#after all Kirby’s right in front of it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ilylovelyz · 3 months

Text

⍣ ೋ after the break up (prt 2)

˚ · . kenma kozume, iwaizumi hajime, tsukishima kei, ushijima wakatoshi & atsumu miya (prt 1.)

KENMA KOZUME — he feels really stupid. kenma does a lot after the breakup in order to distract himself. he buys more games, staying up until it's almost dawn. all of his attention goes into his video games and other devices that he completely stops taking care of himself subconsciously. it's only when he's lost almost 10 pounds is when he realizes how neglected he's become. it happened so fast it confuses him. why didn't you remind him to eat? or shower? oh.. right, it's because you broke up with him in the first place. still, he tries to forget. it's one night playing a game when he's dissociating randomly thinking about you does it all hit.

Super Mario Bro's plays in the background of his room. for once, his fingers are still but his eyes are locked on the pixilated screen in front of him. his eyes are red and dialted due to the bright screen contrasting to the dark dead of night. this game was very expensive, vintage and one of a kind—yet he's subconsciously stuck thinking about you.

did you know he thought about you so frequently? did you think the same of him? he drops the console, fishing his phone out from below him. his fingers tap on the keyboard, searching up your name into his contacts. he notices the last time you texted him was over a month ago. oh–, right. you broke up with him. right. kenma drops his phone back down, laying his face down into the same giant kirby plushie you bought him a long time ago.

a soft sniffle escapes through the thick material, mixing in with the almost taunting upbeat cartoon music.

IWAIZUMI HAJIME — your breakup was done on good terms. he was moving to the U.S., you were staying in Japan. neither of you knew the relationship wouldn't withstand such a long distance relationship so the relationship came to an end. the two of you still call and text over random things, but it's not like how things were before. time passes, and the two of you have less and less contact. iwaizumi is doing his weekly stalking of your Instagram when he realizes you've posted a photo of yourself.. but you aren't alone.

iwaizumi sighs with content when he's finally allowed to sit down, his legs sore from harsh muscle training. as always, he checks his phone. once he's finished going through his messages, ignoring almost everyone except his mom, he comes across your contact. the last you spoke with him was almost a year ago. he frowns, he wishes the two of you kept in contact, but you both were just so busy.

curiously, he indulges in his guilty pleasure and opens up instagram. as if on autopilot, he searches for your online handle. you both follow each other, but of course, never speak. he mindlessly scrolls through your highlights and posts, ending up on your most recent one. it's you. his heart flutters at the sight of you once more. even through a screen, you're still as beautiful as always. you're glowing and radiant as always.

his childish smile soon disappears when he realizes someone has their arm wrapped around you. a guy. a guy who is looking at you with the same loving look iwaizumi would give you long, long, ago. iwaizumi uninstalls the app shortly afterwards.

TSUKISHIMA KEI — he avoids you. he pretends you don't exist altogether. his heart cringes whenever he hears you around, regretting immensely when the two of you arranged your classes together in the previous year. it's childish. no, he's childish. especially because the breakup was more of his fault. still, he hides the fact that his heart is broken. he treats you like everybody else with such hate and bitterness, and only realizes how stupid he's being when it's too late.

"hey kei." you say, walking along aside the tall blonde. "do you want to work on the project together? sensei said that–," "i don't want to work with you." he says coldly. tsukishima doesn't even look to acknowledge you, staring straight forward as he walks. "o-oh, well i just y'know—" you stutter embarrassingly, "i just thought that because—" tsukishima finally stops in his tracks, swiftly turning to you, looking at you through clouded lenses.

"why do you keep on pestering me." his tone leaves you shocked. you can't even think of words to say, only able to let out incoherent stutters and mumbles. "all you do is stutter, it's annoying." tsukishima says nonchalantly, still looking at you with distain.

that seems to shut you up for now. tsukishima is relived when you do, if you talked to him anymore he probably would've accidentally spilled how he missed you. his relief is short lived when he sees the tears roll down your face and out of embarrassment, you quickly walk away from him. he's left standing still, gazing down at the floor. heart heavy and regretting.

USHIJIMA WAKATOSHI — he thinks he's alright but he doesn't realize he's distraught. he continues on with his life like normal, seemingly at peace and happy with whatever he's doing. but, he does have to admit, he's been feeling a bit more.. confused? more like agitated. outside of his calm demeanor to untrained eyes, he seems perfectly normal. but, to those who are close with them, they can see what's actually going on in that seemingly perfect head of his.

hazel eyes watch closely as you walk past. ushijima awaits for you to come up to him like normal, talk to him and pester him with a million questions once more. he hated when you pestered him, he wished you were more quiet and reserved... or did he? he's not sure. because now you are walking away from him, not saying a single word. hell, you barely acknowledge his presence. how do you not? he's everything you said catches your eye, tall and muscular build, with a handsome perfect face.

"y/l/n." he rumbles out. the boom of his voice finally catches your attention, finally spinning around to acknowledge him. you seem defensive, like a cornered cat, a single eyebrow quirking up at his call. "..ushijima-san?" his heart, for some reason, sinks into his gut with the formality use of his name. what happened to toshi? for once, his words are stuck in his throat and he struggles to come up with something to say.

seeing that he's yet to say anything, you hurry out of his presence, trying to be released from the gaze of the man you are forbidden to love. meanwhile, ushijima is realizing for the first time, that maybe he lost someone who he isn't fine with leaving.

MIYA ATSUMU — he's like a pitiful dog. he plays off the break up like it's nothing, even to your face, he just shrugged his shoulders and mumbled something under his breath and walked away. despite the two of you dating for a year, going through so many things together, hell, he even lost his virginity to you, but he still acts like it was nothing.. but everyone can tell it's not. much to his annoyance, even his twin brother tells him to take it easy following the break up. but he's fine. it was nothing. he definitely doesn't search for you in the crowd during his games, nor does he get the random pang of forgetfullness after school as if he should be waiting for you. he's fine.

a girl comes up to atsumu after his game, batting her long eyelashes and pouting her lips. "can i get your number?" she asks, making her voice as smooth as possible. atsumu blinks at her with a blank face before turning his back to her, ignoring her entirely. he ignores her whines and curses of embarrassment, his eyes scanning the emptying crowd.

"shes not here, 'tsumu." he hears a familiar voice say. atsumu snaps his head back to the direction of the voice, seeing osamu standing there with his hands in his pockets, eyes low and unamused. atsumu scoffs at his brother, "yah i know." the two of them wait in silence, but for what? what is he waiting for? suddenly, his ears perk up at a familar body frame, eyes darting to the source only to be severally disappointed with the sight of a person who looks like you, but isn't you.

"let's go home, 'tsumu." osamu says, walking past the blonde haired man. atsumu waits a couple more seconds, taking another quick scan of the crowd before he's hestiantly following his brother, shoulders low and eyes to the ground.

please like and repost with tags

#haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu angst #atsumu miya #ushijima wakatoshi #kozume kenma #tsukishima kei #iwaizumi hajime #atsumu x reader #ushijima x reader #kenma x reader #tsukishima x reader #iwaizumi x reader

2K notes · View notes

miyaoniku · 1 month

Text

[suna rintaro] how you get together / dating headcanons

[author: chae]

a/n: brainrot because haikyuu is back and so am i (hopefully).

[fluff] [headcanon]

[suna rintaro x reader]

nothing crazy really

you first met suna rintaro in middle school

he sat behind you and often slept in class

you found out that you lived a few houses down from him when he went on his first away game for volleyball, and your homeroom teacher tasked you with delivering his assignments to his home

that's really it honestly

you didn't really interact with him much in middle school

though, after your second year, you had to move due to your parents' having to relocate for work

and that's how you ended up at inarizaki high school

little did you know that you would see suna again in your class on your first day at inarizaki!

morning of the first day, you walked into the classroom and saw someone napping in the last seat in one of the rows

it was a nostalgic sight, you thought, but there's noooo way that it's suna rintaro! he's all the way in another prefecture!

you pick the seat in front of him because you thought it was funny

your homeroom teacher started taking attendance

"suna rintaro?"

"here"

suna??

rintaro???

from middle school?????

right when the lunch bell rang, you turned around

"hey"

he looked at you

"...do i know you?"

"yeah? i think? are you from aichi prefecture?"

"yeah? .... wait didn't we go to the same middle school?"

turns out he was scouted to come to inarizaki to play volleyball

small world!

you exchange numbers and start actually hanging out, as opposed to middle school

though, some things don't change as he still sleeps in class and you still have to give him his homework when he has volleyball games

you two have lunch together, sometimes being joined by miya osamu, and play cup pong

your friendship MIGHT be on the line whenever you play 8ball

"i swear to god if you pick that one-"

"what? you'll chuck my phone across the room?"

"DON'T TEST ME SUNA RINTARO."

you send each other WAYYYYYYY too many memes

like, it's to the point where your memes outnumber your actual texts

the instagram reels you send each other go crazy sometimes

like it can range from anywhere between kirby memes to rick rolls to posts that poke fun at each other

he's honestly just a really funny friend, and you never thought anything of it

it wasn't until one day during your club activities where you and a few of your friends were chatting that you ever considered looking at suna romantically

they were talking about their own crushes and asked if anyone caught your eye

and when you responded "no," they brought up suna's name

and the idea was bizarre to you

like you?? and suna??? together???? more than friends?????

this guy literally sends you patrick star memes at 2am and asks "this you?"

pshhh impossible no way

but... you can't really stop thinking about it

because wHAT IF HE'S TREATING YOU LIKE THIS BECAUSE HE LIKES YOU????

anyways!

you start noticing the little things he does for you, like getting you your go-to drink/bread for lunch without asking you, or giving you random head pats, or him coming over to your house on a stormy day when you're alone in the house to keep you company

you stare up at your ceiling, deep in thought

no y/n, stop getting delusional. he doesn't like you like that.

you have a bigger problem at hand

the school dance is tonight

and you have NO ONE to go with!!!

you feel your phone vibrate

it's a text from suna

"open the door"

you raise an eyebrow when you open the door to see suna staring at his phone in front of you

he looks up, types something on his phone, and looks back up to you again

you feel your phone vibrate, and look at what it was this time

"wanna go together?"

you look back up in surprise, only to see him holding a bouquet of your favorite flowers up in front of you

he had his head turned away, but you saw the way the tips of his ears turned red

you felt your cheeks turn scarlet as you took the flowers from him and gave him a hug

he simply patted your head and gave you a small smile

this guy, who sends you memes at the most strangest of hours, MIGHT have a crush on you

and you MIGHT like him back

you two don't make it official until after he brought you back home

he texted you when he got back home and when he was going to bed

but not without sending one last meme for the night

it was an image of kirby looking out the window with a sad expression with the caption: "me when i miss u"

you liked the message and typed out a response, lingering on the send button for a bit before sucking it up and pressing send

"soooo when are you gonna ask me?"

he responded with another kirby meme, this time of angy kirby with hearts around his head

"be my gf?"

nothing between you and suna changed much

he isn't really an affectionate guy, but his actions speak volumes

lunch with him is still the same, and he still gives you little head pats whenever he feels like it

its just that now, he brings you closer and rests his chin on your head whenever he stands around you

sometimes he wraps his arms around you!!!

he rests his head on your shoulder when he naps during train rides

his favorite passtime is to take naps with you in his arms

he gives you a little forehead kiss and mumbles a "love you" before he drifts off

and you just snuggle into him and drift off as well

he's like a teddy bear please hang onto him QwQ

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyuu fluff #suna rintaro #suna rintaro x reader #suna x reader #suna x you #suna x y/n #inarizaki x reader #inarizaki #miya osamu #suna rintarou #sibling!suna rintaro #sibling!suna #sibling!au #sibling!rintaro

383 notes · View notes

duachai · 2 months

Text

G8MER BOI - JEON WONWOO

Super Smash Bros You So Ass Though Proly Pick Kirby So You Don't Get Smashed On

PAIRING : JEON WONWOO X MALE READER

SYNOPSIS : M/n, a competitive gamer, is distracted by fellow gamer Wonwoo's charisma and flirtatious advances during a match. After the game, Wonwoo's commanding demeanor leaves M/n flustered and vulnerable. They share an intense, intimate encounter backstage, leading M/n to experience a whirlwind of emotions. Overwhelmed by Wonwoo's touch and words, M/n feels a deep connection forming, hinting at a promising new chapter in his life.

CONTENT WARNING : This writing contains explicit sexual content and mature themes.

AUTHOR'S NOTE : I know nothing about E-sports, but I tried my best 😭

LINKS : Wattpad | Kofi

M/n had never been so nervous going ANYWHERE before today. This was the day he could make history and he carried an insane amount of weight on his shoulders as he walked through those arena doors. Even in a room full of people he still found himself zoned out and very unfocused while doing a fan sign.

He felt someone staring at him, his eyes slowly looking up from the table. A pair of eyes were staring at him, unbreaking eye contact. It sent chills down his spine. He was always a bit reserved during these events and always kept his head down so as to not engage with many people. He didn't like a lot of interaction anyway so this set-up worked for him fairly well.

Except with this particular person.

He knew this guy. This guy... he was a legend. But not one of those old crinkly ones that don't really do their fortay anymore.

He was Jeon Wonwoo.

He slowly lifted his sharpie off the desk, eyes still locked with the other male. He was just so intense. It's like he's trying to burn a hole into my brain. He thought. He tried to ignore the way his stomach churned beneath his button-up and continued signing the girl’s team T-shirt in front of him. She could sense M/n's attention was not on her at all.

M/n quickly tore his gaze from the other person and plastered on a smile for the girl in front of him. Come ON, stop staring! Just mind your own damn business! He cursed in his head, trying to focus back on the girl.

The girl in front of him tried to talk to him to which he desperately tried to answer, eyes darting to the side every so often only to see the man still staring at him. "Are you okay?", the girl asked, waving her hand in front of his face "You seem distracted."

"O-Oh, yeah. I'm sorry... um thank you for supporting us! I hope to see you in the arena later today.”

She nodded and moved away, making room for the next person. M/n took a small breather, closing his eyes for a moment. Ok M/n, pull yourself together. Just focus, do your job and then you can g- He glances up only to see Wonwoo sitting down in the seat in front of him. Ah, you've got to be kidding me...

The male in front of him sat back casually, resting his t-shirt right on the desk in front of him. M/n felt his heart speed up a bit. He glanced down quickly then back up to see Wonwoo grinning at him like he knew exactly what he was thinking.

It almost looked like he was teasing M/n and it ticked him off a bit. He was here to do his job and this guy was distracting him. "I guess it's my turn," Wonwoo spoke, his voice so sweet it almost made M/n shiver.

"U-Um, you don't need to get in line... you're like VIP."

The male laughed heartily. "VIP huh? I like the sound of that"

Jesus, he's even got a beautiful laugh M/n thought, trying to shake the idea away.

Wonwoo said generously, "But I'm no different than the other teams here. I just am a fan... I want a signed shirt from my favorite junior team.”

M/n let out a short laugh, trying to be casual about the whole thing. "Yeah right, like you can call yourself any team's fan when you're the main part of your team's success," he says. It came out a bit harsher than he intended but the confidence the man had was starting to irk him. "You're a legend, Jeon Wonwoo."

Wonwoo smirked and leaned in a little closer. "Say my name again" he says. M/n stared at him, dumbfounded. Say it again? Why the hell does he want me to say his name? What is his angle..

He swallowed down the lump in his throat and took a breath. "Wonwoo.." he said slowly.

The tension was cut by an intercom coming on. "Please everyone please gather in the area for the SVT and Fifty-Forty’s team matches.” M/n's head snapped up to the speaker above his head when the announcement went off. An overwhelming sense of relief washed over him. Finally, now i'm out of this awkward position.

He looked back to Wonwoo only to find him still staring, that smug smile still plastered on his lips. He tried to glare at the man which only made him smile more. He felt his face get hot again. Damnit, why am I letting him get to me?

Wonwoo leaned even further forward and M/n could feel his breath on his cheek. He was so close M/n could count the individual eyelashes framing the other man's eyes. Damnit, Why is his face so close? What is he doing… Wonwoo spoke up, his voice low and sultry in his ear "Are you gonna sign me that shirt now?"

With a trembling hand M/n picked up his marker and signed the shirt. He tried to keep the letters straight but his hand was shaking like crazy and he felt like sweating buckets. How was this man making him so nervous? Why could he feel his heart pounding in his chest like this? It was insane...

He finished the signature and was about to set the shirt down when Wonwoo took hold of his wrist, stopping him from moving. M/n's heart nearly stopped. Wonwoo's hand was on his wrist, not to mention it was so large as well. His fingers were wrapping all the way around him, his long slender fingers completely covering his wrist.

He swallowed a lump that formed in his throat and made the mistake of looking up into Wonwoo's eyes. His eyes met the other man's intense stare and he couldn't look away. He felt like he might pass out if he did.

His mind was going a mile a minute, there was so much going on. Their faces were mere centimeters from each other and M/n felt like he would have a heart attack right there, and on top of all of that, he had never felt more... excited? for something in his entire life.

M/n swore he felt the thump of his heart skip a beat. "You're a lot cuter than I thought you'd be.." he said quietly. M/n's eyes widened and before he could reply the intercom came back on, cutting off whatever he was about to say.

"All teams to the main stage please, the match is beginning in a few minutes.”

Wonwoo's hand finally left his wrist and he let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. He felt lightheaded like he might pass out at that very moment.

The man leaned back in his seat, picking up his signed shirt and smiling. "See you after the match," he said before he stood and headed for the stage. M/n could only watch as the man left, a thousand thoughts running through his mind. What was just happening? He thought I was cute? Why was he being so upfront? Why did he make me so nervous?

He needed to get himself together and quickly. There was a match about to happen and he needed to be focused. He looked over to the crowd and saw all the fans waiting. As much as he wanted to go back and hide in his room, he couldn't. Just do your best, and after you can freak out.

He took a deep breath and got up to join the rest of his teammates on the stage. The game began and M/n tried to focus on playing, which he usually had no problems doing. Except this time, he couldn't seem to find and kind of concentration.

Every time he would start to get into the game, his mind flashed back to Wonwoo's eyes. His words, his grip on his wrist, the way he made his heart stop...

He was so distracted, he was even making mistakes in-game, which was completely unlike him. Usually he was so precise and careful with his playing but today it was like he was just going through the motions. He was doing everything on auto-pilot.

Wonwoo was amazing. His hair, his perfect form, his talent, his lips, all of this just drove M/n absolutely insane. The game wasn't even on his mind. All he could think about was how he just had to have Jeon Wonwoo.

The game was over as quickly as it had begun. Wonwoo's team had crushed his, leaving him and his teammates with no chance to even compete. As the two teams made their way off the stage and into the hall, M/n felt a hand on his shoulder.

He felt that intense sense of nervousness fill him again as he slowly turned to come face to face with Wonwoo. M/n's heart nearly stopped when they stood face to face again. Every single thought he had from earlier came rushing back to him all at once, leaving him feeling vulnerable.

Wonwoo smirked down at him which made him feel even more flustered. Why did he keep doing that?!

"You guys put up a good fight, I'll give you that," he said, his hand still on M/n's shoulder.

M/n couldn't find a single word to say, he just stood there like a complete idiot as his brain malfunctioned. He didn't know what to say or do, he just stared at the man with his mouth slightly open.

Wonwoo chuckled lowly, which caused the hairs on the back of M/n's neck to stand up. Damnit, why is his laugh so attractive? Is he trying to drive me insane?

"Cat got your tongue?" he asked, lifting a hand and running his thumb over M/n's bottom lip. M/n suddenly forgot how to breath. His hands started to shake and he swallowed down a lump in his throat. What does he think he's doing? Just.. touching my face like that. It's making me so.. His thoughts were cut off when Wonwoo began to speak again.

"You're cute when you're nervous, you know that? You get a little red too," Wonwoo said cooing as he swiped a slither of hair that fell on M/n’s forehead.

Jesus Christ, he's so handsome..

M/n tried and failed to keep control of his composure. Why does this man make me so nervous? I can't even form complete thoughts with him staring right at me.

He finally gathered the strength to speak, his voice quiet and shaky. "I'm... not nervous.."

