#and i remembered it today while looking at said pic on the wall

[bitchslapblastoids]

thinking of when a beloved moot reblogged a 100k-note meme post that I’d never seen before that happened to center around a picture of my beautiful brilliant dead ex gf who I still love with every fiber of my being and who I had just finished putting a picture of up on my bedroom wall and then I pulled open tumblr and there was her face on my dashboard of all places and she is Dead you see which means having novel experiences involving her isn’t a thing that exists anymore and my tumblr is also wholly separate from my irl life and so seeing her on here in a moot’s reblog was probably one of the top five most surreal disorienting moments of my life

[bluesidez]

Gym Rat Miguel Part 15

content warning: more angst, mentions of food, mentions of underage drinking and recreational drug use, some suggestive convos but nothing too crazy

word count: 6.4k (@slushycoookie thee wife, thee beta 🩵)

Prev | Next ✩°｡ ⋆⸜ 🎧✮ Masterlist

“Does it show anything different?”

“Will you give me a second?”

GymRat!Miguel who was currently sitting at his desk, bouncing his leg while he waited for Tempest to tell him something good.

“It’s honestly looking like the same thing from last night. And the week before. And the week before that,” she deadpans through the phone.

Miguel turned and pressed his lips to his palm.

His call list was a constant cycle between his friends back home and Gabriel, but mostly Tempest, who has taken the role of checking for any updates from you online.

So far, all he’s gotten out of this was pain. You’ve completely removed anything that involved him from your pages. No anniversary pics, no highlights, no emojis in your bio to refer to him. From how Tempest put it, this was a huge deal.

“Look,” Miguel slumped as he geared himself up to listen to the same speech she’d been repeating. “I know you don’t want to hear this- don’t make that face! - but I think it’s time to give up or try something new.”

“It’s been forever.”

“If your definition of forever is a little over two weeks, then sure!”

“I just thought that,” he paused, mulling over the words in his head.

“That she would bend at your will? You’re cute, but not that cute.”

“No, that’s not- Temp,” Miguel whined. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

She snorted, “Uh huh. Which is why we’re stalking her page like weirdos.”

“If the roles were flipped, I would be doing the same for you. I have done the same for you.”

“Touché.”

Miguel remembered Tempest spiraling over girls she thought was the one, the two of them huddled up over the phone watching as they all moved onto the next.

He sat beside her and reminded himself never to get this way. He perked up like a flower soaking up the sun every time there was an inch of hope, which truly rivaled how Tempest acted.

“I was just thinking that today would be different. Maybe she would think about me today.”

The thought sits in the air, Tempest’s face shifting to one of sad understanding.

“Not trying to feed your delusions, but maybe she hasn’t stopped thinking about you.”

Miguel looked at the screen, a tiny bit optimistic.

“But in all fairness, I wouldn’t want anyone on my page who I thought committed one of the most cruel offenses. I would want to forget everything. You have to see this from her side too.”

Tempest was right, a common state when it came to their friendship. It didn’t stop that ugly rust of selfishness that crowded his heart.

He feels like he’s crying out for you, and you don’t care. A year of being together meant nothing to you.

Saying that out loud was insane, though. It didn’t align with how hurt you looked.

So, he’s been internally fighting the feeling, going from understanding to upset and back again.

“Have you talked to Xina at all?”

“She’s only keeping our conversations about school. And acting like nothing happened.”

“She’s probably embarrassed,” Tempest said. “She got caught this time and doesn’t know what to do.”

“Apologizing could be a start.”

“And that requires admitting she was wrong in the first place, so if you get that, let me know so I can mark the day. I’ll even make a t-shirt.”

The sigh that left Miguel was strong enough to irritate Tempest’s speakers.

He wanted to talk to her about the situation again, but it was like talking with a brick wall. It reminded him of when he snapped at her for constantly hitting him when they were younger. Looking back, they were just kids, and she probably didn’t mean anything by it. The red tint and angry pout on her face as she slid him her chocolate milk as an apology stuck with him.

“Why do you want an apology anyway? Or, why do you expect one?”

Miguel wasn’t sure himself. Xina was his childhood best friend, someone with whom he spent a lot of time and shared secrets. There were sweet memories and joyful moments.

It sucks to see her act so different.

“I think,” Miguel paused, looking off through his dorm window. “I think that-”

“Oh my god, she just posted.”

Miguel almost dropped his phone while he switched back to the messages app.

“What is it? What is it?”

“It is,” she dragged out her i’s. The sound of Tempest screenshotting and tapping away at her phone was like rapid fire. “An event, I think?”

“What event? You aren’t sending the pictures fast enough.”

“I already pressed send! Not my fault I don’t have high-speed internet.”

“Tell your cousin to stop fucking hogging it.”

“Shut up and watch the screen.”

His eyes dart across the screen as he waits for the screenshare to load.

Your account comes up, still intact. Miguel takes in everything like he did back when he first met you.

There were new posts about the sculptures you made in class and food from a new café. There’s also a glimpse of you smiling, and he feels like he’s ready to erupt.

Tempest refreshed your page again.

“This is so against girl code.”

“You haven’t even talked with her before.”

“How would you know?”

“Temp.”

“Right, sorry.”

She taps your story, and a flyer comes up.

“A Halloween-themed festival night?” Miguel says as the story disappears.

“Sounds fun!”

“I’m going to go. Put the story back up again.”

Tempest side-eyed him as best as she could, “Uh, maybe let’s not.”

“Why can’t I? I’m a member of the student body.”

“Do you usually go to these things?”

“No,” Miguel slowed his words. “But I could now? Maybe she won’t even be there.”

“And if she is? Wouldn’t it seem like you’re stalking her?”

He thinks about the many times he’s lingered around the art building, walked by your favorite spot on campus, and stared at corners of the library that you loved to see if you would be there.

“No?”

“Doubtful.”

“I just need to see her in person.”

GymRat!Miguel who doesn’t stop thinking about whether or not you’ll be at the festival.

If he doesn’t see you, he’ll be disappointed, but the panic clawing at his throat won’t shift to his mind.

If he does see you, he’ll be like a fish out of water. Floundering, lost, and begging his lungs to gain its necessities.

He just hopes that going is the right decision.

GymRat!Miguel who goes to his robotics club meetup the next day.

There’s no competition coming up, but the department wanted to revise a moving metal skeleton for Halloween weekend.

“You look like shit.”

“Thanks, Margo. I feel like it, too.”

She pulled his cheek out and made baby noises out of sympathy before Miguel swatted them away.

“Still no luck with your ex? Or is that joint giving you trouble?” she snickered at his sloppy attempt at connecting moving parts.

“Uh, no and yes.”

Aaron peeked up from his station and looked over like a beaver.

“I-it’s not because of what I said, right?”

Margo made a line with her mouth as if to say 'get a load of this guy'.

“No, Aaron,” Miguel mumbled.

“Yeah, Aaron, stop being nosy and get back to work,” Margo joked.

He snapped his welder’s mask back down like a dork and returned to sawing something, sparks flying past him.

Margo looks down at Miguel’s work.

“Well, I hope you can get her back soon because you need to work on your anatomy. Those bones don’t go together at all.”

He looks to a femur and a humerus connected with the sheer will of his clouded mind.

He missed when you attached sticky notes to his body for practice. The prize for getting the different parts of his body correct being kisses. You would laugh at his mistake but give a peck on the lips anyway. His arms were one of your favorite places to put your star-shaped stickers on, too.

“I didn’t mean for you to get even sadder,” Margo snapped him out of the memory.

“It’s fine. My fault.”

Margo shifted her weight as she started to take apart his mistake, “It’ll get better, Miguel. I’m sure of it.”

GymRat!Miguel who sits across from Tyler at one of the uppity restaurants in town. The lights are dim, as if the people eating here are all hiding from something.

“How’s school?” Tyler asked, clothes still managing to glow despite the one warm lamp above the table. He thanks the waitress for refilling his water glass. “Made any new friends? Connections?”

The age-old awkward feeling of trying to concisely describe his growing adult life was at the top of his mind.

“It’s going well,” was always the easiest answer. Simple and open-ended.

Of course, Tyler took this as a sign to delve further.

“Your mother told me you’re taking up game programming this semester. Do you like the feel of that class?”

An ice cube floated to the top of Miguel’s glass.

“I was enjoying it at first, now I’m sort of ready for it to end.”

Tyler cleared his throat, hand covering the frown on his face.

“Ah, well, some people just like the end result, I suppose,” he refolds a napkin, the reflection from his watch panning across the tablecloth. “What about your girlfriend? How is she? Perhaps, you have some new pieces of her’s to show me. My colleagues love the one in the entryway.”

The waiter placed a filet mignon in front of Miguel and bluefin tuna across from him. Tyler moved to tuck the same napkin into his crisp button down.

“I’m not sure.”

Tyler pauses as a slice of fish dangles from his fork.

Miguel is still cutting into the meat unnecessarily, knife scrapping against the plate.

“Son, this cut of meat is like butter,” Tyler said, taking the knife from him and putting it back on its napkin.

A twitch at the corner of his lips almost aligned with Tyler’s. The man racked his brain for the memories of his first son coming home with a similar expression.

He chewed and swallowed his fish stacked with cucumbers and cilantro.

“As you know, I am not the best when it comes to relationships. Nancy and I have had quite the uphill battle. However, I believe I am well-versed in the field of compromise. Should I reach out to her for you?”

It was a long shot, and by the growing shadows on his son’s face, Tyler suspected that his suggestion was a poor one.

“What will that do? Other than show her that I can’t handle my own problems.”

“Surely, you two can work it out. She was lovely, truly,” Tyler frets, afraid he’s made Miguel even more upset.

He just starts to eat, mind elsewhere.

Tyler wondered if he should have ordered some wine.

“When you found out Nancy cheated on you, what did you do?”

Lemon juice from his dish hit his throat right as he swallowed, a hand banging on his chest as he coughed.

“I, uh,” two gulps of water were taken from the glass Miguel handed him. “Well. The fruit of that labor is in front of me.”

“Obviously,” Miguel’s shoulders dropped and Tyler grimaced again. Curse his silly statements. “I meant, how did you feel? What were your initial thoughts?”

“I remember being angry. Here laid the mother of my only child with a much younger and, honestly, less fortunate man. I thought I was foolish to think that my genuine love or money could keep someone.”

Miguel pushed around an asparagus on his plate, “So there was a betrayal. A pain you couldn’t describe.”

“Exactly. For me, that came afterwards. I’m a prideful man. If one thing does not satisfy me, I simply find something that does.”

“And that thing just happened to be my mother?”

“Ah, if you put it like that, it’s far too harsh,” Tyler fixes a cuff. “Your mother provided me a place of warmth, solitude, and love for a short time. It’s something I’ll never forget. I regret the hurt Nancy and I inflicted on each other, but I don’t regret you.”

Tyler watches and waits for a response. His son shifts in his seat and rolls his neck, eyes never leaving his plate.

“Has she,” Tyler tilts his head, “hurt you this way?”

“No, but I broke her trust.”

“You cheated?”

“Never. But we have a lot to work on.”

Tyler might order some bourbon tonight to drink in place of his son and the mopey demeanor.

“I’m all ears whenever you need me. But if there is as much love between you two as I saw earlier this year, then you’re sure to gain in back. That doesn’t go away.”

Miguel takes a deep breath and Tyler believes that some of the shadows on his face disappear.

The meal continued, and the people around them continued their quiet chatter.

“Could you do me a favor?” Miguel asks as they both clean their plates.

Tyler lights up, “Anything.”

“Don’t tell my mom about this?”

Tyler thinks back to the unpleasant things Conchata had to say about her son’s girlfriend and quietly agrees that it’s for the best of she’s out of the loop.

“Your secret’s safe with me.”

GymRat!Miguel who walks up to the festival wearing one of the shirts you gave him for his birthday.

