summary - Aaron comes home in the middle of the night after you miss his calls, thinking something terrible has happened

word count - 1k

pairing - aaron hotchner x gf!reader

Aaron was only slightly panicking.

You had told him that you would wait up for him. You knew this case was a hard one for him and so you had promised to be there for him when he got home. You never broke a promise.

The fact that you hadn't answered his texts since he had landed back in Virginia was troubling him though.

He had barely said goodbye to his team before getting in his car and racing back home. He needed to see you and he needed to see you now.

As Aaron stopped at a red light he picked his phone back up again, taking note of the last few texts he had sent.

(10:36 PM) Aaron: Landed. Will be home soon

(10:58 PM) Aaron: Are you still up?

(11:05 PM) Aaron: Sweetheart if you're still awake can you just let me know you're okay?

Maybe it was the cynical criminal profiler in him, but you would never willingly go back on your word. It terrified him to know what kind of sick people lived in this world and how easily they could infiltrate an innocent life like yours.

Aaron was now spiralling, thinking the very worst.

He tried telling himself that you could simply be asleep, or perhaps you were in the shower - a thought he did not need to distract himself with currently - but his mind kept on coming back to the worst situations.

Kidnapped. Tortured. Assaulted. The list goes on.

As he pulled up the car onto the front drive, he made quick work of exiting and shutting everything off. Aaron didn't fumble around with his keys as he opened the door - he was too driven by motivation of seeing you to be distracted.

He called your name as he entered the front door.

"Y/N?"

No answer.

Aaron dropped the house and car keys in the porcelain bowl by the front door, not even bothering to take off his shoes or blazer like you normally make him do.

He popped his head into the first sitting room.

No one.

"Sweetheart?"

No answer.

The lights were on in the kitchen but no one was there. The sink was empty but there were freshly washed dishes on the side waiting to be put away.

"Y/N, honey?"

He strode into the lounge last and breathed the deepest sigh of relief when he noticed your body nestled deep into the sofa, blanket over your body, hair so messy and mouth open catching flies.

Aaron ran a stressed hand back over his head, thanking whatever deity he sometimes believed in for watching over you and for everything turning out to be alright.

He waisted no time in rounding the sofa.

He moved your body slightly further back into the sofa so he could perch on it too. Aaron's hand ran over your cheek, physically checking that you were okay.

His movements must have disturbed whatever REM sleep you were getting.

"Aaron?" You mumbled, focusing on whether the man in front of you was real or a figment of your imagination, "What—what’s wrong?"

He chuckled to himself.

You were always so quick to detect when something was the matter with him. You joked that the tell was all in the kind of frown he wore. Aaron didn't believe a word of it, but it was true. The subtlest of differences of his frown could mean a complete change in emotion.

This particular frown told you he was anxious. Worried about something.

Aaron's voice trembled as he spoke, “I’ve been calling you for hours. Texted you a few times too. You didn’t answer and I thought—”

You could tell he was struggling to steady himself, so you sat up from where you had been laying down and moved your body close to his. You dipped your head down to catch his eyes, bringing his focus back to you.

Your hands gently cupped each of his cheeks with tender care. His stubble was already coming through, which was a sign that this had been an exhausting case. If Aaron was even the slightest bit dishevelled you knew it was bad.

“I’m so sorry. I ran out of TV to watch and then I think I fell asleep."

"Didn't take a profiler to know you were asleep, honey. Your mouth was wide open." Aaron joked, trying to lighten the situation. It sort of worked, before he grew more serious again, “Don’t ever scare me like that again.”

You nodded, leaning in to give him a kiss. It was the simplest gesture you could think of to show that you were sorry for putting him through that. You couldn't have imagined how scary that must have been for him, especially in his line of work.

"I'm sorry."

"You don't need to apologise."

"I know, but I am. I didn’t mean to worry you.”

Aaron's hands come around your waist and you take it as your queue to move yours to wrap around his neck. Both of you pulled each other in for a tight hug, needing to feel the warmth of each others embrace.

You held each other for a few moments, neither one of you in a rush to let go.

“After the case we just had… I can’t lose you. I just can't.” He mumbled into your neck.

You squeezed your arms around him a little tighter before letting go slowly. He moved back in tandem with you, but moved his hands so he could cup your cheeks this time.

"I’m here.”

It was as much as you could reassure him for now.

You could see the tension melt away from Aaron. His frown of anxiety turned back to his regular frown, bordering on the smile that you were the only privileged enough person to see.

“You look exhausted." You said.

You smiled sweetly as you stroked back the hair from his forehead and pushed it back in line. The bags under his eyes were tomorrow's problem, but nothing a good night's sleep tonight couldn't fix.

Aaron gave you a tired huff, but didn't argue.

"Let me take care of you tonight, okay?” You asked.

Aaron shook his head, "That's my job to take care of you, not the other way..."

"Shut up. Tonight I’m in charge so deal with it.” You kissed him to prove that you were in charge - if only for tonight.

[birdiewritessometimes]

you are my favorite writer and I’m begging on my knees for more Theo fics because your last one ate so hard im in love with it🫶🏼🫶🏼 I don’t really have any ideas besides the reader who wears prescribed glasses (I don’t really see any glasses readers as someone who has to wear glasses), a hufflepuff or Ravenclaw and it being really soft and fluffy

Take all the time you need no rush! ㅤᵕ̈ ♡

Pack of Cigarettes

A/N: Thank you sososososososo much <3 This really made my day (month hah aim so bad) and I’m so so so so sorry you had to wait so long, school was busting my ass and them Christmas came and the holidays are just stressfull! And girl I feel you, I have glasses myself! I’m sorry this will be filled with clichés just as usual (I can’t help myself). Also I’m just saying but the astronomy tower is just their hang out, that’s just how it is. Also also I included a funny bonus scene at the end that didn’t really fit in the fic but that I loveeeed soooo enjoy that too hihihi

Summary: Theodore has formed a crush on one of the most closed off people but maybe dropping his cigarettes on purpose with help him to talk to her.

Pairing: Theodore Nott x Hufflepuff!reader

Themes/warnings: Sort of shy reader!, fluff, some tension, longing, kissing.

Word count: 4500 -ish

Please do not copy or translate my work!

The grounds were covered in a thick layer of snow. It was a clear day. Cold winds whipping the windows of the library where you were currently sitting, studying. It was a Saturday in the beginning of January. The term had just started and yet you had homework stacked up to your ears. The NEWT-classes were really kicking your butt. There were few students in the library at this hour, most were still enjoying their breakfast in the great hall. You were sitting by the window, occasionally looking out at the snow covered quidditch-pitch as you were finishing your week’s homework. The occasional cracks and snaps of the fire filling the otherwise silent library, casting an over all calmness over you as you ruffled through the pages of the various books you needed for your homework.

The sound of the door pulled you out of your bubble of concentration. Theodore Nott walked in with his friends. Your eyes raked over his figure as he walked with his friend, Mattheo Riddle, an air of easy confidence around the pair. Your eyes traced the outline of his large hoodie, the perfect fit of his jeans, back up to the perfectly messy mop of hair that sat on his head. You felt your heartbeat increase as Mattheo nudged his friend while looking at you with a smirk, Theodores eyes snapped to yours making you blush as you quickly glanced down into your book again. You glanced down at your clothes, mentally thanking yourself for choosing both cute and comfortable clothes today. Only cursing yourself for choosing your glasses rather than your lenses. You usually wore your contact lenses during the weeks, it being more convenient than your glasses that got dirty all the time, but during weekends you opted for your glasses since your lenses made your eyes dry.

Theodore and his friends sat down by a table just a couple away from yours, giving you a perfect view of the group of troublemakers. You shifted your concertation back at the transfiguration homework before you. You did however steal glances at Theodore from time to time. You had the most painful crush on the boy but never had the courage to talk to him. It was no secret that half of the female population of Hogwarts crushed on the troublemaking boys in Slytherin, so you tried to push your feelings away, only letting yourself admire him from afar.

As you were scribbling down the answers to the questions of the work sheet you heard a soft thud near you. Looking up you saw the retreating back of the tall Italian boy with fluffy hair. Looking down at the wooden floor you saw a pack of cigarettes. Frowning slightly, you bent down to pick them up. It was no secret that Theodore and his friends smoked so you assumed that they were his. Looking back over at him you saw how he was opening a book that you assumed he got when he walked past you. Gulping you realised that you probably should go over to him and give them back. Your heartbeat increased at the mere thought of it. Taking a deep breath, you gathered what little courage you had and stood up. The pack of cigarettes in your hands. You saw how Mattheo nudged Theodore when he noticed your approach. Theodores eyes snapped to yours making you blush. You had no idea why your cheeks felt the need to burn up whenever Theodore Nott was involved and right now you cursed yourself for your blush.

“Excuse me.” You said softly when you reached the table. The others, Lorenzo Berkshire and Blaise Zabini, were also looking at you now, a curious look in their eyes. “I think you dropped this.” You said, your voice quiet as you stretched out your hand with the pack of cigarettes to Theodore. He looked at you surprised but made no move to take them. It wasn’t until Mattheo elbowed him in the ribs that he responded.

“Right, sorry bella,” you assumed the nickname just slipped out, but it made you blush none the less, “thank you.” He said, flashing you a small smile before he reached for the pack. His fingers grazed yours as he took it from your much smaller hand. You felt your breath hitch at the contact but willed yourself to breath normally.

“You’re welcome.” You said quickly before you turned around and hurried back to your spot. Your heart was beating so rapidly you were sure that they could hear it if you stayed any longer.

The clock chimed as the pointers hit the number twelve you gathered the books you had borrowed to put them back in their right places before lunch. You noted that you had collected a rather big pile as you struggled to carry them all. Your eyes quickly darted involuntary in Theodore’s direction to see him and his friends gathering their things. With a breath you picked up the pile and started to head towards the large wooden bookshelves. As you were standing on the tips of your toes, trying to shimmy a book into its place by the very tips of your fingers, a large hand came from behind you and slid the book into its place. You let out a startled gasp as you turned around to see the very boy you were crushing on. Your eyes raked his face, now that he was closer. Tired eyes that seemed to have a glint of mischief in them. They were the most gorgeous steely blue. Your eyes travelled to his soft brown hair, thick and practically inviting you to run your fingers through it. His scent enveloped you like a hug of warmth, a touch of citrus and the smell of cigarettes lingered. It didn’t bother you though, like it did most people.

“Quite the stack of books you got there, bella.” His gravelly voice pulled you out of your shameless staring, his thick Italian accent more attractive now than earlier. The nickname made the familiar heat of a blush rise to your cheeks. You opened your mouth as to say something, but no sound came out. Embarrassed you closed your mouth quickly and looked away. You heard how he let out a chuckle at your embarrassed state.

“Come on, bella. Let me help you.” He stated as he casually grabbed the heavy pile of books in your arms, carrying it with ease. You willed your pulse to slow back down to normal as you slowly walked along the shelves, putting back the books. You took the ones who belonged on the lower shelves and Theodore took the ones that belonged to the higher ones. By the time you put away the last book you found yourself so far back in the library that you couldn’t see the seating area. You turned your body to look up at the boy after you had put away the very last book.

“Thank you, Theodore.” You spoke, your voice soft as you were relieved that you finally found your voice around him. His lips curled into a small smile as he stared at your face. Your stupid heart quickened again from the way he was looking at you. Heat, that it so often did around him, rose again to your cheeks as you broke eye contact.

“I like your glasses, they suit you.” He murmured making you look up at him, your eyes wide. You have never been complimented for your glasses before. Your hand shot up to correct your glasses, a nervous habit you developed as your eyes widened.

“Really?” You wanted to slap yourself for the hopeful tone in your voice, but Theodore just smiled and nodded. He stepped closer to you, invading your space and effectively caging you in between himself and the bookshelf behind you. Hot air surrounded you as he leaned in so that his lips were nearly grazing the shell of your ear, his warm breaths hitting your neck as he exhaled. You heart was nearly hammering out of your chest.

“I think you should wear them more often.” He mumbled in your ear before leaning back and turning to look you in your eyes. You were so close to his face now that your noses almost touched. You saw how his lips curled into a smirk. You let your mind wander to how it would feel to have his lips on yours. Would they be soft and gentle, or rushed and demanding? You found yourself realising that it didn’t matter much, you would happily take whatever he was willing to give you. Your eyes travelled back up to meet his steely blue ones, and you felt your breath hitch with the intensity of his look. A smirk still plastered on his face.

“I’ll see you later, bella.” He said through his smirk, the mischievous glint in his eyes as he stepped away from you, letting the cold air surround you once again. You were sure your face was beet red as you watched his retreating form. He looked back at you once more, sending you a wink before rounding a bookshelf. When you couldn’t see him anymore you let out a big breath you didn’t know you were holding. Feeling hot all over you quickly decided to grab a snack from the kitchens and resume your studying in the Hufflepuff common room. Far away from Theodore Nott and the effect he had on you.