Wonwoo laughed again with his perfect teeth showing. "You're not? You're shaking like a leaf right now." he said with a smirk. His hand came up again, this time cupping M/n's cheek in his warm palm. M/n felt his legs begin to get weak.

"You're a terrible liar, you know that?" he chuckles again before leaning down so his mouth was right next to M/n's ear.

M/n could feel his heart pounding against his chest as the other man's breath tickled his ear. "I can probably make you even more nervous,” he said, his low voice dripping with confidence.

M/n's mind seemed to be a complete jumble at this point. His thoughts were a complete mess and he felt like he might explode. The proximity of the other male's body was almost overwhelming, especially since he was so much taller than M/n himself.

He swore it felt like he was in a trance of some kind when Wonwoo spoke again, his breath warm on his ear. Wonwoo's warm hand shifted from his cheek to the nape of his neck, resting there and making shivers run up M/n's spine.

"You know.." he began, his tone was like silk. ".. I thought you were cute from just watching you play, but now I think you're even more adorable up close.”

M/n chuckled nervously, "U-Um... I should really catch up with my team. They're probably heading to the hotel... y'know. Tired and stuff.

Wonwoo's hand on his neck seemed to tighten a bit, keeping M/n from moving away. "Your team is going to be fine without you for a few minutes," he said, his tone a bit more demanding now.

M/n's breath hitched in his throat as the other man's grip pulled him a little closer. "O-Oh... kay, okay..."

M/n's head was spinning, the man was way too attractive for his own good.

Suddenly, Wonwoo's hand slid from his neck to his jaw, his long slender fingers wrapping around his chin and turning his head to the side. M/n didn't resist, he let him move him, his mind foggy from the closeness.

"You have really pretty eyes" he said lowly in his ear, his thumb brushing across M/n's bottom lip again.

M/n felt his heart flip and his breath shuddered again. He was trying so hard to keep what little composure he had left, but the other man was making it damn near impossible. His touch was driving him insane and he found himself unable to speak, his mind completely blank.

"They're brown... not very unique. Um, how about we move to another area... it's kinda hot h-here. Yeah?" M/n says in a slight pant. Wonwoo chuckled softly and leaned back slightly so he was hovering over M/n's face.

"Oh my god, you are so adorable when you're nervous," he said, his eyes raking up and down M/n's body as he spoke. M/n's stomach flipped at the look in the other man's eyes, Jesus, that stare is going to be the death of me he thought. "I have an idea," Wonwoo said as he grabbed M/n's wrist, his large hand wrapping all the way around him again.

A shiver ran down M/n's spine at the feeling.

With one quick move, he found himself being led down one of the backstage hallways into a secluded backroom. As soon as the door closed behind them, Wonwoo turned and pushed M/n up against the door, trapping him between his body and the hard surface.

M/n felt like he was going to have a heart attack. His heartbeat was so loud he swore Wonwoo could probably hear it. Wonwoo placed a hand on the wall on either side of M/n's head, effectively trapping him against the door.

He was so close M/n could feel the other man's breath on his face, it was warm and smelled faintly of cinnamon. Wonwoo was just staring again. Those brown eyes staring directly into his own, leaving him frozen in his spot.

His mind was swirling, his body was hot, why was this man having this effect on him? The other man smirked down at him, a wicked smile that made M/n's body shiver again. "You're so innocent, you know that?" he says, his eyes raking up and down M/n's body again.

This new side of Wonwoo was turning M/n on in ways he never thought possible. The intense gaze, the smirk, and the commanding tone, it was making his legs feel like jelly.

"M-Maybe I should get back to the group... I-" Wonwoo's hand on the wall moved to M/n's hip, resting there and grabbing it firmly through the material of his shirt. M/n felt a jolt of pleasure run through him. Jesus... that hand, it's so big

"I don’t want you to leave, sweetheart," he stated, his tone commanding. M/n was speechless. The nickname made his heart skip a beat and the hand on his hip made his legs even weaker. He was having a very hard time breathing at this point.

"O-Okay."

Wonwoo chuckled, the sound sending another shiver through M/n. "You're so easy to tease," he says as he leans closer to M/n.

His hand was still tight on his hip, his grip almost possessively tight. "Tease?" M/n asked almost in a whine. Another sultry chuckle escaped Wonwoo's lips as he leaned in even closer, his mouth now right next to M/n's ear.

"You heard me," he said, his warm breath sending more chills down M/n's spine. M/n's mind was a mess and his body a wreck, all from a simple hand on his hip. M/n began to lose his balance. Trying not to fall, his arms wrapped around Wonwoo's waist instinctively.

Wonwoo chuckled again, the sound so deep and smooth, it left M/n's mind feeling blank once more.

"You're a little clumsy, hm?" he asked, his tone almost mocking now.

M/n was trying desperately to keep his mind from completely shorting out, but the man's proximity and his voice was messing with his head.

"Oh.. sorry. Um, Wonwoo? I don't understand, why... why me? I-I'm not complaining I'm just... confused.”

This time a frown appeared on Wonwoo's face instead of his usual cocky smirk. He moved back from M/n's ear, looking down at him with an almost serious expression.

"Why you? I'll tell you why" he said, his gaze never leaving M/n's face. M/n's heart rate quickly began to pick up at the intensity in which the man was staring at him.

"You're cute, that's obvious.." he began, his eyes roaming over M/n's flushed face. "But on top of that... you're talented.. and I could tell when I was watching you earlier... that you're so damn hot when you're focused.”

M/n couldn't understand why this man was having this effect on him, why his words were making him feel weak and his body hot. And Wonwoo noticed. He could feel the rise in M/n's pants.

A smug smirk reappeared on the man's face, as he took notice of M/n’s predicament.

"Looks like I'm having an effect on you, hm?" he purred in M/n's ear again.

M/n 's face flustered with embarrassment, "I'm sorry! I-I don't know what's happening, I'm sorry.”

Wonwoo laughed lowly, his laugh doing absolutely nothing for M/n's already fried brain. "You don't have to apologize, I enjoy it," he said as he pulled M/n's hips forward, closing the distance between their bodies. M/n's eyes darted down to Wonwoo's lips. Wonwoo smirked again, the expression causing M/n's stomach to flip.

"You keep looking at my lips sweetheart, what are you thinking about?" he asked, his voice still low and smooth. "You're speechless a lot, you know that..?" he asks, his grip on M/n's hips tightening. "You're not saying anything because you're too busy thinking about my lips, I can tell," he said, a low chuckle escaping again. "You don't have to speak yourself then. I'll make you.”

And with that, he pressed his mouth to M/n's. M/n's mind suddenly went into overdrive, the soft pressure of Wonwoo's lips against his own sending sparks of pleasure shooting through him.

Wonwoo's mouth felt so warm and soft against his own. He couldn't get his mind to form a single thought, the only thing he could process at this point was the feeling of Wonwoo's lips moving against his. Wonwoo deepened the kiss, pulling M/n even closer by his hips.

The room was suddenly getting a lot hotter, the only thing that M/n could focus on was the man in front of him. The kiss was intense, and M/n was losing himself further and further with each passing moment.

His fingers found the way to the back of Wonwoo's shirt and clutched at the material tightly. Wonwoo let out a light moan as M/n gripped the fabric of his shirt, the sound sending yet another shiver of pleasure through him.

He continued to kiss him, his tongue slipping between M/n's lips and tasting every crevice of his mouth. Wonwoo suddenly bit down on M/n's bottom lip, causing him to gasp out a moan at the mixture of pain and pleasure.

"Jesus, the noises you're making are going to put me over the edge, you know that?" he says in a low, sultry tone. M/n's brain could barely process the words coming out of the man's mouth. "You're... you're driving me crazy," he managed to get out in a pant.

Wonwoo's hand inched up the underside of M/n's shirt, running his fingers along the bare skin of his stomach. M/n let out an involuntary noise at the feel of the man's fingers on his skin, his stomach felt like it was on fire wherever Wonwoo touched him.

Wonwoo began to trail his mouth down M/n's neck, peppering kisses lightly over his skin. M/n's head fell back against the door of the small room, a soft moan escaping his lips.

The feel of Wonwoo's lips on his neck sent a fresh wave of hot pleasure through M/n's body.

"God... you're so whiney, I love it," he says softly between kisses. Wonwoo continued to mouth at M/n's neck as his hands began to wander further up his shirt. M/n could feel his body burning up, every touch from the other man was making his brain malfunction. "You feel so good" Wonwoo whispered against his neck.

M/n took one of Wonwoo's hands down to his crotch, "Wonwoo please... help me.” M/n let out another moan, the man's touch was doing wonders on his body. "Just... touch me, please," he begs, his hands coming to rest on Wonwoo's hips.

Wonwoo quickly began to undo the buckle of M/n's pants, his fingers working quickly to get the material off of him. M/n let out a low moan, the anticipation driving him crazy.

"You're so cute... I need to see more of you," Wonwoo says lowly. Wonwoo's hands were roaming over his thighs. "God, you're perfect" he says as he squeezes the flesh of one of his legs, his eyes roaming over his exposed body.

"So damn pretty" he mutters under his breath as he begins to kiss down the skin of the thigh in his hand. Wonwoo continued to mouth at the skin of his thigh, he was making his way closer to the one place that M/n wanted him to be.

Each little bite and kiss was sending more jolts of pleasure through him, his body felt like it was on fire. "Please, please.. Woo...”

"Please what, gorgeous? You have to tell me what you want," Wonwoo says, his mouth mere inches from the hardness of M/n's lower body.

M/n could barely form a coherent sentence, his brain was mush at this point. "Your mouth.. I need your mouth," he says in a pant, his hands tightening around the material of Wonwoo's shirt.

Wonwoo hummed against his thigh in response to his words. "Beg me, baby. Tell me how much you need me," he said lowly, his breath ghosting over the flesh of M/n's inner leg.

"Please, please Woo I need you. I need your mouth, I need your hands, I need you. Please." M/n was practically pleading now, the anticipation was killing him.

Wonwoo hummed again, satisfaction in his voice. "Such a polite little thing... can't say no to that now can I?" he said as he leaned forward in between M/n's thighs.

He wanted to see how much more he could break him down.

"You're being such a good boy for me, I'm going to make you feel so good, you hear me? You're going to feel so good, all because of me"

"Yes... please. Only you make me feel this way," M/n manages to pant out, he wanted the man's mouth so bad his body was aching for it.

"Mmhm, no one else but me can make you feel this good, and no one else ever will," Wonwoo says lowly as he continues to mouth across the inside of his thighs. M/n was already a mess, his breathing was uneven and his skin was hot.

"I'm going to have you begging for more, I'm going to have you screaming my name," he says in a murmur against the flesh of M/n's skin.

Wonwoo continued his ministrations to the flesh of his thighs, marking the soft skin with his mouth and teeth. He was purposely avoiding the one place M/n wanted him most, he wanted to hear him beg for it.

"You're already a mess and I've hardly touched you. You really are desperate, aren't you baby?" he said in a low tone. "My Good boy," Wonwoo says with a smirk.

Without any warning, he suddenly sank down to his knees, his face now level with M/n's hardness. M/n let out a low moan, finally giving in to the overwhelming sensations coursing through him.

Wonwoo's hands slid up M/n's thighs, his touch firm yet gentle, sending shivers up his spine. He looked up at M/n with a mischievous glint in his eyes, and without breaking eye contact, he pressed a kiss against the fabric covering M/n's arousal.

M/n's breath hitched, his hands instinctively reaching to tangle in Wonwoo's hair. The other man smirked, his fingers deftly undoing the button and zipper of M/n's pants. With deliberate slowness, he pulled down the material, freeing M/n's hardness from its confines.

Wonwoo's warm breath ghosted over M/n's exposed skin, causing him to shudder with anticipation. He placed a series of teasing kisses along M/n's length, each one sending jolts of pleasure through his body.

"Wonwoo... please," M/n murmured, his voice barely a whisper, filled with need.

Wonwoo chuckled softly, the vibrations of his laughter adding to M/n's pleasure. "Impatient, aren't we?" he teased, his lips brushing against M/n's tip.

Unable to take any more of the teasing, M/n's hips involuntarily bucked forward, seeking more of Wonwoo's touch. Wonwoo finally took pity on him, wrapping his lips around M/n's hardness and taking him into his warm, wet mouth.

M/n gasped, his head falling back against the door as waves of pleasure crashed over him. Wonwoo's mouth worked expertly, his tongue swirling around M/n's tip before taking him deeper.

The sensations were almost too much to bear. M/n's fingers tightened in Wonwoo's hair, his hips moving in time with the other man's rhythm. Wonwoo's hands gripped M/n's thighs, holding him steady as he continued to pleasure him.

M/n felt the tension building in his core, his breaths coming in short, ragged gasps. "Wonwoo... I'm close," he managed to say, his voice strained with need.

In response, Wonwoo increased his pace, his mouth moving faster, taking M/n as deep as he could. The sight of Wonwoo on his knees, his lips wrapped around him, was enough to push M/n over the edge.

With a final, shuddering gasp, M/n came, his release spilling into Wonwoo's mouth. The other man swallowed greedily, his eyes never leaving M/n's face as he rode out his climax.

As the waves of pleasure subsided, M/n slumped against the door, his legs feeling like jelly. Wonwoo stood up, a satisfied smile on his lips as he wiped a stray drop from the corner of his mouth.

"You're even more adorable when you're completely undone," he said, his voice low and teasing.

M/n could only nod weakly, his mind still reeling from the intensity of the experience. Wonwoo leaned in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to M/n's lips.

"Let's get you cleaned up," he murmured, his tone now gentle and caring. "We can't have you going back out there looking like this."

With Wonwoo's help, M/n managed to pull himself together, his body still tingling from the aftershocks of pleasure. As they made their way back to the main area, M/n couldn't help but feel a newfound sense of connection with Wonwoo.

The game may have been over, but for M/n, a new and exhilarating chapter had just begun.

175 notes · View notes

kyuuppi · 9 months

Text

help, my boyfriend has no sex drive! (5)

Pairing: Kenma x reader (f)

Contents: smut; established relationship; feminization, "femboy", heavy praise kink (Kenma); rough sex; creampie; Christmas themes

Words: 3.4k

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4

“But as long as you’d love me so—

Let it snow, let it snow, let it snoooow”

Kenma tries not to visibly cringe at the cheery music as he emerges from his office, finally finished with his obligatory three-hour “Christmas special” stream.

As you had been for the past month, you’re softly singing along to some Christmas carol playing from your shitty laptop speaker. You had busied yourself with reorganizing the presents under the full-sized tree—something you had insisted on buying for the apartment.

Kenma had little more interest in most holidays than the “free day from school” perks. But as he watches you scurry around your shared living room wearing candy cane-themed stockings, an oversized ugly Christmas sweater, and a hundred-yen-store Santa hat, Kenma is thankful you had expressed your desire to celebrate with him. He will gladly participate in anything that makes you this innocently cheerful.

Your background music is abruptly cut short and you frown when you realize your laptop has just died again. But the disappointment is cut short when you notice Kenma, standing awkwardly by the couch in the dark Christmas sweater you had insisted he wear for his stream.

“KenKen—your stream is over?”

Kenma smiles softly at how eager you look, eyes practically sparkling.

“Yeah, I’m free now. You wanted to open presents, right?”

You nod quickly, guiding him to the couch and leaving only to retrieve a cup of hot cocoa—extra whipped cream—and a slice of homemade apple pie, placing them both in front of him on the coffee table. He thanks you quietly, predictably digging into the apple pie first.

“So I think we should start with your family’s gifts first,” you begin, already passing him a small stack of presents, all wrapped in identical green and red paper.

After nearly half an hour you two had finally worked your way through nearly all of the presents. Most were the typical things–an abhorrent amount of socks and pajamas from your families, Kenma’s mother gifting both of you very cringey matching couple sets with any video game character she saw. You had to try very hard not to laugh at Kenma’s face when you opened a matching Kirby and Jigglypuff sweater set with a handwritten heart note.

“Aww, don’t pout KenKen, your mom was just being thoughtful.” “They’re not even in the same series.”

A few gifts had been surprising–namely Kuroo’s cat ear headphones—to which Kenma promptly sent a text telling Kuroo to never buy him Christmas gift ever again— and even a signed pro jersey from Hinata. Even if he didn’t voice it, you noticed how touched Kenma seemed by the gesture and you made a mental note to buy something to display it in the apartment. A few gifts were even from Kenma’s fans, sending various game merchandise, snacks from their country, and even fan art of the two of you.

Finally, the last remaining gifts were the ones you made for each other. You didn’t want to pressure Kenma to buy you anything fancy–and you also couldn’t afford to reciprocate with anything fancy, so you set a strict budget.

Kenma was unexpectedly good at keeping secrets so you weren’t sure what he had gotten you–probably a game he wanted you to play together but the box was unexpectedly big—

Regardless, you knew what you got him , and it was something you had been thinking about for months. Needless to say, you were eager for him to open it.

“Who should go firs—”

“I’ll go!”

Kenma raises a brow but complies as you all but shove your gift into his hands. The outside is unassuming—a flat package wrapped in red paper with a holographic silver stick-on bow in the center. Somehow, he feels vaguely uneasy.

Cautiously, Kenma begins unwrapping the gift. You practically vibrate with excitement in your seat, eagerly watching as his thin fingers peel away the final layers of colorful paper.

Finally, your present reveals itself, soft nylon fabric in a bright red shade. Kenma seems confused, unsure of what exactly he is looking at until he shifts and the fabric unravels into two long strips.

“Ta-daa,” you cheer, “your very own pair of thigh-high stockings!”

Kenma looks horrified.

“This is a joke,” Kenma states, sounding like he’s trying to convince himself just as much as you.

“What do you mean? Don’t you like them? Look, they’re even Christmas-themed!”

You guide his hands over to the top of the socks where a large red ribbon sits. Two short red strings dangle the ribbon with a small, fuzzy white ball at the end each. You make him squeeze the soft ball for good measure. His expression doesn’t change.

“Why would you buy me these? You wasted actual, real-life money for this,” Kenma bemoans.

“Didn’t your fans suggest something like this before? I think they called them programmer socks—”

“ Oh my god please stop talking.”

Kenma lets out a long, suffering groan as you eye him with an absolute shit-eating grin.

It’s fine, he thinks. You wanted to be a little shit like Kuroo but it was just a prank. He could probably Venmo back the money you wasted on this and never have to think of this situation ever again. He’ll toss them in the back of the closet next to those cat ear headphones Kuroo bought him.

He is proven wrong when you nudge his shin with your own stocking-clad toes and give him an expectant look.

“Well?”

“What?”

“Aren’t you going to try them on?”

Kenma’s brain very obviously fries and you have to resist the urge to laugh at his expression.

“C’mon, I spent actual, real-life money on these," you tease, throwing his words back at him, "I wanna see you wear them at least once!”

“You have to be joking,” he all but whines.

Your excited expression tells him you are very much not joking. Kenma considers refusing more firmly. He knows you genuinely care about him and would never push him to do something he was uncomfortable with—or at least so long as it wouldn’t actually kill him.

But your eyes are wide and practically sparkling as you look at him expectantly with that cute little grin–the crippling humiliation that will likely haunt him every night for the rest of his life is nothing compared to your happiness. Kenma sighs deeply and you know you’ve won.

He ignores your excited squeals as he stands up and shuffles towards the bathroom in something akin to a walk of shame.

As Kenma stares at his own lithe form in the mirror he’s positive that he has never felt so mortified in his whole life. Not when he accidentally set a ball into Lev’s face during a match in high school. Not when he missed his ult in a team fight and cost his team the ranked match in League. Not even when he came so hard he nearly passed out while getting his dick sucked during a live stream.

Kenma can barely even recognize himself in the mirror, eyes flitting from his familiar golden gaze down to his oversized black and white Nightmare Before Christmas sweater and, finally, to his thin legs wrapped in an inappropriately bright red pair of thigh-high socks.

Somehow, the stockings feel even more exposing than if he were just naked. He feels like some cheap, poorly drawn femboy character in a hentai. One of his first thoughts was they don’t look nearly as appealing on him as they do on you. His legs are too lanky–straight and lean from years of volleyball but missing the curve of healthy fat yours have. His face heats up as he visualizes your thighs currently clad in your own pair of red and white striped stockings.