It was an impulsive decision because now that he’s here, he’s wondering if seeing it on him will upset you.

The festival is partially outside and inside, a mix of games, concessions, and small rides for students to enjoy.

He walked under the pumpkin and bat-shaped balloons, and fake smoke from a cauldron moved past him.

It smelled like sour candy apples, and marshmallows. Booths were all around the campus grass. He walked past them slowly, not interested but searching for something.

The turnout was nice for a night when he figured people would be out partying. There were a lot of students walking in and out.

A game caught his eye as he neared the entrance to the student center. It’s a Shoot Out booth with the ducks replaced with black cats and the gun switched to tiny ghost bean bags to match the theme. There’s a giant white bunny with an X for lips, a blue dress, and a bow on its ear.

It’s so you that he couldn’t resist.

The student volunteer told him he had three chances this round to knock out twenty cats for the bunny.

“Everyone’s been gunning for it, but this game is pretty hard!”

Miguel nodded in understanding.

If he focused enough, the bunny could be his.

On his first try, he knocked out thirteen cats, much to the volunteer’s surprise.

“Woah! You’re pretty good! Did you wanna grab anything from this tier?”

There was student association merch and a shirt with the college logo.

Miguel rolled his sleeves up, “No, I’m going to try for the plushie again.”

The second time, he knocked down the last cat with just a few seconds left on the timer.

The girl running the booth smiled with her eyebrows nearly merging to the top of her head in shock.

“I-I guess that means you win the bunny!”

She handed it to him with a lull of awe.

He muttered a quiet thanks and turned towards the doors with fake spiderwebs dangling off them.

There was music, a sign to go to a haunted hallway, and even more tables with food.

He wonders if you would have gotten scared walking through scary attractions with him. You would probably hold his hand as tight as he’s holding the belly of this rabbit.

Scanning the room, he doesn’t catch a glimpse of you anywhere.

Looking down at the little white face in his hands, he started to think he wasted the hour or so he’d been here.

Walking to the table of free cookies, he took a frosted Frankenstein in his hand and bit a bolt off.

He felt like a lost kid as he floated from table to table to stall.

Maybe he should give up. You were probably promoting this event for Jess.

GymRat!Miguel who was finishing off his fifth mummy-in-a-blanket when he saw you leaving the haunted hallway.

The first thing he noticed is the long, blue cardigan falling off your shoulders. The end of it is trailing after you as you run out.

There’s a grin on your face and an air in your steps, something he missed seeing.

The next thing he noticed was that you weren’t wearing your necklace anymore.

Then a hand pulled it up on your shoulders and slid back down your arm.

A guy is standing next to you and laughing as if you’ll give him money for doing so.

He’s tall. He looks like he could be built, too.

It’s like a slap in the face, worse than when you pushed him away.

Looking down, Miguel saw your hand in his, clinging tight. You smile at the guy and reach up to get something out of his hair.

Miguel thinks that there was nothing wrong with his hair. There was nothing to smile about either.

The guy’s hands touch you in places where Miguel has embraced. His fingers were covering the same neck he’d put his head in. His thumbs ran over the apples of your cheeks, the same ones that used to crowd his lips.

You lean into the guy’s chest and say something that he can’t hear.

His stomach makes an angry lurch and he feels that orange being shift to a green one. It’s clawing at him, pulling at his mind.

This wasn’t how today was supposed to end. You weren’t supposed to cling to some random guy. You weren’t supposed to be with someone else.

Miguel turns when he leans down towards you, chest burning. What he didn’t see was not true to him. What he didn’t know was not reality.

GymRat!Miguel stormed out of the building, and images of you happy with someone else faded onto the inside of his eyelids.

The material of his sweater was scratching against his skin as he made his way back to the festival entrance.

Everything was too much. The people were too loud, the lamps were too bright, and the music playing over the speakers sucked.

His nose started to twitch and he wondered why did festival food have so much damn sugar.

Someone nearly hits the ground as he pushes past them, a confused noise hitting the air, but he doesn’t feel inclined to stop.

GymRat!Miguel who almost breaks free from what feels like a harmful joke when Xina spots him.

“Hey!” She ran over to him, leaves crunching against her boots. She’s wearing the varsity jacket he bought her years ago. “Leaving already?”

“Yeah, I,” he stopped when he thought he heard your laugh somewhere deep in the festival. “I’m not feeling too good. Think I’m gonna go back to my dorm.”

“Oh, do you have a fever? The weather did drop out of nowhere,” her hand lifted, fingers twitching like she wanted to see for herself.

She hesitates, scared he’ll blow away.

When her fingers press into his neck, he just wants to cry. It felt like when she caught him crying under the trees on the playground or when he’d show up at his grandma’s house with a chubby face full of tears.

He covers her hand for a second, just one, then pushes it away.

If he talks about it, he’ll break into pieces.

“Here,” he shoved the bunny into her hands. The dress is wrinkled, and the bow is a bit lopsided.

Xina’s eyes grow as sees it. The smile on her lips is familiar, “Thank you. I love it.”

Her mouth opens as if she wants to say more, but Miguel starts first.

“Glad you like it. I’ll see you later?”

“Yeah, ok. Get back safe, Hare-Hare.”

He heads towards his building empty-handed.

GymRat!Miguel who is in denial.

He’s moved past his brain making up you being at the Halloween festival and was now choosing to believe that it was a friend.

The tiny Gabriel on his shoulder was telling him that you had moved on. You had a new boyfriend, so he needed to move on as well—or stop moping about you.

He was choosing to ignore him for now.

It’s been another week since he saw you. Thanksgiving was on its way and he hasn’t been focused in a single class.

At a time when he really needed Tempest to update him, she told him to step back and recenter himself. Something about him not being level-headed.

He didn’t care.

The point of no return was truly here as he stood in front of the elevator in the art building.

A bag of food was sweating in his palm, and the two drinks were seeping into his hoodie, but he would regret it forever if he didn’t try talking to you again before the semester was over.

He’s doing something he told himself he wouldn’t do, but he couldn’t help that he still knew your schedule by heart. Taking a chance on you sticking around for studio hours was all that he had.

GymRat!Miguel who got to the right floor and was happy to see a student leaving the room.

The lights in the hallway were still on and music came from down the hall.

Miguel walked down, peering in every door, leaving once he couldn’t see you or when the people inside gave him weird looks.

GymRat!Miguel who walks into the last studio in the hallway with quiet steps.

Your canvas is almost bigger than you, the top of it covering you as you moved your brush across it.

You had headphones on, star molds stuck on the sides of them.

Miguel sat the food down on the table, moving like a stealthy agent.

Your sleeves were rolled up to your elbows, yet paint was still on them despite your efforts. You looked tired, but god, you were still overwhelmingly gorgeous to him.

He stepped closer. Slowly, step by step, coming into your peripheral.

“Why are you here?”

Miguel paused mid-walk, face like a puppy who got caught.

He should have thought this through more.

“I wanted to see you,” he holds his hands before him. It’s not making him any smaller, but it brings a slight comfort. “Brought some food.”

“’M not hungry.”

An apology is his first instinct, but the sound of your stomach growling speaks for him.

You refuse to look at him, face warm.

“It’s your favorite. Come eat, please.”

Taking off your headphones, you sighed.

“Fine.”

GymRat!Miguel who has to pinch himself to stop staring at you.

You weren’t just tired, you were exhausted. Your eyes drooped as you bit into your fries, and your movements were sluggish.

You didn’t ask for his extra sauce like you usually did. You didn’t even try to steal his fries.

“How have you been?” he asks instead of digging himself further into the sad hole of his heart.

Your eyes flick at him over your glasses and back to your food.

“Really, Miguel?”

“Y-yes? I’m always wondering how you are.”

“Then you should know how I’ve been already, then.”

Miguel faltered.

“You’re not very subtle, you know? I could see you pacing back and forth around campus.”

“Oh,” he slurped his drink nervously.

“And I saw you at the festival, too.”

He almost punctured the styrofoam in his hand.

“So, you’ve been fine is what you’re telling me. I’m gla-” he choked on the words. “I see you’ve…met someone.”

“He was just a friend. You could have said ‘hi’ then, if you really wanted to speak with me.”

“Didn’t look like a friend,” left Miguel’s mouth before he could stop it.

You hummed, eyebrows raised, and a click sound from your teeth. “Oh, but now do you see how that feels?” You started to untie your apron.

“I didn’t mean for that to come out in that way. I came here to just talk.”

“About what? How you didn’t actually cheat on me? How you didn’t mean for any of this to happen? How you’re sorry you got caught?”

He bit his tongue.

That was almost what he wanted to say.

“About us,” he said as you rolled your eyes. “I still love you, and it’s killing me not to be with you. This is as plain and simple as I can say it. I’ll say it over and over and over again until you hear me.”

“Miguel,” your voice puffed out, weary and broken, “you cheated on me with your best friend and now you’re here trying to spin this and pull me back. I-I have dignity. As much as I want to pretend like what’s been happening this semester is meaningless, I can’t.”

“And I’m telling you that I would never do that you. Not in a million years, not in this lifetime, would I ever purposely hurt you in that way. Baby, please. Listen to me!”

“I see the way you are with her,” your words fall after his. “I remember the texts. There is something there. I don’t know if I can compete with that and I’m not trying to. So, if you want to be with her, then do that, but leave me out of it.”

Miguel is quick to grab your hands as you try to turn away, “Fine. There is something there.”

You try to yank yourself from him again, the pain from October 13th filling you again, but his hands are faster this time.

“There’s a girl who used to threaten to beat me up if I didn’t defend myself against bullies. There’s a girl who used to trade collectible cards with me in secret because her parents didn’t allow her to obsess over junk, and the girls at school thought it was lame. There’s a trust built long over a decade that has been broken. I do care about her, as I would do with any friend, but you have to understand that I care about you, too.”

“Then why didn’t you show that?” you whispered, tears leaving your eyes. “It felt humiliating, Miguel. That night, I felt disgusting. Like you were just throwing me away. I kept thinking that you lied to me about everything, that you were indulging in something that you never really wanted.”

Miguel reached to hold your face, thumbs sliding your tears away, heart breaking.

“Lo siento, amor. Hm?” he wanted to take your pain away and place it onto himself if it meant that you didn’t talk like this. “It’s not true. What we have created is not some trial run. I love you so deeply, that I was going insane. Knowing that you thought otherwise is painful to hear. The buildup to that night is a misunderstanding. You have to know that.”

You take a breath, “How could I know?”

Miguel stared at your face and thought the same.

He’s been yelling trust, trust, trust and when he thinks back to your few interactions with Xina, it clicks that you truly had no foundation to trust.

“If I had just been better, you would have known.”

Like you said, Xina had walked all over him.

“So what now?” you asked, and pull your sweater over your fingers.

Miguel blinked, “I was hoping to start over? Restart?”

“I can’t,” you said immediately and Miguel tensed. “You entering my life has given me far more ups than downs, but when those downs come, they can be brutal.”

“So, you don’t want me to be your boyfriend, again?”

You shake your head and he felt like it was his turn to cry.

“I want action. Show me that something like this won’t happen again. We can sit here and tell each other promises until we’re blue in the face, but what do those promises mean if one person or thing can ruin it.”

“I’ll do that. I’ll do anything.”

You brush his hair back and wrap his arms around your waist to settle in this feeling. Your thumbs traveled from his hairline to curves of his ears down to his jaw. They rub circles into his skin, slow and rhythmic.

“Have you talked with Xina? Has she confessed to what you’re telling me she has done?”

He shakes his head softly, afraid to break the scene.

You laugh, small and quiet, then unwrap his arms from around you. You go back to your canvas and start to scrape at the glass of the taboret. Miguel was so in a trance, that almost didn’t notice the switch.

“I’m going to talk with her,” Miguel stated across the room.

You wave a hand in the air, unmoved.