The start of the week came sooner than you would’ve liked, but you had at least finished all your homework. You were feeling tired as you got ready for the day ahead. As you were preparing to put your lenses in your glasses caught your eye. Your heart quickened as you thought about the encounter that happened Saturday. Should you use your glasses today? He will know it’s because he said so. But so what? The thoughts swivelled in your head as you stood there looking at your glasses. In one giant breath you picked up your glasses and put them on. Hurrying out of your dorm before you could change your mind.

The day went by pretty normally. Zacharias Smith had actually complimented you about your glasses. It made you smile, although it didn’t make you feel any of the things Theodore had made you feel, it was still nice to get complimented. You were on your way to dinner when you bumped into something, or rather someone. Because someone caught you around the waist so you wouldn’t fall from the impact. Looking up you were met with the steely blue eyes of Theodore. He was smirking down at you, his large hand splayed against your ribcage. You felt a blush dust your cheeks at the proximity.

“Be careful bella.” He smirked and leaned down so his mouth was close to your ear yet again “I like the glasses.” He murmured before he let you go. A cold instantly spreading through you at his absence. He gave you a wink before stepping around you to continue on his way. The encounter made the butterflies in your stomach go wild, making it hard to eat. Your thoughts were constantly drifting towards your encounters with Theodore, making a blush spread on your cheeks and butterflies flutter in your stomach every time.

You would run into Theodore more often around the castle after the encounter before dinner, if it wasn’t in the corridors he would casually plop down in the seat next to yours during the classes you shared. The first time this happened you had almost jumped out of your own seat. He had startled you as he took the seat your best friend usually sat in.

“This seat free?” He had asked innocently and just at that moment your friend had walked in and gave you a knowing smile before sitting down next to Zacharias. You had only nodded at Theodore before you went back to get ready to take notes. During the classes you shared you noticed that Theodore rarely took notes, he usually just sat, leaned back into the chair, his legs spread more widely than any human could need, his knee usually gently grazed your own. Even if he didn’t take notes, he usually could answer the questions the teachers directed at him.

Now you were slowly warming up to him, even though your butterflies wouldn’t calm down around him. You would greet each other in the corridors, and you would say hi to his friends in the classes your shared. You noticed that you were slowly being more and more open to them and less nervous.

It was a weekend morning, and you were sitting at the Hufflepuff table in the great hall eating breakfast. Your friends were still asleep in their dorms. You were reading the Daily Prophet as you munched on some toast with marmalade when Theodore, Mattheo, Blaise and Lorenzo casually sat down around you. You looked up from the article you were reading in chock at the boys.

“Morning, bella.” Theodore smirked as he reached for some bread. The others murmured their various greetings as well before they helped themselves to some breakfast. You stared at them, unable to wrap your head around what was going on.

“What are you doing?” You asked them in surprise.

“Eating breakfast.” Mattheo shrugged from beside you making you snort.

“We thought you would like some company, bella.” Theodore said nonchalantly as he refilled your juice jug. A small smile broke out your face as you thanked him softly. He gave you a soft smile back before the five of you fell into easy conversation. You really started to feel more comfortable around them as they sat there, joking around, talking over each other and being general chaos.

A couple of days later you found yourself sitting in the library, the school-day had ended, and you decided to catch up on schoolwork as you waited for dinner. You were sitting at one of the tables in the very back of the library, next to one of the windows where you could easily see the glittering snow-covered grounds. You had decided to wear your contact lenses today, not feeling like cleaning your glasses all throughout the day. Your hair was down, neatly tucked behind your ears as you poured over the homework you had gotten from Professor Slughorn in potions. You were so deep in concentration that you almost shrieked when Theodore plopped down in the seat beside you. You had a hand over your chest, as to calm your racing heart.

“Theo, you scared me.” You mumbled, as you tucked a strand of hair that had fallen out of place back behind your ear. You turned to the side to look into his blue eyes. A smirk plastered on his face.

“Well, you would’ve heard me if you weren’t so focused on your…” his eyes travelled to your potions homework “homework, seriously y/n? We got that today?” He then questioned in mock offense.

“Well, I prefer to be on time, Theo.” You said pointedly. You had grown more confident around him and his friends since the time you shared breakfast together. Your crush on the boy beside you had not calmed one bit, however. Your feelings only grew stronger with the attention and the friendliness he had showed you. You were however unsure on his feelings towards you.

“Bella, it wouldn’t kill you to relax some time…” He trailed of as his eyes scanned your face; he was frowning slightly making your heart beat in worry. Did you have something on your face? Did he think you were ugly? Insecurities and anxious thoughts swivelled around in your head at his frown.

“What’s wrong?” You asked after gathering the courage. Anxiety rising in your throat.

“Where’s your glasses?” He asked. Your anxiety deflated as a balloon. Relief washed over you, calming your nerves, and a small laugh bubbled past your lips.

“Wh-what?” You asked between giggles.

“Why aren’t you wearing your glasses?” He asked again, eyebrows furrowed this time. He looked like a confused puppy the way he was tilting his head slightly to the side.

“Sometimes I’m too lazy?” You said amusedly, although it sounded more like a question.

“I like your glasses…” He mumbled under his breath. His comment made your heart flutter, but not as much as it did when he lifted his eyes to look at your face again. He was looking at you with an intensity you hadn’t experienced before. His eyes travelled across your face; it was almost like he was mapping out your features. There was still a frown on his face, but his eyes had softened. You felt your heartbeat increase again, the air around you now thick. You hadn’t noticed how close he was until it was too late. You could now see the darker greyish circle around the outer border of his iris. You could make out the individual lashes around his eyes. Your eyes travelled down and noticed a small scar on his cheek. A thin slightly pinker line no longer than a centimetre sitting there on his cheek. You had never seen it before. Before you could stop yourself, your fingers had reached out to trace the scar. You didn’t say anything, neither did Theodore, as you gently let your fingers graze his skin. He leaned into your touch, his eyes fluttering closed, seemingly enjoying your touch.

“Do you know how amazing you are?” His voice was hoarse as he muttered the question, his eyes still shut, your fingers still moving to trace his face.

“What?” You let out, almost breathless. Theodore nodded, his eyes fluttering open to look you in your eyes.

“Yeah, you’re nice, smart and beautiful.” He said it so easily, almost like a shrug as he leaned more into your touch. Your heart hammered in your chest as a blush rose on your cheeks.

“You think I’m beautiful?” You asked timidly. He let out a chuckle, although it did little to ease the tension.

“Haven’t you noticed?” He then asked to which you shook your head.

“Bella, everything about you is beautiful, you’re beautiful in your uniform, in your casual clothes, with your glasses, without your glasses, when your hair is like this,” he let his hand rake through your hair, “when it’s up,” you felt your blush increase, “and don’t get me started on that, it almost brings me to my knees.” He said as his thumb gently traced your hot cheek. Your pulse was thundering in your veins at his confession. Your hand had halted its movements as he was speaking. His other hand engulfed it as it was hovering awkwardly by his face. He moved to his lips and pressed a kiss to your pulse point on your wrist. Your breath hitched at his contact.

“There’s a reason I always call you bella, and go out of my way to speak to you, you know,” he mumbled against the delicate skin on your wrist, “it’s because you’re so god damned beautiful,” he said before kissing your wrist again, “and nice,”  and again, “and smart, too smart for me,” and again.

“Theo.” It came out more like a breath rather than an actual word. It almost didn’t feel real but when his eyes snapped up to yours again you knew it was. Before you had the chance to react his large hands found your waist and you were dragged into his lap. His eyes were so intense that it felt like someone punched the air out of your lungs.

“I love it when you call me that.” He whispered, one of his hands moving up from your waist to your cheek. His other hand was gripping the soft flesh of your waist almost like a lifeline. You let out a breath that sounded like a gasp.

“Can I kiss you?” He asked and you nodded absentmindedly, your mind to busy making sure you were breathing and not fainting. His hand moved to grip the hair at the nape of your neck.

“I need to hear you say it.” He said, sounding almost strained. Your hands had moved up to hold onto his shoulders. His skin emitting warmth through his school dress shirt.

“Kiss me, Theo.” It didn’t sound like your voice; it sounded distant but none of that mattered when you felt his surprisingly soft lips on yours. He moved slowly, gently, almost like he was savouring the moment. His fingers gripped your waist even harder, like he was holding himself back. Your fingers moved from his strong shoulders to his soft hair. The strands tangled in your fingers as they moved to the nape of his neck, gently tugging on the hair there. Theodore let out a groan into your mouth as he pulled you even closer to his body. After some time, you pulled away for air. An intense blush spreading across your cheeks when your eyes met Theodore’s. He was smiling at you, a soft, genuine smile.

“Go on a date with me.” He said breathlessly. You let out a breathy giggle.

“Don’t you think we’re doing this backwards?” You asked, gesturing to the non-existent distance between your body. He shrugged confidently, his signature smirk stretching on his lips. His relaxed air seemed to seep into your body, making you relax completely in his grasp.

“Yeah, but my girl deserves a perfect first date.” He said, his voice confident and nonchalant at the same time making you let out a giggle.

“Your girl?” You asked, your brow raised in question, but he just merely shrugged.

“I didn’t hear you ask me to be your girl.” You teased with a laugh. He rolled his eyes jokingly before looking into your eyes with a soft, gentle look.

“Bella, will you be my girl?” He then asked, his voice so genuine and soft. You felt a smile spread on your face as you snaked your arms around his neck again.

“I would love to, Theo.” You said softly.

“Thank merlin I dropped my cigarettes that day, I would’ve never had the balls to speak to you otherwise.” Theodore let out in a sigh before he pulled you to him for another kiss.

“What does that mean?” You asked in between kisses.

“Don’t mind that now, bella.” He murmured before kissing you again, with much more intensity this time, but not before you let out happy giggles, making him smile against your lips.

Bonus scene:

You had been studying in the common room when you started to feel very stuffy, deciding that a walk through the castle would help with the antsy feeling. You had changed out of your school uniform, now sporting a pair of yoga pants and a large sweater. Your hair up in a ponytail and your glasses rested on your nose as you were strolling through the trophy room. When you walked around the corner that led out into the corridor you bumped into someone. With an “oof” you fell to the cold stone floor. A dull ache spread through your butt and hip as you rubbed it mumbling an “ouch” under your breath.

“Shit, fuck, sorry y/n.” A voice said above you as a large hand wrapped around your upper arm to help you up. When you looked up your eyes met the steely blue ones of Theodore as he steadied you with both his hands on your arms. The person who had spoken was his best friend, with whom you had bumped into. You tore your gaze from Theodore as you looked at Mattheo who was looking at you apologetically as he rubbed the back of his neck. You cracked a small smile at the ‘guilty school-boy’-look he had going on.

“It’s okay, don’t worry.” You said, the smile still playing on your lips. Your eyes gazed over the other two boys standing there, Lorenzo and Blaise, a small smile still on your lips until Theodore pulled your attention back to him with a gentle squeeze on your arm.

“Are you okay?” He asked gently, looking at you with puppy-dog eyes. His look made your breath hitch again before you managed a smile at him and nodded.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You said softly and just as Theodore was about to answer something else caught your attention. It was Lorenzo and Blaise… acting out your interaction with Theodore… rather dramatically.

“My love, are you okay?” Blaise let out with a poor attempt at an Italian accent, burning passion in his voice as he violently grabbed Lorenzo, turning the boy to him, his other hand clutching his chest. Lorenzo, ever the actor, dramatically put the back of his hand on his forehead, feigning exhaustion as he leaned back into Blaise.

“Oh yes, I’m so okay.” He somewhat gasped dramatically as Blaise put on a pained expression. You were in total shock, you could feel the blush violently rise on your cheeks, and you didn’t dare glance back at Theodore who stood somewhat behind you. Your eyes did however catch Mattheo’s. One look. One look was all it took for you and Mattheo to absolutely lose it. Mattheo was absolutely howling with laughter, clutching his stomach as he doubled over. You were laughing so hard tears streamed down your face as you hid it in part embarrassment behind your hands. You saw how Mattheo had to sit down on the floor, his legs not being able to keep him up as he laughed at the complete idiocy of his two friends. You soon joined him on the floor when you saw how Lorenzo and Blaise continued to act like a doting pair in love. Blaise had now moved onto fussing over Lorenzo’s sweater. You were sure you were now beet red in the face. But you had to admit that it was nice that it was due to another reason than just embarrassment.

When the two of you had calmed down a bit you dared to look back at Theodore who was positively trying to murder his friends with his eyes, a faint blush on his cheeks. You had to admit that he was cute with the blush. Your eyes met Mattheo’s again, and it took every ounce of self-control your body possessed to not start laughing again. Your eyes drifted back to Lorenzo and Blaise who were now taking the bow for their excellent performance, making you giggle again before looking up at Theodore.