“KenKen are you ready yet? You’re taking foreeeeever!”

His heart rate picks up and he tries to remind himself it's just you, the person who makes him feel safest. He’s going to go out there, you’re going to see how cringe he looks, then you'll both laugh and never talk about this again.

He takes a deep breath and opens the door, immediately meeting your gaze as you sit on the couch where he left you. Breath bated, he watches as your eyes dart down his body, darting around his lower half with your mouth agape. He tries his best not to squirm under your stare.

“Fuck, Ken,” you chuckle breathily, “you look amazing.”

Kenma’s breath hitches, certainly not expecting that type of response. As you continue to take him in he realizes your gaze looks almost hungry, like you’re ready to devour him–shit, are you seriously into this?

He finds his answer in the way you motion him over, helpless in how his body obeys before he can even process the silent request. You reach out hesitantly, fingertips so close to his thighs he can feel your body heat even through the thin fabric. You glance up at him, asking permission, and he’s nodding immediately, desperate for your touch.

Your fingers land near his left knee, trailing up slowly and making his whole body tremble lightly. When your fingertips catch on the hem of the stockings he nearly gasps and then you're brushing his soft skin directly, only stopping when you reach the edge of the sweater that’s just barely covering his rapidly hardening cock.

“You’re so pretty,” you praise, "my pretty boy."

Kenma makes a choked sound, surprised and mildly offended but also awfully turned on to hear any form of praise from your lips. No, he wants to argue, you’re the pretty one –but you look up at him, so pleased, that he can’t remember how to speak.

“And now we match,” you sing, tone innocent as you raise your leg between his own. His eyes follow, nearly hypnotized by the contrast between your red-and-white stockings against his red ones before your clothed shin brushes against his crotch in a way that is anything but innocent. He has to grab the back of the couch near your head to keep his knees from buckling as he groans.

You seem to take some form of pity on him because you let up on his crotch with a giggle, making room for him to sit down beside you and catch his breath. Even when you let him rest your attention never strays from the item of clothing, hand idly stroking his thigh while you continue to drink in the sight of his pale skin contrasting with the scarlet cloth.

“Do you really like it that much,” he asks, almost hesitant.

He’s surprised at how sheepish you become, moving your hand away as your face slightly flushes.

“Um–yeah. I know it’s kinda weird, sorry, you just look really pretty sometimes.”

Kenma frowns slightly and takes your hand back, returning it to his thigh with his own on top of yours. The action was meant to reassure you but it felt too bold and he avoids eye contact as he speaks.

“You don’t have to apologize, I don’t hate it…”

He sees the way you perk up, practically beaming, from the corner of his eye and is quick to clarify less you try to buy him a pair of panties or something next year.

“It’s not my thing—I prefer seeing you in cute clothes…but I can try things like this if it makes you this happy.”

“Aww, KenKen, that’s so sweet!”

Kenma huffs, breath nearly knocked out of him when you launch yourself into his chest, planting noisy kisses all over his face. He tries his best to scowl but he’s pretty sure he’s failing by the way you giggle at his expression. Your Santa hat gets knocked off in the commotion but neither of you care. Kenma even takes the opportunity to bury his fingers in your messy hair as your kisses finally focus on his lips.

Eventually, the kisses deepen, morphing from quick pecks to slow and open-mouthed. Your tongue invades his mouth, gravity giving you a clear advantage as you take charge of this kiss. But not one to easily accept defeat, Kenma takes the opportunity to grab a handful of your ass in a way that has you gasping in surprise. You start to grind on him, both of you letting out soft sounds between kisses.

It’s you who pulls away first, making Kenma softly whine in protest, gaze hazy as he blinks up at you in question.

“Wanna ride you,” you explain simply.

Kenma hisses out his approval and obediently waits as you pull down your lounge shorts. You yank them down your legs and fling them across the living room with a little too much force, accidentally hitting the Christmas tree. You laugh at the sight of your fuzzy white shorts hanging on the tree like some soft of kinky Christmas ornament but Kenma is quick to redirect your attention by pulling you back down for another kiss.

He grips your ass again, this time bare, and moves his fingers to prepare you for his dick but—

He abruptly stops and pulls away from the kiss in shock.

“You’re already this wet?” His expression looks genuinely surprised and you can’t help but giggle.

“I told you, you look really pretty.”

Kenma groans, not sure if he’s annoyed or turned on but his cock throbs all the same. You pull up the bottom half of his sweater to reach his black boxers. He’s so hard that it's almost difficult to get them off but he helps you pull them down just enough to free his leaking cock. It takes a moment to properly position yourself from this new angle, hindered by your bulky sweater and the headrest of the couch digging into your side but you manage to guide his leaky head to your drenched hole and ease down.

You both groan as he breaches your cunt, your wetness making the slide smooth even as you reach his thick base.

“F-fuck, Ken, you always feel so good,” you moan.

The praise feels like a punch to the gut and he’s thankful he’s already lying down so he can’t embarrass himself further by losing his balance. He’s coming to realize even if feminization isn’t his thing, praise might be. He thinks he'd do just about anything if it pleased you—if it made you look down at him with those shiny eyes and call him your good boy—fuck. Kenma has to force himself back to reality before he makes himself cum too quickly just by his own fantasies.

You readjust your weight, leaning back and using his bent knees as leverage. Your fingers dig into the fabric of his stockings as you begin to move, raising to his tip before dropping your whole weight down. It feels good—mind-numbingly so—but he finds it looks even better. The angle you put yourself into gives him an unobstructed view of your face–eyes pinched closed and reddened lips open in pleasure, your breasts–soft and bouncing with every movement–and, best of all, your tight hole sucking him in with every uptake.

He can’t tear his eyes away from where the two of you are connected. A creamy white ring is quickly forming at the base of his cock from how soaked you are, thin strings sticking to your pussy like webs. Framing it all are your thick thighs, muscles straining with your movements and squeezed by those god damned red-and-white striped thigh highs.

Fuck, he wishes he could record this.

He has apparently said that aloud on accident because now you’re grinning down at him conspiratorially.

“Y-yeah?” you stutter out, “you wanna make a movie with me?”

Kenma doesn’t verbally answer but he doesn’t need to. Instead, he’s gripping your hips and guiding your pace, making you bounce on his cock faster while his own hips start to meet your thrusts.

It has only been a few minutes but it's becoming clear your stamina is far from athletic. Your thighs burn and your pace stumbles but Kenma is quick to take advantage of the situation, using a strength you didn’t know he was capable of to roll you over and push you face down.

“Kenma, wh—oh!”

Any dissent you had intended to make is abruptly cut off when your boyfriend, one knee digging into the couch for leverage, feeds his length back into your greedy hole and sets a pace that has you nearly screaming. His hips snap into you, hard, and you scramble to find something to hold on to. One hand finds the armrest of the couch near your head, nails nearly tearing into the fabric, while the other ends up behind you, digging into his thigh as he rams his hips into you. You’re drooling as you manage to stutter out a barely coherent statement through your moans.

“K-Ken, so h-hard, fuck—”

“Yeah,” He replies, sounding breathless but not nearly as wrecked as you. You curse his retired high school athlete stamina.

“Am I still your pretty boy?”

The question momentarily shocks you. You aren’t sure what response he’s looking for but you answer honestly, too fucked out to ponder on it.

“Y-yesyesyes, the prettiest! ”

“You like getting fucked by your pretty boy?”

“Yeeeess, I l-love it—oh god—”

One hand reaches up to grip your hair, tugging your hair in a way you aren’t sure is punishment or a reward. You cry out all the same, cunt squeezing him for dear life as he hits something deep deep deep inside of you. You’re fairly certain you’ve never been fucked this hard in your life. The sweet, no-sex-drive-having boyfriend trope becomes little more than a pipe dream as his hips smack into your ass without reprieve.

“‘m g-gonna cum,” you warn.

Kenma’s grip on your hip tightens and he adjusts his angle to hit the spot he knows makes your toes curl and your pitch turns airy. The nail in the coffin comes when he releases your hair, but only to start rubbing your clit, remembering your favorite rhythm from the time he watched you masturbate.

Expectedly, you cum, toes curling and squeals reaching a pitch you think might cause your boyfriend hearing damage. Your whole body seizes with your orgasm, cunt spasming and thighs squeezing shit as you please for him to stop, go harder–you aren’t sure.

Kenma forces you to ride through it, fucking you even as your hips stutter violently and never letting up on your pulsating nub. It's only when you're nearing tears from the overstimulation that Kenma stops, moaning sweetly as his own orgasm overtakes him. He collapses against you in exhaustion as warmth fills you from deep inside, making a mess on your thighs as it gushes out between you.

“Mm, y’r heavyyy,” you complain sleepily.

Kenma grunts something in response but doesn’t bother moving. In fact, he seems to make himself more comfortable by moving his hands to find your own. He slips his long fingers in the spaces between your own, locking your hands together. Your heart swells at the action, constantly reminded how much this boy loves you even when he doesn't vocalize it very often.

You allow him a few more moments of peace, listening to his harsh pants die down into something more calm before you speak again.

“By the way, what was my present?”

Kenma stiffens against you, having completely forgotten about Christmas altogether. Quickly, he pulls away from you and the loss of warmth almost makes you regret saying anything. On shaky legs, Kenma shuffles over to the forgotten box, wrapped in royal blue paper and topped with a pretty gold ribbon. He comes back to the couch, gingerly helping you sit up before placing the box on your lap.

You’re immediately surprised by the hefty weight of the box and grow curious as you tear at the paper. Within seconds, the logo and picture on the box become clear, making you gasp in shock.

“Kenmaaaa,” you whine, trying not to tear up as you pout at him.

To his credit, Kenma looks honestly guilty as he avoids your eyes.

“We set a twenty-thousand-yen spending limit, ” you remind him.

“I know but—this is basically a necessity. Your old one was going to die any day now,” Kenma reasons, helping you pull out the shiny new laptop –in rose gold no less.

“And it's a gaming laptop–that means you can play with me more so it’s basically a gift for me more than you,” he continues.

You know he’s absolutely pulling excuses out of his ass but you can’t help the rush of affection at how much Kenma wants to spoil you. He always buys you the things you want, even when you insist on not wanting to take advantage of him as a wealthy streamer and businessman. He usually comes up with some excuse, I was going to buy one anyway so we can share or I have too much money this month, taxes will be a hassle if I don’t spend it.

But he is right–your old laptop was on its last leg and every time you opened a Word document for school you had to pray it wouldn’t crash before you could save your draft.

You softly smile as you trace the box with a finger, elated that he even remembered which color you wanted. He grins at how pleased you clearly are, even if you won’t say it.

“Besides,” his grin suddenly turns sly as he places a hand on the swell of your hip, “I heard the webcam is really great for recording movies.”

#kenma #kozume kenma #kenma x reader #kenma x you #kenma x y/n #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #kenma smut #kenma imagine #kenma scenario #kenma fic #haikyuu scenario #haikyuu smut #haikyuu fic #hq smut #hq x reader #smut #fic:hmbfhnsd

885 notes · View notes

gothicknightz · 2 years

Text

family ties | ethan landry

notes: oh boy you guys are gonna like this one. VERY MAJOR SCREAM SPOILERS UNDER THE CUT!!!!!!!!!! I cannot get any more specific than that.

part 2 out now!

When she moved to New York with her best friend, they both had planned on getting an average college education, having fun, and graduating.

That was it.

Why couldn’t it have been that simple?

The four of them were stranded in the abandoned lobby of the theatre when Sam had gotten a call from the Detective, claiming that he had done some digging into Kirby and that she was let go from the FBI a couple of months ago for being mentally unstable, and he believes she is the killer.

She quickly turned her attention towards Sam, “What?” She snapped, her arm still wrapped up from her paired attack alongside Mindy on the subway.

Putting a foot down, she crossed her arms, “There’s no way we can stay here.” Attempted to try the entrance in which they came in, to find out it was locked, “Shit.” She turned around quickly to face the, “It’s locked.”

The group frantically looked for a way out of the theatre, as they weren’t going to be trapped with the possible killers. Tara had noticed some sort of fire escape, but that wasn’t until Ghostface appeared and attacked the group, which they fought back.

Chad decided it was a good time to be a hero, as he fought against Ghostface so that the girls could run. This proved to be a bad decision for him, as a second Ghostface came up and started stabbing alongside the other before ushering the trio back into the theatre.

As the five of them make their way back into the theatre, Kirby suddenly reappears out of nowhere and claims that she was knocked out by two Ghostfaces, but the trio can’t trust her after the Detective’s claims, who arrives subsequently after Kirby.

After what seemed to be a battle for trust, the Detective shoots Kirby, revealing himself as the third killer.

(y/n) screams as she was the closest, her heart racing in anticipation, afraid of what was going to happen next when the other two Ghostfaces de-mask themselves. Subsequently, after the Detective reveals himself to be the third killer, the Ghostface wearing Nancy Loomis’ mask revealed himself.

It was Ethan, (y/n)’s best friend. The friend she had planned on getting a college education and graduating with. The friend she had known for years, the friend who was responsible for their firsts.

Somebody she had trusted.

It was then revealed that Quinn was the final Ghostface, much to everyone’s shock, as they had seen and heard of the brutal murder Quinn had endowed.

The trio was cornered at each end by the three killers, with Sam slowly connecting the pieces that all three of the killers were related to none other than Richie Kirsch, one of the killers of the Woodboro Massacre in 2022.

As the trio was attacked and coerced back to the center of the theatre by the killers, the Detective sighed, “It wasn’t until I saw that photograph of what you had actually done to him, that I knew.”

“That I knew you had to fucking die- that you had to be punished, along with anyone else who stands in our way.”

Pushed and insulted by Quinn, Sam, and Tara were forced to stand in front of the Detective, with Ethan taking hold of (y/n), and holding a knife to her throat.

As the Detective went on about how he indulged in his son’s love for the Stab movies, and how they were a bit dark for him, he explained that there was no deeper bond than of a father and his firstborn.

“Despite the loss of Richie, I couldn’t have been happier after learning of a new addition to our family.”

The look on both the sisters’ faces was beyond puzzled as they watched the detective make grandiose gestures as he waved the gun in (y/n)’s direction.

“I knew it was a bit young for those two to get hitched, but,” the Detective paused, taking a breath for a brief smile, “She made it a lot easier to get us in here, and I’ve never been more proud of a future daughter in law, right (y/n)?”

The Carpenter sisters had another round of fear and shock as they turned their heads to one of the closest friends the gang had had, with even Mindy trusting them.

(y/n) was breaking away from a kiss with Ethan as Tara and Sam watched them in awe, the girl breaking into a fit of giggles and a content sigh.

“You know, Sam,” She said, turning towards the illegitimate daughter of the original Ghostface with her boyfriend slash fiance’s knife in hand, “You should really save the date.” She took a swing at the eldest Carpenter sister and laughed.

“Because it does fucking run in the family.”

1K notes · View notes

prettytoxicrevolver · 6 months

Text

Jealous of Joe | Juraj Slafkovský

wc. 1.9k

Juraj's jealous when he sees you with another certain athlete

(sorry for the bad google translate throughout)

You jog down the steps of Nationwide Arena until you're face to face with a wall of glass blocking you from the players on the ice. Your eyes roam the red and white jerseys, finding purchase when they land on the familiar number 20. You look over his figure, studying the way he skates down the ice with ease. He looks like he’s floating, stick down, looking for the puck, focused, perfect.

You and Juraj Slafkovský have been friends since the minute he was drafted by the Montreal Canadiens. As one of many social media managers, you became best friends with the whole team, finding safe spaces in Cole, Nick, Kirby, Kaiden, Monty, and most importantly, Juraj.

The first thing you ever bonded over was your mutual knowledge of the Finnish language. The two of you could converse for hours in Finnish and not even realize until another one of the boys finally gains the courage to ask about what you two have been saying. They even tried to use it to their advantage, asking if you understood what he would say in Slovak but you were no use in that department.

You try to snap yourself out of the trance you were in, looking around the rink to see what kind of media you could create before the game. You’re in the middle of thinking up a new question or tiktok challenge when you feel a presence next to you.

“They look good,” the stranger says from next to you and you don’t look over as you respond, somewhat hoping the person leaves.

“Hopefully they keep it up during the game tonight,” you respond, knowing the Hab's tendency for third period strikeouts.

“You think Caufield will score?” the boy next to you asks and you shrug.

“It’ll make my job easier if he does,” you joke and the laugh that sounds from next to you is so melodic it has curiosity leading you to turn your head.

To say you’re shocked by the man standing next to you is an understatement. After working in this league it takes a lot for you to get star struck by an athlete but you’re speechless, jaw dropped open looking at Joe Burrow standing next to you.

“Holy shit,” you blurt out and the older boy turns to look at you, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“I’m Joe,” he says, holding a hand out for you to shake and you can’t help the shiver that runs down your back when his hand slides perfectly into yours.

“(y/n),” you say, still not quite sure that you’re not totally dreaming. “No offense, but what are you doing here?”

His laugh has you smiling right along with him and you find yourself wanting to hear more of it.

“I’ve been meaning to come out and see a game for a while, meet the players and so on. I figured since I’m injured,” he takes the moment to lift up a carefully wrapped wrist in front of your eyes. “I would come and check it out.”

“Well if you’re expecting your fellow Ohioans to win, I apologize in advance,” you say and Joe throws his head back in laughter.

“Oh really?”

The two of you continue talking, trading jokes and reveling in each other's laughter. You were beyond enjoying the conversation with Joe and you almost forgot about the ongoing practice and job you should be doing.

Juraj certainly didn’t forget. During practice, a game, in the arena, out of the arena, no matter what Juraj always has an eye on you. The minute you stepped up to the glass during his practice his eye was on you, watching what you were doing, but more importantly, who you ended up talking to. Juraj’s furious and jealous gaze roams your figure, hating the way your head is thrown back in laughter, pink rising to your cheeks at his words, the slight, shy movements he knew all too well.

At some point his brain must have shut off because suddenly his body is barreling down the ice without a second thought. You’re mid sentence to Joe when a loud bang sounds in front of you and you both jump back in fear. You look up to see Juraj standing there, a sheepish smile on his lips but something different in his eyes. You shoot him a look that conveys the sentence “are you serious right now???” and Juraj waves awkwardly before backing off and skating away.

“Your boyfriend?” Joe asks and you jump at his voice, forgetting he was there for a moment.

“No, no,” you say, glancing at him before reverting back to following Juraj’s movements. “Just friends.”

“So, you wouldn’t mind if I asked you out then?” Joe asks and your body fully turns towards him at the question.

“I can pick you up before the game tonight? I have an empty seat next to me,” he offers and you grin.

“I’d love to.”

Juraj spends the rest of practice pissed and all the boys can tell. They’re even playing a game, seeing who can mess with him the most before he truly snaps.

Nick takes pity on him, the captain skating over to the young player. He follows Juraj’s gaze to where you are and watches as his eyes flame in anger when you smile at Joe.

“What's up?” Nick asks, vague enough that Juraj can tell him what’s actually going on or he can brush it off.

“He can fight?” Juraj asks and Nick fully turns to him in shock.

“What?”

“I’m gonna fight him if he goes out with her,” Juraj says, determination so deep in his eyes that Nick knows he’s not a force to be reckoned with.

Normally, before games you’re nervous for other reasons. Making sure you have enough content, tweets are loaded and ready to go, photos are edited and stats are ready to be posted. This time, your coworker is taking on those nerves while yours belong to the date you were about to go on.

You looked over your outfit for what feels like the millionth time and smooth out the canadiens jersey that falls over your body. You were showing up with Joe but still had Juraj’s last name on your back; the irony. Joe knocks on your hotel room door right at 7 and you let out a breath before making your way to the front door.

You were no stranger to Joe’s pregame outfits but you were shocked out how he could still look so incredibly good even in a simple t-shirt and jeans. His smile is blinding and while you know you should be swooning at the sight, you can only think about Juraj’s crooked smile, the way he looks down, not wanting anyone else to see the beauty.

You and Joe head to the arena, a short drive in his luxury car and he’s nothing but a gentleman the entire time. Your heart flutters from time to time but you’re not sure if it’s because of Joe, or because you're nervous to see Juraj.