He followed you as you go to the mineral spirits bucket to soak your brushes.

“Baby-“

“As far as I’m concerned, you shouldn’t talk to me until whatever you two have going on is fixed. Don’t know who 'baby' is.”

You walk to the sink and turn the water on. Miguel was right behind you and grabbing the dish soap before you can.

“And I will talk to her,” Miguel sayid. You reach for the soap and he holds it out of your reach, petulant. “Baby.”

You give him an irritated look and pinch his neck. He makes a hurt noise and gives you the jug.

“Action. Miguel.”

GymRat!Miguel who waited until you’ve packed everything up.

He didn’t mean for this to turn into him teasing you, but he couldn’t help it. He was getting his fill while he still could.

“At least let me walk you back to your dorm,” Miguel sayid, picking up the wet paper towels you’ve been throwing at him.

“No, thanks. I have a date. I don’t need you changing up my energy.”

Miguel’s smile dropped.

“You do?”

“His name starts with an R, ends with an E. He’s super sweet. Sturdy.”

Reese? Reggie? Raye? Ronnie?

“I see,” Miguel’s heart plummets. “Your friend wasn’t just that.”

“Mm-hm. We’re still testing the waters, but I don’t think he’ll disappoint me.”

Miguel didn’t know what to say. He was nothing but bold, though.

“Who���s to say that…guy won’t hurt you?”

Who’s to say that he would treat you better than Miguel?

You pull the straps of your back over your shoulders and Miguel wants to hold it for you.

A snicker leaves you, “Because he’s made of plastic and is designed of pleasure.”

“Oh.”

“Bye. Enjoy your Thanksgiving.”

Miguel stood and watched you go, wondering if this was progress.

GymRat!Miguel whose bedroom was filled with the chatter of his friends once more.

Friendsgiving was always fun.

GymRat!Miguel who thinks that Lyla is a terrible teammate.

“You’ve got be doing this on purpose,” Miguel groaned as Lyla’s Yoshi pumps the pedal incorrectly.

“I don’t know what you’s talking about!” Her giggles float across the room as saw Miguel get more and more frustrated.

Winston and Tempest were laser-focused, their Monty Mole and Peach following a stead 1-2 rhythm to get their cart across the track.

“Lyla!” Miguel yells as her Yoshi stumbles back. “You’re selling me. You want me to lose.”

The mini-game ends with Tempest and Winston high-fiving each other and Miguel yelling at Bowser to pick his head up.

GymRat!Miguel who laughed as he watched Winston reenact his band director, nearly breaking his neck.

“I’ve never seen a bald man somersault on grass until that day.”

GymRat!Miguel who, full off of food and peach cobbler that Tempest made, stared at the bag of gummies that she placed in the middle of their huddle.

“We can just try this tonight. We’re safe with each other,” Tempest whispered.

“You guys are horrible role models,” Miguel said.

“I don’t know. That blue one is speaking to me. It reminds me of Scooby Doo,” Winston mumbled.

Lyla motioned across one, “Maybe we can cut it in half.”

“That defeats the purpose though. These barely have anything in them,” Tempest complained.

“Says you,” Miguel quipped. “You just called me about a cherry bong the other night.”

“Ok, but wasn’t it cute?”

GymRat!Miguel who nearly jumped out his skin when his door slams open.

Everyone except him shoves their gummy in their mouth with lightening speed. Miguel just holds his awkwardly as he turns to see him mom standing in the doorway.

“Yeah, ma?” he says. He chose to ignore Winston who is over exaggerating, lips smacking.

“Mijo! I have a surprise for you guys!”

GymRat!Miguel who sat awkwardly on his rug, running his wrapped gummy in his palm.

Lyla was practically in Tempest’s lap, tapping at her phone. Tempest is looking around their circle expectantly.

Winston started tapping a fast beat on his arm.

Miguel is looking everywhere except in front of him where Xina was sitting with her chin tucked into her knees.

“It’s good to see you again,” Winston said, forever the peacemaker.

Xina relaxed a bit, “You guys, too. I’ve missed this.”

Miguel saw Tempest softening up a bit at Xina’s words.

“When is stuff gonna hit?” Lyla barks out to which Tempest elbows her.

Xina cleared her throat, “Actually can we talk, Miguel?”

“Yeah, shoot.”

Xina looked around them, “Alone?”

GymRat!Miguel who was standing across from Xina in the office-turned-bedroom that his parents barely used.

“Did my mom invite you?” Miguel asked.

“Actually, Tempest did.”

Miguel raises his eyebrows and nods. He didn’t expect that but he’s not mad at it.

Xina was antsy, arms hiding themselves in the sleeves folded across her body. Miguel stayed quiet.

“So, things between us haven’t been exactly smooth sailing lately.”

“That’s one way to put it,” Miguel looked down at the shark slippers you bought him last year.

“And I have some things that I want to explain to you.”

Miguel raised his eyes expectantly. Xina was mirroring his posture, but her face looked uncomfortable, conflicted.

Her eyes flicker over his before she covered her face and huffs, “这太难了.” (This is so hard.)

“What’s hard?” Miguel asks, pulling together the few times Xina taught him anything. He sat down, hoping it would relax her more.

Her hands drop as she blinks at the ceiling, “Everything. When it comes to you, everything just gets overwhelming.”

“As in?”

She looked at him in disbelief, “As in I’m doing silly shit, again.”

A pause in her words comes as they hear laughter from down the hall.

“Last year was so surreal. I did everything right. My mailbox was full of acceptance letters. My mom finally genuinely smiled at me for the first time in what felt like years. I moved so far away from my parents that I felt like that string that kept me attached to them had broken. I had fun. I went to my first party and got so drunk that when I woke up, I was on the porch of a frat. I made friends who could relate to me more than anyone else. I made acquaintances who could have never gotten into that school without their parents painting the campus with money. Still, I worked my ass off and got kicked out because one of them hid drugs under my seat.”

Miguel’s breath hitched, but Xina continued.

“It was my word against kids whose parents could have the school shut down within minutes. My dad was so angry at me that he pretended like I wasn’t in his home. And my mom just,” her leg started to bounce. “She helped me pack up some things and sent me to go live with my aunt for the summer. It wasn’t until she dropped me off at the airport that whispered to me that she loved me. That she was proud of me. That it was ok to make mistakes.”

“I cried like a baby for half of the flight. And it wasn’t until I got to customs that I realized that I should have called you. You always knew what to tell me no matter what the situation was and I just disappeared. Everything came back tenfold and I missed you so much. So when I saw you again, it was like I fell back into my old habits. I thought ‘I’m finally going to do it!’ but would chicken out and relieve that stress. I was kind of hoping that my tipsy self would have more confidence.”

“Because a drunk tongue speaks a sober mind?” Miguel hummed.

Xina finally laughed, “Are you 40 or something? Yeah. Exactly.”

Miguel blinked and looked up at her, “So tell me what your sober mind wants to say, Xina.”

Xina’s eyes lowered, “That I. I feel like I lose myself when I’m around you. It’s why I acted the way I did. It’s why I overstepped.”

His heart picked up as he registered her words.

“I like you so much, Miguel. More than I can bear. More than I’d like to admit. More than a friend.”

dividers by: @adornedwithlight 🩵

a/n: Please don't be mad at me. 😵‍💫 Also please watch your tone in the comments. 🤠 Be very mindful, very demure.

The taglist is full, so if you would like to be informed of future updates, check my blog occasionally (💀) or subscribe to the story on AO3!

taglist: @ghost-lantern @miguelhugger2099 @emelie-s-h @lake-lili

@obsessed-with-miguels-ass @scaleniusrm @superiorspiderass @lexluvswriting

@flordelalunas @froggygal @vmpz8sauceee @famouscattale @nixinluv02

@jada-of-arcadia @spideykid22 @what-the-jams @julia4today @tojishugetiddies

@samjinxx @sleeklyalisha @the-pan-liquid @prongs-lover @kikaaauu

@urlocallocachica @wanderlustingcastaway @peachey-pie @ch3rry-bl1ss @girl-of-multi-fandoms

@love-kha1 @manlikemilesmyguy @sillysillygoofygoose @monticellohoe @kodzuminx

@lauraolar14 @bruhhvv @m4dyy @farrowroyale @cl3stevu

@ohara-whore @muneca-lemon-steppa @alexa4040 @amelialysm @snails-doodles22

@questionable-behaviour @babygotl01292003 @calig0sto @tatatida @haveclayeveryday

@corpsenightmarebride @earth2fae @maiyart @feegrh32 @darkstarlight82

@ladysimp @sonicbutbutter @relatednative @slowlyshycomputer @nuetralcolorsenthusiast

@maxlinpetersen @beyondstarlight @Madeofstar-dust @leoeloo @just-simpins-blog

@poisamm @thequeenreaders @tinybirdhidedout @aly29a2001 @mimi-sanisanidiot

@snakelore @pigeonmama @darkstalight82 @prettygirleli @koikohib

@jayskookies @xo-zeze @planetxella @thedevax @stressed-cherry

[annwrites]

⸻ exactly what he needs. part six. ⸻

· pairing: nate jacobs x fem!reader · type: part of a series · summary: nate brings you breakfast to help w/ your hangover & then you have your first time. · tw: eating, lying, major manipulative move on nate’s part, sex · word count: 4,577 · a/n: i messed up a few posts ago when i put that the writing on the back of the pic that nate stole said ‘05. he was born in 2001. so, they, for one, wouldn’t have been in kindergarten yet, and, for two, wouldn’t have been 7-8 yrs old. i was thinking about myself, who was born in ‘98 when doing that math. please ignore lol.

When you wake, your headache has dissipated marginally. Nate’s strong, warm body is still wound around yours, and the TV against the wall is on low volume, some action movie playing.

You squeeze your eyes shut for a moment, wishing you could remember the events of last night.

You’d had strange dreams. You’d been in the bathroom with Cassie again, and had woken with a jolt at one point at the sound of something shattering, someone trying to beat down the door, screaming your name. You’d felt trapped in there, you and Cassie staring at each other in terror. Only when the door opened did you hear the sound of glass breaking and wake.

You’d fallen back asleep again after that and had dreams of you and Nate in the pool. You’d been naked—skinny dipping—and only when you had lifted your head from his shoulder to look at him, did his features shift into something menacing—something terrifying—and he shoved your head under the water.

You were drowning.

Suffocating.

You couldn’t breathe.

You’d woken again, heart pounding, but relaxed at the feeling of his arms around you, knowing you were safe.

You told yourself the bad dreams were just a result of the alcohol. Nothing more.

You slowly sit up, Nate’s hand sliding down your side, onto your bare thigh. He sits up with you, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Morning, angel.”

You press a small kiss to his nose, making him smile before you get up, padding into the bathroom, softly shutting the door behind you.

Once you’ve relieved yourself, you hear a light knock on the door. “Are you okay, do you need my help?”

“No, thank you. I just need a few minutes.”

He hesitates for a moment before finally stepping away.

Once you’ve showered, brushed your teeth—thoroughly—and ripped through the tangles in your hair, do you emerge from his bathroom with a towel wrapped around you.

You find him lying back on the bed, eyes now on you, watching as you select a plain gray t-shirt from his closet, sliding it onto your torso.

You then walk over to the bed, climbing into his lap, resting your head against his shoulder while he holds you.

“How do you feel?” He asks, lips against your hair.

You shrug. “A little better.”

He slips one of his hands under the shirt, rubbing up and down against your bare back. “Are you hungry?”

You groan. “I don’t know if eating is a good idea.”

He chuckles. “It’ll help soak up whatever alcohol is left in your system. And your stomach is on empty right now.”

He gently moves you off of him, deciding for you.

“Just stay up here and relax.” He hands you the TV remote. “You can watch whatever you like. I’ll go make you something to eat.”