“Come on Theodore, it was funny.” You said as you held your hand out for him to help you up. You didn’t know where this newfound confidence came from, but you didn’t question it as you were smiling broadly up at the boy before you. His large, warm hand wrapped around your own as he hoisted you up on your feet. Your back was turned to Lorenzo and Blaise, but you saw how Theodore sent them a glare that effectively meant “don’t fucking start”.

“I’m glad you enjoy the comedic abilities of my friends.” He muttered to you, his cheeks still the faintest shade of pink. You let out a giggle when you looked up at the tall boy before you.

[metyouinthehallway]

𝐓𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐝𝐠𝐞 𝐨𝐟𝐟

Matt Sturniolo x fem!reader

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“Holy fuck…” Matt groans, throwing himself face down on his bed, right next to where you lay. He’d been out at meetings for new merch ideas all day while you sat at home worry free.

“What’s goin’ on?” You didn’t even have to ask, poor boy was stressed out. You shift your weight on the mattress, rubbing comforting circles on his back.

“Stupid people, never listening to us.” He mumbles into the plush surface. The three of them left at 10am and it was now 5pm. Seven whole hours of meetings. Not only was he stressed but most definitely exhausted too.

Matt rolls onto his back, closing his eyes and letting you soothingly scratch at his scalp. “We deadass told them we didn’t want that design but the team insisted! And it’s god awful ugly y/n. Horrific.” He rolls his eyes at the memory, voice laced with frustration.

“I’m sorry baby… anything I can do to help?” you offer, as if going to the building downtown and telling off their management would be any help.

He thinks for a moment before speaking up. “Yeah, actually…” Matt turns his head to you, a devilish smirk painted on his face. You raise a brow at him, having an idea of what could come of this whole situation. “Strip for me.” He states, moving to the edge of the bed.

Without a fight, you stand in front of Matt, undressing yourself piece by piece. His eyes glued to your body as you do so.

“So fuckin’ sexy…” Matt growls, pulling you onto his lap. Wrapping your manicured nails around his neck, he wastes no time attacking your lips in a searing kiss. His hands roaming down to cup your ass, he begins to rock you against his denim clad thigh.

“M-Matt…” you whine against his lips, your bare pussy leaving a wet spot on the fabric beneath you. Matt only hums in response, trailing harsh kisses down your jaw and right behind your ear.

“Gonna let me take my stress out on you?” He purrs in your ear, his breath tickling your skin. Matt bucks his hips up, letting you feel just how aroused he is.

You intensify your grinding, searching for any sort of friction you can. The feeling of his jeans against your clit being pure ecstasy. He doesn’t let you continue for too long though.

Flipping you over, he climbs on top of you. Simultaneously pulling his shirt off and tossing it on the floor. Continuing to place wet kisses on your bare skin, he’s slowly making his way down to your heat, his nails gripping your thighs with vulgar intent.

“Mhm, so wet f’me already…” Matt’s voice tantalizing as he runs his index finger through your folds. He peers up at you, almost as if he’s seeking approval from you. When you meet his eyes with desperation, Matt doesn’t waver.

His tongue darts out, licking at your clit which causes you to arch your back off of the mattress. When he notices, he decides to add a finger into your sopping wet pussy, slowly stretching you out for his cock.

With vigorous flits of the tongue and his digits pumping in and out of you, you’re nearly already there. Your fingers grasping at his brunette strands in attempt to strengthen the pleasure.

“F-fuck…! Need your cock Matt…” your words are strung together in broken moans, Matt laps at your clit once more before hovering above you again. He fumbles with his jeans, speedily unzipping them, he wiggles the denim off of his body, followed by his briefs.

“How bad you need it, princess?” He teases, one hand stroking his already hard dick in preparation. The other hand holding him up above you.

“Don’t make me beg,” you pout, despite you words, you find yourself spreading your legs further apart. Matt chuckles, running his dick through your slick, eliciting a whimper from you.

Finally, he pushes himself inside of you, slowly stretching out your gummy walls at which you both moan. Your nails dig into his shoulder blades, sure to leave crescent shaped imprints later.

“Shit- so perfect… pussy was made for me.” Matt croaks, his thrusts starting off slow, allowing you to adjust to his size. He leans down, placing a chaste kiss to your lips before he quickens his pace. Now standing on the hardwood floor, his rough hands gripping your hips hard enough to leave bruises as Matt fucks himself into you.

The sound of skin slapping against skin and your echoed moans bounce off of the walls of Matt’s bedroom. Your eyes pinch shut from pleasure, Matt taking in the sight of you spread out on his silk sheets.

“Look at you, my girl…” he continues to praise you, talk you through it. You’re a babbling mess beneath him, his cock ghosting your cervix with each brutal thrust. He pulls out, hastily flipping you over.

Instinctually, you arch your back, showing off your ass as your face is buried into one of his few pillows. It doesn’t take long for Matt to slip himself back inside of you. Now, his pace even faster than before— if even possible. Matt snakes a hand around your throat, gripping onto it as if to steady himself.

“Gonna- gonna cum!” You yelp, now squeezing your palms around his pillow. Matt doesn’t verbally respond to your words, instead, his hips move with vigor. Long, deep thrusts into your pussy. He can feel you tightening around him he knows you’re approaching your limit, though, he doesn’t care.

Your walls clench around his cock, squeezing him tight. You can feel the knot in your stomach— it’s about to snap in half. Your lewd moans are muffled by his pillow as your body shudders with each of your boyfriends thrusts.

Your body falls weak against his bed. Matt still slamming into you and he didn’t plan on stopping until he got his fix. He looks down at where the two of you are connected, his now cum coated base disappearing inside of you as slams your hips back toward his.

“Fuck- I can’t… sh-shit,” you mumble into the plush fabric. You could most definitely go for another round, maybe even two more rounds. It felt so fucking good. You didn’t want him to stop.

“Yes you can, I’ve- mm… fuck- I’ve seen you go longer.” He grunts between moans, pulling your hair into a makeshift ponytail. Matt continues his intense thrusts, not once slowing down.

Matt had rendered you speechless. The euphoric high from your previous orgasm still washing over you, the few coherent words you’re able to speak are nonsense.

“Got you fucked dumb? Look at you, all stupid on my dick. You love it baby.” Matt snickered, his own climax approaching. “Talk t’me, angel. Feel good?” He continues, in response, you reach behind you, grasping his wrists. “Feels fucking perfect for me- shit, you want me to cum in you?”

Given your current state, you’re shocked at the fact that Matt is even able to form complete sentences. Your grip on his wrists tightens and you whimper out a weak ‘yes’. Matt pulls you upward so you’re kneeling on the bed, your back against his chest.

He forces your head toward his own, connecting the two of you with a kiss. Matt whimpers against your lips, both of you feeling his cock twitch inside of you, his thrusts becoming sloppy and inconsistent.

“Gonna fill you up so…fucking good…” he moans into your mouth. Prodding himself as deep as he can, you feel thick ropes of his cum shoot inside of you. The both of you panting and breathless from your interaction.

“Shit…” you sigh, Matt’s now softening cock still buried in your hole. He leans down, placing a sweet kiss on your shoulder.

“Always so good for me.” Matt chirps, his hands resting on your hips. You pull off of him, your juices and his dripping down the inside of your thighs.

“C’mon, gonna get you cleaned up.” Matt stands, offering his hand for you. “Feel much, much better now. Just letting you know.” He smirks, slapping your ass when you get off the bed.

“Mhm… glad I could help ‘ya.” You giggle, leaning up on your toes for yet another kiss.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

[nevertheless-moving]

So You Just Killed Palpatine

In Which, Much To Obi-Wan Kenobi's Surprise, While Dealing With The Consequences of One's Own Action's Can Be A Lot, It Isn't Always Entirely A Bad Thing

originally inspired by this and this from anon and husborth Part One, Part Two, Part Three ... Part Fo ... uh ... there's memes somewhere... Anyway Here's Part Five:

Obi-Wan blinked awake, head cloudy and body heavy, as if under unusually high gravity. But no, there was the all-too-recognizable ceiling of the temple healing halls, its mosaic ceiling drifting in lazy, clockwise circles.

What did I do this time? Wait, there was something I had to tell the rest of the Jedi...something important...

Oh dear, he was on the good painkillers, wasn't he?

“Obi-Wan?” someone familiar asked, voice and force presence ringing with a startling jab of hope.

“Bant?” he tried to reply, only to be met with burning pain in his throat. The only thing he managed to get out was an unintelligible coughing fit which pulled sharply at his gut.

“Take it easy!” she urged, moving into his blurry line of sight. “You’ve had extensive abdominal surgery, and your throat was — was crushed rather severely — it’s going to take more time for the grafts to heal.”

Obi-Wan nodded, chastened, before cautiously starting the process of pushing himself up in bed, Bant hovering nervously all the while. The effort made his muscles ache and the room spin faster, but things settled down once he was sitting up.

He looked around, sagging in relief at a small oily handprint on one of the otherwise sterile visitor chairs. Anakin had been here recently, and was in good enough health to be tinkering. Good, that was good. That was important.

He suddenly realized half his vision was obscured and sluggishly raised a hand to his face, only to find heavy cloth.

“I’m sorry, we weren’t able to save your eye,” Bant said softly. “Once you’re a little more healed we can discuss artificial or bioengineered replacement options.”

She plucked a cup off a counter overcrowded with a dizzying array of flowers. “Here, drink some of this if you’re feeling up to it, it’ll make talking a little easier.”

Obi-Wan accepted the drink, only to feel it slide out of numb hands. Bant gently closed her hands around his, helping to guide the drink to his lips. He grimaced at the taste.

“Bacta infused water,” she apologized. “You’re going to be drinking bacta infused liquids for some time, I’m afraid.”

A wave of exhaustion swept over him and Bant set the cup down as Obi-Wan sagged.

“Anakin?” he managed to rasp out.

“Anakin’s fine, he’s completely safe,” Bant said with a comforting squeeze of his shoulder. “He’ll be annoyed to know he missed you waking up, he very much wanted to be there.”

Obi-Wan was going to say something else, but sleep dragged him under first.

//

Obi-Wan opened his eyes — his eye — to the sight of Quinlan Vos scowling over a datapad. The dark spot on the left side of his vision was more noticeable than before. What the kriff did I do to myself?

He shifted, irritated at how lethargically his body responded. The pad fell to the ground with a clatter as Quinlan lurched towards the bed.

“Obi-Wan! Hold on, let me — you’re supposed to have the water before you try to talk.”

Quinlan helped hold up a cup and straw so Obi-Wan could take several short sips of the unpleasantly viscous and vaguely pineapple flavored water.

“How are you feeling?” Quinlan asked, hovering with uncharacteristic anxiousness.

Obi-Wan paused to think. “Weak,” he replied in a hoarse whisper. “How long have I been...”

Guilt flashed over Vos’s face. “You were in and out of Bacta tanks and surgery for a full two weeks. And then another week in an induced coma. And then another week in a self-healing trance. You had...a lot of internal injuries. I’m so sorry Obi-Wan—this is all my fault.”

Obi-Wan stared at Quinlan blankly for a moment. His face helped the memories to start trickling in.

"Yes..." he said slowly. "Yes — you knocked on my door... you said... Vos... please just... just tell me if I hallucinated anything — did I try to assassinate the Chancellor of the Republic?"

"I'd say you succeeded," Quinlan replied, half-smiling, half-grimacing.

"Did I — did we think he was a pedophile, only—”

He had to pause, throat burning as he fought a coughing fit. He swallowed more disgustingly flavored water before finishing the thought.

“—only to discover that he was in fact not sexually grooming Anakin, but was doing a number of other terrible things? And did he... did he — did he electrocute me...”

Obi-Wan’s voice trailed off and he took several more sips, throat filled with an uncomfortable fizzing sensation.

Quinlan nodded, wincing. “I mean parts of that you know better than me but yeah, that matches with what I understand.”

“Hm.” Obi-Wan finished the cup, mulling it over.

Quinlan Vos muttered something under his breath that Obi-Wan couldn't quite make out, but the word "dramatic" almost definitely featured.

Grey crept in around the corners of his vision, then black.

//

When he opened his eyes — his eye, he'd have to get used to that — next, he was greeted by a convenient and increasingly familiar cup at his bedside, as well as Master Windu. Obi-Wan quickly reached for the water, clutching it in both hands and taking a long drink.

Spurred on by the sight of the Master of the Order, he also reached for the urgent thought from earlier, wanting to get it out before he slipped back under —

“Chancellor Palpatine’s a Sith Lord!!”

The corners of Mace’s eyes crinkled. “Yes, Knight Kenobi," he said. "We’re aware of that now. You’ve proved it to be the case quite publicly. And ended the threat with remarkable... thoroughness.”

Obi-Wan head fell back. “A Sith Lord... the Chancellor!” he said in amazement. He was relieved to find his throat only barely twinging at his outburst.