You two take your time getting to your seats, stopping to grab drinks before heading down as the players are finishing warm ups. Juraj thinks he’s safe, that he won’t have to control a temper for the rest of the game but it all falls flat when he sees Joe with an arm slung around your shoulders in the front row.

“Leave it be,” Nick warns the younger player and he shakes his head, praying his focus turns towards the game.

The game against the blue jackets is physical, to say the least. The boys are playing like it’s a revenge tour and the game is tied for most of the time. Third period begins and Juraj is firing on all cylinders at this point. He’s finishing his checks, he’s rushing down the ice, he’s doing anything and everything to forget about you and Joe.

You watch as Juraj digs for the puck, a battle between him and one of the blue jackets players trying to gain possession of the puck. It sails down towards Nick and Juraj lets up, words clearly exchanged between him and the opposer.

“Careful before I take your girl out next,” the player sneers at Juraj and he’s officially seeing red.

You watch in slight horror as Juraj slams the player into the boards and fists go flying. The fight must last a quick 20 seconds but feels like a lifetime. You’re on your feet and pressed against the glass as Juraj gets up, a fresh cut on his cheekbone and his hair disheveled and hanging over his now dark eyes.

“Holy fuck,” you breathe out, watching as Juraj is escorted down the tunnel and some of the boys are casting glances in your direction.

“(y/n)?” you’re snapped out of your trance at Joe’s voice and turn to find him with worry and understanding in his gaze.

“I have to go check on him,” you say and Joe nods.

He leans forward, pressing a kiss to your cheek that explains all of his thoughts and feelings. You smile, a bit of sadness laced in the look, before parting and heading straight for the locker room.

You race down, surprisingly not getting lost as you run and you flash your access badge like your life depends on it. You finally come face to face with the locker room door and you take a deep breath before flinging it open, unable to stay away from Juraj any longer.

“Kto si, do pekla, myslí, že je? Sedí tam s ním a užíva si každú sekundu!! A ten sráč, ktorý-” Your brain flies a million miles an hour trying desperately to grasp the little Slovak language you know but to no avail.

“Juraj?” you call and the 6 foot 2 hockey player halts all movements before turning towards you.

“What are you doing here?” he grinds out, chest heaving trying to catch his breath.

“I wanted to check on you.”

“jebať ma,” he mutters angrily. “Go back to your new boyfriend.”

Juraj was torn clean in half between two sides. One desperately wanting you here, wanting you to stay and talk to him, to explain that Joe meant nothing to you. The other half of him is infuriated, feeling disrespected that you would show up now after flaunting Joe in front of him.

“What the fuck is your issue?” you snap, taking several steps till you're inches from Juraj’s face.

“Ježiš Kristus.”

That’s the last thing you hear before Juraj leans down and slams his lips against yours, the kiss lighting you end to end in a fiery passion. His hands wrap around your waist and pull you up onto your tip toes and press your chest against his padded one. Your body takes a minute to catch up and when you do, your hands tangle deep into Juraj’s damp strands pulling him close and begging him to never let go.

Unfortunately, humans need air and the two of you separate, panting heavily for a moment after. You fall back onto your heels and Juraj’s eyes search yours for a moment before speaking again.

“You’re my issue,” he says and before you can retort he shushes you. “I love you. You walked into my game with my name on your back but your hand holding his.”

Your eyes stare deep into his, your heart cracking at the idea that Juraj could ever be hurt by your actions. However, it’s filled back up when you remember him admitting that he loves you.

“Oh minun rakkauteni,” you murmur, pulling him into you again and reveling in the feeling of his lips on yours.

“It’s you baby. It always has been and it always will be,” you promise.

Juraj grins against you, the moment fleeting but lasting forever.

#prettytoxicrevolver fic #juraj slafkovsky fanfic #juraj slafkovsky imagine #juraj slafkovsky blurb #juraj slafkovsky x reader #juraj slafkovsky fic #montreal canadiens fic #montreal canadiens x reader #montreal canadiens imagine

212 notes · View notes

weirdmarioenemies · 1 month

Text

Name: Gamyga Debut: Super Smash Bros. Brawl

Hey! I want a turn on the "talking about Subspace Freaks"! Gimme! Gimme! Subspace was like, one of my formative Weird Enemy Experiences! How have I NOT talked about any of these guys yet?!

Gamyga has always been one of my favorite Subspace Emissary enemies, and you wanna know why? It's because I have good taste, that's why! I mean, this is a really visually striking design, if you ask me. The trophy description it has in Brawl describes it as looking "like an avant-garde work of art from some young art-school grad." That's awesome. You KNOW I love things that are weird and abstract and artsy and pretentious! Gamyga is right up my alley!

I'd say this enemy was made for me, but it was more-so made for the purpose of having a really tall enemy that can serve as a road block that can shoot lasers at you from above while you take it apart piece by piece... That is, unless you are brave enough to take out the mask first and watch the whole thing fall apart all at once!

Of course Mod Hooligon likes the abstract, multi-segmented enemy that you can slowly dismantle or alternatively attack the head of to deal with it instantly. So what? I have a type! Don't judge me! I see no difference, love is love!

As I said, this thing is tall, which probably adds to the visual-strikingness, especially when combined with the fact it pops out of the ground without warning when you get near it! No wonder this thing left such an impression on me. I mean, imagine if you were just taking a stroll in the park when this thing appeared in front of you without warning! How would you feel? Gamyga Jumpscared? Or perhaps Gamyga Pleasantly Surprised...?

Well, no, you would feel "in pain" on account of the Gamyga Laser Blasts.

Sometimes, springs or platforms will be placed nearby that let you jump over Gamyga, or alternatively you'll be playing as a character like Kirby or Pit who can just fly over it. Otherwise though, this thing is going to block your path and soak up a ton of damage. But hey, if it's gonna do that, it may as well look good while doing so!

Man, I spent so long talking about the Whole Enchilada that I haven't even gotten around to talking about the Gamyga Bases on their own! That's right! With every Gamyga, you get Five Guys for the price of one, with One (1) mask and four of These Things! Could a Gamyga be considered a form of colonial organism like a siphonophore...? You don't need to sell me on this thing any more than you already have!

Though maybe it'd be better to analyze these as being something mechanical, given their stiff movements, and how every time they wiggle their arms, it sounds like someone moving a pinball flipper. I almost feel this design would be more interesting if it was biological, but there's something enticing about describing these things as being like "a robotic siphonophore". I honestly don't know which interpretation appeals to me more.

The posing of the arms and the hollow facial features almost remind me of the haniwa statues Gyroids are modeled after, but the presence of pupils and Teeth here makes them look considerably freakier, which as far as I'm concerned is only a good thing. Watch out! Gamyga Base can BITE YOU! Not in the game, mind you. I'm talking about real life.

Gamyga was one of the Subspace enemies they decided to give a trophy in Super Smash Bros. for Nintendo 3DS, for some reason. It's not in Smash Run at all, so I guess whoever was deciding on what things to include as trophies in this game just believed Gamyga was an absolutely vital part of Nintendo history that people needed to be aware of.

They were right, for the record.

#gamyga #super smash bros brawl #super smash bros #subspace emissary #not mario #funky friday #mod hooligon

121 notes · View notes

ellebakers · 1 year

Text

☆ Jealous boy | Part two (+18)

Ethan Landry x reader

Warnings : Mention of sex, blood, death, killing, language..

tag list : @iloveneilperry

PART ONE

"Y/n ?"

Samantha's voice grew more distant as you looked at your reflection in the mirror. Ethan Landry, your best friend, the man you gave yourself to last night after finding out your boyfriend was cheating on you, hugging you, hands full of blood, the blood of Chad and Tara. He had an evil grin, and the ghostface outfit was dangling right in front of you.

Shocked, you dropped your phone to the floor. “Now it’s just you and me my love.”

You felt fear wash over you as he buried his face in your neck. "Let go of me."

Your voice was shaky, making Ethan laugh.

“What was that baby ?”

Seeing him laugh in the face of your fear awakened the anger in you, you struggled and spoke in a more ferocious voice.

"I said. Let go of me !"

You managed to get out of his arms and backed up to the sink to face him. “Shh, calm down sweetheart.”

“I’m not your sweetheart.”

Ethan laughed again. “That’s not what you said when I fucked you last night.”

Tears of fear and anger ran down your cheeks. "Fuck you."

Ethan looked at you, amused, he closed the door behind him and locked it. Fear took over realizing that your only exit had just closed, but you decided not to show anything. “You’re the fucking killer.”

The boy rolled his eyes. "Good point Sherlock."

You shook your head. "Fuck… Why ?"

Ethan opened his mouth to answer but your phone started ringing, you simultaneously looked at the phone as the photo and Sam's came up, a sigh of relief passed your lips but Ethan was quick and grabbed your phone, a threatening tone he passed to you.

“One word and I’ll kill you.”

He picked up and put it on speakerphone.

"Y/n ?! Are you okay ?"

You looked at Ethan who was threatening you with his gaze.

"I'm fine, do they know who did this ?"

"I don’t know. No masks were put in the apartment . Kirby thinks Ghostface acted without thinking, their deaths weren't planned."

You were looking for a way to alert Sam without Ethan realizing it, suddenly something came to your mind. "I feel like I'm reliving Woodsboro, it's like Amber stabbed me again."

Sam was silent for a moment and she took a deep breath. "I understand. I have to hang up, please be careful."

Once he hung up, Ethan sighed and took the knife he had hidden in his jeans, and pointed it at your chest.

"You know, I really love you. I told my dad and my sister to leave you alone, I managed to convince them that you wouldn't be a problem, but I realize that you will be."

You frown. "Your father and your sister ? What the hell are you talking about."

“Quinn and Bailey. ” Your jaw dropped in shock. An evil smile appeared on his face.

"You didn't expect that, did you? And yes, it's my family. Ethan Landry is not my real name, and you want to know something else?"

He came closer to you and lightly pressed on the scar that Richie had given you last year, on your chest. This scar hurt more than the others because if he had planted his blade two millimeters to the left, you would have died.

"My brother is the one who left you that scar."

Your heart stopped for a moment as you relived the pain he had caused you, as your scar split open under Ethan's touch.

"Yes sweetie, it hurts, I know. You, that whore Sam and all the others are going to die for what you did to my big brother."

You met his gaze and saw nothing but disgust. "I really loved you, but I realize that my father was right, you are as responsible as the others."

Something lit up inside you. Hatred.

“You want to know what I heard ?”

He scoffed. "Tell me."

"I heard your brother was impotent."

Ethan smoked. "Shut up."

"I also know he was a piece of shit who let his girlfriend do all the killing."

"Shut your fucking mouth !"

He raised his knife to stab you but you were faster and kicked him in the stomach with your foot, he backed away coughing. You grabbed his head and slammed him against the wall, knocking him down and disoriented.

You take this opportunity to unlock the door and get out of the bathroom, he gets up and runs after you. Once out of the room you rushed into the hallway and pressed the call button for the elevator, but it was too slow and Ethan was coming quickly, you took the first door and ran down the stairs as quickly as possible.

"Where do you think you're going bitch ?"

The descent to the ground floor seemed long to you as he got dangerously closer. Once you arrived downstairs you rushed to the door leading to the hall.

You saw the empty hall, and started to cry realizing that no one could help you, that's when Ethan threw himself on you, knocking you to the ground. He turned you on your back and raised his knife. It was the end, you closed your eyes so as not to see him. That's when a shot rang out, you jumped and opened your eyes. Ethan was no longer on top of you, he was running towards the emergency exit, Kirby not far behind him.

Sam rushes towards you. "Y/n, are you okay? Show me, did he hurt you."

Your nerves began to drop when you saw your friend's reassuring face, you let out all your tears and fell into her arms. She hugged you and stroked your hair. "Shhhh, it's over, I'm here."

You don't know how long you stayed like that, but after a while Kirby came back, panting.

"I lost him."

This should have worried you but for now you were just happy that Sam understood your hidden message. You knew that by talking about getting stabbed by your ex-best friend, she would have made the connection with Ethan, your current, now ex, best friend. But the hell, when will it end....

#scream vi #ethan landry #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry x y/n #ethan landry x you #scream #scream x reader

378 notes · View notes

lucawrites11 · 4 months

Text

the lionesses biggest problems against france and my solutions

keira walsh unable to lose her marker

the lack of a left footed centreback

poor defending of corners especially from hampton

terrible substitutions

a lack of speed and players in the box

a lack of creativity in line-ups making us completely predictable

okay, let's look at these problems in depth:

sarina loves a 4-3-3 or 4-2-3-1 looking something like this:

however this line-up has multiple problems. the first is that it's predictable, it is a slight modification of the same line-up with the same people that has been used since the euros except it no longer has the same level of success because the opposition has figured out it's weaknesses.

the first major risk is the reliance of Keira Walsh. Germany had figured this out by the Euros Final. as one of the best holding midfielder in the world, she's absolutely crucial in terms of the passes she provides forward and her ball recovery but if you just put one player on her all game (in France's case it was Kenza Dali) you can mark her out and remove England's ball recovery ability and ensure that they struggle to get the ball forward.

Another weakness is that if Sarina choses to start Greenwood, as she did yesterday, there is no defender with a good left foot and that leaves the defence vulnerable and also limits the connection that Hemp can have with her full-back down the left. Furthermore, without Lauren James, Ella Toone doesn't provide the same speed running in behind in the 10 role and that switch with Russo to allow Russo to overload the midfield and start goal scoring play. It was something that she did multiple times against France but Toone didn't make her way into the box like James and there is no finishing. English is struggling without that out and out striker, and Lauren James compensated for that gap. Without James, speed in the frontline is also lost, leaving Hemp the fastest forward player and no one chasing after her to get into the box with her.

Also loosing Earps meant that Hampton was shaky and thrown off coming on and she has never been as strong at set piece defending. Khiara may be a better option to defend set pieces where France are deadly but that's too much pressure for a debut game almost. I would like to see Khiara get her first England cap in the next Ireland match to allow be more of an option for Sarina as competition for Earps and Hampton. Sarina also failed in terms of not making a subsitution until the seventieth minute and bringing on experience where England clearly needed more speed and fresh legs. Leaving Jess Naz, Grace Clinton and Jess Park's speed on the bench was criminal.

what's the solution?

in my opinion, sarina has to use an entirely new line-up that does a few things:

either takes Walsh off the pitch or uses a midifeld overload that allows her more freedom

brings more speed into the attacking line

places a winger or ten behind Russo with the ability to get into the box

makes space for a left-footed centreback

there are a few options:

3-4-3

this is my least favourite option. it solves the keira walsh problem by taking her off the pitch but that leaves stanway as the sole holding midfielder. furthermore, it gives space for a left footed centreback in alex greenwood but it means bronze is pushed into the midfield which she can play effectively and would allow for speed in the attack but can leave a defensive hole on the wings. also without a clear left midfielder (carter could maybe play where i've place clinton and if she does, clinton should replace kirby). however clinton has speed to get into the box and as does kirby. this is also tiring for the midfield however england does have the midfield depth to bring on in park.

4-4-2 (diamond)

4-4-2 is on the left and the diamond option is on the right

both are strong choices for this england side and i think that hemp can also play up front next to russo with mead on the right with bronze and clinton or stanway on the left. two centre-forwards in russo and mead/hemp allows the centrebacks to be occupied and for a high press which can interfere with the french attempt to play out from the back that they love. clinton allows has the pace to run in behind when russo or mead manage to steal the ball allowing for a quick counter attack. four in the midfield can also overload the three that the french place in the there and challenge their ability to mark keira walsh out of the game. furthermore, a strong press in russo and hemp/mead allows the midfield be bypassed because the four doesn't always provide a full overload. two upfront can also compensate for when russo drops into the midfield and to hold up the ball, this also allows for the full overload with five in the midfield to pull markers off keira. with a strong left back in greenwood who can play centreback, williamson can also drop into the midfield for an overload. a four at the back with the left-footed defender allows for a deep block if the ball is lost, something that is likely to happen if france play in the midfield again.

3-5-2

this is my favourite line-up

the five in the midfield allows for a complete overload that can release walsh and give her the freedom to pass forward. furthermore, there is the left-footed centreback in greenwood. bronze and hemp playing as wing-backs also allows for a deep block when they drop back and they are both fast at getting both back and forward on the defense and attack which can be the main weakness of this line-up however bronze and hemp can play well as wing-backs. furthermore, bronze, hemp and clinton can overload the final third to support the high press of russo and mead that ensures players in the box and speed on a break to that can work quickly to throw off a french defense and a build up of play from the back

i think this will solve a lot of england's problems going forward and back and release keira walsh in the midfield as well as throwing france off with a new line-up that they wouldn't be expecting

i would also like to see jess park and aggie beever-jones up front to provide support as a striker for alessia russo or speed in behind replacing grace clinton

94 notes · View notes

cobaltperun · 4 months

Text

Lost (28) - Bounce

Tara Carpenter x female Reader

Summary: To anyone on the outside, and to Tara’s friends, you were Tara’s fierce protector, the MMA fighter who’d take anyone on for Tara. The Guard Dog, as Amber called you. You had no idea you’d have to protect her from people who claimed they loved her. It didn’t matter. As long as you and Tara had one another there was nothing you wouldn’t be able to survive.

Story warnings: Scream violence, family issues, trauma, angst, certain sensitive topics

Word count: 4.5k

Story masterlist / First part / Previous part / Next part

-Kicked around, cut, stitched and scarred, I'll take the hit but not the fall, I know no fear, still standing tall-

She snuck through the shadows, careful to avoid being detected right away. If she remembered correctly Ghost-Lion was meant to patrol this corridor and then, just around the corner, she would reach the personal area Ghostface used as his meeting room and base of operation. Sure enough, she caught a glimpse of the robes and followed after the man. She needed to be careful not to cut his robes or damage the mask. After all, she needed them.

So, as he began climbing the stairs she ran up to him, put him in a chokehold you taught to her years ago and squeezed as hard as she could.

He grunted, turning and pushing back into the wall, making her almost let go of him, but she held on. She had to. For Tara. For Tara’s sake and safety Sam needed to be stronger than anyone, and so, in a desperate attempt to gain the upper hand when he began pulling her arms away from his neck, she leaned back and let both him and her tumble down the stairs.

~X~

Following Sam’s directions, you opened the doors and came face to face with a gun pointed at you.

“Shit, Y/N, it’s you,” Kirby sighed, lowering her gun.

Your eyes widened when you saw the state everyone was in. Anya was dead, Kirby had blood on her hands and was trying to help another woman out while Tara shakily walked over to you, and you automatically pulled her into your arms. “I’m here now,” you whispered softly, not entirely sure what happened here, but at least Tara was unharmed.

“Sam is trying to sacrifice herself,” Tara cried into your chest, and you had to pull away slightly.

“What?” you whispered, suddenly out of breath, but it made sense. The look on her face, her actions, she was tired of this and it wasn’t the first time she thought her death would solve everything.

But before you or anyone else could say anything you heard the sound of yacht sailing away, prompting you and Tara to run outside.

“Sam!” Tara cried out as the two of you saw the two figures through the windows, both wearing Ghostface masks and there was nothing, absolutely nothing you could do to reach the yacht in time.

“You’re the MMA fighter, right? I have the boat, I can get you on board of that yacht,” the wounded woman said as she stumbled to her feet. You guessed this was Kirby’s mole, as well as the one who got hurt by the Ghostface you and Sam just killed.

“I owe you one,” you nodded. There was no doubt in your heart. One of those two was Sam, and you were going to bring her self-sacrificing ass back to Tara.

“Y/N,” Tara grabbed your hand and you just leaned down to kiss her.

“I’ll be right back,” you said, unlike Sam you had no intention of dying, or leaving Tara to raise your children alone. You knelt in front of her and kissed her belly twice. “I promise.”

“You better,” Tara whispered, letting go of your hand. You could see it in her eyes, though she was afraid, though she was worried for your life, she still had faith in you, she still believed you’d come back safe and with Sam with you.

~X~

She was staring right at her goal, at the end of this curse. She’d end the cult, her own life, and no one would ever target Tara again. She would be free from Billy’s legacy.