He pulls on a pair of shorts and a white t-shirt before stepping over to the door. He turns back to you after opening it. “Any special requests?”

You shake your head. “Whatever you want to make is fine. Thank you,” you say with a sweet smile.

He nods, heading downstairs.

You lie back on his bed, opening Netflix to find something more preferable to your tastes to watch.

When Nate enters the kitchen, his mom is just heading in from outside, hair tied back as she removes her gardening hat, tossing it onto the kitchen island.

“Someone is a late riser today.”

He walks over to the fridge, pulling out a bottle of Powerade. “Y/N is.” He seats himself at the island, unscrewing the lid. “Hungover.”

Her eyes widen. “Getting her drunk already, sweetie? Or is that just the way she is?”

She hopes not. She’d thought her a good girl.

He rolls his eyes, taking a drink. “I fucked up. Took her to a party last night that someone like her had no business being at in the first place.”

She feels relieved to hear it.

She pulls the Britta out of the fridge, retrieving a glass and pouring. “Trying to corrupt her already, huh?”

He slams his bottle down. “Jesus fucking Christ, why am I always the villain?”

She puts the Britta away, raising her hands. “Jeez, sorry, don’t bite my head off. Just trying to joke with you.”

She takes a sip of her water. “Has she eaten yet?”

He shakes his head.

“Would you like for me to make her some lunch?”

He leans forward, forearms resting on the countertop. “I’d appreciate it.”

She turns around, retrieving a pan. “How does grilled cheese and tomato soup sound? Would she like that, or should I make something else?”

“That’s fine.”

Once Marsha has retrieved the required cookware and ingredients, she turns her back to him, facing the stove. “So, I know I’m about to be a mom, but bear with me.” She’s quiet for a moment and Nate braces himself for whatever nonsense might be about to come out of her mouth. “I know it’s still a little early, but: do you have feelings for her?”

He takes another drink. “Yes.”

She nods. “And does she have feelings for you?”

He thinks about how you’d had your naked body pressed to his all night for comfort and security. About the way you look at and touch him. “Yes.”

She smiles to herself.

“I don’t want you to think that I was eavesdropping, because I wasn’t,” his back immediately stiffens. “But I heard the two of you in the kitchen yesterday morning. The things she said to you.”

She stirs the tomato soup, glancing to him over her shoulder. “I really, really like this one, Nate. She’s good for you. I know I once said that I liked Cassie, too. But that was before I heard her ranting and raving in your room one night screaming about how crazy she is. Y/N seems…different. Mature, sweet, good-hearted, even…” She trails off for a moment. “Unless she turns out to be insane, too. I mean, clearly I know how to pick ‘em.”

She briefly wonders if he inherited his poor taste in romantic partners from her. Not that Cal is all bad. But sometimes…sometimes when she looks at him all she sees is a stranger.

Not the man she had once adored with her entire heart. Not the man who she sometimes spent entire weekends in her bed with as a teenager. Not the man she had married.

Not the man who she had made two children with.

“She’s nothing like Cassie. Honestly, she’s unlike anyone I’ve ever met.” He looks at the back of her head. “You do realize I’ve known her since kindergarten, right?”

Her brows furrow. “Really?”

“Mhm. We were just never really friends before now.”

She slides the sandwich onto a plate, then dumps the soup into a bowl.

“What changed?” She asks, retrieving a spoon and a napkin, setting it all onto a small portable tray, sliding it in front of him.

“I finally realized what I needed, instead of what I thought I wanted.”

When Nate returns to his room, you’re lying on the bed, pillow bunched up underneath your head, arms wrapped around it. Your left leg is bent far enough up that your pussy is on full display for him; your right leg stretched out straight as you watch the TV with interest. Some fantasy movie, of course, playing.

He kicks the door shut behind him and you sit up then, taking the tray from him once he’s at the side of the bed, with an appreciative smile.

He pushes some hair from your face with his hand, pressing a firm kiss to your forehead. “Just try not to get anything on the bed.”

You nod. “I won’t.”

He never eats in bed himself, the thought of rolling around in crumbs makes his skin crawl.

Before you take a bite of your sandwich, you look up to him. “Did…did you make this?”

He nods. “I’ve never cooked for anyone else before today.”

You feel warmth bloom in your chest at that. You smile shyly. “Between this and letting me drive your truck I’m starting to feel like a special exception.”

That’s the reason I did it, he thinks. He looks at you with a smile. “You are, baby.”

As you eat, Nate picks up his room, throwing your laundry and his both into his hamper, straightening up here and there, even if his room stays organized enough that it’s not really needed. But he hates any sort of disorderliness.

It was one of the first things he came to appreciate about you when it came to seeing your house: everything was clean and tidy and in its place.

He hates slovenly people.

Finally, he sits in his computer chair, leaning back, watching as you eat.

You take small bites, sipping at your soup, occasionally taking a drink of water.

“How is it?” He asks.

You nod, swallow, then reply. “Really good. It’s one of my favorites, actually. Thank you.”

He smiles. “You’re welcome. I just feel like shit for letting you get so loaded.”

You shake your head. “It’s not your fault. Don’t worry: I never plan to drink ever again,” you say with a small laugh.

He smirks. “That’s what we all say until the opportunity inevitably presents itself again.”

You take another sip of your soup, licking your lips. “Not me.”

Once you’ve finished eating, you stand, picking up the tray from his bed and heading to the door.

He stands as well. “I can get that.”

You smile. “It’s okay.” You shift from one foot to the other. “I was actually thinking… Since you’ve gone through my room, and I haven’t really looked around yours very much,” not that there seems to be much to it in terms of personalization to begin with, you think. “Maybe I can browse a bit when I come back up?”

Just the fucking opportunity I need, he thinks with excitement. “Yeah, sure.”

You head downstairs and he panickedly looks around his room. “Fuck, fuck where is it? Where the fuck did I put it?”

He throws himself on the floor, looking under his bed, which is spotless.

He stands, ready to pull his goddamn hair out from frustration, until his head jerks toward his hamper, which hasn’t been emptied in awhile. How the fuck could he have forgotten to take it out?

He digs through the dirty laundry, until he’s nearly reached the bottom and he wrenches out a pair of jeans, digging through all the pockets, until he finally finds it in the last one he looks in.

He quickly walks over to his desk, grabbing a roll of scotch tape and sticking the object to his bedroom mirror.

He then sits down, heart hammering, and he waits.

When you come back upstairs, you’re grateful no one had seen you wandering down to the kitchen in just one of Nate’s t-shirts…again.

You shut the door behind you and wander over to his bench press first, looking at the weights. You look back to him then, where he’s now sitting on the edge of his bed, watching you intently. “How many pounds do you normally lift?”

He nods toward the barbell. “That one is two-hundred and twenty pounds.”

You flush, liking that response. So strong, you think.

You sit down on it and position your legs under the leg lift and try to push…and fail miserably.

He looks at you with an amused smirk. “Having trouble?”

You push again and then promptly give up. If anything, it just makes heat pool between your legs when you think of how easy it had been for him to do it.

You stand then. “I was just warming up.”

He chuckles.

You walk over to his desktop setup. “Do you ever play games?”

Not that kind, he thinks. “Not really. I mostly use it for schoolwork.”

You nod, refraining from going through the cabinets to the side.

You then look at his fancy stereo system, then the basket beside it, which houses a couple footballs and a basketball.

You glance at the storage at the foot of his bed, which is full of Nikes, then come to stand in front of his dresser and look at him over your shoulder with a raised brow before opening the top drawer.

He smirks, watching you imitate how he looked through your top drawer yesterday.

And you find nothing of interest, just some boxers, briefs, socks, and some wife-beaters. You shut the drawer then.

You look at the picture of the F-16, which hangs behind his bed. “Is being a pilot something you sometimes think about?”

“My mom is the one who decorated in here.”

Explains the monogrammed pillows, you think.

Besides the photo and a jersey which hangs on the wall, you finally realize just how minimalist and non-personal his room really is. You wonder why there’s no knick-knacks or décor of any kind. Then again, he seems to be a bit of a neat-freak, and sometimes despising clutter comes with the territory.

You look at the mirror against the wall and your brows furrow.

You step over to it, pulling at the Polaroid stuck to it, taking a closer look.

And your heart stops.

The one personal thing he does have—the only thing—is a photo of the two of you from when you were little.

Tears sting your eyes. “Where…where did you get this?” You ask in a whisper.

“Found it a few months ago in a box of old stuff I had. Decided to hang it up. Honestly, I wasn’t even sure why I did. Just…I just like looking at it for some reason.”

You look at him.

“Maddy fucking hated it. Cassie acted jealous, even if we were only a few years old in it and we weren’t even talking at the time when she and I were…doing whatever the fuck we were doing.”

You look back down to the picture, turning it over, looking at the writing on the back, then looking at the picture again.

“Do…do you remember that day?”

He stays silent, hoping to fucking God if he does, you’ll continue, and give him some clue as to when it was taken exactly. So he can try and fill in blanks to pretend like it’s a day he could never forget.

You look at him.

“You do, too?” He asks.

You nod, looking at it. “It was the last day of kindergarten. And my birthday. My…” You swallow, throat tightening. “The bear on my bed was your gift to me.”

Nate’s jaw drops, just slightly. He didn’t remember any of it. And he’s sure the gift was most-likely selected by his mom, but it was the fact you’d kept it—something that had come from him so long ago—it meant…he’s not sure what it means. Just that whatever it is: it means a lot of it.

“I wasn’t sure if it looked familiar or not.”

You let out a teary laugh.

“The cake was good, though.” He adds, hoping there was a fucking cake.

“Ice cream. We got so messy.”

“Vanilla, right?”

Your heart melts that he remembers. “Yes.”

“Do you remember that we fed some to each other? Well, kind of shoved it in each other’s faces. After your mom cleaned us up, my dad took this picture.”

He comes to stand beside you. “Maybe it sounds stupid, but it was one of the best days of my life.”

You press the picture back against the mirror, then look up to him. “I-”

You stop, shutting your mouth. And then you do it. Say it. Because you mean it. “I love you.”

His heart swells with pride. He’d done it—it’d fucking worked. And you’d believed every lie, every word, that left his mouth so easily.

He leans down, cupping your cheeks in his hands.

“I know it may seem soon. Really soon. And-”

“I love you, too,” he replies softly, the look in his eyes only further confirming that he truly means it.

He presses his lips to yours then and kisses you so achingly soft. He doesn’t use tongue, doesn’t deepen it, just…kisses you, pouring his heart into it.

When he pulls away, the way he looks at you…no one has ever looked at you like that before. Not even him. Not before this moment.

“I feel like we were meant to find our ways back to each other,” he whispers, brushing the pad of his thumb against your lower lip and you see his eyes grow glassy and you know he’s fighting back tears.

And one slips from your own, which he wipes away.

“Nate, do you-” You pause for a moment, heart pounding. And then you continue. “Do you have any condoms?”

He studies you for a moment—his mind practically fucking exploding from excitement that this had played out exactly as he’d hoped.

God, you really are a sentimental creature.

He nods. “Baby, are you sure about this?” He hates questioning it, but hopes that doing so will only draw you in closer. That instead of him running across the room to grab one, he’s instead more concerned for you, ensuring that this is what you truly want.

You reach up, running your fingers through his soft brown hair. “Yes.”

He considers you for a moment—rather, pretends to—before pressing a soft, loving kiss to your forehead and stepping away, taking your hand in his as he leads you over to the bed.

He reaches down, slipping his t-shirt from you, before looking over your naked body. “God, you’re so fucking beautiful. Do you even understand how beautiful you are?”

He cups one of your cheeks again, his other hand holding your hip, rubbing his thumb against it.

You only look at him.