“It truly stretches the imagination,” Mace agreed tolerantly.

“You’re telling me!” Obi-Wan took another long drink, head spinning.

Master Windu smoothed a crease from his robe before saying, with extreme delicacy, “I don't wish to pressure you into speaking before you've healed... but I admit, we’ve all been wondering how exactly you knew.”

"He force choked me and electrocuted me with Sith Lightning. Lighting! I thought that was a myth!” He drained the cup, hands shaking slightly.

“Yes,” Mace said quietly. “The healers were amazed you survived so long... let alone had the strength to fight back with such strength. We’re all extremely grateful to the Force for keeping you alive long enough for us to reach you.”

Obi-Wan made a mental note to feel grateful later, but his mental space was a bit of a mess at the moment, and he wasn't entirely certain he had filed it away correctly.

Master Windu sighed. “We would have been there sooner but I’m afraid none of us had any idea that you were going to confront a Sith.” A twinge of reproach crept into Windu's voice, but Obi-Wan set it aside along with the gratitude, to be examined at some later date. Ideally when his head felt less full of bantha wool.

“I had no idea,” Obi-Wan said numbly.

“Well you figured it out before the Council at least,” Mace replied, not without humor.

He couldn't help but snort. “Yes, because he shot lightning at me. I mean the force choking happened first but... lightning. Lightning!”

Lines formed between Master Windu's brows as he looked down at him. “As much as it pains me, I understand the risk assessment in not telling the High Council about a Sith Chancellor of the Republic, and goading a public fight was probably the best political move possible. But why start the confrontation so privately? It seemed rather — apologies, we can debrief on that when you're rested. I presume you were trying to get a confession about the droid and clone armies?”

Obi-Wan stared at Mace Windu wide-eyed.

“The what.”

The lines on Master Windu’s face deepened. “The... Kamonian clone army — the clones of Jango Fett...”

Obi-Wan’s eyes got wider. “Jango Fett—you mean Galidrean Jango Fett? The Jedi Killer? Palpatine made a clone army of him?”

Mace was silent for a long while, staring at Obi-Wan as though he were a particularly concerning puzzle. Obi-Wan chewed on the straw, mind wandering to whether or not it would be appropriate to ask Master Windu for a refill. As unpleasant as the flavor was, the fizzing did make his throat feel better.

“Knight Kenobi...” Mace finally said, speaking very slowly. “Do you remember why Chancellor Palpatine attacked you? The soul healers were quite certain the Sith Lord didn’t breach your inner shields but I think you might be suffering from some memory loss...”

His left eye itched; he resisted the urge to reach for it. Obi-Wan sank further into the cushions behind him, trying to think. Were there gaps in his memory? No, as usual, it all seemed a fairly clear path from Quinlan Vos knocking on his door to Obi-Wan ending up unconscious in the healing halls.

“Why Palpatine starting attacking?" he mused. "I suppose he wasn't going to just dance around forever — force, when he dodged my blaster shot, I simply could not understand how — it all happened so fast, but the next thing I knew I was pinned against the wall by a Dark —”

“Stop,” Master Windu ordered, raising his hand. He took a deep breath, radiating calm into the force.

“Do you remember what Palpatine said immediately before you shot him?” he asked patiently.

Obi-Wan shifted, feeling a pang of awkwardness as he muttered the answer guiltily under his breath.

“I’m sorry, Knight Kenobi, I didn’t quite catch that.”

“He said, ah, ‘you’re a Jedi’ and ‘you can’t kill an unarmed man.’”

Mace Windu stared at Obi-Wan.

There was a long pause while Obi-Wan fidgeted with the straw. He was starting to feel that perhaps his thoughts were even less clear than he had assumed them to be, and he was not handling this conversation particularly well.

Windu took another deep breath, radiating slightly less calm then before.

“Knight Kenobi. Why did you shoot the Chancellor of the Republic?”

“...I was trying to kill him,” Obi-Wan said, looking down.

“Why?”

Obi-Wan mumbled.

“Kenobi, speak clearly.”

“Well—ah—it actually turns out that I had misunderstood...I mean it had certainly seemed like...but he wasn’t actually...doing exactly what I thought...”

Windu stared at the recumbent Knight, who flushed.

It occurred to Obi-Wan for the first time, that, considering his plan of running away and becoming a bounty hunter was no longer possible nor, perhaps necessary, he could have misrepresented some of the timeline of events vis a vis sith slaying. Or better yet, pretended to have memory loss.

In his defense, the whole experience had been extremely unnerving! For all that weeks had clearly elapsed for everyone else, Obi-Wan was still processing Chancellor Palpatine shooting lightning out of his fingers.

A wave of exhaustion flooded over him, and he sank into it with relief, recognizing now the sickly sweet painkillers pulsing through his blood, clouding his thoughts and pulling him under.

//

Unfortunately, Mace Windu was still there when he woke up. Kriff.

He opened his mouth to try and backtrack, but Windu raised his hand, cutting off any poorly thought out explanations.

Master Windu took a deep breath, radiating very little calm by this point.

“Let me get this clear. Nod if yes, shake your head if no, did you go into the Chancellor’s office with the intent to assassinate the Chancellor of the Republic?”

Obi-Wan nodded.

“Did you know he was a Sith before you went into his office?”

Obi-Wan shook his head.

“Did you suspect he was a Sith?" Mace asked, slightly desperate.

Obi-Wan shook his head, cringing in apology.

“Before you went into the Chancellor’s office, were you aware that he was working with the Kaminoians to commission a clone army?”

Obi-Wan shook his head, biting back questions.

“Did you know he was working with the trade federation to commission a droid army?”

Another no.

“Did you suspect anything about these armies? Anything about a larger plot to destabilize the Republic? Destroy the Jedi? Become Emperor?”

Obi-Wan shook his head at each question, eyes widening with shock.

Mace Windu was radiating absolutely no calm at this point.

“Knight Kenobi...” he asked with a pained expression. “Did you... attempt to assassinate the Chancellor of the republic for personal reasons born out of some sort of misunderstanding? Only to inadvertently save the Republic?”

“I mean once I found out that he was a Sith... I of course changed tactics... and personal is a bit... but... that... Well. More or less sums the situation up, yes.”

Mace WIndu stared at Obi-Wan Kenobi, who wasn’t sure if he should keep talking or not. He didn't entirely trust his ability to explain things well at the moment, and ultimately decided to err on the side of silence.

Obi-Wan vaguely wished he could slip into sleep, but was fairly sure that it would be rude and possibly obvious to do twice in one conversation. His throat itched and he considered once again asking for more water, ultimately deciding against it.

Minutes passed, Master Windu staring blankly at the wall above Obi-Wan’s shoulders, while Obi-Wan's mind started to wander.

Who on earth had been paying to feed a clone army? How was Quinlan doing at getting Anakin to brush his teeth? Am I going to prison? Ohh that’s why the force was so insistent on killing Palpatine. Maybe that would help explain things to Master Windu? Though 'the force told me to' is  generally not considered a good excuse, in of itself, for acts of violence...though this is a rather unique situation...

Eventually Master Plo walked in, letting out a pleased noise.

“There he is! The Hero of the Republic!”

Mace Windu closed his eyes.

“Is that what they’re calling me?” Obi-Wan asked weakly, when it became clear Master Windu wasn’t ready to address everything wrong with that.

“Oh! Your drink is empty! Mace, Vokara was very clear with her instructions!” Master Plo scolded.

Mace Windu didn’t reply.

Plo-Koon snatched the cup, filling it up from a pitcher across the room and talking boisterously. “Well, the public is throwing around a lot of titles, but since you already had Sith Slayer...”

“Oh dear,” Obi-Wan said faintly, accepting the terrible water and drinking it for lack of anything better to do.

Plo-Koon patted him on the shoulder reassuringly. “I’m afraid to tell you it’s going to be very difficult for you to dodge commendations for your actions. Now that you’re awake you’re going to be faced with quite a backlog of requests for ceremonies and interviews—”

Obi-Wan choked. “Ceremonies?” he repeated in a higher pitch. He snuck a look at Master Windu. His eyes were closed, though he didn't appear to be meditating.

That probably wasn't a good sign.

"Yes, ceremonies," Plo-Koon said with far too much relish. "Turns out there are quite a lot of old traditions on the books regarding —"

Master Healer Vokara Che entered the room at brisk pace. “I thought I heard voices — I will remind you that before he is the ‘Sith Slayer Returned’ or ‘The True Chosen One’ or any such nonsense he is first and foremost my patient.”

She gave a sharp look to both Council Members. Plo-Koon nodded contritely while Master Windu continued to not say or do anything.

“The — no, no Anakin’s the chosen one —" Obi-Wan sputtered. "Anakin’s the reason — people aren’t actually calling me that, right?” he asked, drugs doing an admirable job at suppressing the panic he was fairly sure he was going to feel later. The device in Master Che's hand beeped faintly in answer.

“That and more, young Kenobi,” another familiar voice suddenly added, below his field of vision. “To collect your honors, expect to survive, you did not, mmn?”

“Master Yoda! No, I—I really didn’t expect... any honors... at most I was hoping that people would understand...” Obi-Wan protested weakly, shooting Windu a beseeching look which yet again failed to garner a response.

Che rolled her eyes, flipping a lek behind her somewhat sarcastically as she attached a glowing device to his chest. "Of course you didn't."

He barely refrained from wincing as several needles bit into him.

“Perhaps we would have had a better chance of understanding had you left us any of your evidence,” Master Koon chided gently.

“Put together the pieces we did, in our time,” Yoda added, hopping up on the nightstand to affectionately poke his shoulder.

Obi-Wan leaned back, feeling increasingly light-headed.

“Your vitals look good, all things considered,” Master Che said, sounding smug. “You should be back to getting into trouble in a year or so.”

Obi-Wan jerked his head in her direction, aghast. “A year?!”

“Busy, you will be, if work you wish. A seat, open there is for you. Comfortable chair, good company, important duties.”

Master Windu’s eyes squeezed further closed.

“What?” Obi-Wan asked, bewildered.

The healer scowled. “You were bleeding heavily into more or less all your major organs, including your brain. Really, it would be faster for me to list organs that weren't damaged. The fact that you recovered at all is only because Master Gallia conducted ill-advised on-scene amateur healing—"

"Is she alright?" Obi-Wan asked.

"—ill-advised, but successfully non-self-detrimental amateur healing, and I’m a miracle worker, and, credit where credit is due, you’re a stubborn bastard; not to mention your padawan has far too much energy to throw around — you really should consider enrolling him some healer’s courses—”

“Is he alright?” Obi-Wan asked, more urgently.

“He’s fine,” Master Plo reassured him with a gentle hand on the shoulder. “Everyone is fine except for you. He just tired himself out a few times, but Knight Vos has been keeping a close eye on him, and Anakin understands that the best thing at this point is to let you heal under your own power."

“Can I see him?” he asked. His voice was growing hoarse despite the dutifully refilled cup.

Vokara’s face softened. “Of course. He’ll be stopping by after class, in another hour or so. He’s been very punctual.”

“Master Windu? Alright are you? Silent, you have been.” Mace flinched upon being prodded with a stick. He opened his eyes, pinning Knight Kenobi with a steely gaze. Obi-Wan shrunk back, but Windu just sighed.

“You...” he trailed off. He stood up slowly, as if the movement pained him.

"I —" he said authoritatively, quieting the room. "—am taking a sabbatical. Call me when—” Windu gestured vaguely. “—you all sort out this mess.”

He walked out.

A long moment passed. “What did you tell him?” Master Plo finally asked in a hushed whisper.

"Ah..." Obi-Wan paused, limbs heavy with fatigue. "Well — you see— " He closed his eyes, feeling slightly cowardly as he did so.

//

When he opened them again, the light hadn't shifted nearly as much as other inbetweens, and his bandages hadn't been changed. Master Plo was still there, speaking quietly with Yoda.

Shit.

"Not too long that time," Vokara said, pleased. "I've lowered the dose on some of your medications, it should make it easier to stay awake."

"Oh. Good," Obi-Wan replied.

"Young Kenobi." Plo-Koon moved closer. "I dislike pressuring you in your current state, but... Master Windu appears to have left the temple. We were wondering..."

Obi-Wan opened his mouth, then closed it again, considering. His mind was, at last, starting to catch up with mouth. “He asked me... some questions. About how I came to suspect Palpatine," Obi-Wan said carefully. "It would appear I may have forgotten some details. About the evidence...Master Windu was — distressed regarding what I did and did not recall."

Vokara nodded. "Memory loss is completely understandable with the type of injuries you recieved."

"Alright, it is, if remember everything, you cannot," Yoda added kindly. "Our own investigations, ongoing are."