The sprained ankle and a couple of cuts on her body she got from fighting Ghost-Lion would be a disadvantage, but she’d push through the pain and finish the man off as quickly as possible. That was, at the very least, what Sam planned to do.

“I didn’t think you’d be the last one standing,” Ghostface told her. “I guess that’s the king of animals for you,” he chuckled a bit.

“Something like that, I guess. What now?” Sam approached him slowly, ready to stab him in the back.

“I’ll just start over, after all, much like killers from the Stab movies, we, as well, are replaceable. Though, this time I’ll start with killing Samantha,” he paused for a moment, looking ahead toward the open sea. “No more dramatic final girls, I’ll just kill her.”

His voice was calm, but Sam could sense the tension in it. Maybe it was just the fact that his entire plan fell apart in one night, or a few days at best, it didn’t really matter. But then she saw the glint of the knife and her eyes widened. He knew.

“I guess loyalty really is dogs’ greatest trait, only you weren’t loyal to me, were you, Samantha Carpenter,” he slashed at her and she just barely dodged being cut open. Instead, the blade cut through the robes and left her with a small cut on her abdomen instead. “Ghost-Lion was taller,” he simply said, continuing his assault as Sam stumbled back, unable to properly regain her footing with her ankle.

She was supposed to catch him off guard, not the other way around, but she still managed to catch his wrist and twist it to get him to drop the knife.

But her sprained ankle and the pain from falling down the stairs proved to be almost insurmountable disadvantage as he managed to lift her up and slam her against the controls, pushing the lever and speeding the yacht up in the process.

Sam gasped as the mask fell off her head and nearly blacked out when he punched her in the face, but she gritted her teeth and pushed through the pain. She lifted her leg up and kicked him in the balls, making him stumble back and drop to his knees.

“It’s about time I see who you are,” she didn’t know what to expect. Would it be someone she knew, even just vaguely, or would it be a complete stranger. What she saw made her freeze. The man looked like he was desperately trying to copy Billy Loomis, and in her disoriented state of mind she clutched her head and saw her father instead.

“I gotta say, he sure captured my look,” the monster in her head laughed at the sight and Sam shut her eyes, desperately trying to block the hallucinations out.

That one moment of weakness was enough for Ghostface to grab her and throw her to the floor. Before she could react he grabbed her by the throat and pinned her to the floor.

“I’m not going to stab you Samantha, I want to feel you die,” he said, an insane and sinister grin on his face told her everything. Her only hope was that the yacht would hit something and push him off her, but she still tried to pry his fingers from her throat.

~X~

The yacht was speeding up and you knew you’d only have one chance to do this.

“These aren’t good odds,” Kirby’s mole told you.

“Tell me about it,” you sighed and got ready to jump and grab onto the fence. “We don’t exactly have other options, go back to the harbor, get that wound properly treated, Sam and I got this!” you told the woman and jumped just barely reaching and clinging to the fence. “Oh, shit!” this definitely wasn’t as easy as regular pull ups, especially with your wounded palm, but you managed to climb over the fence. “All good! Now go!” you yelled and took off. Sam would likely be in the control room or however it was called.

You burst through what looked like important doors and saw Sam struggling to push the man off her as he tried to strangle her. He was no longer wearing his mask, but the robes made it clear he was the cult leader, the Ghostface. The sound of doors slamming against the wall made him look up and it gave Sam enough of an opportunity to push him off and roll away from him as you rushed in, grabbing him by the collar and pulling him up.

“Y/N!” Sam coughed, as she tried to regain her breath, but your entire attention was on the man as you slammed an uppercut into his jaw and followed it up by several hooks, each one gaining more momentum as you punched him from one side to another. Blood spilled from his mouth and nose and he stumbled back. You took a deep breath and pulled out a knife and before he could regain his composure you ended his life by slitting his throat.

You took a few deep breaths and turned to Sam. “You okay?” she wasn’t exactly okay, she had a few shallow cuts and her ankle was probably sprained, but she was alive.

Sam nodded, leaning back against the wall and tossing the knife aside. It was finally over. “On a scale from one to ten, how angry at me are you?”

“Nine point as long as Tara wants you in her life it doesn’t matter,” you were angry, but how you felt didn’t matter as much as Tara getting to keep her sister in her life. “But you better make it right for her, and Sam,” you paused, glaring at her. “She can never know you were the one who framed me,” you decided and went over to the levers and all the other things you have never seen in your life. “Right, let’s figure this shit out and just go home.”

Sam didn’t say a word, instead she just took what you said in and waited.

“As worthless as it is, I’m sorry I got you arrested,” she apologized, and you gritted your teeth.

“Just stop talking, Sam,” you really didn’t need reminders of that day.

~X~

Agent Woolf came back alone, without you or Sam, and barely clinging to consciousness as she stumbled out of the boat. Kirby quickly ran over to her and helped her over to where her and Tara were. Tara was happy the woman was still alive, and that she’d likely be fine, but she still worried. You and Sam were taking too long and the yacht was getting further away.

“They’ll be fine, Tara,” Kirby told her, but she was starting to lose hope.

“They better be,” she whispered, and then, just as she said that she saw the yacht turning in the distance and her heart soared. There could only be one reason for that!

A few long minutes later she saw you and Sam coming down from the yacht, and though Sam was limping she didn’t look like her life was in danger.

“Go,” Kirby pushed her lightly as she remained frozen just watching you and Sam coming closer to her. And as if broken out of her trance she just ran, jumping as she reached you and Sam and hugging both of you as tightly as she could.

“Thank goodness!” she cried out kissing you and then burying her face in Sam’s neck. “You asshole! Why would you do this to me?!” she felt her lungs burning as she sobbed.

“Tara I-“ Sam tried to speak.

“Not a word! You hear me! You don’t deserve to apologize, you just, you left me again!” she took a step back and nearly pushed Sam away, but then, through her tears, she took in Sam’s appearance. The sunken cheeks, the lost weight, the few cuts Sam received, as well as the way Sam was limping, and she just wailed and nearly dropped to her knees. She would have, if Sam didn’t reach her in time and pulled her into a hug.

“I missed you so much Tara, I don’t deserve to apologize, but I’m so, so sorry!” Sam was crying as well, clinging to Tara so hard it almost hurt.

But the physical pain was nothing compared to all the time she spent worrying for Sam, all the fear and despair and the need to have her sister back by her side. And she finally had Sam back in her life, and she didn’t ever want to let Sam stay away from her for this long again.

~X~

She didn’t deserve it, but around the beginning of May she walked out of the courtroom with essentially a slap on the wrist. Released on parole because of her efforts to bring the cult down and evidence she gave them that was putting people behind bars. She should have been in prison as well. She should have been punished, but she didn’t get that, she was almost rewarded instead.

Her impulses to kill, to hurt people were overlooked in favor of who she killed and what she brought. And Sam hated herself for that.

Could she ever truly forgive herself for everything that happened? For all the ways she put the people she loved in danger? For all the people she cared about that were dead?

She couldn’t know for sure, but she had her doubts as she approached the police car driven by the woman that was a mole in the cult. Tara would be pissed when she finds out Sam didn’t call her, but she wasn’t certain of the outcome of the trial, she didn’t even tell Tara when it would be. Just in case she was sentenced to years and years in prison, she didn’t want Tara to have to see her being taken away. She’d go and visit her baby sister, and you, though that would be a bit awkward, but she just needed to collect her thoughts. Thankfully, Kirby respected that.

“Congratulations on your freedom,” the woman said as Sam sat down next to her.

“Thanks. Not just for this, for everything you did,” Sam said, it was almost funny how she was yet to learn the woman’s name.

“No need to thank me, I was doing my job,” she replied and began driving Sam away from the court.

“Am I ever going to learn your name?” Sam asked out of the blue.

The woman grinned and turned to Sam when they reached the red light. She offered her hand to Sam and smiled softly. “I am Drew Woolf,” she said.

And so, Sam properly met the lady that was for some time her only ally in the cult.

~X~

It didn’t have anything to do with Ghostface showing up again, Tara and you had the conversation even before she got pregnant. You both wanted to let your kids grow away from the busy streets, to have clean air, or as clean as it could get, and lots of space to play around. No more apartments, no more busy streets. You wanted to settle down, to have complete control over your home. So, you went and purchased a fairly big empty patch of land in Colorado Springs, a short drive away from Pikes Peak and though it took some time, especially since Ghostface thing happened, the house was built and you were finally ready to move in in the middle of July.

You parked your car outside the house. A two-story tall building, fairly large and spacious, with a yet to be filled backyard. But that was a project for another day, or, well, a year, since a lot of your attention would be taken up by the kids that would be born by the end of September.

You got out of the car, smiling at Tara and winking, silently telling her to stay in her seat as you went around and opened the doors for her.

“My lady, your hand please,” you bowed slightly, offering Tara your hand, and she laughed, accepting your joking gesture.

“It looks good from the outside,” she said, the house looked secure, and, because you had to be careful, there were motion sensor cameras around the house already installed. “Secure,” she smiled as you hugged her from behind, your hands resting on her belly.

“We’ll be fine,” you whispered, kissing her cheek and smiling when you felt one of the twins kicking. They were active babies, and if anyone asked you Tara looked incredible.

“Mhm, let’s go inside,” she leaned back against you for a moment and then took your hand and pulled you along. The basement was elevated, and only four feet of it were beneath the ground, for one reason. The gym. You separated the basement into two parts, a garage for your car and an empty space if Tara ever decided she wanted one as well, and then there was a still empty separated part that was meant to be used as your gym. For the sake of convenience, the gym had a small bathroom, just in case you wanted to take a quick shower, or simply wash your hands before going upstairs. The gym was also connected to the first floor via indoor stairs. Tara led you up, to a spacious living room, that doubled as a mini library of books and movies and all the things you and Tara learnt to enjoy over the years, your gaming console included, a very nice kitchen and dining room. There was also the hall leading to the main entrance and the stairs that led to the second floor where you had five rooms, one of which was designated as home office for you and Tara.

Overall, it was a big house, maybe even a bit too big for your soon to be family of four, but you wanted a room for each of the kids, and your own room and a guestroom so, that was the logic behind the number of rooms on the second floor.

Tara kissed you on the lips when you finally sat down on your bed. “It’s perfect,” she whispered against your lips before she pushed you to lie down and straddled you, a mischievous smile on her face.

~X~

September was coming to a close, as was Tara’s pregnancy, and one slow night you were just lazing around in the living room, watching some TV show. Tara had to leave you for a few minutes, so you just scrolled trough the news until she came back.

“You know, this is at least partly your fault,” Tara groaned as she sat down next to you. She’d give birth any day now, so you were both extra careful and always ready to drive to the hospital if the kids decided to rush things.

You gently lifted her feet up to the sofa and took her socks off. Giving Tara a massage became a bit of a habit, and she repeatedly showed you how much she appreciated your efforts. “How so?” you humored her as you began rubbing her left foot. It became her go-to joke lately, a tiny tease and complain do to all the extra weight she was carrying around.

“How? You got me pregnant,” she nudged you jokingly with her right foot.

You grinned at that. “Mhm, my strap can do anything,” you chuckled when Tara jerked slightly. You accidentally tickled her, and her feet were ridiculously ticklish.

She sighed contently. “Wouldn’t that be nice, no medical procedures and all that,” she placed her hand on her belly. “I can’t wait to meet them,” she said, smiling widely all of a sudden. “They are kicking more often. Tiny MMA fighters,” she chuckled as you laughed.

You reached over, placing your hand next to hers. Soon, soon your children would be born and it would no longer be just you and Tara, it would be four of you.

“Y/N,” she spoke softly, almost timidly and you looked into her eyes.

“Yeah?” you instinctively moved to hold her hand.

“What if they end up having asthma?” she asked.

Your eyes softened. It wasn’t asthma itself Tara was worried about. She knew both of you would take care of your children and love them regardless of their health. It was the idea of the children, or even one of the kids inheriting something she had, in her eyes passing down her asthma felt like hurting them.

You opened your mouth but closed them in order to properly phrase your answer. “If they do, they’ll have us to teach them how to live without it affecting them too much,” you remembered sleepless nights with Tara when you were kids, you remembered how worried you were, how much she would struggle to breathe during the worst nights, no matter what you did. You remembered how weak and delirious from the sickness she would be, how she would end up being so exhausted she often wouldn’t remember everything.

~X~

One such time was shortly after Tara turned seventeen, a few days after Christmas. You came back from a fight to find her just about ready to pass out at your doorstep, she was just sitting in the hall, barely conscious when you climbed up the stairs of the apartment building.

“Shit! Tara!” you rushed to her side and picked her up off the floor. “You’re burning up, damn it why didn’t you call me?” you managed to unlock your doors and quickly put her in your bed, sitting her up and letting her lean against the propped-up pillow. You were gone for one day and this happened. You knew her mother wasn’t at home, the damn drunk, but Tara didn’t even tell you she was sick, and this wasn’t how she should be after only one day.

“Fight. You were busy,” she mumbled, pulling your blanket over her body.

You turned the heating on and poured water into the kettle. “You know I would have thrown the fight if I knew,” you would scold her later, once she recovered, for now you were looking for medicine that could help her. You had a bunch of medicine thanks to Tara’s frail health. “Right, temperature first,” you fussed over her like you usually did when she was sick. “I should really take you to the doctor,” but she wouldn’t listen to you.

“You’re all I need,” she muttered. Doctors were expensive and she made you swear you wouldn’t take her to the hospital and pay for the bills a long time ago because she knew you’d pay if you took her there. You did do that once, about two years ago, and Tara still complained about that every now and then. She tried to pay you back, but you wouldn’t budge.

“Tara,” you sighed, respecting her wishes for now, but if she didn’t get better by the morning you’d actually take her to the hospital, promises be damned.

“Just come here,” she sat up and you knew what she wanted, so you got behind her and reached out for the pillow, only for Tara to place her hand over yours. “Skip it, please,” she just lied down on your chest and, though she coughed afterwards, took a deep breath. “I love you, you know? I wanna spend the rest of my life with you,” she said in her exhaustion, and you just held her.

“I love you too, you dumbass,” you whispered, your heart breaking when she got hit with another coughing fit and all you could do was hold her and rub her back.

Tara was better tomorrow morning, her temperature dropped as the night went on and she woke up in the bed alone around noon. That’s how exhausted she was.

“Hey, sleepy head, how are you feeling?” you sat down on the bed with the glass of water and her medicine in hand.

Tara leaned her head back, groaning a bit. “I’m so sorry, Y/N,” she apologized and winced when the sudden movement made her dizzy.

“Apology accepted if you’re apologizing for not telling me you were sick,” you sighed, waiting for her to properly wake up.

“You know what I mean,” she mumbled, and you knew, unfortunately, you knew. She was apologizing for relying on you again. Finally, she accepted the medicine and leaned back once again, she was still a bit weak, so she needed to rest. “I hate being sick, I can’t separate what’s real and what’s a fever dream,” she complained as you got up to make her a breakfast. “Like, last night I dreamt you, you know what, never mind, it’s too embarrassing,” her face was red, and you assumed sickness was only partly to blame.

~X~

You never found out what her fever dreams were. It didn’t matter now. You moved from the end of the sofa and hugged Tara from behind. You kissed the top of her head and pulled her close to you. “Whatever happens, whether they are healthy or not, we’ll be there for them every step of the way,” you whispered, absolutely certain of your words.

“I know,” Tara nodded, turning her head to kiss you. “My Love,” she rested her head against your chest and listened to your heartbeat.

~X~

A few days later it was happening! It happened! It…

You were about to pass out, you weren’t ready for this! You held Tara through her labor as much as she held you and you nearly fainted when you heard the first baby, a boy, crying at exactly fourteen minutes after two a.m. only for the second one, this time a girl, to come out twenty-three minutes later.

“Congratulations! You got a boy and a girl!” the midwives brought the two babies and gave them to Tara as she was resting, and you couldn’t help but cry as you watched the two bundles of joy.

“You two really are tiny,” she whispered, bringing them closer and carefully hugging them.

Could you touch them? You were an MMA fighter, you were used to violence, not babies that were born less than an hour ago!

“Hey, come here,” Tara whispered, exhaustion vanished from her eyes the moment she got to hold them, and you swallowed the lump in your throat and reached over to touch them.

“I…” you couldn’t say anything, you were completely speechless.

“I know,” Tara smiled, she could feel the tremble of your hands on her own, as you chose to place them there just in case. “I thought of names.”

“I’m fine with any names you want,” you quickly told her, only now realizing you didn’t really have this conversation.

“How about Zack and Susan?”

You just froze and looked at Tara, honestly unable to process all the emotions you were feeling, so, instead, you just nodded, leaning over to quickly kiss her on the lips to hopefully convey even the smallest bit of what you were feeling.

Story masterlist / First part / Previous part / Next part

Taglist: @alexkolax

#tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter #tara carpenter x female reader #scream #jenna ortega x reader #x reader #x female reader

88 notes · View notes

rekino2114 · 2 months

Note

I'm here and bringing more chainsaw mam requests with me cause it needs it. How about Asking out and first date scenario with Fami? I absolutely loved your dating headcanons and had to ask for one where they had the first date and how they even asked out fami lol.

Asking out and first date with fami

A/n:Yay, more fami requests, this devil Kirby girl deserves more love.

Recently you had been crushing on one of your classmates at fourth east high school, her name was fami and from what you could tell she really, really liked eating.

One day, you saw her eating alone and decided to approach her to hopefully ask her out on a date.

"Hey, sorry, do you mind if I sit here?"

Fami simply nodded as she continued chewing her food. You sat in front of her and decided to start a conversation.

"You're fami, right? I've seen you around school. You're part of the devil hunters club, aren't you?

"Yeah that's me, i think I've seen you staring at me a couple of times"

"A-ah sorry I just-"

"It's fine I don't really mind, I figured you wanted to ask me something, I was waiting for you to approach me"

"Wow, yeah I do have to ask you something, you're really observant"

"You're not the first person to say that, so what is it?"

"W-well I was wondering if....you wanted to hang out sometimes....you know like...a date?

"Can we go eat out somewhere?"

"Sure if you wa-"

"Then yes"

You were surprised at how easy it was, and how smoothly it all went, but you remembered her love for food and it made sense. You two talked for a bit more and decided on a time and place for the date.

When the time arrived, you made sure to look your best and arrived at the restaurant you agreed on. After a bit, Fami arrived at your table, while she looked basically the same as always you could tell she put more effort into her appearance than usual and that made you smile.

"Sorry if I'm late"

"It's fine, don't worry you weren't that late anyway"

"Thanks"

After a bit of talking a waiter went to your table to take your order.

"I'll take this and this and this and a bit of this, do you want anything?"

You shrugged off the enormous amount of food she ordered and looked over the menu

"I guess I'll take f/f (favorite food)"

The waiter left the table and fami looked at you with an unreadable expression that made you worried you had done something wrong.

"Good choice"

"Uh?"

"The dish you chose, it's great, you have good taste"

"Oh thank you, you really like food don't you?"

"I think food is the great thing humanity has created"

"*giggle* yeah I think it's nice too"

"I'm glad"

After your waiter returned with the food, you started eating your food, fami going way faster than you.

"Oh sorry if I'm being gross, the food looked really good"

"Don't worry, I don't mind, you're doing something you like, I'm not gonna judge you for that even if it's just eating"

"........I like you"

"Hm?"

"You like food and don't find how much I eat gross or annoying, plus like I said you have good taste, you're great in my opinion"

You blushed slightly and smiled at her words

"T-thanks, i think you're great too"

Fami smiled too, it was probably the first time you saw her have an expression that wasn't indifference

"I'd like to hang out more if you want, after this let's go to my home, we can order pizza and watch a movie"

"You and pizza? Yeah I'd like that"

You continued to eat and talk, and after finishing your food, you walked out of the restaurant and to your house.

"So are you sure you wanna go"

"Yeah, but first can I try something?"

"Sure what is it?"

Fami surprised you by randomly kissing your cheek, you got incredibly red and looked at her, her face had a smile for the second time today and probably in a while.