He pulls his shirt off, then lowers his body onto yours, the both of you settling comfortably against the bed. He helps you scoot back, until your head is resting against his pillows. He first kisses your forehead, maybe half-a-dozen times, then each of your cheeks, your nose, your chin, before giving you his lips. You open your mouth, your tongue searching for his. And you find it, his dancing against yours gently, tenderly.

And then he moves to your neck, giving extra attention to that one sensitive spot that he likes to favor. You sigh, arching your back, and his hands slide under you. And he holds you against him for a moment, your bare chest pressed against his.

“I love you so fucking much,” he mutters into your shoulder.

“I love you, too.”

He can hear that you’re now crying. So he pulls back just the least bit, kissing away your tears.

He smooths some hair from your face, your chin wobbling. “You’re so perfect… You’re everything I’ve ever wanted, Y/N.”

You let out a small, happy sob, smiling.

He then begins to kiss your breasts, taking one in his hand, and then the other, lightly trailing his tongue along the valley between them and your body shudders.

He then kisses down the soft skin of your stomach. Until, finally, he’s reached your perfect pussy which he’ll claim in only a few minutes as his very own.

He begins kissing your inner thighs, seeing that you’re already completely soaked and you sit up a bit.

“Nate, I…I wanted to-” You weren't wanting oral today. You wanted more. Wanted him.

He looks up at you. “Trust me, sweetheart,” he says softly, quietly. “If I take my time…it won’t hurt as much. Please let me take care of you, please.”

You nod, your lower lip wobbling from how much love and care and tenderness he’s treating you with.

You lay back again.

He then places his mouth against you and you gasp. He reaches up, twining his fingers between yours, holding tight.

“I love you, Nate,” you whisper.

He responds by pressing a kiss to your pussy before going back in with his tongue, running it along that seal that he’s about to break.

Once you’re warm and flushed and trembling—crying—does he stand, removing his shorts, and you take in the impressive length of him, licking your lips.

He pads over to the door, locking it—knowing he’ll kill anyone who tries to interrupt you. He’d once considered doing this at your house, to ensure there would be no interruptions, but he needed for it to happen in his bed. Needed to claim your virginity here, in his room.

He then opens the top drawer of his nightstand and retrieves a condom. You sit up a bit, watching as he peels open the wrapper, then feel your core tighten as he rolls it onto his throbbing erection.

You feel nervous, and a bit scared, but also eager to have him inside of you.

To have him teach you what this is like.

After you’d spent so long wondering about it, too.

He then lies his body back down on top of yours, hand lacing between the long, soft strands of your hair. “Are you ready, angel?”

You nod, kissing him.

He reaches down, rubbing himself against your entrance and notices when you tense up. So he stops.

“The only thing I need you to do is relax for me. Let me do everything else. This is about you, not me. I want—I need—your first time to be perfect. Let me give that to you. Please.”

A tear slips from your eye at his sweet, loving words.

You spread your legs wider, tension releasing.

He rubs himself against you again and then finally, finally, eases into you.

You wrap your arms around his neck and he presses his lips to your own, your hands tightening into fists as you feel a painful pinch, something breaking perhaps, and then he slips inside of you.

You whimper against his lips, trying to ignore the pain. You move your hips, until he pulls his mouth away from your own. “Stay still for me, baby. Just let yourself adjust to me.”

He gently lifts one of your legs onto his back and he sinks deeper, moaning at how wet and tight you are. So this is what a virgin feels like, he thinks. And it feels so fucking…perfect.

He looks at you, doing his utmost not to finish right then and there. He needs this to last for as long as possible. “Does that feel better?”

You nod.

He eases out a couple inches, then back in and you moan in pleasure. “Does that feel good?”

You nod again. “Y-yes.”

He kisses you, deeply. Then presses his forehead against your own. “I love you. I love you. I love you.” He presses his lips back to your own before he begins to ease in and out, in and out, over and over.

He goes painstakingly slow, even as his body protests, wanting nothing more than to fuck your brains out. But he needs to be gentle with you. Needs you to think that’s who he is. Needs for every second of your lovemaking to be what you’ve always surely imagined—hoped—it would one day be like.

He looks down at you, staring into your eyes as he continues easing his cock in and out—you’re so wet now that he can hear it. And he loves you all the more for it. How easily your body responds to him.

“Tell me what you need, sweetheart. I want this to be perfect.”

You shake your head. “It is.”

He kisses you again, then slowly—slowly—lifts you until you’re in his lap. He wraps one arm around your waist, encouraging you to move your hips against him. The other comes up to cup your cheek, tangling in your hair as he kisses your lips, your neck, your right breast, then left. He looks at you again and you whimper. “Shh, that’s it, angel. Just like that. Take your time.”

You reach down to touch your clit and he gently takes your hand in his. “Don’t. Please. I want this moment to last for as long as possible.”

You fight back tears again as you lie your head on his shoulder as he continues helping you move your hips against him.

In reality, he wants you to come from his cock alone—to find him to be that good of a lover. He knows it’s not easy to achieve—female orgasms from penetration alone—but he’s more than willing to try.

Finally, he lies you back down on the mattress. “Fuck,” he mutters into a pillow as he slips out for a moment, then eases back in. You shudder from how good it feels, him filling you.

And he enjoys your walls clenching around him.

He places both of your legs over his backside, making you as small as possible beneath him. Dwarfing your small, feminine frame. He loves how much larger he is than you. The fact that he could easily throw you around like a ragdoll.

And you stay like that. For awhile. Silence, just the sounds of your ragged breathing, his occasional moans, your whimpering and sighing. Each of you saying each other’s names or that you love each other. His skin slapping against yours.

Finally, he repositions his hips—his cock touching against some part of you that you’ve never touched before and you jerk. “Ah, right there.”

He knows he’s found what he’s been looking for. So he keeps his hips positioned exactly where they are as he continues to fuck himself inside of you.

Your breathing quickens, your kissing becomes more fervent, your fingers tangling in his hair. And your walls begin to rapidly clench.

He fights back against how fucking good you feel, refusing to be the first one to finish. No. He needs to give that to you. He can’t come off as being selfish in bed.

That will come later.

Until, finally, finally, you cry out, pressing your mouth against his shoulder, your body shuddering, jerking against his fingers trailing along your hot, bare skin. Your walls squeezing and squeezing him.

You begin to cry and then he falls over the edge, following right behind you.

He buries his face In your neck. “God, baby. Fuck, Y/N.”

He moans as his cum fills the condom wrapped tightly around him.

Finally, he stills, his body collapsing on top of yours, cock still twitching inside of you.

You cry silently underneath him and he presses countless kisses to your hot cheeks, your swollen lips. “I love you more than anything,” he says.

And he believes it.

And so do you.

[charlotteking23]

Jealousy

king Ben x reader

Warnings: Smut, praise, breeding kink, p in v sex, unprotected sex, uses the nickname 'daddy', not edited.

requested: yes

summary: Y/N and Ben are dating and a new kid shows up and start flirting with her, and Ben not happy.

You were by your locker looking at some of the photos that were inside showing you and Ben on your first date and some other cute pics, you were in so much of a dazed you didn't realize someone was behind.

"Hey, pretty girl", Ben said behind you, wrapping his hands around your waist.

"Ben you scared me", you said startled putting a hand on top of your heart seeing how fast it's beating.

"Sorry, baby...I couldn't help it you look so cute today, he smiled admiring you outfit.

"You like it", You smiled spinning around, showing off your outfit to Ben.

"Hmm, yeah I do...Hey I see you later okay after your class", Ben said kissing your neck while his hands tighten slightly on your waist.

"Okay", You giggled before pushing Ben a little heading to your class. Ben watched your every move admiring you, as you left laying his head on the locker in a dazed.

As you walked into class, you noticed your usual partner Lonnie wasn't here in class before remembering she had to skip today's class because there was a fencing tournament.

You sat in your seat before your teacher began the announcement.

"today, we have a new student joining us today, please make him feel welcome", the teacher said before signaling the student to come out.

"hmmm...you can sit next to Y/N for today since her partner is absent..Y/N raise your hand", the teacher said to the new student.

You raise your hand before smiling kindly at the new student. "Hey I'm Y/N" you smiled before putting your hand for a handshake.

"Hey, I'm Jake, He smiled back before taking your hand in his, holding it.

As you work silently on your work, you could feel Jake watching you closely making you uncomfortable.

Finally the class had ended, you quickly packed up your stuff bolting out of class as fast as possible.

"Hey Y/N", Jake called out to you making you stop before turning to him hesitantly.

"oh umm...Hi, Jake", You said trying to keep the conversation short without being mean.

You both talked briefly more like he was flirting with you but couldn't take the hint you were not interested.

"What's you next class", Jake said interrupting you from your thoughts.

"Oh, umm calculus", you fake smiled at him.

"hmm same..I guess fate wants us to be together", Jake said kissing your hand.

You pulled your hand out of his grip before wiping your hand on your back disgusted by his actions.

Before you could speak you felt someone presence behind, before you could turn around you heard a familiar dark voice.

"She's not interested", Ben coldly said from behind you before pulling you behind him standing in front of Jake.

"Who are you and why do you care"?, Jake angrily said, not realizing the trouble he's in.

"I am king Benjamin Beast of Auradon and she is my girlfriend your future queen, so get away from her", Ben coldly said before pushing Jake away from us.

"I-I.." that's all Jake could say before running away scared.

Ben watched him run away before turning around to you, "Hmm..pretty girl I think you need to be taught a lesson", he whispered in your ear, kissing the shell before carrying you bridal style away to his room.

Ben laid you down on the bed before hovering on top of you kissing your neck.

His hand reached out to your legs rubbing them, spreading them apart. You felt his hands slightly rubbed against your cloths clit.

"You're like it", he whispered in your ear, leaning close enough into your ear until nothing but a breeze could separate his lips from your skin.

you could only moan in enjoyment as your head fogs at the sudden movement, knees landing roughly on the bed with a pained gasp as you stare into the wall, your back arched in a very, suggestive way towards the man.

"Your so wet pretty girl hmm" he chuckles.

his rough fingertips came in contact with the crotch of your elastic pants, rubbing across your slit through the fabric, rough enough for your growing wetness to seep towards the exterior.

“fuck— pretty girl” he is very much enjoying this, palming his already hard cock through the loose fabric of his own pants. “gonna take care of you, princess, fuck you nice and good til’ that pretty head of yours goes dumb”.

A moan escapes you lips, suddently losing balance until your cheek is pressed against the bed. a lewd sight of your willing body all pliant for him.

“Call me Daddy” he huffs, leaving a single sharp slap on your ass before shredding the cloth down along your drenched panties, enough for his thighs to come between yours and stretch them, leaving your pussy to his lustful gaze, “remember the name you’ll be screaming tonight”

Ben's words are remarked with a couple soft slaps on your throbbing clit with the tip of his cock, making your thighs twitch and whimpers escape at the sensation.

he’s big. incredibly big and stretching you so well your breath comes out unsteady and erratic, nails digging against his back to conceal the pleasure you’re currently feeling, something no one has ever made you feel before.

“Daddy...” you whine pitifully loving how the name felt on you lips.

“that’s right” he grunts, slowly but steadily feeding your cunt the rest of his fat cock, his own breathing coming in stuttered huffs with how tight you felt, “you’re squeezing me so fuckin’ much, you just needed a fat cock to satisfy you, isn’t that right, pretty girl?”

“ha— ngh!” you sob, toes curling in your shoes when his heavy balls kiss your clit, and then he’s fucking you with abandon, holding onto one of your shoulders to pull your upper body up, forcing you to meet his thrusts that almost knock the air out of your lungs.

“good fuckin’ girl” Ben laugh resonates through the empty room, mingling alongside the wet sound your slapping flesh, it’s dark and dangerous, but still makes your cunt flutter, “do you like how I ruin your pussy?”

for a second, your eyes cross, brain shuts and opts not to reply, due to Ben's cock continuously slamming against your sweet spot, forcing waves of slick to drool out of your slit and stain your thighs and bed, mixed with the creamy precum coating your sensitive walls.