"So if I, ah, can't quite remember everything that led up to our fight," Obi-Wan asked, feeling guilty, but force, that blank look in Master Windu's eyes. "I mean I definitely remember the force willing me to decisively seek his end — really it was unusually loud about it," he added hastily. "If that helps."

Yoda nodded slowly. "This reason, understand we do. But, present to the public, perhaps not a good idea would be."

"Yes," Obi-Wan said. "I think — I'm not certain but I believe Quinlan Vos may have helped me collect some evidence..."

"Said as much, he did. Wait to confer with you, he wanted."

Obi-Wan sagged backwards with relief. "Yes. Yes! We had security concerns... Palpatine was so highly placed..." he trailed off.

"Considering Sifo-Dyas's and Count Dooku's entanglement in all this I can hardly blame you for hesitating to reach out to the council," Plo-Koon said, exhaustion audible even through his vocoder.

Obi-Wan choked on his spit; the following coughing fit was soon rewarded with a fresh bacta drink from Vokara.

Dooku?? Sifo-Dyas??

"Perhaps after I speak with him I'll be able to better assist with the current investigations," he offered hoarsely after recovering.

"Of course," Plo-Koon said gently. "Again, we apologize for interrogating you so early into your recovery but you really can't imagine the public and political scrutiny we've all been under —" He hesitated. "Master Windu was joking about taking a sabbatical right now, was he not?" he asked, sounding strained. "I know he's been under a lot of pressure, but surely you having memory issues couldn't—"

He was thankfully interrupted by the sound of small feet moving rapidly and a gangly body launching itself at highspeeds through the doorway.

Vokara just managed to snag the back of Anakin's robes before he crashed into Obi-Wan's medbed.

"Padawan Skywalker," she said, voice tight. "I believe I have mentioned the numerous injuries your master is recovering from and the need for —"

"Care in my movements," he said sheepishly. "Apologies, master, thank you."

"Anakin," Obi-Wan said, something in his chest relaxing at the sight of his dangling student.

"Obi-Wan." His padawan's eyes immediately started filling with tears.

Obi-Wan reached out instinctively. "Oh, Anakin."

"Give you a moment, we will," Yoda said, hobbling out, as Vokara sighed, then gently placed his pupil on the floor.

"Of course," Plo-Koon agreed. "Take all the time you need." He hurried to catch up with Yoda. Obi-Wan heard him begin to say, "Mace can't actually be leaving us to deal with this clusterfu—'' Then the door closed, and Anakin was weeping at his bedside.

"Shh," Obi-Wan said, tugging his padawan up, ignoring the protestations of his abdomen. "There, there, it will be alright."

Anakin crawled up, movements ginger and uncertain around Obi-Wan's numerous injuries. Together, they somehow managed to shift Obi-Wan enough for Anakin to fit beside him. His padawan shook with suppressed sobs, and parts of him were almost certainly hanging awkwardly off the edge of the bed.

Obi-Wan ran one hand through Anakin's hair, the other hand gently resting where he could reach without twisting too much, probably an elbow, though the boy was pointy enough these days that he couldn't be sure. If Obi-Wan was also shaking, well. There was reason enough.

"Sheev," Anakin finally said, oozing misery and an overwhelming tangle of other unpleasant emotions into the force.

"...I know he was your friend—" Obi-Wan said, after what was hopefully not too long a pause. This was another conversation that probably wouldn't be helped by painkillers.

"But he wasn't, really." Anakin curled up, even more miserable. "I know. I should let go."

The side of Obi-Wan's head throbbed. On second thought, painkillers were the way to go here. "That's not what I meant," he said. "He was a friend to you. He's gone now. Because of me, your master. And... I'm sure you've found out a lot while I've been asleep. I can't imagine a single padawan learner who wouldn't be struggling with their emotions right now. I'm struggling."

"I'm angry," Anakin said into his side. "Master, I'm so full of anger."

"You think I wasn't?" Obi-Wan asked dryly.

Anakin hiccuped a sob. "I'm angry at everyone."

"It's alright, Anakin," Obi-Wan soothed. "You'll work through it in time. I'll be here to help, whenever you want. Even when I'm the one you're angry with."

Anakin sobbed another minute, force presence roiling, before finally pulling himself in with a deep breath, and wiping his nose on the sheets. "You looked so cool when you were angry," he mumbled into Obi-Wan's side.

"Oh force," Obi-Wan groaned. "Of course there was holofootage. Of course you watched."

"Are you... still angry?" Anakin asked.

Fuck.

Obi-Wan tried to think of the right answer for a padawan learner. His head throbbed again.

"Honestly? Right now I'm mostly just tired. I feel like I was run over by a pack of bantha. It's never a good idea to try and deal with large emotional gnarls while you're this exhausted, remember that my young padawan."

"You've been asleep for years," Anakin whined. "How are you still tired?"

"Years?" he asked, amused.

"At least three," Anakin huffed, curling up against him.

Obi-Wan stroked his hair in peaceful silence for a moment.

"...Did you really smash in his skull with a metal chair to protect me?"

"I would do a lot of things to protect you," he confessed. "I'm sorry Anakin — I should have talked with you when I grew concerned with his behavior. I felt at the time I had to act swiftly, but I worry I only caused you more pain."

"It was a really cool fight."

"...Thank you, padawan."

"Can you teach me how to choke people with my ankles like that?" he sniffled.

Obi-Wan groaned internally. "Of course, as a Jedi, violence—" 

"Violence is our last resort," Anakin interrupted. "Right, yeah —but if it is needed—"

"—Such as when someone," Obi-Wan said over him. "After careful consideration, is found to be both politically insulated and positioned to commit great further harm—"

"Actually, I think you, the person who killed my trusted friend, lecturing me on why he was ultra especially irredeemably evil is traumatizing, even more traumatizing than all those holo compilations of you —"

"Oh force above, of course there's — oh. Oh no — please don't tell me—"

"The latest Jizz music," Anakin said, far too gleeful.

Obi-Wan groaned. Unfortunately, the extra movement in his chest triggered an admittedly ghastly sounding coughing fit and Anakin immediately lost the small edge of grace he had managed to cultivate during their back and forth.

"Master?" he asked urgently. "Master — hold on — I'll go get—"

"I'm fine," Obi-Wan rasped. "Any more of that —"

Anakin was already scrambling to fetch the pitcher.

Such a good boy, he thought affectionately, watching him pour and carry over a glass with the same care others might have when handling molten gold.

Obi-Wan drank with a reciprocal amount of delicacy, knowing his padawan was watching falcon-eyed for any wasted drops.

"Perhaps we should finish this conversation a little later," Obi-Wan said, once his airways calmed down.

Coughing should not be this exhausting.

"Of course," Anakin said, subdued, but he crawled back into bed readily enough when Obi-Wan patted it.

“Really, though —” Obi-Wan started to say, feeling it was duty to try and wrap up the lesson, but he was fortunately cut off before he was forced to figure out exactly what that lesson was.

“It’s alright,” Anakin chimed comfortingly. “We have time to talk about it, master. Can’t you tell?”

“Hm?” Obi-Wan replied, fighting the droop of his eyelids. 

“The force clears,” Anakin said, voice sonorous. “The dark retreats.”

“Oh.” Obi-Wan’s eyes started falling closed. “That’s nice.”

“So we have time. To figure out the rest.”

 “Very nice,” Obi-Wan murmured.

His padawan curled against him, force presence like ocean waves rocking him to sleep.

“The force says it’s going to be alright,” Anakin whispered, wonderingly. “It’s going to be alright.”

Obi-Wan smiled, then once again slipped back to sleep.

[abbysbug]

broken stars

pairing: abusive!ellabs x afab!reader

summary: abby and ellie switching between who hates you or loves you as a form of mental torture.

content: mental abuse, physical abuse, face slapping, crying, degradation, begging, orgasm from a water faucet, manipulation, dubcon.

a/n: this was written in under an hour and on my phone so don’t expect something great LOL

join the discord

your lip quivers and your eyes shine with unshed tears. ellie’s thumbs runs over your lip and gums, sighing softly. you nuzzle your sore cheek into her palm; it still feels hot from abby’s slap.

“just had to piss her off, hm?” ellie questions, her damp thumb dragging over your reddened cheek.

“i didn’t mean to,” you mumble. your knees are starting to ache. the wooden floor isn’t comfortable.

ellie pulls you into her embrace. your head rests against her stomach and she threads her finger through your hair, scratching your scalp with her blunt nails. you know your suffering is turning her on; you can smell it.

“don’t give into her, els.” abby grunts. “she’s being a pathetic bitch.”

you squeeze your eyes shut and lean further into ellie. you whine as your ripped from her warm embrace and collide with the cold ground. abby stands over you, a fistful of your hair in her hand.

“say it.” abby demands.

“abby-“

the slap was expected. you finally let your tears shed and you sniffle. “i’m being a pathetic bitch.” your voice is broken.

abby releases her grip with a smile and steps back. ellie is quick to fill her space, kissing your cheek lovingly. “let’s run you a bath.”

you cling to ellie’s arm as she runs the bath, making sure the water is the perfect temperature for you. she loves how clingy you get after abby hurts you, almost makes her heart ache for you. almost. she lowers herself into the bath before pulling you into her. your back rests against her front. her fingers make mindless patterns across your stomach, nearing lulling you into a sleep.

“she entered your office today.” abby shows her phone at ellie. stupid cameras.

ellie freezes and you tense. her fingernails dig into her stomach causing you to squirm. her hand snakes around your throat and she squeezes.

“please, i-i just needed.” your words die on your tongue. you didn’t need anything. you were just nosey.

“i don’t ask much of you. i’ve only asked for you to follow a few rules and you can’t follow that simple one?” she hisses.

just as you swear you’re about to pass out, ellie gets out of the bath, leaving you to sit alone in lurkwarm water. she slams the door behind her.

abby stares at you, her expression is unreadable. tears run down your face and you bite your lip, trying to contain your cries. you turn your attention to the water, feeling embarrassed that abby is just staring.

abby crouches down, leaning against the bath for support and hooks a finger under your chin. “you’ve been a brat all day.” you chuckles at how you sniffle at her words. “you wanna make it up to me?”

you nod. you’d do anything for her forgiveness. “and ellie?”

abby’s manhandles your body to be facing the water faucet and spreads your thighs. “i’m forgiving you. not ellie.”

you whine as the water hits your clit. you try to close your thighs but abby keeps them open. you want to drag yourself away but you know that it would only piss her off more.

“you’re so perfect.” abby kisses down your neck, her hands groping your tits like it’s the last thing she’ll ever touch.

you moan. “thank you.”

it doesn’t take long for you to cum. your legs shakes and ur body falls limp. abby pulls you out of the bath and dries you before carrying you to the room. she rests you against her chest and rubs at your back. you can’t contain your cries anymore.

“i’m sorry, abby. i don’t know why i’m bad, i just-“

she hushes you with a kiss to the head. “it’s okay, baby.”

you cry until you fall asleep. abby grins as ellie walks into the room. she flops onto the bed next to abby and brushes your hair out of your face.

“i wanna physically hurt her next time. mentally isn’t as fun.”

abby rolls her eyes. “you’re sick.”

ellie laughs, “she loves it.”

[lostinlovingrevery]

Redamancy

Old Man Logan X F! Reader

A/N: Something short and fluffy, I'm just on an old man logan kick rn

Plot: You miss him, he misses you, he decides to do something about it.

Warnings: Fluff, a tad bit of angst (but it's just cause you guys miss each other so much <3) implications of sex but no smut!

Word Count: 1534

“I miss you” 

You stood at the doorway, your arms crossed as you watched Logan sit on the edge of the bed with a groan, as he bent over to untie his shoes. He looked up at you, and you immediately felt bad when you saw the exhaustion in his eyes. You walked over, kneeling down to help him untie his shoes.

“You don’t need to do that sweetheart.” He mutters softly. You continued anyway, pulling the laces free, and pulling each shoe off, carefully setting them to the side. You stood up, and his hands went to your hips, as he looked up at you. “I’m sorry.” He says in a soft, raspy voice.

You brought your hands to his face, cupping it gently as your thumb softly stroke over his cheek and you shook your head. “No, I am. You’re tired.” You leaned down and kissed his forehead. “I know you’re working a lot so you can take care of us.” 

He let out a soft sigh. Your hands reached up into his salt and pepper hair, twining into his curls,  and softly scratching his scalp, making his eyes flutter shut as he tipped his head back, enjoying the small head massage you were giving him, as his hands moved circles around your hip. He let out a deep breath- almost of relief, as he leaned his head forward, forehead pressed against your chest, and you moved to wrap your arms around him. 

It made your heart ache to see him so tired, so sore. When you met him, he had just started looking aged, when the adamantium poisoning was just starting to take its course in a way that his regenerative factor wasn’t able to keep up. Slowly, but surely you could see the change in him, aging his face and body, scars that never disappear. You’ve begged him to let you take over, you could get a good job and make the money needed to support the 4 of you in this little smelting factory. The man, no matter how much you loved him, was stubborn as an ox though and refused. You couldn’t understand why, when it seemed like a simple solution. He’d tell you to stop when you brought it up. 