"Just as I thought you taste great too, you really are special"

#chainsaw man x reader #chainsaw man #x reader #chainsaw man part 2 x reader #chainsaw man part 2 #chainsaw man 2 x reader #chainsaw man 2 #fami csm #fami chainsaw man #fami x reader #fami #fami chainsaw man x reader #fami csm x reader #gn reader

62 notes · View notes

withwritersblock · 5 months

Text

the boy is mine

~the boy is mind by Ariana Grande~

Author's Note: requested Summary: Kirby's pregame before his first playoff game in Montreal Warnings: none Word Count: 1,062 Kirby Dach x fm!reader

It was the last regular season game for the entire NHL. All eyes were on the Canadiens and the Lightning. Both of them tied for points to get the final wildcard spot for the Eastern Conference. Currently, the Lightning held the spot from the other categories. The Canadiens needed to win the game to achieve the last spot.

The game was tied at 1-1 as regulation ended. Tampa fans were being ruthless in the crowd as the boys skated to center ice. Cole, Nick, and Mike were all on the ice, prepared to start overtime.

The wives and girlfriends were all sitting inside Caitlin’s apartment watching the game in dead silence. Which is usually impossible between the group of girls.

Y/N held her wine glass against her lips, too focused to even try and sip the drink. She watched as Tampa started wtih possession and began skating around their zone. After a monster save by Sam, the Canadiens get possession of the puck. Her heart was beating loud in her ear as she watched seventy-seven hop onto the ice.

Mike passed Kirby the puck and Y/N watched as he skated through the offensive zone. He wrists a shot towards the net and the puck hits the back of the net. Kirby throws his hands up in the air as he skates towards the glass. The team starts heading towards the locker room as Cole, Kirby and Mike celebrate on the ice together.

The entire group of girls erupted into cheers. Y/N threw her hands up as she cheered.

She received her jacket after the first game in Boston. It was the signature Canadiens red with different original six patches all over the front of it. On the back in white lettering it wrote Dach and his number, seventy-seven.

She was so excited to wear it because this was the first time she was experiencing it as a part of the wives and girlfriends. Tonight was game three, back in Montreal and none of the wives and girlfriends showed their boys the jackets until today. Kirby sat on the bed, his dark blue suit on his frame. His face slowly starting to get stubble as he shaved right before the end of the regular season.

He kept his eyes shut as requested. She ran her fingers through her hair in the bathroom mirror as she adjusted the red jacket on her body. She walked through the small hallway that separated their bathroom and bedroom. She nervously moved her hands through the air and onto her hips before she decided to just let them hang at her side.

“Okay,” she mumbled. Kirby’s eyes opened quickly as he met her gaze. He smiled widely as he slowly scanned her frame, he nodded his head slowly in the process.

“Spin,” he said as he bit his bottom lip, he spun his finger in a circle as she slowly obeyed him. She spun around showing off his name and his number. He smiled widely as he saw it. Love knowing that she proudly wore his name and number. She finished her spin as she met his gaze, a smile slowly forming to her lips.

“So what do you think?” she asked as she awkwardly threw her hands up in the hair. He stood up from the bed, walking towards her. He grazed his fingertips along the jean like fabric.

“I think red is goregous on you,” he began as he met her gaze. He swallowed hard before he licked his lips nervously, “I like the ownership too,” he teased with raising his eyebrows. She laughed shyly.

“I’ve never been to a playoff hockey game before,” she changed the subject as she began to run her fingers along his suit jacket. He nodded as he took a hold of her hips.

“You’ll get to watch us take the series lead,” he said with a cocky smile. She rolled her eyes playfully as he leaned towards her, kissing her lips gently. She had red lipstick on, afraid he would smudge it. “Red is so hot on you,” he mumbled as he met her gaze.

“Thank you,” she said with a small smile, “Can we take a photo? I don’t have to post it or-”

“Post it baby,” he said as he kissed her cheek before he guided her towards their bathroom. “Show off how hot you look in red,” he shouted. She rolled her eyes playfully as she followed after him.

Their relationship has not been entirely public, all of his social media active teammates follow her. So people are aware of her relation to the team but not because of who.

She wrapped her arm around his back as he loosely tightened his grip around her waist. He puckered his lips out as he popped his hip to the side dramatically. She laughed as she took the photo. “What about this?” he asked as he frowned hard as he shifted his gaze towards her.

“At least look like you love me,” she let out dramatically pouting her lips. His mouth fell open as he let out a dramatic gasp.

��Oh really,” he asked teasingly, he took a hold of her chin delicately. “See I was being nice,” he mumbled, staring towards her red plump lips. “But now,” he muttered before he leaned towards her, kissing her urgently. She froze for a second before she began to kiss him back with the same sense of urgency.

After a few seconds she pulled away to see his mouth covered in red lipstick, as the lipstick on her face was smudge. She giggled and groaned as she realized the mistake. “See, I was trying to be the nice guy,” he mumbled as he poked his finger against her lips.

“Yeah, sure, nice guy,” she mumbled as they looked back towards the mirror, posing for a few photos for their own private collection. She delicately placed her phone down onto the bathroom counter. She reached towards her makeup remover wips and handed it towards Kirby.

“I was actually thinking of rocking the red lip, what do you think?” he offered, meeting her gaze. She rolled her eyes playful as she began cleaning her mouth of the smudged lipstick.

“I think it's a look,” she mumbled as she met his gaze through the mirror. He began wiping his face harshly.

#kirby dach x reader #kirby dach imagines #montreal canadiens x reader #montreal canadiens imagines #montreal canadiens #nhl imagines #nhl #nhl x reader #nhl fic #hockey

81 notes · View notes

lonelym00n · 1 year

Text

It's (sometimes) okay to trust a stranger

Sam Carpenter x Hicks!Reader

Word Count: 2.7k

Summary: Sixteen year old Sam just needs a friend. Despite the odds, she finds one in you.

A/N: this was supposed to be short but for some reason I couldn't stop myself from making it longer. hope u enjoy anyways!

Harshly slamming your front door shut, you stomped towards your car, hopped in, and quickly started the engine. Your chest was heaving up and down furiously and you could feel tears uselessly streaming down your cheeks. In one last fit of anger, you pounded your clenched fists into the steering wheel. Your temporary breakdown is interrupted at the sight of the front door swinging back open, your mom striding quickly towards you. You move faster than her, shifting the car into reverse and flying into the street without a care in the world.

You hear your mom scream your name as you shift back into drive and absolutely floor it, cruising carelessly into the slowly darkening night. Hopefully she noticed you were going well above the speed limit, you knew it would piss her off even more if she did.

Reaching one hand up towards your face, you angrily swipe the tears away before clicking the radio on. The volume is unnecessarily loud, just how you like it.

As you aimlessly drive, you’re finally able to catch your breath and get a grip on your raging emotions. Deep down you know you had no right to be as mad as you are, but you were just so frustrated with your mother’s behavior lately. She expected you to be so perfect and happy and a ray of fucking sunshine all the time and trying to live up to her high standards had you so exhausted. It didn’t help that she constantly compared you to your younger brother, who she so clearly favored.

Tears welled up in your eyes for the second time and you let them fall. You felt hopeless and defeated. Worst of all, there was nothing you could do to make yourself feel better. You could only accept your fate and lay in the bed that was made for you.

You pull into an empty parking lot, hug your knees tight to your chest, and force yourself to recall the fight between you and your mother.

***

You sat in your room, humming along to the music you had idly playing in the background. After finishing all of your homework, you had decided to paint your nails. It was something that you found to be oddly relaxing and it had become a form of self-care for you.

Before you could open up the bottle of nail polish, a knock sounded at your door. “Come in,” you called.

The small form of your eleven year-old brother, Wes, peeked into your room. “Mommy says it’s time for dinner.” He grins toothily at you, “She got sushi!”

Though sushi was more of his favorite food than it was yours, you smiled brightly for the boy’s sake. “Mm yum” you hummed, “Race ya to the kitchen.”

He laughed as you took off, sprinting down the stairs and skidding to a halt just in front of the dining room. Before you could even begin to situate yourself at the table, your mom’s overly sweet voice broke your inner peace, “Y/N,” she scolded, “No running down the stairs. You or Wesley could easily get hurt.”

Wes apologized, a small frown on his chubby face. You, however, remained silent and clenched your jaw in irritation. Of course within seconds of her being home, she had already found a way to put a stop to your relaxed state.

She handed out the sushi and you all dug into your respective meals. She and Wes chatted about his day at school while you kept to yourself, deciding instead to scroll mindlessly through your phone. Seeing a particular funny post of Kirby’s, you couldn’t stop the light chuckle from sliding out of your mouth.

Your mother tutted and reached across the table to pluck your phone from your hands. “No phones at the table.”

You had to refrain from rolling your eyes, instead choosing to divert your attention to your nails, noting that they would need to be filed before you applied the polish.

Your mom turned her attention away from Wes and onto you. “So,” she spoke, sounding extremely cheerful, “How’s school going for you, honey?”

You sighed before responding, “Okay, I guess. Lots of assignments this week so that sucks, but I guess it’s fine since there aren’t any exams.”

She seemed pleased by your response and bit into another piece of sushi. Just as you were about to turn back to your own meal, she spoke again, “Who do you hang around with these days?”

You groaned internally, knowing by her tone that nothing good could come out of this conversation. Leave it to Deputy Judy to try and police who you decided to hang out with. You scratched your neck before answering, “Mostly just Kirby these days. Other than her I keep to myself.”

Her eyebrows raised at your answer before she shook her head. You did roll your eyes this time. “What mom? Go ahead, explain to me what the problem with Kirby is.”

Needless to say, you were annoyed. She never approved of who you were friends with and wasn’t afraid to tell you exactly what she thought of them. “Well,” she spoke indignantly, “To start, the girl has broken about ten different driving laws. She’s constantly participating in underage drinking and has helped Jill Roberts sneak out of her house on several different occasions. She’s a terrible influence, sweetie, and from what I’ve heard, her parents are almost never home. That’s always a bad sign.”

You huffed and raked your hands through your hair in frustration. “Seriously? It’s Jill’s own choice to sneak out and that has nothing to do with Kirby. All you really have on her is that she’s a shit driver.”

Judy gasped and she raised a scolding finger up at you. “You watch your mouth around your brother, young lady. Bet you learned that awful language from her.”

Your eyes nearly bugged out of your head at your mom’s audacity. “Jesus mom, Kirby’s not the only teenager that swears, you’re so obnoxious sometimes.”

“That’s it!” She stood up and stomped her foot on the ground. “You aren’t allowed to be friends with her anymore!”

You jumped out of your seat and let out a hysterical laugh at her crazy behavior, “Seriously!? Do you not hear how ridiculous you sound?”

“You better quit while you’re ahead missy.”

You scoffed, the anger coursing through your brain making you feel very bold, “You know what mom? I’m not gonna quit while I’m ahead. I’m sick of you trying to decide who I can and can’t be friends with!” Your lip curled up in defiance and you decided to continue, “You always do this. You always try to put yourself in charge of who I hang out with! I’m done with it. It really pisses me off.”

She looked shocked at your outburst but you didn’t care. She refused to listen to you when you talked calmly so if you had to raise your voice to finally get your point across to her, you would do so gladly. “I don’t know where this behavior is coming from Y/N Hicks but I expect an apology right now.”

You laughed loudly at her words. “No! You know what mom, I’ll tell you where this behavior is coming from. I have no friends because of you! No one at school invites me anywhere because they only see me as the deputy’s nark daughter. And the people who do hang out with me? They all leave!” You threw your arms up in the air wildly, “They either leave because you bust their party or because you force me to push them away!”

At this point your face is bright red as the words spew out of your mouth. You feel frustrated enough to explode. Little Wes sits in his chair, completely silent as he watches the two of you argue.

Your mom speaks up, tone quiet in that way that means you have most certainly crossed a line, “I’m keeping this phone.” She waves your phone in front of you and you want to double over and scream loud enough to shake the whole house. Clearly she hadn’t cared about a word you said.

“Good! I don’t need it anyways!” You trudge over to the entryway and throw your coat over your shoulders, hearing your keys jingle in your pocket at the erratic action.

“And where do you think you’re going?” She yells from the dining room.

“Anywhere but here!” With that, you fling yourself out of the house.

***

Your tears have diminished to sniffles at this point. Part of you feels broken and you don’t know what you’re supposed to do to fix it.

Lost in the crooning sound of the radio and your racing thoughts, you don’t notice the figure creeping towards your car.

The sudden tap at your window causes you to let out a terrified shriek. Your knee knocks into the horn as you twist towards the source of the tapping noise and you scream even louder at the powerful beep that rings out into the dead of night..

Your chest rises raggedly as you hesitantly trail your eyes up the figure that looms outside your window. The panic that took over your body calms slightly as you realize that it’s just a girl. You do feel a bit nervous as you recognize the girl to be Samantha Carpenter because even though you were mad at your mom, it doesn’t escape your mind that she had incessantly warned you to stay away from the girl standing outside your car.

She doesn’t look like she’s going to harm you now, with the amused twinkle that sparkles in her brown eyes, so you roll down the window and chuckle awkwardly, “Um hi?”

A teasing smirk stretches across her face, “Hello there. Didn’t mean to scare you half to death.”

You try not to blush at the reference to your moment of panic. “No, don't worry about it, you didn’t.”

She gives you a look that says you’re full of shit but smiles despite the fact. “So,” she draws out lazily, “What brings you here at this time of night?”

It’s then that you notice the hazy look that’s in her eyes and with what your mother had told you about the girl, you note that she’s probably under the influence of some kind of drug right now. “Uh,” you struggle for a cool sounding response before lamely gesturing around. “Same as you.” You resist the urge to facepalm as your retort comes out as more of a question than a straight response.

She huffs out a laugh and something inside of you flutters at the sound. She cocks an eyebrow at you, “Oh really? So you mean to tell me the deputy’s daughter is out here high off her ass from whatever drug she had managed to scrounge up for the night?”

Your eyes widen comically, but a grin makes its way across your face regardless. “Yup.”

Samantha seems to find your act kind of funny and you internally cheer and congratulate yourself, before mentally sighing at just how corny you are.

The lanky girl walks around to the other side of your car and motions for you to unlock the door. Curiously, you do. She quickly steps inside, making a small noise of approval at the warmth she’s provided. It’s then that you notice that she hadn’t been wearing a jacket, her (very) muscular arms completely bare in the black tank top that stretches across her form. Dumbly, you fish out your favorite jacket from the backseat and wordlessly offer it to her. She looks at it with interest but leans up to put it on anyways. You think you imagined it, but for a split second you swear her tan cheeks darken slightly.

She clears her throat and the charged atmosphere that had filled the car moments ago disappears with the action. “Clearly I know who you are, Y/N Hicks, so tell me, why would Judy Hicks’ daughter allow a complete stranger into her car?”

You think for a moment but shrug, “Some company is actually just what I needed right now.” She nods in understanding and you continue, this time bearing the teasing smirk on your own face, “Plus, you’re not the only one with a trick up their sleeve. I know who you are too, Samantha.”

A cheshire grin spreads across her mouth. You think it suits her. “Oh yeah? Mommy told you about me then?” You nod and she barks out a laugh, “All bad things, I hope.”

You chuckle at the mirth that has appeared in her expression. “Most certainly all bad things. I swear that’s all Judy Hicks is capable of seeing.”

She seems to pick up on the heaviness of her tone and you wonder if the drug she has taken has given her some heightened sense of perception. “Things don’t seem to be all perfect in paradise.”

“You don’t know the half of it.”

Sam smiles but it looks more like a grimace, “Believe me, I do.”

The two of you fall into a comfortable silence. You wonder what exactly happened to Sam to lead her down this path, but you know better than to ask. Despite your mother’s constant warnings, you find that Sam is actually really refreshing to hang around. She sees the world for what it really is, cold and lonely. It’s a nice change of pace to what you’re used to being around.

The peaceful atmosphere is broken as she reaches into her pocket and fishes out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. She waits for a beat, anticipating you to chastise her, and looks pleasantly surprised when you don’t speak a word. Your eyes remain locked together as she places the stick into her mouth, rolls the window down, and leisurely lights the cigarette.

After she takes a long drag, she looks at you curiously. “Y’know you’re nothing like what I thought you’d be.” You motion for her to continue and she does after a short moment, “I figured you’d be a cheery brat like your mom and that you wouldn’t even give someone like me the time of day.”

The last bit of her sentence causes a sad pang to vibrate through your chest. You frown and give her a soft look, “Someone like you? You seem really nice Sam.” She looks at you like you’ve grown three heads, clearly not believing you. “I’m serious,” you say gently, “you must be such a strong person to keep pushing through whatever it is you’re going through. I don’t know you that well, but I know enough to be able to tell that you’re a good person.”

Her eyes brim with tears and she doesn’t even flinch as they spill down her face. Her cigarette, now forgotten, falls from the hand that had been dangling out the window and onto the uneven pavement below. You pull her towards you into a tight hug. After a while of her sobbing softly into your shoulder, she pushes away slightly to meet your eyes. Your heart breaks at how small she sounds when she whispers a tiny thank you up at you.

You brush the hair out of her eyes and lightly thread your fingers through it. She melts into the contact and you want to cry at how adorable she is.

The two of you sit like that for what feels like hours, but is more than likely just a few minutes.

She finally pulls away from you completely and settles back into your passenger seat. Her smirk reappears and you smile at the sight. “Drive. There’s someplace I want to show you.”

You’d known the girl for all of five seconds yet you could already tell that you’d likely do whatever she asked of you, your mother’s opinion be damned. If she had asked you to climb up the rooftop of an abandoned building, you’d likely say yes. And if she had asked you to stay with her up on that same rooftop for the rest of the night, you’d probably (definitely) agree. And if, when the sky began to display a mixture of pink and orange tones, she shyly asked if she could kiss you, you’d press your lips softly to hers in a heartbeat.

Bonus A/N: I've never written a flashback before so I really hope that part turned out okay :)

#sam carpenter #sam carpenter x y/n #sam carpenter x you #sam carpenter x reader #scream fanfic #sam carpenter imagine #lonelym00n fic

454 notes · View notes

ateliersss · 1 year

Text

I wish I could stay in the Past

Pairing: Billy Loomis x Fem!Reader Summary: Who would have thought that 27 years after the first Woodsboro massacre, you still couldn't live in peace? Now, you have been asked by Agent Kirby Reed to come to New York, where apparently a new Ghostface killer was on the loose. For you, this meant going back into your past and meeting the person you were trying to protect from your life since she was born. Cross-posted on AO3: here Warnings: Spoilers for Scream VI, English isn't my first language Word Count: 5,890

Kirby stood in front of the white board plastered with photos of every Ghostface killer from 1996 to 2022, of the masks found at the crime scenes, and of the victims killed so far.

“…Mickey Altieri, Nancy Loomis, Stu Macher and Billy Loomis. Number One and also the father of our chief suspect.”

Detective Bailey, arms crossed before his chest, nodded before adding, “It’s all leading us back to Sam.”

“What about the girlfriend?” Kirby suddenly mumbled, more to herself than addressing the Detective.

“What? Who’s girlfriend?”

“(Y/N) (L/N). She and Billy were childhood sweethearts. Although she was never personally involved in any Ghostface incidents following 1996 she could never quite live her life in peace. I mean, come on. The mourning love interest has to be a main suspect. His mother tried to avenge his death and no one thought about that either. Then boom! Dead teenagers everywhere.”

Bailey turned his face to look at her with a raised eyebrow.

“What? It’s just an idea.”

“Hm.” He hummed, “It could be worth a shot.”

A totally stupid shot, because what sane person would suddenly seek revenge after 27 years? Well, if it keeps her occupied, who am I to stop her?

“Any idea on how we can reach her?”

Kirby smirked. “Of course I do.”

New York was far too loud, far too big and far too dirty for your liking. You preferred the calmness and the quiet of a nice little town somewhere far away from any crime or even the smallest hint of being dragged into another drama. You really thought you would finally be at peace, having that calm and quiet life, until you got a call from Agent Kirby Reed. You remember that name well. Besides Sidney and Gale, obviously, she was the only victim who survived the Second Woodsboro Massacre. On the phone she told you that someone had put on the Ghostface mask again and was after a group of teenagers. She wanted you to come to New York right away so you could be questioned.