“answer me, pretty girl” a rough hand comes to cup your jaw, forcing your head up until his lips ghost over the skin of your cheek, hips rutting into your slit and forcing his length a bit deeper into your abused pussy.

"y-yes!, feels so good daddy" you stutter, eyes rolled back and hair clinging to every corner of your forehead, aware of the movement of your own hips in an attempt to fuck yourself back on him.

“good girl” Ben leaves a single chaste kiss on your cheek, taking his previous position, although this time he forces your waist to arch deeper, almost mounting you before resuming his thrusts, “gonna breed you pretty girl, put a baby in you, you want that".

you whimper his name in approval, completely gone while letting him use you, positively drooling onto the bed and making a mess like he’s doing with your cunt.

with a choked out sob, you cream all over his length, shaking and crying while clinging to the bed sheets, yet he didn’t stop, fucking the white ring of cum back into your drenched pussy.

he leaves a sharp slap on your overflowing pussy, loud and wet enough for your mixed fluids to splatter, and then he’s quick on his feet, untangling your hands from his while chuckling at the yelp and beautiful sight of his cum oozing from your hole.

"that feel good pretty girl", Ben said before taking his thumb wiping the drool from you mouth.

You only nodded to fucked out to answer, you felt Ben get up before he wiped you with a towel.

"Let's get you in the bath", Ben said carrying you bridal style to his bathroom, drawing you a warm bath.

"Thank you", but your voice was all hoarse from the screaming.

He carried you before dressing you in his shirt, before bringing you to his mirror gently rubbing you stomach, "I can't wait to see your stomach swollen with our baby".

He whispered in your ear, kissing the space behind your ear trailing down to you neck wrapping one of his hands around your waist and the other on your stomach.

He carried you to his bed again dropping you gently on it before pulling back the covers for you to get in. You felt his hands rub against your stomach luring you into a peaceful slumber.

[jade-jini]

imagine loser g!p yunjin…

(These pics came to save my writer block)

Imagine? I breathe for every word in that sentence anon😭. You get me too well we should kiss anyway.

Loser Yunjin who made you fall for her with her silly jokes and pickup lines and loud personality😭 Yunjin is part of the loser puppy line (yes with minjeong) so you know she gets excited easily. Girlie is loud. Even at lunch time where is crowded af you can easily tell whose loud ass laugh is that. That kept catching your attention, until you recognized her in one of your classes and for some reason couldn’t stop looking at her.

Oh but Yunjin? No she’s noticed you since day 1. Not only noticed you but she fell HARD. She had Sakura already tired ‘cause of how much she’d talk about you. She has dreamy eyes and a dreamy smile just mentioning something you did, something as simple as “today the professor asked a question and nobody knew. Well, I did, but then- KKURA LISTEN! But then y/n raised her hand really fast! And her answer was even more correct than my answer!”

“How is it more correct if you had the same answer Yunjin—”

“IT WAS MORE CORRECT OK? IT WAS PERFECT! She is perfect :(”. Loser. Loser and simp.

Whenever you walk into the room her friends would tell her and she’d go from playing around recreating this fight scene she saw while playing genshin to just quickly shutting up and be like 🧍🏻‍♀️pretending she was all well behaved and cool but it was too late you saw the whole thing ndkdjdj. She got so embarrassed but you thought it was cute 😭 you’d exchange a few words from time to time but nothing too serious, and she always had either a silly joke or a “pickup line” that was so bad it made you laugh every time. Yunjin in her brain be like: I failed successfully :D!

One day tho some mf saw the way she’d stare at you and told her somebody like you would never even look at a loser like her in that way :( poor baby got so sad that day but plot twist! You started playing genshin ‘cause of her 🥺, favorite character being Yunjin Ofc for obvious reasons (when you told her she blushed so hard ‘cause you winked at her and everything nsjdncjf) and that’s how you started talking to her, asking her questions that you could totally figure out by yourself but shush you needed an excuse to talk to the cute nerdy loser in your program.

I feel like I already talked a lot 💀 so I won’t make it too long explaining exactly how you started dating (here it is!). So now the smut part uhuhu.

Since you bonded well ‘cause of genshin, you’d have a lot of play dates. Sometimes tho, you prefer to watch your gf playing sitting on her lap. At first it was cute, but she moves so much when playing, and you and her dick noticed it before her brain did “... Yun is your mic off?” “Yes baby, why? Hmm? Where are you go—” And before she can process it you’re already on your knees sucking her cock and moaning ‘cause Omg doesn’t it taste and feels amazing in your mouth?? Also thank god you checked if her mic was off because she let out the loudest moan. remember I said she was loud? Yeah it continues here bro. You looked up at her and she was so ready to forget the game and concentrate on only you but you stopped her from getting up and told her to finish playing.

“H-how am I supposed to c - oh fuck ~ concentrate when you’re doing that??…” she said while “complaining” but in the end, obeyed. it was so hard to focus tho, when you kept swirling your tongue around her tip, giving her those hungry sexy eyes that made her whimper every time she looked down at you “Ah! y/n ~ that’s so good baby…”.

She LOVES when you ride her when she’s playing. Being balls deep inside you the moment she wins a match in a game? What’s better than that?! Nothing. “I WON AGAIN YES!” She’d celebrate and get so excited she’d just grab you like you weigh nothing and either pin you against the wall, her desk, the bed Idk anywhere and she’ll fuck you sooo good with the biggest smile. When she gets frustrated or loses tho, you know damn right she’ll grab those hips and make you jump on her dick so hard, relieving her frustration on your pussy (she can use me like this I don’t mind-) and she won’t slow down until the pleasure is bigger than her anger. “Holy fuck Yunjin..!” “That’s for killing me when we were in the same team.” and that’s something you did last week Tf 😭

As I said she gets excited but not only on a daily basis with stuff she likes, she gets hard sooo easily and it’s fun to tease. You’re straddling her, grinding on her lap, teasing her about how hard she got just by kissing and she’d try to come up with something to tease you back but her brain is off because of how good you feel doing that and because she’s a loser “w-well my dick is bigger than yours!” Like ??? Yeah it is bro it is 😭 you just laugh making her embarrassed. “well yes, yes it is baby. And I love it” you’d say and she’d just blush and go back to kiss you neidjdq.

But she’s also so sweet :( you’d tell her you missed her and she’d softly say “I missed you too y/n…” while hugging you by the waist tightly, and leaving a little kiss on your nose. (Random cutie moment sorry I felt like it 🧍🏻‍♀️).

Oh yeah! Yunjin loveeees kisses. She’s always all over you kissing your face, your hands, your neck and shoulders and back when is exposed, and the rest of your body when is just you and her 🙊. She loves praising you by doing this. And she LOVES when you do it back. A sad day gets better the moment she sees you and you leave a kiss in her forehead (istg her tail goes brrr and she shows that perfect teeth smile).

She loves when you go from her neck to her chest to her stomach to between her legs. When you leave kisses and little bites on her thighs, and shower her cock with kisses that come with a little whimper every time. She finds it as sexy as it is cute too. You for sure have several pics of her dick with lipstick prints.

Cockwarming? Yes. But with her, this is a way of teasing YOU. It’s the only way she knows 😭 I’ll explain. Trying to overstimulate her does NOT work ‘cause her stamina and sex drive are HIGH. If you get tired when riding her be sure that she’ll grab your thighs and pound you fast and hard. She can go for hours, in different positions, never running out of cum.

“Yunjin.. please I can’t feel my legs”

“Hmmgh just one more.. feels so good, need to come in your pretty pussy..” she says as if she didn’t come in it so much already that even your floor is full of it ‘cause of how much it’s dripping down your legs. But you cant say no to her :( her cock feels too good you could die the happiest as long as it’s deep inside you <333.

Pussy drunk Yunjin? Uh yes FUCK YES. She can eat you out for HOURS. And not just ‘cause she loveees to make you feel good but it’s for her own pleasure too that woman just loves the way you tastes and how you make a mess in her mouth when you come. You’re the one ending up overstimulated ‘cause her mouth is Fuckin attached to your pussy like she’d die without it. “Just one more, for me baby please~” and ughhh there she has you coming for The Who knows what’th time already. Random but she’s 0 dom most of the time (I’d call her a service switch) all silly 😭

“Good girl, hehe.”

“Shut up and come kiss me.”

Just as she asks for “one more” in bed she also does it after it when you guys are cuddling and resting and pampering each other 🥺 in the morning when you both have to get ready she’d pull you back to bed “baby we have class in 30 minutes” “just 5 more minutes, please~” “I don’t wanna fail class Jen!” “I’ll do all your homework let’s just cuddle a little moreee~” and how to say no to that (the cuddles I mean-) lets bfr you can’t. You just can’t.

I’m genuinely so in love with her like y’all don’t understand. I could fantasize about her all day. Thank you anon I love my girlie so much <3

[liaarxse]

tr boys when y/n has issues accepting that they actually do love her

Yesterday, today and tomorrow

Characters: Nahoya Kawata, Manjiro Sano, Kazutora Hanemiya

Warnings: Fluff, a bit of angst in Kazutoras part

A/n: Literally pulled out the biggest smile when I saw this request. Also, yes, Nahoya again. I just love writing for him. idk why (cuz he a crackhead)

P.s: Remember, it was said multiple times that Toman doesn't hurt women, sunshines. Don't think they'd break your precious hearts. They'd be just a bit hard to deal with <3

—NAHOYA KAWATA

Okay, we've all seen that one best/worst boyfriend chart our friend Ken Wakui made.

Personally, I threw a fit when I saw who were the worst.

Then I thought about Nahoya. He seemed a bit like a fuck boy, you get what I mean? Yeah, no.

Then I thought about it again

I examined the post a bit more after I found it in English and read what Takemichi said. If Mikey and Kazutora would be the top worst because they're reckless, Nahoya would obviously be even tamer

So personally, I believe Nahoya is in the top three just because he has a carefree type of living way. Like, he isn't scared of fighting, killing, and all. I mean, he probably IS scared to kill but doesn't show it.

How's he a red flag again? I don't believe them.

But for one, he'd never cheat on you. He'll be loyal as hell. Maybe if he wasn't in a relationship in one of the time skips where it showed the top members he'd fuck around with chicks (straight hair grown up Nahoya gives me fuckboy energy), but since the change and he's now working with his brother In their ramen shop? Get that thing out of your head.

Because for him to get in a relationship, he must dearly love and respect you.

Keep in mind that he also has to trust you since, in one way, if you're not to be trusted and/or are somewhat dangerous, he's putting his brother in danger as well.

But that's besides the point.

He loves you.

It's painfully obvious

He protects you, he trusts you, he spoils you in his own ways

He loves you

Maybe it's past relationship trauma that causes you to think it's all a facade

Which brings us to today's scenario

You're in Nahoya's room since his brother is out all day and you didn't bother to fix yours

You were looking around his room while he was testing the new straightener you got him since his broke

Examining the objects around you, your eyes land on a frame right above his toman uniform. It was of you two

You wondered why he would frame such a picture on the wall over his gang uniform. You mostly didn't like it because you hated the way you came out in the picture

Getting off his bed, you walked over to the opposite wall and stared at the picture for a good minute

Nahoya noticed that from the reflection on the mirror in front of him, but his smile just grew a tad bit more and returned to straightening his hair

You pursed your lips together in thought and reached to grab it

"Oi!" He exclaimed with a giggle. "Hands off."

You flinched when he suddenly spoke and turned to him with a raised brow

"What? Why?"

"Because," He turned around to face you. "I know you'll throw the pic away."

You weren't going to lie. If you stared at it for a bit more, you would've made the paper rip itself. You hated how you came out!

"But I look horrible!"

"I know." He laughed, but it quickly died down to a chuckle when he saw you glaring at him. "I'm kidding, babe. You look hella cute!"