Now he’s picked up more hours as a driver, which may seem like a simple job for most, but you could see how tired it made him. Sitting in the same position for all hours of day and night, dealing with drunks and thugs, and the occasional bitch, staring at the road, maneuvering traffic filled with assholes. You’re sure Logan had better ideas of how he would spend his old age. 

With him gone, you and Logan don’t get to partake in the joys of a relationship as often as you used to. He was usually wiped, unable to do anything more than come home and sleep- with coaxing from you to eat and shower. You just missed the intimacy, but you never wanted to make him feel worse about it. In the end you knew it wouldn’t matter, because he was at least coming home to you

Alive.

You gave him another kiss on the top of his head, before moving to help him undress. He allowed you without complaint- which was telling how tired he was. Normally, if you try to help him in any way, make him think he wasn’t capable of doing things himself, he gets cranky as hell and lets you hear it- usually to your amusement. Especially since he wouldn’t have any problem helping you with things you were perfectly capable of doing. If you weren’t there to make him do it, he’d fall asleep in his clothes, and shoes and with how heavy he was it was nearly impossible for you to undress him so he’d be more comfortable. 

Once undressed, you climbed under the blankets into his side. He pulled you to his chest, your cheek resting where his heart beats, his hands softly scratched up and down your arm, the sound of his breathing lulling you to sleep. 

He laid awake, despite how sleep called his name. He couldn’t get out of his head how sad you looked when you told him you missed him. On one hand, it warmed his heart to know you cared, that you wanted him at your side- though he couldn’t fathom why. On the other, it broke his heart. He didn’t want you to think he didn’t miss you just as much, that most of his thoughts isn’t filled with you while he was away working. He loved you, more than anything. That’s why he had to work, to keep you, and Charles, taken care of. He wasn’t sure how much his time on Earth was left. There was a time where he’d want nothing more to be able to finally disappear into the dirt, rot away and finally rest. 

You though, kept him going. 

He was going to make it up to you. You both were over due for a good time out in the town. His mind created a plan, something special for tomorrow, and he finally drifted to sleep, with you in his arms.

The next day went on as normal. You’d wake up first, starting to get up, only for Logan to playfully pull you back into bed by your hand. After a morning of catching up in both conversation and physical intimacy that you certainly missed, you went and made breakfast, while he checked on Charles. 

The rest of the day went as normal, you took your turn taking care of Charles, and chatting with Caliban, while Logan went and worked for a bit. He told you he had some customers who requested him for a day shift - but it was a lie. 

It was around 5 when you came back to the smelting plant, planning the rest of your evening- likely being spent alone again. Going into your bedroom, you noticed something on the bed. You walked away, confusion on your face as you realized it was your red dress- the strappy silk one that always drove Logan crazy. Next to it was a pair of matching pumps, and a note that says, 

‘Get ready, pick you up at 6’ 

You picked up the note, recognizing Logan's messy scribbles and grinned, your heart fluttering at the action. He must have snuck home while you were with Charles. Did he plan something? 

You quickly went and took the fastest shower you’ve ever had. Shaved, facial care, skin care, everything. You had to push through the exhaustion you felt, but Logan clearly had something nice planned for you and dammit you were going to make sure you were dolled up for him. 

You pulled on something lacey for your undergarments, and then pulled on the dress, before doing your hair and makeup. You couldn’t actually remember the last time you and Logan actually went out and did something together. At least something romantic. Next, you put on some earrings, and a necklace Logan got you for an anniversary awhile back. You looked at the time, 

5:46

He’s probably out there waiting for you already. He was a bit of an early bird in that sense. You grabbed a jacket, one of the more stylish ones, your bag, before quickly making your exit out of the smelting plant. You pushed open the door to the hot desert- finding Logans limo waiting there, just for you. 

The driver side opened and he stepped out, wearing a classy three piece suit, his hair a bit more style than usual. His eyes met yours, and their corners crinkled as he gave you a warm smile. He walked around the limo to you, as you met him half way. 

“You look gorgeous darling.” He says immediately, before holding up the bouquet of roses to you, making you gasp as you excitedly took them in your hands. His hands reached to rest on your hips as he moved to softly kiss your cheek. You beamed up at him. 

“Lo, you didn’t have to do all this-” You say, “I don’t want you to think-”

“I missed you too.” He cuts you off, leaning into you, his nose brushing against yours. “I got reservations at your favorite restaurant.”

You let out a laugh of disbelief. “Really?” You asked, he nodded. “Aren’t you tired? I don’t want you to push yourself for me- you need to rest.” You say in concern.

“I know I get tired darling, but I could never get tired of you.” He says, bring a hand to tip your chin up to him, as he looked down at you with a fondness in his eyes. “You’re the reason I keep going.” 

You felt your lip quiver a bit and swallowed back the cry that tried to escape your throat. You bit your lip, looking down at the roses he had gave you, and your smile grew on your face again. “Lets go then.” you say, grabbing his hand and both walked back to the car, a pep in your step as you both look forward to the evening Logan had planned.

[justicharge]

LOVE THIS SO MUCH

everything was amazing, and it was a much needed smut moment for these two without any interruption

“Such a pretty ass,” He grunted, scoffing as a moan escapes your parted lips. |“Mhm, yeah baby, keep makin’ those pretty noises, lemme hear you.” 

being so eager to hear her????? so freaking hot 🫠🫠🫠🫠

He planted a kiss to your clit through the fabric, causing you to shudder in his arms when he repeated the action, your whines encouraging him to continue, pressing further until you were overwhelmed with pleasure. 

“Rafe!” You arched into the touch, hips stuttering as Rafe pins you down to the bed. “Fuck, right there.” 

“Yeah?” He angled his head down, nose brushing over your heat in the process, the sensation making your knees buckle as you strived to close your legs around his head. Rafe, sensing your next move, halted you before you could further continue, forcing your thighs back in place. “Keep your legs open, hmm? Sit back and be a good girl for me, doll.” 

i can't with these pet names and him being so talkative, feel it's so accurate too, he has this big dom part who wants to provide to her but also seems to be so whiny and needy when it comes to some approval and validation

“Oh my fuck,” he hissed, taking a whiff of your alluring scent, suddenly feeling drunk on your pussy, even if he didn’t get a taste of you yet. “Could you get any more perfect?” 

He fingered at your hole, collecting the sticky substance off, until it was coating two of his digits. He dragged his long fingers through your folds, gliding them up and down, till your whole pussy was coated with your juices. 

“So wet for me,” Rafe muttered, bringing his fingers to his parted lips. He inserted them inside, instantly savoring the taste of your pussy on his tongue, as his mouth pooled with spit. “You taste so fuckin’ good, baby.” 

this whole praise and encouragement???? you are KILLING me here 😫😫😫😫 need him so baddd

Rafe’s tongue was yet to stop, walking you through your climax, until you grew sensitive to the fraction of his tongue constantly flicking at your clit. Your eyes forced shut, sweat forming around your body, coating your skin with a layer of afterglow. Rafe moved away from your heat, falling mesmerized the moment his gaze landed on you. 

His cock twitched in his pants, vision fogging with haze. You looked surreal, out of the world, like an angel who spawned on earth. He almost felt bad for breathing the same air as you, being in your presence and ever getting a chance to do this, please you till you’re cumming on his tongue. 

the way that to him she is a goddess and such a queen 🤭🤭🤭??? need a man who praises me just like him and appreciates me this much

“Sorry,” he snickered, voice barely above a whisper. The smile on his face quickly faded, gaze travelling down to your hand, as it slowly caressed up his thigh, halting just over his crotch. He hushed out your name, breath shuddering as you palmed his hardon through his pants, grasping his length in your hold. “Such a brat, can’t wait to have my dick inside you, huh?” 

just this 😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨 being so smug and degrading

And he did, muffling out a whimper as he slams his hips into your soaked cunt, making you arch your back at the gesture. His cock filled your hole, coating every corner of your walls, leaving no space for you to think.

“Look at you,” he whispered, grinding his hips down, as his fingers ghosted the curve of your waist, face mere inches away. “Taking me so well, such a good girl f’me, hmm, y’like that I’m filling your pathetic, needy hole?” 

“Rafeee,” you mewled out, throwing your bad back as he continued thrusting his cock inside you, the collision creating a squelching sound. “Please, please, yes!” 

“Mhm, you like that?” He muffled in between kisses, hand cupping your tits. He rolled your nipple in between his fingers, causing it to harden in his hold, goosebumps immediately breaking out across your chest. “Wanna fuck you stupid, you don’t understand how long I’ve been waiting for this, the amount of times I held back each time you’d walk around in those sleeping shorts.” 

so obsessed with her 🫨🫨

“So close,” he grunted, announcing his climax. “Come for me, sweet doll.” 

SWEET DOLL????? 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵😵😵😵😵 I'm dead

Rafe nuzzled his face in the crook of your neck, hot breath fanning over the flesh, as he proceeded to come down from his high. A chuckle forced its way out your parted lips, earning the boy’s attention as he perked up, gaze locking with yours. 

“What?” He asked, addressing you with the question. “Why are you laughing?” 

“I don’t know,” you continued chuckling, “This is jus’ silly.” 

“That’s the first thing you say after we just had sex?” He mumbled in disbelief, head cocking to the side.

“What do you want me to say?!” You argued, wrapping your arms around his neck, and using the pressure of the touch to force him down, till your lips connected with his in a soft kiss, one different from your previous ones today. 

“Thank you,” you whispered, heat flushing your face. “You don’t understand how much everything you do means to me.”

The corner of Rafe’s lips twitched into a smile, heart melting to pieces. 

Yeah, this was more than worth getting beaten to a pulp by Ryan. 

YES, the way he appreciates her and cares about her so much it's just the best to me, love them and their relationship so much

sorry for the long feedback, everything was so good. keep writing baby, loved it as always <3333 @whorelaud

OFF LIMITS – rafe cameron ¡ (extra)

pairing brother's best friend!rafe cameron x brat!reader summary you slide into a random boy's dms on instagram, anything but expecting him to end up being your brother's best friend, let alone the person you'll be spending your summer vacation with. while resisting Rafe and his lingering gazes was an option, you found yourself in the constant loop of crossing the line; said line being your brother. ch content smut, unprotected sex, p in v, oral (f recieving), fingering, dirty talk, praise, slight overstimulation (?), pussy whipped rafe mhmm!!! disclaimer this is pure smut continuing ch 8! nothing too intense, js a small piece following the events. this can be read separately, it doesn't add nor change the plot, so feel free to skip over if you're uncomfortable!! not my best work but not my worst considering im in a big writing slump rn sighh >:( thank you for your patience, ill get started on ch 9 soon i pormise <3

NAVIGATION. series masterlist | 08

“Let me take care of you.” 

Flusteredness underestimates your emotions, insides stirring with giddiness you couldn’t comprehend into words. You wanted this, more than everything; it felt so right, there was no reason for you to risk it and decline such a tempting offer. 

You shyly nodded your head, suppressing the sheepish smile dancing on your lips, suddenly feeling exposed under Rafe’s gaze. His hands freely roamed around your body, landing wherever his eyes desired, places he dreamed of touching. 

“Lord, you’re beautiful.” He muffled out, littering feather-like kisses to your throat, then burying his nose in the crook of your neck as he took a whiff of your intoxicating scent. His teeth lightly grazed the sensitive skin, causing you to yelp, and accidentally brush over the hardon in his pants. “Fuckk– ‘need to be inside you.” 

“Please.” You shuddered through a gasp, grinding down to chase after the pleasure, merely to be stopped by Rafe’s hold as he halted you in your spot. 

His hands found the curve of your ass, squeezing the plush flesh hidden underneath the thin material of your shorts, using the gasp he earned out of you for granted to slip his hands beneath the fabric. He toyed with the lacey strings, digits practically shuddering over your skin, like an addict getting his hands on drugs for the first time.

“Such a pretty ass,” He grunted, scoffing as a moan escapes your parted lips. “Mhm, yeah baby, keep makin’ those pretty noises, lemme hear you.” 

Your head landed in the crook of his neck, forehead resting against his shoulder when your hips stuttered in the process of rolling down, dying for Rafe to do something. Your vision grew blurry, mouth seeking the skin hidden beneath Rafe’s shirt, wanting nothing more than to appreciate him as much as he was, mark him for everyone to see, and know he’s yours. 

Rafe eventually took action, tightening his hold around your ass as he stood to his feet, keeping you steady and in place. You gasped with disbelief, taken aback by the sudden movement, even more as he sweeps you around and softly throws you on the bed, causing you to land with a thud. 

You positioned your elbows up, letting them support your body as Rafe used his index to spread your legs apart, creating enough space for him to squeeze through. He positioned his knee in between your thighs, hands caressing the delicate skin leading to your heat. 