It wasn’t the first time you were a suspect but being one again after almost 30 years? You were about to give vent to the familiar old feeling of simmering anger for being falsely accused again when…

“Your niece was among those who were attacked.”

“Sam?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m on my way. It’s going to take a few hours.”

“That’s alright. When you arrive in New York go straight to the NYPD and tell them you are here to see Agent Reed. Someone will show you the way to the office I’m currently occupying.”

You were just about to open the car door and leave the parking lot near the police station when you got a text.

[Agent Reed]: Change of plans. Someone thinks you need to see this too. Come to this address.

So now you were standing in front of some kind run-down movie theatre, not knowing if you were ate the right place. You read the text message again… nope, still the same street name and the same house number. You were about to dial Kirby’s number when someone called your name.

“Over here!”

You turned to the blonde woman standing a few meters away from you, holding open a metal door. “Agent Kirby Reed?” You asked.

“The one and only.” She nodded for you to follow her. “Come in, the others are already inside.”

It’s strange, you thought. I’m actually meeting Samantha.

You stopped at a metal bar door that already allowed you an insight of the room ahead of you. There was tingling feeling in your belly.

“You’re ready?”

You nodded as an answer, not trusting your mouth to form a decent sentence.

It felt like you were pushed back into your 18-year-old-self. Mannequins, display shelves and cases were set up and lead to a stage. It was impossible to take everything in at the same time so you walked through the row that was closest to you. Years of evidence put together like it was a museum, like a fucking…

“A shrine.” Kirby said from behind you. “Dedicated to every killer that put on the mask.”

You barely registered what she just said when you saw what was displayed at the end of the row. You almost couldn’t believe your eyes. There… There were Tatum’s clothes, the ones she wore when she was killed… and there was the robe Stu wore at his party… and Billy’s bloody t-shirt. You walked past a sitting mannequin looking exactly like Steve Orth until you were standing right in front of the white cloth still covered in blood. Huffing out a shaky breath, you reached out to touch it. Your fingers traced from every hole where he was stabbed until it stopped on the chest of the mannequin. You almost expected to feel a heartbeat underneath your skin…

Oh Billy.

Maybe it was the overwhelming, morbid nostalgic feeling that almost crushed you seeing all those reminders of your past, but you still hadn’t noticed the small group on the stage next to you watching you either with curious or wary eyes.

You were still caught up in your head, thinking back to that afternoon on September 28th in 1996 — you, reading another true crime novel and playing with the brown curls of your boyfriend’s hair while his head rested on your lap, napping. You two had stayed in this position until the sun went down. The clock read 6 PM when you decided to make dinner and he left the kitchen to make a quick phone call. When he got back…

“Billy, are you serious? There is a killer outside!”

“Stu lives only 10 minutes away. I’ll take the car.”

“Are you sure? Shouldn’t we call the police?”

“No, it’s alright. I’m just gonna make sure he doesn’t overdo it. You know how he is.”

You laughed, “Yeah, I do and I love him for that.”

Billy tilted his head, an amused glint in his eyes. “Oh really? I thought you loved me.”

The smile on your face grew brighter as he bent down to place a gentle kiss on your lips. “I do love you. So much.”

You snapped out of your thoughts.

It would have been perfect. A concerned Billy wanting to make sure his best friend was okay so he goes to his party to check on him, but is surprised by the killer. Both, he and Stu, are fighting to survive and in the end, sadly, they are the only ones still alive. The police would have believed them that it was Sidney’s father all along and you and Billy could have lived a happily ever after in another town, away from all that traumatic shit he ‘went through’.

But the reality was different. Billy had been a psychotic serial killer, murdering friends and class mates and even Sidney’s mother. He had been the one getting addicted to the feeling of killing someone after Maureen Prescott, he had been the one who had done all those horrible things…

“Kirby, who’s that?” A female voice asked.

Kirby gave you a quick look before answering, “This is (Y/N) (L/N)-“

“(Y/N)?” Gale interrupted her and watched you climb the stairs of the stage.

You first inspected each of the 9 Ghostface mannequins — your eyes lingering on the middle one a little longer — before acknowledging her. You still held a grudge against her considering how much she had turned your life upside down.

“Hello Gale. Long time no see.” You greeted her with a tight smile on your lips. “And since I was ordered here for an interrogation, let’s be honest. It’s actually (Y/N) Carpenter.”

Everyone but Gale suddenly straightened up before the teenagers of the group looked at the two girls closest to the Ghostface costume in the glass case. Both looked at you with furrowed eyebrows as if they were trying to somehow place you in their family tree.

Looking at her made you tear up. You smiled. “Hi Samantha.”

“It’s… just Sam, actually. I’m sorry, do I know you?” She asked you, confused, still trying to remember where and when she met you.

“You don’t, but I know you. Christina told me everything about you, always kept me up-to-date.” You took a quick breathe to control your emotions. “God, you’ve grown. You look so much like him.”

Sam shifted on her feet, not liking where this conversation was going. “Him? You mean my father.”

“How do you know our mom?” The short girl next to her butt in. She seemed just as wary as her sister.

“Christina is my older sister.”

“So you’re our aunt.”

“Not exactly. I’m your aunt, Tara.” You said before addressing Sam directly, “Christina called me when you found out who your real father is in those diaries.” You were really about to drop the bomb. “You know, those diaries weren’t hers… they were mine.”

“What are you saying?”

“That the one who got pregnant by Billy Loomis wasn’t Christina. It was me.”

Sam looked at you like you've grown a second head. “So what? You’re… You’re my mother?”

“Biological, yes. In any other way, probably not.”

“Oh my God.” She started to walk up and down with her hands gripping her hair. “Oh my God.”

“I know it’s a lot, but-“

“A lot? You just come here, a total stranger, and tell me you’re my mother when the woman who raised me all those years isn’t actually my mom but my aunt!”

“I don't expect you to replace her with me and accept me as your new mother, Sam. I’m not planning on taking you with me to force you into mother-daughter-relationship after 26 years. I’m here to help you.”

Sam’s head whipped around to look at Kirby.

“She’s on my suspect list, Sam.” Kirby shrugged, “Apparently no one thinks about the revengeful love interest.”

“But I have an alibi.” You defended yourself, “I wasn’t even near New York when the teacher and the students were murdered. Same goes to the therapist and your two friends. I actually expected being questioned at the NYPD, but if you actually want to interrogate me here, go ahead.”

“Then why are you here? This very place?”

You looked back at Tara. “Because Agent Reed told me to. From what she told me we experienced similar situations and she thought I had a right to see this too.” You looked around the room. “My past is on display here as much as hers or Gale's.”

Sam shook her head, taking a step forward. “So, just to get this straight. You get knocked up by a serial killer and then just leave the baby with your sister? You found out you were pregnant with me and dumped me because what? You didn’t want to be a mom at such a young age? Or was it because you were disgusted by me?”

Your eyes widened. Of course you expected some resistance and some accusations, but it was still like a knife to your heart to see her betrayed expression and hear her furious voice. “No, of course not. I loved you the second I held you in my arms.”

“Then why?”

“I had no other choice! Do you know how hard it was, living like I had to after your father died? The names they called me? And you… you were the size of a grape and they already called you the Devil’s Spawn. No one wants to raise a child in an environment like that.”

“So you just abandoned me? Left me behind so you could get away from everything?”

“I didn’t abandon you, I gave you a safe life away from every threat that could hurt you or even corrupt you. After that night when… when it all happened, my normal life was over. Either all those blase do-gooders in Woodsboro treated me like I put a Ghostface mask on and killed all those people myself, or I was viewed by these Stab-obsessed lunatics as some sort of precious artifact left behind by their idol. I was ambushed by dozens of assholes in costumes and got 3 or 4 calls a day. Even after I moved to other towns, fuck, even to another state, and I still couldn't live my life in peace. Thanks, by the way.” You turned to Gale.

“What, me?”

“The tirade of hate you wrote about me in your damn books. First the boyfriend, then the mother of the boyfriend, and then even Roman Bridger just because he was the one who stirred Billy on into going on a killing spree. You even mentioned me in your fourth book when I literally had no connection to anything that happened that year! You made it look like I pulled the strings, egged on every Ghostface, and was planning every murder, Gale.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did. Just like you called Sam a born killer, you called me the secret Ghostface that got away who will someday get revenge on Sidney for killing the love of her life.”

Gale opened her mouth, but having nothing to reply with, she closed it again.

Using the following silence to return to the current problem, Chad asked, “So, just to make sure before that–” He awkwardly gestured to you and Sam “–happened. Someone killed these chucklefucks and took over?”

“Someone who believes that Sam masterminded Woodsboro.”

“If this would be a movie this would be the killer’s lair.”

“Which means this isn’t a normal Stab movie.”

Apparently that gave Tara the rest, as she left the stage with brisk steps and disappeared into an adjoining room. Sam was hot on her heels.

Shortly thereafter, the rest of the group split up — Kirby joined Mindy to sit on the edge of the stage, Ethan and Chad were on different sides of the room, looking at the displayed evidence, and Detective Bailey was talking to someone on the phone.

You finally had time to walk to and look at the glass case in front of you. It was a bittersweet feeling, knowing that the one you had loved the most in this world killed four people and thereby started a future death streak, all committed in costumes of his alter ego.

You were so deep in thought that ten minutes had passed and you hadn't noticed that Sam was back and was standing behind you.

“Are you married?” She asked, attracting your attention.

You took your eyes off of Billy’s name plate and looked into her brown ones that reminded you so much of her father’s. “What?”

Sam nodded down to your hand. “Do you have a family?”

Ahh…

“Oh, no. No, I don’t. That’s a promising ring. You know, when you promise someone to stay together forever and maybe get married one day. Do you kids still do that?”

“Yeah, when we’re like twelve, not fifty.”

You chuckled. “Ouch. I still have six years until I’m that old.” Sighing, you touched the ring and rolled it around your ring finger. “No, I was actually twelve years when… well, when your dad gifted it to me. So young and he already wanted to spend the rest of his life with me. This one–” You held the hand with the ring at eye level, “–was never ever replaced since then. His is right here.” You pulled the silver chain from underneath your t-shirt and revealed a similar ring just slightly bigger.

A shiver ran down Sam’s back, before asking in disbelief, “You kept it?”

“I did. And I know it seems like I went crazy or something while grieving, but I was young and devastated. I just lost the love of my life. Some grow distant and want to avoid anything that has to do with their lost loved one or being constantly reminded of them. Others, like me, have to hold onto every little fiber of them. I wore his clothes, put on his cologne… God, it was really a terrible way to cope.”

Sam grimaced.

You smiled slightly. “What?”

“It’s just strange hearing someone talk about him like he was…”

“Human?”

“He killed people, he was murderer, and you… you loved him.”

“Do you think it’s easy to stop loving someone in mere seconds? Minutes, hours, days, weeks? You have that person who you would die for, who you would kill for. This person is your everything, and you can’t imagine a life without them. So you plan it with that person; how you will graduate, how you will find a job, how you will leave both your parent’s houses to move together, maybe move to a new town, how you will have children with them, how you will marry them, and how you will grow old with them. Billy was my person, the one I wanted all those boring normal things with. And you have those normal things. You hold hands, cuddle, kiss, go on dates...” You stopped and took a breath. “Until the police shows up at your door and tells you that the one who had murdered your friends was him all along. There’s a sliver of hope that maybe, maybe you can visit him in prison so you can talk to him. But that won’t happen because the police tells you right after that he had been killed by your best friend, Sidney Prescott, and that they have some questions for you.”

You still remember how they interrogated you and asked you if you knew about Billy’s doings, if they were signs that seemed suspicious, asked you about the places you have been when he and Stu killed another victim and if there were people who could vouch for you. After two hours they finally let you go, saying they would call you if they had any more questions. You asked if you could see him, his body. Since his mother left, his father was nowhere to be found and Billy had no other close relatives, you were the next best option.

The moment you saw him, lying there cold and pale on that metal table, your whole world crumbled. With slow shaky steps you had walked closer and closer to him. Almost relieved for something to hold on, you had supported yourself by grabbing the table. At that moment you didn’t care who could see you or who could hear you… you just cried. Your sobs and hysterical breathing had filled the room, your knees buckling and your knuckles turning white from how hard you had clutched the table.

“No. No, no, no.”

You had started to hyperventilate. It got harder and harder to breathe. The walls seemed to grow closer.

And then everything went black.

When you woke up in a hospital bed you were greeted by a nurse who tried to calm you down. She told you, according to the coroner, you had passed out after having a panic attack. Just to make sure that was the actual reason they ran a few tests — nothing special, just the usual hospitals did when patients arrived unconscious. She had reassured you after you gave her a concerned look.

“Don’t worry, honey. The results of blood tests didn’t show anything worrying, but I can give you my congratulations. You are pregnant.”

Pregnant.

With Billy’s…

“You are three weeks along. The embryo is as tiny as a poppy seed, just a millimeter.”

You had gaped at her still in disbelief.

Pregnant.

You were pregnant.

You were pregnant with Billy’s baby.

Billy…

Tears had started to form in your eyes and the nurse got blurry. Again there was this feeling in your chest that there was not enough air around you and it got harder to breathe.

“Hey, it’s okay, sweetie. Since you’re only eighteen, we called your parents. They should be here soon.”

Your mom and dad had been more or less supportive. They had always loved Billy. There had been many get-together’s with his family — barbecue, picnics, movie nights. Your parents got along well. But when Billy was revealed as the Ghostface killer, yours had cut ties with the Loomis family and sheltered you from any contact from them.

What they couldn’t shelter you from was Nancy Loomis’ surprise visit three months later. Thanks to Gale’s book — because she somehow managed to find out the reason for your visit to the hospital and because this heartbreaking twist would boost her sales — everyone knew you were pregnant. Including Mrs. Loomis.

You were still stuck deep in your depression. You went from mourning him to call everything into question — was it all a lie? Every touch, every kiss, every I-love-you, every time you made love and talked about the most intimate things — to mourning him again. You were a mess.

It was too much when Billy’s mother was suddenly standing on your doorstep. You had slammed the door right into her face when you saw who was interrupting your crying fest, but through the door she had convinced you to let her in so you could talk. Your hormones got the better of you and you opened the door. Her eyes flew instantly to your belly, but your baby bump wasn’t visible through the white tee and the blue flannel.

“You have his clothes?”

“I have all his stuff. His clothes, his posters, his movies.”

You had talked to Hank and begged him to have some of his things. He had stopped you mid-rant and said you could have everything you wanted; he didn’t want it in his house. So you grabbed everything you could. When you saw the pictures displayed in his room — of you and of you and him — you turned into a crying mess and collapsed on his bed. His pillow still had smelled like him.

You must have fallen asleep because the next thing you remember was Mr. Loomis shaking you awake, looking into your bloodshot eyes and asking you if you were okay.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t want to-“

“(Y/N), I asked you if you’re okay.”

You had pressed your wobbly lips together and shook your head. He had engulfed you in his arms and tried his best to comfort you. After all, you were still you and despite every negative thought and feeling he held for his son and his deeds, you were not at fault. You were still the little girl from next door he had hoped to be his future daughter-in-law. You left that day with most of his stuff carefully packed up in the trunk of your car. You knew this wasn’t healthy, morbid even — the girl who grabbed the belongings of her dead killer-boyfriend to put everything in her room to have at least a hint of his presence, a imaginary possibility of him still being here with her. Now there were even more pictures of your smiling faces on your shelf, your desk, the table next to your bed and on your walls. Your closet was fuller with the addition of his t-shirts and his jackets. His movie collection was proudly placed next to yours on your shelf.

There was also a box under your bed. When you went through Billy’s tiny walk-in closet you found a cavity hidden behind the wallpaper. Inside of it was a black costume, a Ghostface mask and a knife.

A bloody knife.

Whose blood was that?!

Before you could muster another thought you scrambled to the garbage can and emptied your stomach. When you were done you felt a wave of guilt wash over you.

What were you doing? How did you not notice any suspicious change?

Well, there was this one time after his mom left. He had been so distant, strange, and there had been a dark glint in his eyes when you had cornered him after a week of radio silence. The look he fixed you with gave you the heebie-jeebies. He came around a few days later and acted like nothing had happened between the two of you.

Going back to Mrs. Loomis’ visit, you took your time warming up to her. Seeing her cry and listening to her begging you for forgiveness in Billy’s stead. Under the influence of, again, your stupid pregnancy hormones you gave in and made her a cup of tea. You two talked for hours, mostly about her son and how much she regretted leaving him behind, then Mrs. Loomis wanted you to tell her everything about what happened after leaving and what happened that night in Stu Macher’s house. When you ended your story with your pregnancy, she smiled.

“Even though he’s gone there is still a part of him with us. There is still something important I have to do, but after that I will take care of you and the little one and support the both of you in any way possible. I promise, sweetie.”

As it turned out, the important thing she had to do was to kill Sidney. The target on your back you thought had disappeared returned with Gale Weather’s second book. Again, you were harassed and threatened until you couldn’t take it anymore and you moved away. It got harder each time since you were in the last stages of pregnancy. It hurt thinking about it, but you would never put your baby into a life like this. So you did what you thought was right.

Your sister was more than happy to take her in. Christina would inherit their family’s home and would be able to raise your daughter — now your niece — safely.

Snapping out of your thoughts you continued, “Back then I was at the lowest point in my life and out of all people Sidney was the one who got me back on track. My mom and dad, your grandparents, must have asked her to come over to talk to me. I actually thought she would just turn around and walk away when she saw my room, considering it was crammed with Billy's stuff. He was in every corner of it, the man who killed her mother and almost killed her. She should be the one staying in bed, crying until she passed out. After all she’s the one who survived all that traumatic shit. ”

“Sidney visited you?”

You huffed. “Of course she did. I was her best friend. Randy and I were the only survivors out of our friend group. He and Sidney were the only ones who still treated me like a normal human being.” You shrugged. “Anyways. Sidney was there for me. At first I wasn't sure if I even wanted to see her. Inside, I knew she had no choice but to kill Billy, but I still held a grudge against her. I was afraid I would take all my anger and sadness out on her. But the second she put her arms around me, all negative thoughts disappeared and I realized how much I needed my best friend at that moment. She got me out of bed, made me go to see a therapist and kept reminding me of you, Sam.” You looked at your daughter. “I couldn’t allow myself to be selfish. I had to think of your well-being, too.”

Sam nodded in understanding and then looked around the room. “I… I'll go check on Tara.” It looked like she wanted to add something, but she apparently she couldn't find the right words.

You gave her a sanguinely smile. “You do that. When this is all over, I promise you that we can talk about everything in peace and I will answer any question you might have. Only if you want, of course.”

“I’d like that.” Sam said before turning around to go looking for her sister.

You watched her until she disappeared from your sight and turned back to Billy's costume. It didn’t even look that scary from your point of view — which might have been due to the lack of a mask — but almost 30 years ago you had thought of it differently. You looked to the Ghostface costume on the right, your eyes slowly dragging down the black fabric until they reached the name tag.

Stu.

You looked up again, scrutinizing the whole look.

You remember the first and only time you were face to face with it. Your parents were on a once-in-a-blue-moon date in a nice restaurant, leaving you alone for a few hours. They only had been out of the house for 30 minutes when you got the infamous call. You skipped to the living room, letting you dinner heat up in the microwave, and picked up.

“Hello?”

“Hello.”

“Yes?”

“Am I talking to (Y/N)?”

“Yeah. Who is this?”

“You could say a secret admirer.”

“Oh yeah? Well I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I have boyfriend whom I love very much.”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah.” You giggled, lazily playing with the phone cord.

“That’s a shame, really. In that little dress you look like a girl a guy would kill for.”

The smile completely disappeared from your face as you turned to every window the living room possessed.

“What?”

It felt like someone had punched you in the gut, knocking all the air out of your lungs. You abruptly remember the things Sidney had told you about what happened that night when she was attacked — the smooth male voice, the things he said that gave her the chills, him in a black robe and a white ghost mask, trying to kill her.

Before you could think twice you slammed the telephone handle on the hook.

“Okay, okay. Just relax. Just some weirdo trying to scare you. It doesn't necessarily have to be-”

You shrieked when the doorbell rang.

“Jesus.” With a hand pressed against your chest, you walked to the door. “Who’s there?”