You quickly turned around to hide the blush that appeared on your face. Crossing your arms, you were still staring at the picture

Being too caught in the act, you didn't realize when Nahoya finally finished straightening his hair and came up to you. He loosely wrapped his arms around your waist and rested his chin on your shoulder, mockingly copying your slightly frustrated face

You noticed that and rolled your eyes with a soft groan, which earned you some snickering from him. He pressed a kiss to your cheek before nuzzling his own to yours

"Why did you frame this?"

"Because it's special."

"How is it special?" Your voice grew confused. It's just a picture, nothing much

"Reminds me of the main reason I never give up."

Your blood went cold. What?

"What do you mean by that?"

"You're my main priority, babe. You, your safety, your smile." He chuckled at how cheesy he sounded. "That's why I framed us right over my gang uniform. Every time I have to change for a brawl or even just a meeting, I'm reminded of the smile that will greet me in the end and will always be there."

That didn't sound like Nahoya. For a moment, you even thought if that wasn't just some doppelganger

Until he smacked your ass

Yeah that's him

He loves you, and without realizing it, he just made all your problems fade away

Looking at the picture now, maybe, just maybe, it isn't as bad as you thought it was.

+ Your little twin girls found the picture in some box while playing and made fun of how you both looked. It was never to be seen again. It was under your mattress

— KAZUTORA HANEMIYA

So. Second worst boyfriend on the list.

Let's be honest, if your love language is quality time this won't work

Not that he won't want to spend time with you, but Juvenile? Sorry baby, they stole him from you

Kazutora loves you so much. He'd kill for you, and he'll die for you. No questions asked. He once even tried to break out from Juvenile because he couldn't take being far away from you anymore.

You visit him every day for as long as you can, bringing him gifts, telling stories, saying how much you miss him

But sometimes you wondered, does he love you?

"Baby!" A happy Kazutora exclaimed when you finally entered the meeting room and waited for you with a happy smile to sit down, on the opposite side of him, thick glass keeping you both separate.

"Hey, baby." You chuckled, adjusting in your seat.

It wasn't a lie how excited he was every day to see you. Sometimes, like today, he'd make you small diy gifts and show them off to you, explaining every minor detail from the inspiration, materials, hidden message, time taken, everything

And you kept them all on a special separate shelf in your room

"So that's my gift for you today! Do you like it?"

"I love it, 'Tora."

It was a small origami rose, which was actually very well made, considering he had to use his imagination

You both talk for a few moments before the chattering died down. You knew what that meant and quickly wiped the already falling tears

You hated this

You hated how close yet how far he was from you

You just wanted to break the damn glass and embrace him, never letting go

And he damn well knows he wants it too

But he can't, and neither can you

He was recently taken in, 3 years ago

Which means he'll be out in 7 years

Which felt like a lifetime for both of you

His biggest fear was you'd find someone new and leave him

Which he wouldn't even be mad about, considering he just ruined both your lives

But you stay consistent, you visit every single day, and even if you don't manage to, you always send him gifts and make up for it when you see each other.

But people's patience runs out at some point, and that point is today

You never meant to say this

You never meant to question his love for you because you both knew it was there and growing every passing day

So why did you ask? Was it the loneliness you felt every time you stepped out of the room and he wasn't there by your side? Was it the thrust to just be able to hold his hand? Was it the pain you felt every night where, instead of saying goodnight to him, you turned to a frame with a photo of him and said it to it?

You didn't know. He didn't know

The only thing you remember after that was the sound of glass shattering, alarms going off, and Kazutora hugging onto you as if it was your last minute on Earth.

You just cling to him, never wanting to let go again

You felt the tears fall when he kissed you, feeling all his love attack you in that one moment before the guards arrived and took him away

Your little moment lasted around 10 seconds, probably even less, but it felt like eternity to both of you

Visits were banned for a week until they changed the glass into an even more thick and unbreakable one

You dashed to the building the second they opened visiting hours again

And to be fair, even if that cost him 4 more months in juvenile, it was worth it when you finally managed to continue with your lives after his sentence

+ Your younger son thought it was funny while your older daughter cried her eyes out. I think you have 3 kids instead of two.

— MANJIRO SANO

Ah, yes. Our favorite dark impulse.

Listen, Mikey has to have FULL trust in you to even think about dating you. We're talking about Draken type of trust, if possible even more.

If Mikey falls for you, he will hit like fucking bedrock

If you don't reciprocate his feelings, he'd be hurt, but if you do, you're stuck for life

Mikey loves hard, and it's been proven so many times

It's the same as Kazutora. He'd kill for you.

Don't make him prove it. Just don't. You know, he knows, and everybody knows Mikey will do anything for you

So why ever question it?

You loved Manjiro, and he loved you. It was way too obvious to the point Emma already planned your whole future together

You knew that, but you always had this 'what it' thought in the back of your head, messing with you and you hated it

It was a normal afternoon. You were out with Mikey, just roaming around the city, eating at restaurants where they don't have flags so you brought your home-made ones, and spending way too much money on things you don't need

It was fun and all, just spending time together until he got a message from Draken which quickly brought him to his senses

He didn't want to leave you, but he had, so with a quick kiss on the lips he was off

You waved him goodbye with a smile and called up Emma and the girl just magically teleported to you in 10 minutes

She just loves you too much

Probably fought with Mikey for your hand at some point

You were having a blast with her until you both finally settled down at a café and talked about, just, anything and everything

You decided to share your thought with Emma and she quickly jumped, reassuring you that Mikey loved you with all his hesrt

She started showing you messages he's sent her about how he felt, what to get you and all sorts of things

But our beautiful Emma had her own 'what if' thought and when Mikey got home she instantly jumped on him

It was like, 1am when you heard his bike's engine roaring from outside your window. You got up and were met with a smiling Mikey and no more sleep for tonight

"Wake up, sleepy head. We need to talk."

The moment you got down to him, you were already zooming through the streets of Tokyo, but not in a racer-fast manner, just enought so you aren't like slugs on the roads

"Emma told me that—"

"I'm sorry, Mikey... I didn't mean to—"

"Please let me finish."

He talked for like, a whole ass hour. About everything that includes you both.

He brought you to tears ngl

His words just hit so deep that the thought immediately disappeared

Maybe it was he words of affirmation he used, the quality time he spend riding all night with you to ease your worries, the gift he gave you when you watched the sunrise and the fact you woke up in your bed later on with a small letter from him and a chibi drawing of both of you at the corner that kept a smile on your face till the end of you days

And you damn well know you lived one long ass life with Manjiro

And I'm kinda surprised to be honest

Not because you could've died while he was in Toman or anything, but because your kid is 3 times worse than Mikey.

+ Your son found his old gang uniform and wore it to school. The next teacher-parent conference was one hell of a trip.

[somejazzinthemorning]

tightrope. 03

Pairing: Carlos Sainz x Original Female Character Warnings: Language Word Count: 7.241 Previous chapter: 02.

Drowning myself in work is my go-to coping mechanism for more than half of my problems.

I'll either resort to racing or tracing brand strategies in an attempt to avoid having to face whatever problem throws my way and, that night, being 11 pm on a Wednesday, my laptop and the small whiteboard on my desk became my saving grace.

Despite the burning eyes and my aching back, after hours sat at my desk, my mind was still racing, high on whatever feelings the brush of his lips had evoked in my body. I fell asleep to the memory of his eyes and the velvet lips.

There was no way to escape it. We were already falling.

I woke up late, the next day.

My phone had a full wall of notifications ready to present me. A single text in the middle of the dozens of work-related emails, most of them answers to the ones I’d written during the night and scheduled to be sent in the early hours of the work day. I only realised I was smiling, probably high on my own expectations, when I felt my smile drop, after seeing who sent the text. Amanda. Not him.

“those updates on the project at 3 am??? r u okay?”

“sorry! i remembered to schedule the emails, but forgot about the notes on the project.” "got some good work done, tho”

"need to take a moment to reread all of your incoherent notes” "all that rambling is… wow” "BUUUUUT come to the office” "the things from the berlin store just arrived, you will love them”

"can’t make it today” "send pics!”

"come tomorrow, then! ill get churros for breakfast”

My phone went back to the nightstand and I pulled up the comforter, wrapping it around myself in an attempt to find some security and calm of mind. I peered out from under the comforter, staring at the dark room, only lightened by some streaks of light created from a gap in the blinds. I was still tired from the night, and my mind scrambled from everything we had shared.

Eventually, I left the bed. My mom was downstairs, and a copy of Shadow of the Wind rested on the kitchen counter while she cooked lunch. Frank Sinatra played on the old record player in the living room and the music continued to stretch around the house as we ate together. Luckily, her birthday party was keeping her busy; busy enough that she didn't remember to ask me about the dinner from last night.

Truth be told: I'm a terrible liar. I would never be able to escape her questions.

At the end of the day, I met Rocco for a workout, in a nearby gym. He was waiting for me, leaning against the reception counter, teal Puma t-shirt paired with an amused smirk; I knew he was more than ready to put me through my paces. And I was right. It only took me a couple of exercises to lay on the floor, panting and sweating."Have you thought about what you're doing next season?" I looked up, in the direction of the voice. Rocco was standing in front of me, holding my water bottle.

I sat up straight and extended my hand to grab it. "Not yet," the water was cold and refreshing. Just what I needed. "Maybe a third year in the Challenge and," I paused to breathe. "You know, the reserve seat. Not ideal, but yeah."

He frowned, sitting down on one of the plyo boxes near me. "But yeah?"

"Yeah. Works." I answered, laying back down on the green turf. The small fake grass ticklish on my legs and arms. "Not much, but it's racing."

"I think I'll pretend you didn't say that."

"Why? It's just how it is."

He cleared his throat, the deep sound making me open my eyes and stare at him again. "Up," he commanded, refusing to help me get up. I brought the hand I'd just held up to the floor, to help me get up.

"I thought we were done," I said. He didn't even need to say anything to make me understand that we were, in fact, not done. "Are you mad?"

“Annoyed,” he turned back to me. “What the heck was that answer? Of course, a third year in the Challenge and a reserve seat in WEC are not ideal. I was hoping for a real answer, not some… whatever that was.”

“It’s the reality,” I shrugged. Instead of turning back and going back to do whatever he was about to do, he just kept looking at me. Not the conversation I was hoping for today.

“You had a plan. What happened?” He asked.

“Nothing happened. I had a plan. And it’s going as it’s possible.”

"Excuses, Eva," Rocco exclaimed. He stepped forward and looked me in the eye. "You have a plan. You know what you want. And you have the talent."

“Congrats, you just solved gender inequality.” I gave him an ironic thumbs up, my mind still scrambled from the efforts of the workout and the encounter from last night. This kind of conversation was not what I wanted.

“You’re more than capable of getting a decent seat next year.”

“As we know,” I wiggled my finger between both of us, “It’s a tough path. Being capable won’t get me a seat. ”

“Locking yourself in an office keeping track of TikTok trends will?” I sent him a look. He held up his hands in defence. “You’re making excuses. There are other drivers fighting for the same things as you are and they are not taking no for an answer.”

“Neither am I.”

"Come on," he chortled, eying me carefully. I could tell that he wanted the best for me, but I was not really in the mood to discuss this at the moment. "When was the last time you actually planned something for yourself, and not just some new fashion designer or boujie vegan chef?"

I felt a little bit of annoyance creeping its way up my spine. I had been pushing myself so hard for the last few months, and I was starting to feel a bit overwhelmed with all the pressure.

“Can we focus on the races I have left to win?” I asked, my voice taking on an exasperated tone. “We can talk about this after I win this championship?”

“Sure.” He bent down to grab a 15 kg power bag from the floor and dropped it off at my feet. "This wasn't planned, but that self-pity is annoying me."