His fingers moved with a motive, driving you crazy with each time his cold digits brushed over your sensitive flesh, causing you to shudder from the touch. He lowered his head, just enough for you to catch glimpse of him from in between your legs. 

“Fuck,” he cursed under his breath, toying with the waistband of your shorts. “Need to taste you.” 

Rafe tugged the material down a bit, just enough for the chilly air to hit your skin, smothering goosebumps across your sides. He leisurely pulled down your shorts, torturing you with the gesture, though that’s what he was aiming for. 

With a game of tug and pull, he managed to get your shorts off, letting them slide down your knees, and bunch around your ankles. His gaze fixed on your panties, mouth salivating at the sight, as his head wandered with pure filth. He pressed his fingers to your heat through the thin cloth, causing you to jolt as he applied pressure, admiring the wet patch forming in your underwear. 

Your face practically burst from heat, avoiding the latter’s gaze as his finger lapped at your folds, tracing them up and down your core with a purpose. Your mewls were silent, heaving the atmosphere, the sound like music to Rafe’s ears. 

Rafe leaned forward, until his face levelled with the low of your stomach. He grasped the soft flesh in his hold, trailing wet kisses just beneath your belly button, leading all the way to your clothed folds, aching to have his mouth on you, feel his tongue swirl around your sensitive nub till you no longer could bear it. 

He planted a kiss to your clit through the fabric, causing you to shudder in his arms when he repeated the action, your whines encouraging him to continue, pressing further until you were overwhelmed with pleasure. 

“Rafe!” You arched into the touch, hips stuttering as Rafe pins you down to the bed. “Fuck, right there.” 

“Yeah?” He angled his head down, nose brushing over your heat in the process, the sensation making your knees buckle as you strived to close your legs around his head. Rafe, sensing your next move, halted you before you could further continue, forcing your thighs back in place. “Keep your legs open, hmm? Sit back and be a good girl for me, doll.” 

You desperately nodded your head, prying for Rafe to get the pink, lace panties off of you. And he did, detaching them off your hips, and letting them slide right off, revealing your achy cunt, wet and needy for him. 

“Oh my fuck,” he hissed, taking a whiff of your alluring scent, suddenly feeling drunk on your pussy, even if he didn’t get a taste of you yet. “Could you get any more perfect?” 

He fingered at your hole, collecting the sticky substance off, until it was coating two of his digits. He dragged his long fingers through your folds, gliding them up and down, till your whole pussy was coated with your juices. 

“So wet for me,” Rafe muttered, bringing his fingers to his parted lips. He inserted them inside, instantly savoring the taste of your pussy on his tongue, as his mouth pooled with spit. “You taste so fuckin’ good, baby.” 

You whined at that, nearly screaming when he brought his fingers back to your sensitive nub, rolling it in between his fingers as he bent down again, this time to mouth at your heat. He licked a stripe of your cunt, dragging his tongue up your hole, all the way to your clit, yet overwhelmed with the pleasure of his fingers. 

Rafe flicked his tongue over your clit, pressing your hips down with the hand to your stomach, amused by how overstimulated you grew, unable to comprehend normal words out. You’ve done this before, a few times to be exact, however, Rafe knew how to make you crumble, seeking your sensitive spot with his mouth, using every ounce of energy in his body to pleasure you. 

And fuck, did it feel good. It made up for all the longing and lust you’ve been pushing down, finally able to do something about it; and screwing all your problems. 

Your body jolted with pleasure, hands digging to the skin around your shoulders as he mouthed at your heat, sucking and nibbling on your nub, long fingers gliding up and down your folds, just where you needed them. 

Without a warning, he slid one of his fingers inside your hole, easily entering with how wet you were, pussy drenched with your juices. He pumped it in and out of your entrance, lining the second one before he leisurely increased the pace, fingers coating with your arousal. 

Your stomach twisted into a knot, lips gaping in pornographic moans that you failed to suppress from exiting your throat. That only inspired Rafe to fasten the movement of his tongue, swirling from your clit down to your entrance. He fucked your hole with his tongue, nose lightly digging to your core as he bobbed his head up and down, while still pumping his fingers in and out. 

Words couldn’t describe the emotions you were experiencing. It almost felt euphoric, you never wanted it to stop, climax building as Rafe continues lapping at your cunt with his mouth. Rafe oughted to make you feel good, chasing after your pleasure, not a thought behind his eyes as he ate you out like a man starved.

“Come for me, pretty girl.” He cooed, not stopping what he was up to. The words practically flew past your ears, mind going blank as your legs trembled, announcing your orgasm. 

Rafe’s tongue was yet to stop, walking you through your climax, until you grew sensitive to the fraction of his tongue constantly flicking at your clit. Your eyes forced shut, sweat forming around your body, coating your skin with a layer of afterglow. Rafe moved away from your heat, falling mesmerized the moment his gaze landed on you. 

His cock twitched in his pants, vision fogging with haze. You looked surreal, out of the world, like an angel who spawned on earth. He almost felt bad for breathing the same air as you, being in your presence and ever getting a chance to do this, please you till you’re cumming on his tongue. 

You shied away from the touch, fluttering your eyes up at the latter, whose lips tugging into a coy smile at your action. “Why are you staring?” 

“No reason,” he snorted, bringing his face close to yours. His nose brushed over yours, not giving you a chance to speak before he captured your lips in an eager kiss, the taste of your arousal on his tongue invading your mouth. He smiled into the kiss, pulling away when you shoved his shoulder. “Was that good?” 

“Hmm…” you trailed off, pretending to think. “Could be better.” 

Lie. 

“You think so?” His eyebrows cocked in a teasing manner, lips tugging into a smile. “Should we go for another round?” 

“One’s enough!” You stopped him before he could bend down, your statement earning a chuckle out of him. “Stop messin’ around!” 

“Sorry,” he snickered, voice barely above a whisper. The smile on his face quickly faded, gaze travelling down to your hand, as it slowly caressed up his thigh, halting just over his crotch. He hushed out your name, breath shuddering as you palmed his hardon through his pants, grasping his length in your hold. “Such a brat, can’t wait to have my dick inside you, huh?” 

“Take it off,” you whined in response to the snarky comment, striving to unbuckle his belt, then unbutton his pants, inching back just enough for him to get them off, leaving him in his boxers. You gulped at the sight of his underwear, aching to take it off, as well as his shirt. “The shirt too.” 

Rafe stifled out a teasing laugh, sliding the shirt off his head, and over his arms, letting it fall to the floor. Your gaze immediately landed on his torso, a breath knocking out of your chest at the scene. His broad chest was on full display, just for you to stare, without having to look away, afraid others might catch you practically undressing him with your eyes.

The boy pushed you back on the bed, letting your back collide with the mattress in a soft thud. He removed the lock of hair blocking your vision, leaning down to plant a kiss to your lips. It was soft, deliberate, lasted a few seconds before the latter moved away. You cupped his calloused jaw, almost choking on air while he balanced himself on his knees, not breaking eye contact as he freed himself from his boxers, not long before he tossed them to the floor. 

Your breath hitched, gaze leisurely trailing down to his cock, as pre-cum glistened at the slit, coating it with a glossy layer that had you salivating at the mouth. Rafe scooted himself closer to you, lining the tip of his cock with your entrance, groaning as it got buried in your folds. 

Pleasure underestimates what you were feeling. Hell, you were a wreck of emotions, far too gone to comprehend your surroundings, nor did you care for such facts.  

He works his way in smoothly but deliberately, thrusts gentle, afraid he’d hurt you if he was rough. That, of course, had you testing your patience, as you wiggled down on his cock, urging him to push his throbbing length inside you. 

And he did, muffling out a whimper as he slams his hips into your soaked cunt, making you arch your back at the gesture. His cock filled your hole, coating every corner of your walls, leaving no space for you to think. 

“Look at you,” he whispered, grinding his hips down, as his fingers ghosted the curve of your waist, face mere inches away. “Taking me so well, such a good girl f’me, hmm, y’like that I’m filling your pathetic, needy hole?” 

“Rafeee,” you mewled out, throwing your bad back as he continued thrusting his cock inside you, the collision creating a squelching sound. “Please, please, yes!” 

“Mhm, you like that?” He muffled in between kisses, hand cupping your tits. He rolled your nipple in between his fingers, causing it to harden in his hold, goosebumps immediately breaking out across your chest. “Wanna fuck you stupid, you don’t understand how long I’ve been waiting for this, the amount of times I held back each time you’d walk around in those sleeping shorts.” 

Your moans lulled pathetic, speaking louder than you can put into words. Rafe's cock felt amazing inside you, thrusting in and out with need and despair, that it didn’t take long for your arousal to build up yet again, though mere minutes passed regarding your previous orgasm. 

Rafe littered soft kisses to your lips, thrusts growing fast and sloppy as he buried himself inside you, drunk on your pussy, and the sensation of your hole clenching around his cock. His breaths fell heavy, filling the air as well as your whines, unable to contain them any longer. 

“So close,” he grunted, announcing his climax. “Come for me, sweet doll.” 

Your nails dug to his shoulders, moans increasing in volume as your orgasm made its approach, as Rafe continued pumping his cock inside your sloppy cunt, giving him easy access to your hole, and the ability to pleasure you.  

The nickname drove you over the edge, coming undone with a rough, wet thrust, relaxing in the latter’s arms as he continued fucking you, pace fastening with each time he grinded his hips down. 

It wasn’t long before Rafe was coming, loading your cunt as his cock kissed your cervix with one last slam to his hips, painting your walls white with his sperm, as the warmness of the sticky substance filled your insides, causing a ragged sigh of relief to escape your throat. 

Rafe nuzzled his face in the crook of your neck, hot breath fanning over the flesh, as he proceeded to come down from his high. A chuckle forced its way out your parted lips, earning the boy’s attention as he perked up, gaze locking with yours. 

“What?” He asked, addressing you with the question. “Why are you laughing?” 

“I don’t know,” you continued chuckling, “This is jus’ silly.” 

“That’s the first thing you say after we just had sex?” He mumbled in disbelief, head cocking to the side.

“What do you want me to say?!” You argued, wrapping your arms around his neck, and using the pressure of the touch to force him down, till your lips connected with his in a soft kiss, one different from your previous ones today. 

“Thank you,” you whispered, heat flushing your face. “You don’t understand how much everything you do means to me.”

The corner of Rafe’s lips twitched into a smile, heart melting to pieces. 

Yeah, this was more than worth getting beaten to a pulp by Ryan. 

[pinkslipxox]

Hey! I have a goofy one for you. Bilie x reader. Reader is on her period, and her emotions are all over the place, and one thing you need to know is that she can sometimes get a bit emotional while on her period. Billie says something silly that upsets the reader making her cry. And of course billie didn't mean to at all. She felt so bad for making her girl upset, she's feels a little stupid because she completely forgot how sensitive the reader became while on her period. But billie makes up for it by giving reader plenty of cuddles and kisses but not without reader refusing them at first being stubborn 🥹

hey my love! Ugh yes ofc! Hope you like it 🥰❤️

——————————————————————————

You're curled up on the couch, wrapped in a soft blanket, your body curled into a tight ball. The cramps hit harder this month, and despite your best efforts to hide it, the discomfort creeps into your mood. You can feel the tears welling up, and it isn't long before you start to feel overwhelmed by a wave of emotion that seems to come out of nowhere.

Billie enters the room, her hair cascading around her shoulders, a gentle smile on her lips as she carries a mug of steaming tea. She notices the frown etched on your face, and immediately her brows furrow with concern.

“Hey, pretty girl,” she calls softly, her voice like a balm against the chaos in your head. “What’s going on?”

You sigh deeply, trying to muster a smile for her. “Just cramps,” you whisper, your voice small.

In true Billie fashion, she tries to lighten the mood. “You know what they say about periods?” she begins, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “They’re just your body’s way of saying, ‘I’m not pregnant!’”

You can’t help but chuckle at her classic dry humor, but the laughter is short-lived. As you try to hold back a snort, a wave of emotion crashes over you, and you suddenly feel the well of tears spilling over. You don’t even understand why you’re feeling this way, but the laughter only amplifies the ache in your chest.

Billie’s playful demeanor drops in an instant; her heart sinks as she sees the tears streaming down your face. “Oh no, Y/N, I’m so sorry,” she rushes over, dropping the mug on the table and wrapping her arms around you. “I didn’t mean to—”

“No, it’s okay,” you mumble through your tears, sniffling. “It wasn’t you. I just… it’s just a lot right now.”

She cradles you tighter, her fingers gently brushing back your hair. “You’re so strong, mama. I know this time of month can be really tough. Just let it all out; I’m here for you.”

You feel her soft kisses peppering your forehead, your cheeks, your eyelids. Each one is full of love, full of understanding, and slowly the warmth of her affection begins to soothe you. You giggle shyly, even as tears mix with laughter. “Billie, stop it! You’re too sweet.”