No answer.

“Billy, is that you?”

There was no other possibility than him, considering you casually mentioned to him that your parents weren’t home with a mischievous smirk on your lips. This time he wouldn’t have to sneak through your window. You were just opening the door, pondering whether you should tell him about the weird call or not, when you were met with a white ghost mask.

Screaming, you slammed the door shut and locked it. You could hear his body colliding with the door, kicking against it, trying to open it. You didn’t even think about waiting for him to successfully gain access and ran up to your room. You locked the door of your room too before grabbing your cell phone and dialing Billy’s number.

“Billy, please. Billy, please. Pick up, please.”

You ran to the window that was facing Billy’s. His room was completely dark.

You let out a whimper. “Come on, Billy, please. Please pick up.” Tears streamed down your face. When you heard the door slam against the wall downstairs, you clamped a hand over your mouth to stifle a scream.

“(Y/N)?”

Relief washed over you. You swirled around, seeing Billy standing at his window with his phone pressed against his ear.

“Billy…” You tried to control your breath. “T-There is someone in the house… the killer. He is wearing the mask Sidney told us about. He is… He is…”

You watched your boyfriend disappear, presumably running out of his room to get to you.

“It’s okay, baby. Is your door locked?” He asked.

“Yes.”

“Okay, good. Push your dresser in front of the door and hide in the closet. Stay there until I tell you it’s safe. I’m coming, baby, you hear me?”

You heard him skipping down the stairs, listened to his reassuring words.

“I-I’m scared, Billy. I don’t want t-to die.”

“You won’t, I promise you. Just do what I told you. Now!”

Nodding, you ran to your dresser and pushed against it with your whole body weight until it was in front of your door. Next you ran to your closet, pulled open the door, closed it and crouched in a corner far back against the wall.

“I’m in the closet.” You whispered and when you got no answer you added, “Billy? Bill-”

You were interrupted by a loud “Hey!” and something that sounded like fighting noises. Whimpering you fought with yourself — on the one hand you wanted to disobey Billy’s wishes and help him out of concern that the killer might hurt him; on the other hand you wanted to do what he told you and stay hidden.

Meanwhile, Billy was seething as he grabbed his best friend by his collar and forcefully pushed him against the wall in the narrow floor leading to your room. He pulled down the mask and revealed Stu’s jolly face.

“What the fuck did I tell you, huh? (Y/N) is off-limits!” Billy whisper-yelled, pulling Stu lightly to himself before slamming him hard against the wall, not releasing his grip.

Stu groaned. “I just wanted to scare her a little. I thought it would be funny.”

If he weren't Billy’s best friend and if they didn't have big plans ahead of themselves, Billy would have strangled him by now. He tried to channel his rage and took a deep breath before saying, “Listen, dipshit. She. Is. Off. Limits! Killing your ex? I’m in. Her new boy toy? No problem. But keep your fucking hands off of her or I’ll cut your fingers off one by one and push them down your throat, got it?”

Stu gulped and nodded, his big smile morphing into a smaller one. He wasn’t scared of Billy, but Stu had to admit that there were some moments when his aggressions got worrisome.

“Now get out!” Billy hissed and let go of Stu. He waited a moment before knocking on your door.

“(Y/N), it’s me. It’s okay, he’s gone.”

There was shuffling behind the door and a minute later you ripped it open and flung yourself into his arms. Billy was shushing you, caressing your back while listening to you crying. “It’s okay, I’m here.” He kept saying.

When your breathing calmed down, he pulled away from you and placed his hands on both of your cheeks while looking deep into your eyes.

“You’re stupid, you know that?” You mumbled, “Without thinking you ran into a house with a killer in it.”

“The only thing I could think in that moment was you.”

You slightly shook your head with a small smile. “You’re so cheesy.”

Billy huffed a laugh before turning serious again. “Are you hurt?”

“No. I was fast enough to close the door, ran upstairs, lock my door and hide in the closet just as you told me. There won’t even be bruise.”

“Good.” He nodded and kissed you forehead. “It won’t happen again, I promise.”

You, of course, had no idea what happened that evening outside of your room. You didn’t know about the lengths he would go for you to keep you safe. You didn’t know he would have killed for you. You didn’t know that Billy’s feelings and his love for you were genuine, something you truly questioned after the things Sidney had told you about that night. You didn’t know that he felt scared when he realized that his plan was failing and he maybe wouldn't be able to see you again. You didn’t know that you were his last thought before he was shot in the head.

#scream #scream movies #scream 6 #billy loomis x female reader #billy loomis x reader #billy loomis x you #ghostface x reader #ghostface x you

383 notes · View notes

slxsherr · 1 year

Text

Feeling Like I Never Should

read part II here

pairing: kirby reed x fem!reader x charlie walker

summary: kirby is your best friend, which is why she knows you and charlie will never get together without a little outside help.

wc: 3077

warnings: fem!reader, inexperienced!reader, inexperienced!charlie, dom!kirby(?), cursing/swearing, descriptions of alcohol & alcohol consumption, oral sex (f! receiving), fingering, unprotected sex (p in v), squirting, creampie, virginity loss

a/n: this is kinda very kirby centered but for good reason

Kirby is your best friend, and as your best friend she knows exactly when you need a push. Especially when it comes to Charlie. She loved to make the two of you squirm, to tease, to torment, until you were both a mess.

You like Charlie, maybe more than a friend should, but his obvious feelings for Kirby have stopped you from ever pursuing him as anything more than a friend. But Kirby knows something you don’t, that no matter how much she heckles or taunts Charlie, no one makes him squirm like you do.

His logic isn’t half bad, feign interest in her so that you don’t suspect his feelings for you, but one thing the dweeb never considered is that you might reciprocate his feelings. It’d be cute how oblivious the two of you are if it wasn’t so pathetic. Both of you pining over the other, too afraid to make a move.

“What are you doing tonight?” Kirby asks you, shutting your locker abruptly and startling you.

“Please stop doing that,” you groan, ever the unexpecting victim of Kirby’s jumpscares.

“You know I can’t,” Kirby says, disregarding your request. “So, any special Friday night plans?”

“I’m alone again this weekend, so probably just takeout and—” you begin to say, but Kirby interrupts you.

“And a rager?” She suggests jokingly.

“No,” you shoot down her idea quickly, even if she wasn’t being serious. “Charlie wants to come over to plan Stab-A-Thon and my sister left behind some werewolf trilogy so we’re probably gonna watch that,” you answer, bracing yourself for Kirby’s response.

“Sounds like a hot date,” she says sarcastically, reveling in your involuntary embarrassed reactions.

“Shut up. Why are you asking?” You say, changing the subject.

“Because Jill, Olivia, and I are going to a party and I thought I’d extend an invitation, but you have plans. So, invitation withdrawn,” she answers, a teasing lilt in her voice.

“You’re just gonna end up watching guys fawn over Olivia and Jill spend the entire time on the couch with Trevor,” you tell her, knowing that inevitably she will show up at your house sometime after two in the morning, drunk off her ass and complaining about how lame the party was.

“At least there’ll be some free booze. See you later!” Kirby says before walking away.

It doesn’t take long for you and Charlie to plan Stab-A-Thon for the third year in a row, sharing Chinese takeout while going over location, equipment, and all the other small details of the club’s most notorious event. Pretty soon you’re both sprawled over your couch, dissecting the first movie that your sister described as a feminist cult classic, your legs resting comfortably over Charlie’s lap.

“Honey! I’m home!” Kirby yells, interrupting the second movie, letting herself in with a copy of your house key that you gave her freshman year. “And I’m really drunk!”

“Is that Kirby?” Charlie asks when you pause the movie, confused.

“Yeah, I guess she decided to bail on the party early,” you say, getting up to bring her to the den.

“Ugh, you were right,” Kirby says when you meet her at your front door, struggling to take off her shoes. “Olivia left with some guy and Jill barely let go of Trevor’s arm. But I got this!” She says, kicking off her shoes and holding up a bottle of tequila.

“I don’t think you need anymore of that, come on, I’ll get you some water,” you say, leading her to the living room.

“Charlie! How’s the werewolf trilogy?” You hear Kirby ask while you go to the kitchen to get her water.

“Basically a high-budget snuff film,” you catch the end of Charlie’s thoughts on the movie when you come back with a water bottle for Kirby.

“Ooh, will it be brought up at the next club meeting?” Kirby asks, pulling your back to her chest when you join them on the couch, resting her chin over your shoulder.

“Maybe,” Charlie says, taking a swig of the tequila Kirby must have given him while you were in the kitchen.

“Drink some water, you need to sober up,” you tell Kirby, twisting in her hold to raise the now open water bottle to her lips.

“And you need to loosen up,” Kirby says, drinking the water reluctantly.

“Only if you drink some water,” you say, handing her the plastic bottle.

“That’s my girl!” She cheers, drinking more water while you turn back around to face Charlie.

Your fingers brush against Charlie’s when you take the tequila from him, lifting the heavy bottle to drink the unpleasant clear liquid. It burns as it goes down your throat, settling hot in your stomach, the heat seeping throughout your body. Your face scrunches at the bitter taste, and you already know Kirby’s gonna have something to say about that.

“Aw, do you need a chaser?” She teases, wrapping her arms around your waist, empty water bottle dropped to the floor.

“Something tells me you didn’t bring any,” you rasp, relinquishing the bottle back to Charlie.

“It’s not so bad,” Charlie says after taking another drink.

“I’ve had better,” you say, nursing the bottle, keeping it away from Kirby as she playfully bites your shoulder.

Without mixers, it’s not long before half the bottle is gone and you and Charlie are about equal to Kirby’s somewhat less intoxicated state. The movie is long forgotten, frozen at the end of the first act. The three of you are squished at one end of the couch, you’re slumped against Kirby, legs thrown over Charlie’s lap, listening to Kirby’s drunken rundown of the party she left and how she stole the bottle.

“Hold on, I gotta pee,” she says, pushing you off of her to run to the bathroom.

“Sorry,” you say, hearing Charlie groan when you’re shoved onto his lap.

“No, you’re fine,” he says, hoping you don’t realize the hard situation he’s in.

“I don’t think we’re gonna finish the trilogy tonight,” you giggle, laying back where Kirby was seated.

“Definitely not,” he says, hands nervously resting over your thighs.

“I’m back!” Kirby announces her return, and you sit up to let her return to her spot.

“That was fast,” you say, shifting halfway on Charlie’s lap, too distracted by Kirby to notice him throwing his head back, his hands just barely gripping your skin.

“God, you’re such a tease,” she says, pulling you off of his lap and towards her once she’s sat.

“What do you mean?” You ask, relaxing into her hold.

“Look what you’re doing to him,” she says, redirecting your focus to Charlie. “He’s pitching a tent just from you crawling over him like a little minx.”

“That’s not—” he tries to deny it, face flushing from being called out, but Kirby cuts him off.

“Are you gonna help him out with his problem or not?” She asks you, both you and Charlie shocked by her words.

“D-Do you want me to help you?” You ask him, head fuzzy from the night’s turn of events.

“Yes,” Charlie answers, and as soon as the word leaves his lips Kirby is pushing you onto his lap.

Your thighs straddle his hips, your hands finding purchase on his shoulders from being moved so abruptly. Looking between them, you’re unsure of what to do, but as your best friend, Kirby already knows of your lack of experience. She moves closer to the two of you, cupping your cheek and turning your head to face her. Leaning in, she presses her lips to yours, kissing you wantonly. You return the kiss, albeit a bit sloppily, lips parting when her tongue swipes at your bottom lip, licking into your mouth. She pulls away soon after, not wanting you to forget about Charlie.

“Kiss him like that,” she instructs you, turning your head back to face him.

You lean in, goosebumps rising across your skin as a shiver tingles down your spine from his intent gaze, pupils dilated from lust and alcohol. Pressing your lips to his, you copy Kirby’s movements the best you can, kissing him sensuously. He kisses you back hungrily, as if he wished to devour you. When your tongue swipes at his bottom lip, he parts his lips just as you did for Kirby, and follows your lead as your tongue meets his. The makeout is messy, both of you new to the act, and Kirby takes the opportunity to move Charlie’s hands to your hips from where they rested on your thighs.

“Move her however you like,” she whispers in his ear, giving him the go-ahead to grind you on his crotch.

Charlie’s hands move your hips slowly, his own hips bucking up to meet yours as you whine into his mouth. He’s not quiet either, low moans escaping him at the lewd acts unfolding. Your nails scratch at the fabric of his flannel, supporting yourself with his shoulders as heat pools in your core. Despite the layers between the two of you, the friction is just enough for a wet patch to appear in your panties.

“Alright, calm down, greedy boy,” Kirby says, pulling you away from the kiss by your shoulders. “Wouldn’t want you finishing before the main event,” she teases, having heard the desperation in his voice as the two of you began to get lost in pleasure.

“Be nice,” you tell her, the words slipping out without thought.

“You want me to be nice?” She asks, her mouth stretching into a devious smile. “Come here,” she says, scooting to the edge of the couch, back to the armrest, where she sat when she first arrived.

You make your way towards her, letting her flip you around to face Charlie when you get close, your back to her chest like before. Her fingers play with the hem of your top, soft lips brushing against your skin as she leans forward, whispering in your ear to lift your arms. You do as she says, arms rising above your head, and she pulls up your top, exposing you to Charlie. He’s watching attentively, you can feel his stare hardening when your bra comes into view, fabric lifting over your head and being thrown to the side.

“Come closer, Charlie,” Kirby says, and he doesn’t need to be told twice, moving closer to the two of you, slotting himself between your legs. “Isn’t she pretty?” Kirby asks, fondling you over your bra, and your breath hitches from her actions.

“Yes, she’s very pretty,” he says, voice low and airy.

“Do you wanna play with her tits?” Kirby asks, pulling the cups of your bra down to expose your breasts. “Go ahead,” she says, when Charlie only responds with a nod.

His hands are surprisingly cold, a shock to your overheated skin. Kirby undoes your bra, sliding the straps down your shoulders and stripping you of the last garment on your upper body before placing her hands on top of Charlie’s. She guides his hands to be less gentle, and you watch through hooded lids as he lowers his head to your chest.

His tongue flicks over your pert nipples, testing for your reaction, continuing when he hears your soft whines. Kirby pulls his hair back, giving you a better view as he mouths at your tits, licking and sucking your hardened buds, skin shining from his spit. She pulls him away from you harshly by his hair, holding him in place.

“If you wanna get your dick wet, you need to prep her,” Kirby says, letting go of him. “Take these off for her,” she instructs, snapping the waistband of your shorts and panties against you.

You lift your hips so that he can pull your bottoms off, and he accidentally pulls you closer to him, your head sliding down to rest against Kirby’s stomach. She doesn’t say anything, watching him push your legs up to slide the last of your clothes off. You’ve got your thighs pressed together tightly, feeling vulnerable being the only one naked, but Kirby doesn’t allow that for long. She forces your legs apart, giving Charlie a clear view of your wet cunt.

“This,” she says, one hand trailing down to spread your folds with two fingers. “Is her clit, play with it right and you both get a prize,” she continues, rubbing tight circles on the bud, making you mewl as your hips buck for more. “Be patient,” Kirby warns you, pulling her fingers away to hold your hips down, ignoring the whimper you let out from the loss of friction.

Charlie’s fingers replace Kirby’s, messy circles leaving you breathless as you moan quietly. Eyes screwed shut in pleasure, you don’t see him moving down until his mouth meets your core. He licks a broad stripe from your hole to your clit, sucking the bud experimentally between his lips. You’re left keening from his actions, Kirby’s hands keeping your thighs from shutting around his head and hips rolling for more.

“Good boy,” Kirby coos from behind you, watching Charlie eat your pussy like a man starved. What he lacks in experience, he makes up for in enthusiasm. “Now stretch her hole with your fingers,” Kirby instructs, ignoring your hands gripping the wrist of her hand holding your hips down.

Charlie slides a finger in tentatively, stroking your walls gently. You’re a whiny mess, begging for more, sweet voice echoing through the room. He slips another finger in, your tight walls sucking him in greedily. His thick fingers prod deep inside you, massaging a spot that has your stomach twisting in pleasure.

“Charlie,” you moan his name, breathing heavy as he fucks you open with his fingers, face flushing in embarrassment when you hear your pussy squelching lewdly.

“Is he making you feel good?” Kirby asks, and you nod quickly, thighs trembling as she holds your legs open. “Is he doing a good job?” She asks, enjoying the way you struggle to muster even a non-verbal response as you do your best to nod. “No, use your words, hon. Tell him how good he’s making you feel, how good of a job he’s doing,” she says, watching your glossy eyes meet Charlie’s.

“Feels so good, Charlie,” you say between ragged breaths, mewling when he thrusts his fingers harder. “You’re doing such a good job!” You cry, ears ringing and gripping Kirby’s arm tighter as you begin to teeter over the edge.

“Stop,” Kirby says, and you whine at the empty feeling when Charlie pulls his fingers out, your orgasm ruined. “Shh, don’t worry, love. You’ll get to come,” she reassures you, massaging your thighs. “Take your clothes off, Charlie,” she instructs him, and he wastes no time stripping.

“I don’t have a condom,” he says, down to his boxers, slowly moving back to where he was between your legs.

“You don’t need one, you’re both virgins and she’s on the pill,” Kirby says, pushing him to sit back to cushion, moving you onto his lap.

Your thighs shake when you straddle him this time, nothing separating the two of you now. His dick is pretty, pale with a pink, almost red, tip, shiny from leaking pre. He’s got a protruding vein on the underside, you lick your lips wishing you could trace it instead, a trimmed dark patch of curls trailing up.

“Spit,” Kirby says, interrupting your thoughts, holding your hand up to your mouth. “Good girl,” she praises you when you let your saliva dribble into the palm of your hand. “You’re lucky,” Kirby says to you, wrapping your hand around Charlie’s dick. “To have such a pretty cock as your first,” she finishes, pumping your fist leisurely around him.

The sight of Charlie is sinful, almost pornographic moans slipping past kiss-swollen lips. His hair is a little messy from Kirby’s rough handling, blue eyes glistening as he watches Kirby move your hand around him, hips desperately meeting yours for more. But Kirby reminds him who’s in charge, hand holding him in place just as she did you before stopping your movements altogether.

“Now sit,” Kirby says, pulling your hips up and lining him up with your entrance.

Charlie’s hands hold onto your hips as you sink further down, thick head stretching your hole as you lower. It’s not as painful as so many of your friends had said when they told you about their first time, moreso uncomfortable as his shaft stretches you wider than his fingers prepared you for. Your mouth is open in a silent cry, gravity forcing you further down and it feels like you’re being split apart.

“Are you okay?” Charlie asks when you’re fully seated, hands kneading your hips comfortingly.

“Yeah,” you answer, getting used to the full feeling, gaze shifting to Kirby’s, a question in your eyes.

“Ride him,” Kirby says, hands on top of Charlie’s, guiding you up and down his cock.

Your hands find themselves on his shoulders, stabilizing yourself as you’re bounced on his lap. You moan wantonly as the two of you move together, pleasure zinging through your bodies each time your hips slam down. Kirby removes her hands from Charlie’s, one instead softly tracing across your lower back as you lose yourself, trembling as he thrusts up to meet your movements.

A string of expletives leave his mouth, a whispered groan as he no doubt nears his release. It’s cute, Kirby thinks, how desperate the two of you are to finish. You hide your face in the space where his neck meets his shoulder, hands tugging at his hair as your hips struggle to keep up with his punishing pace, moaning incoherently into his skin.

But Kirby can’t have that, so she sneaks a hand between your bodies, rubbing frantic circles on your clit. Your whole body tenses up, taut like a string, biting into Charlie’s shoulder to muffle your wail as your release sprays against his stomach and thighs. He fucks you through it, despite your walls tightening to push him out, hips jerking as he pulls you down one last time, coming inside you.

Kirby is your best friend, but even in her drunken state she can recognize that maybe that’s not a good enough excuse for what she did tonight. Driving you into Charlie’s arms just because she doesn’t have the balls to admit she’s in love with you is somehow worse than Charlie’s misdirection strategy. But that’s a problem for hungover Kirby, she thinks.

759 notes · View notes