“I can’t help it,” she replies, her voice teasing yet tender. “I just want to make you smile.”

Pulling back slightly, she holds your face in her hands, looking deep into your eyes. “You’re beautiful, even when you’re feeling like this. I love you, Y/N.”

You see the sincerity in her eyes, and your heart swells with affection. “I love you too, Billie.”

“Okay, how about we binge-watch that show you love? I’ll grab some snacks and keep you cozy,” she says cheerfully, getting up to fetch the remote.

As she moves, you feel lighter, the dark clouds of your emotions slowly parting with each passing moment. When she returns and settles you against her side, enveloped in her warmth, you relax fully.

Billie nudges you playfully. “And next time I’ll save my jokes for another time, promise.”

You snuggle deeper into her embrace, her gentle fingers tracing patterns on your back, melting the last bits of tension away. In this little cocoon of comfort, you know you’ll be okay. With Billie by your side, you feel safe, cherished, and loved.

[cyberhughes]

— 𝓣𝓸𝓸 𝓢𝔀𝓮𝓮𝓽 ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ quinn hughes

🌊 chapter 2: feeling scandalous

last chapter | next chapter

*:･✧* 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: quinn hughes x fem!oc

*:･✧* 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: swearing, luke and jack are flirty but it’s all platonic, suggestive content(nothing too spicy yet🌚)

𝓐𝓾𝓽𝓱𝓸𝓻𝓼 𝓝𝓸𝓽𝓮: hey guys omfg…i’m so sorry this took so long I’ve been so busy😭😭uni is stressing me out so bad beyond belief but we ball!! this chapter is so shit cause lowkey its a filler just to build up more tension before we start getting *actually* juicy. this was also lowkey not rlly proofread LMAO. ALSO ALSO ALSO… we are almost at 200 followers?? wtf?? i didn’t even realize i had hit 100 im sorry i love you all so much and i appreciate all the love and support you’ve given me <3 perhaps i will plan a little surprise for you all later 😛

series masterlist + character intros

“WAKEY WAKEY!” the curtains were ripped open by jack, causing luke and aurora to shield themselves under the covers from the abrupt sunlight.

“what the fuck! close it!” luke complained, snuggling himself further into the warmth of the bedsheets. meanwhile, jack tiptoed to the foot of their bed, before mischievously yanking their blankets of off them.

“up and at em, let’s not waste a good boat day!” he stood there proudly, hands on his hips with a shit eating grin plastered across his face, not caring that he had just ruined their chance of a peaceful morning.

“later.” luke groaned, moving to pull aurora close to him, seeking at least the warmth from her body. “oh my god get off of me, i’m up.” she wiggled herself out of his arms and he whined.

she pushed past jack, him snorting at her hair being messy as well as her shirt hanging off one shoulder. “good morning to you too sleeping beauty.” he laughed—a bit too hard—at his own joke, while she stuck her tongue out at him before continuing her way the the washroom to freshen up.

as she stood there brushing her teeth, she couldn’t help but think back to her interactions with quinn yesterday. he had told her she didn’t do anything wrong, but she knew something was off with him. she knew that everyone else felt the tension too, she just couldn’t figure out why it was there in the first place.

she didn’t want to let this sour her trip, she was here for her brother after all. she’d just have to find a way for quinn to warm up to her again.

she creeped back into her and luke’s shared room, suppressing a laugh when she found him fast asleep again.

from her suitcase, she grabbed a bathing suit—that she didn’t remember packing? she held up the pieces straight, trying to remember when she had bought it. she dug through her luggage some more, looking for the one she knew she packed but it wasn’t anywhere to be seen. she sat back on her heels, puzzled.

then it clicked. she had remembered her best friend from california—kaylee—peeking through her suitcase a few days before they had left for their trip. she let out a groan, making a mental note to scold her friend later.

she examined the fabric once again and placed it against her body.

this wasn’t going to cover anything.

“wow, that’s tiny.” she heard luke mumble from the bed and her eyes widened, face going red.

“go back to sleep, idiot.”

“i look like a prostitute.” aurora said nodding with her lips pressed into a thin line as she rested her phone on the bathroom counter. she was currently on facetime with kaylee, the one who had put her in this situation.

“no, you look hot. you have to let quinn see that you got hot.” kaylee said with a fat grin on her face as she watched her bestfriend adjust and pull at the fabric of the bikini in a failed attempt to get some more coverage.

“it was so awkward yesterday kaylee.” aurora whined and grabbed her phone to position her face in frame. “he barely talked to me, and the one time he did, it felt like he would’ve rather been anywhere else.”

“then don’t let it be awkward the fuck? just, be flirty or something.” kaylee spoke nonchalantly.

“yeah no, i think he still sees me as a kid.”

“so then show him that you’re a hot woman now, i’m really struggling to see the problem here rory. just flash him your tits or something.” aurora’s cheeks went red at her friends words. “oh my god, stop it.” she mumbled as the girl on the other side of the phone cackled.

“i gotta go now, we’re going on the lake in a bit.” she took one last look in the mirror before throwing on her t-shirt and shorts. “okay bye rory. but seriously just flash a ti—“ aurora hung up before she could finish the sentence.

she couldn’t help but think that maybe kaylee was right, not about needing to flash her boobs, but about trying to make quinn see that she wasn’t a kid anymore. maybe it wasn’t the fact that she still had a crush on him, but rather that she felt the need to prove herself. although yes, she did still have a little big crush on him.

she felt slight twinge of guilt as she thought, it was her brother’s wedding weekend and here she was plotting on his best man. it was wrong.

but that’s what made it kind of exciting.

aurora stepped out onto the patio, breathing in the summer air and taking in the view of lake. the view was stunning, the backyard almost fully set up with decorations for the wedding. to put it shortly, it felt magical. in the distance, she saw everyone, asides from the parents who were out golfing, settling onto the boat.

“hurry up slowpoke!” luke cupped his hands around his mouth, yelling out. aurora rolled her eyes, adjusted the strap of her tote bag which was chronically falling down, and headed towards the boat.

“good morning.” she smiled as she passed quinn who was carrying a cooler of drinks. she paused her stride to notice the veins that popped out of his arms, and wow the way his hands looked as he gripped the handle and—

“morning, rory.” he said with a soft smile and she felt her stomach drop like she was on a rollercoaster, did he notice her checking him out?

“did you sleep okay last night?” he didn’t look up as he stepped into the boat, setting the cooler down and then offering his hand out to help her in.

she felt like she was having whiplash, he was acting normal now? she took his hand and stepped in, “yeah it was great. lukey’s a snorer though.” she laughed and he nodded. she had to hide a frown as he let go of her hand.

“are you shit talking me right now?” luke walked over with his arms crossed, looking down at aurora through his sunglasses. “yeah, we’re shit talking you severely, i hate you so much.” she gave a sarcastic smile and scooted past him to greet melissa.

luke scoffed, “pft, she loves me. couldn’t keep her hands off me last night.” he said jokingly as he rested his hands on the back of his head, not noticing how quinn didn’t laugh, only pressing his lips into an awkward smile.

“oh gross, luke.” ashton smacked the top of his head, luke pouting as he fixed his cap.

“that was you who couldn’t keep your hands off!” aurora protested as melissa giggled beside her. she rolled her eyes then turned to fully face her soon to be sister in law. “so, are you starting to get nervous or anything?” aurora questioned and she shrugged.

“i don’t think i’m really that nervous,” she began, flipping her sunglasses up to rest on the top of her head. “am i nervous that it could rain or i could trip and fall walking? yeah of course, but I’ve never once felt nervous about marrying your brother, i actually can’t wait.” she blushed and aurora could feel her heart melting, she admired their relationship so much. it was something about they way they spoke about each other, like it was always meant to be.

“alright guys, we ready to go?” quinn asked and everyone cheered, excited to spend the day in the sun before the chaos of the wedding began.

“COWABUNGA!” jack launched himself off the edge of the boat, earning complaints from the group as he splashed water everywhere.

“idiot…” aurora chuckled as she stared down at her clothes which were now soaked, it was to be expected, they were having a lake day afterall.

she whipped her head at the sound of stomping coming towards her and melissa, to which she found her brother getting a running start to jump in, luke following not far behind.

“wow so much for curling my hair.” melissa joked, stepping out of her sundress and heading over to the side, letting ashton help her down.

“come on you two!” ashton exclaimed from the water, waiting on aurora and quinn.

aurora bit her lip, here goes nothing. she first took off her shorts, throwing them on top her her tote, then peeled off her shirt, revealing the bikini kaylee had planted. it was honestly a really nice bikini, the lack of coverage was where the problem lied.

from behind her, quinn could be seen with his jaw clenched, eyebrows slightly furrowed as he took in the sight. to most, his expression could be mistaken for annoyance or anger, but that wasn’t quite what was happening here.

she looked back over her shoulder, offering quinn a small smile as her cheeks turned a soft pink, “coming, quinn?”

her smile faltered when she noticed his expression. shit- was he mad? maybe he was mad that she was practically naked, after all they weren’t the only group out on the lake. there were other families boating and swimming around.

she snapped out of her thoughts when she heard jack whistle, “damn, looking good rory!” he cackled, before ashton splashed him in the face. “i’m serious you guys, that’s my baby sister, stop being fucking creeps.” he scoffed.

aurora jumped in and lingered under the water, wanting to hide the way her cheeks burned in embarrassment, not from jack’s comment, but rather at the fact that she had upset quinn.

for the rest of the day, they had spent their time swimming around, wakeboarding, munching on the delicious charcuterie board melissa had prepared, and playing some card games. it had been the perfect way for the soon to be married couple to relax before becoming fully preoccupied with their wedding, not forgetting to express their gratitude to quinn every chance they got.

they were now headed back to the house, in time to meet their parents for a nice dinner. aurora had her head rested on luke’s shoulder as she was being lulled to sleep from the soft rocking of the boat, as well as being exhausted from the day’s activities.

after a rather silent but calm ride, they had made it back to the dock, their parents being seen lounging on the patio enjoying a few drinks.

the group had gathered their things and headed towards the house, not noticing the way aurora stalled to gather her things as she watched quinn bustle around.

“you ready to go?” he asked, expression blank as he stood on the dock, reaching his hand out. the sight reminiscent of the interaction they had shared that morning.

she nodded, placing her hand in his, and it seemed to fit perfectly. she stepped over but didn’t notice the small puddle of water on the step and her eyes went wide as she slipped into him, for the second time in the past two days.

she gulped as they stood chest to chest, her hands rested on his shoulders as his own resting on her arms to stabilize her. she didn’t pull away, instead looking up at him with her mouth slightly agape in shock. her heart thumped in her chest and she was sure he could feel it as she gazed into his eyes, being met with that unrecognizable look she had seen yesterday.

he stared into her eyes, also at a loss for words. his eyes flickered down at the contact between them, the way her chest had been pressed onto him for longer than it should have. abruptly he let go of her arms, letting her stand on her own.

“quinn, i’m sorry-“

“you’re good.” he mumbled before grabbing his things and practically booking it away and back to the house.

she ran her hands through her hair. great, not only did she embarrass him in front of everyone with her bikini, but now she had fallen onto him a second time.

way to seduce him, aurora.

the soft breeze blowing through bedroom curtains was all that could be heard throughout the night, before it was abruptly interrupted by knocking on wood. quinn’s eyes slowly peeled open when he heard the noise at his door. he peeked over at his phone that rested on his bedside table.

2:17 am.

the knocking continued and he sighed, getting up from the warmth of his bed and shuffling over to open the door. assuming it was one of his brothers, he immediately let out a sharp “what do you want?”

but to his surprise, it was aurora standing on the other side of his door.

“‘m sorry.” she whispered softly and he shook his head “no, i thought you were jack or luke. what’s up?” he gazed down at her and his eyebrows furrowed. why the hell she still wearing her bikini?

“couldn’t sleep.” she stepped into his room, closing the door behind her, leaning back on it as she look up at him with hooded eyes. his eyes widened as he stood frozen, watching her begin to creep toward him like a cat getting ready to pounce on a mouse.

“can you help me sleep, quinny?” she whispered, rising onto her tiptoes to wrap her arms around his neck.

his breath hitched when he felt her lips graze against his ear. “need you to help me, quinny.”

he felt chills run down his spine, what the fuck was happening? this was so wrong. he should have told her to back off, he shouldn’t have let her get that close, but god the way her cold fingers felt as she grazed them back down his shoulders, down to his chest, stomach, the waistband of his shorts—

“WAKE UP, QUINTIN! WE HAVE A LOT TO DO!” ashton’s voice boomed on the other side of his door as he shot up, hairline slightly drenched with sweat, breathing heavy as he looked around his room. he ran a hand over his face and groaned before peeking down at the tent in his shorts.

no fucking way.