“A punishment?" I took my hands to my hips, a light chortle abandoning my lips. "Burpees and never-ending lounges? That's what you think I need right now?"

"No, no burpees," he said, his grin widening. "But maybe a few extra lounges wouldn't hurt." He was clearly enjoying this. I rolled my eyes and glanced down at the power bag in front of me.

“It was not—”

He cleared his throat, cutting me off, and I went silent. Then, looking at him, I saw that he was grinning at me once again, content. Yeah, it was self-pity. Yeah, the future is scary, especially when you’re a 25-year-old woman in motorsports and your career seems to be stuck.

I took a deep breath and bent over to pick up the bag, the cold weight of it dragging my body down to the ground. Rocco took a few steps back and then motioned me with his head to start.

"Andiamo," he said. “20 steps back and forth. Three series.”

So I did. I started lounging with the bag, back and forth across the green patch of turf on that side of the gym, trying to keep a steady pace. With each step, the pressure of the bag weighed me down. I kept going, pushing forward and gritting my teeth against the pain. When I finally reached the twentieth step, I dropped the bag and breathed out, my body aching from the effort.

By the end of the third series, I had pushed my body to its very limits and back. I sunk down onto the cool grass beneath me, feeling the relief of the softness beneath me—my muscles aching and my body dripping with sweat, my hair matted to my neck and temples.

Rocco sat near me, guiding me through a couple of moves, helping me to loosen my tight muscles and stretch out my body. Despite the big (and somewhat threatening) muscles he had a gentle touch.

“What’s on your mind?”

"Hm?" I frowned, my eyebrows furrowing together as I closed my eyes, feeling his hand pressing down on my thigh, pushing it firmly against the hard floor. I could feel the pain radiating through my body, but I tried to focus on the sensation of his grip.

“You always complain this hurts,” he said. I opened one eye. Now, I could feel the pressure from his grip. Probably something shifted on my face because he instantly asked, “Now it hurts?”

"It hurt before, I was just distracted." I shook my head, closing my eyes again and focusing on the sensation of his grip. “I’m free to feel like shit when things go badly." I let out.

“Things are not going badly,” he sighed, leaving my leg and switching to the other. “You’re simply letting yourself fall behind.”

I took a deep breath and exhaled it slowly, my head falling back against the floor. I stayed there for a few moments, my heart pounding against my chest and my thoughts racing a million miles per hour. When I finally opened my eyes again, I looked up at Rocco, this time because I felt my thigh burning with discomfort, he was still looking at me, waiting for an answer.

"Too much." I glanced below while patting his arm. He raised an eyebrow, implying more pressure. "Ei!" I scrunched my nose. He just arched a brow. Sadistic fucker. “What? Are you going to hurt me until I hold someone at gunpoint and ask for a seat?”

“You talk like you don’t have good offers, Eva.”

“What is a good offer? Driving against 19-year-old boys in Formula 3? It’s humiliating.”

“W Series?” He suggested.

“I want to race with men and show people I can win against them.” I sat down. Rocco took his hands from my legs. My muscles tingled with the same intensity my thoughts did. “I like the Challenge because I’m showing them I can do it. But the team does not have a budget to race in other series. And I can’t be a reserve forever. So I can do another year and hope things change.”

“See? You’re choosing to fall behind.” He took a deep breath, understanding my frustration. "You can always look for sponsorship," he said, his eyes focused on the floor. "You have the talent, the connections—"

“I spent my teenage years sending letters and desperately trying to talk to people. You saw how that went.”

“You have results to show them, now. In two weeks you’ll have a championship.” I dragged my hands over my face. Instant regret. Both my hands and face were tingling with the same intensity my thoughts did. “W Series will give you exposure. Will give you points. You need points..”

“Why are you so interested now?” I arched an eyebrow, feeling a bit suspicious. “The year is long. Anything can happen. A lot can change.”

“I just don’t see you planning ahead.” He deadpanned, his expression unreadable. “What if you can’t do another season of the Challenge? Will you be content with just being a reserve in WEC?”

“Why so many ifs?” I asked, still feeling a bit apprehensive.

“Motorsports are unpredictable,” he replied, his voice steady and sure. “I’ve been around long enough to know that. And I’m your coach, not just a trainer. It’s kinda my responsibility to do this.”

“Nah, I’m not having it.” I paused, still not entirely convinced. “Do you know something I don’t?”

Rocco just shook his head. The dark strands of his hair moved in unison. “Eva—” He shrugged. I could see the wheels turning in his mind. Whatever he was about to say, it seemed like it wasn't completely true. "One," he continued; his tone shifting. "I don't want to be left without a job when you get bored of racing." I threw my towel at him, though I knew he was only joking. Unfortunately, he dodged it. "Two," he continued, "you're racing like a pro. You should race with the pros."

At least, in one thing he was right. I was racing like a pro.

On the other hand, I was not acting like one.

My team and my dad, the main sponsor, were the only support I had. Despite having other offers, none met our expectations. I had been a third, fourth, or fifth driver for too long. I had spent too much time in the garage, running simulations, and taking part in test sessions. Years of it. Each of these experiences had demoralized me.

Racing in the Challenge, learning with my team, taking time to understand the car and driving it to a podium made sense to me. Standing in the garage and hoping for someone to get food poisoning or COVID was not only morally wrong but also quite dull.

“Did you make this whole drama when Rio told you he wanted to stop racing and just go to college and become an engineer?” I asked, getting up from the floor and picking up my towel, still lying on the ground.

“It was worse actually,” my trainer said, following me. “I think I almost killed him when he told me.”

“We make quite the pair, don’t we?”

He smiled and nodded. “Yes, you do. Your poor father has his hands full with you two.” We stopped walking when we reached the locker room. “Go have a shower and get some rest.”

The second I reached my locker and opened the wooden door, I reached for my phone, looking for a message that hadn't arrived. Pathetic. A part of me considered taking the initiative and being the one to call or text him but, to be honest, what was left for me to say?

I had already told him everything by asking him not to kiss me and I might have told him even more by refusing to let go of him.

The office smelled of churros, so I knew Amanda was around. Either that or someone else had the same idea as her.

Familiar faces smiled back at me as I crossed the corridors and the work areas until I finally reached the common area and took one of the available seats. Since I had chosen to work remotely, and only visited the office casually for occasional meetings or when I needed a place where I could focus, I wasn't given an office.

The room was filled with the buzz of people chatting and the occasional laughter, making me feel a bit out of place. I knew most of them (read: I knew their names and which projects were under their purview), but rarely talked to any of them. Amanda, one of my friends from college, and the one who had introduced me to this agency was the only one I regularly talked with.

I sat down in my chair and pulled my laptop out of my bag. After talking with Rocco yesterday, I decided to take action on my career and spent last night looking at emails and reading my dad's notes on the sides of those he considered important enough to print. So, when I opened my laptop, my screen showed me my Notion board, which honestly felt like a showcase of my own failures. Not the first thing I wanted to see that morning.

A knock on the glass divider of the office made me lift my head up and find Amanda on the other side of it. A beautiful purple jumper highlighted her beautiful curves; her hair was pulled up in a ponytail. In her hands, a white box.

I waved at her.

“Vamos,” she motioned with her head. “Before anyone tries to steal these from me.”

I smiled and grabbed my laptop, zipping it up before getting up and walking towards her. “You know I have an important weekend ahead, right?”

She laughed, opening the box. “A churro won't weigh you down, don't worry.”

I took one of them and walked near her to the cafeteria. The morning light was soft, and the day was not too warm. Ideal to sit on the balcony and talk for a while. So, that's what we did. I grabbed coffee for both, while she walked outside.

The sunshine on my skin was just a slight warmth as I leaned on my chair, and the smooth breeze of the morning cooled off my skin. Traffic sounds in the background, the ruffle of chairs and the occasional bark of one of the dogs playing on the balcony of the start-up that shares the building with us.

While having a sip of her coffee, I noticed Amanda's eyes widening, and I could practically see the bell ringing in her mind. Instantly, my brows were drawn together. Brace yourself, Eva.

"So, I heard on Twitter dot com…" I rolled my eyes at the last part, and despite provoking a small chuckle from her, she didn't stop talking and her gaze still remained twinkling mischievously. "Carlos was in Mugello last weekend."

Oh, for fucks sake.

"If that's what Twitter says, it must be true."

"Yes. So," she paused. Her head tilted slightly, honestly looking like a pup who saw a threat in the distance. "Did you two talk?"

I shook my head; my fingers busy on the handle of my mug, desperately trying to seem unbothered by the question. "Nah, we didn't talk."

"You sure?" She asked, her eyebrows raised in suspicion.

"Yes, I'm sure," I said, my voice steady. "It's not like we're friends or anything."

"That's too bad," she murmured, a hint of disbelief in her voice. "It's not like Carlos and your brother are still like, the best of friends and maybe— maybe he went there to visit him and you end up talking?"

I sighed. "Stop it."“You're a terrible liar, Eva.” Amanda said bluntly, her gaze intense.

“Amanda,” I said, my voice stern and my eyes piercing. "Stop it."

“So, you talked.” Amanda gave me a knowing look. "I knew it. I saw those tweets and I realised we had barely talked this week, and that only happens when you're too busy overthinking. And then boom, I woke up to dozens of notes made at 2 am? You always go to bed early." She crossed her arms, her gaze still intense. "Come on, just tell me what happened. If it’s not him, it’s anything else. That worries me too. I'm here for you, no judgement."

I sighed. "Fine," I said, setting my mug down and leaning back on the chair. "We talked. A lot. We actually had dinner."

Amanda's gaze softened, but then she frowned again. “Dinner? The three of you?”

“The two of us.”

"Just the two of you?" Amanda's eyes widened in surprise, lips smiling brightly. I nodded to her question. "What did you talk about?"

A part of me wanted to end it there. The other part of me needed some guidance. And Amanda was a friend, she always had good advice. On the downside, she loved to gossip. But we were friends. Guidance. But gossip.

I shrugged. “Just normal things. Racing.”

“Okaaaay, that’s good.” At this point, her lips were curving up like she was the one having dinner with him. I couldn’t decide if her reaction annoyed me or made me happy. "So, what now? Are you going to keep in contact with him?"

I shook my head. "I don't think the dinner changed anything.” Liar.

“Eva,” she propped her elbows on the table. “You’re a terrible liar. Spit it out. What happened? If you don’t want to talk about it, tell me that. Just don’t lie.”

Talking about it would make a big deal. A bigger deal, actually. I dragged my hands over my face, tired and confused. Thinking about it was challenging enough and I truly didn't want to transform all my confusion and emotions into words. Amanda, on the other hand, couldn't hide the fact that she wanted the truth, her gaze so strong it almost made me melt over the iron (and obnoxiously red) chair I was sitting on.

So I told her. Every single detail. From the glorious vision of him under the bright lights of my garage, which for a second made me feel like I was living in an alternate world, through the call at dawn, to his gauze under the beautiful sunset glow. His warm, velvety lips brushing against mine. I told her about the “I think I might have loved you, too”, and the way that even in my dreams I couldn’t seem to forget his scent when he hugged me goodbye.

I felt so exposed, so vulnerable, as I spilled my heart out onto that small table, and when I finished all I could hear was the sound of her sigh. A ridiculous rom-com kind of sigh.

“I just feel like we messed it up because of pure desperation,” I said, crossing one leg over the other and looking around. “He messed it up. I think we just missed each other so much we… I don’t know. Got confused on the feelings?”

“He messed up?”

“I didn’t kiss him back. I just asked him to please, don’t.” It was more ridiculous saying it out loud now than when I recalled the moment in my mind.

“You’re even stupider than I thought,” was her answer. I arched my brow. “The guy cooked for you, at his place, told you he “thinks he loved you too” and tries to kiss you and now you’re mad because he didn’t text you?” She paused. “What the hell will he say? Of course, he won’t text you. What would you say to someone after being denied a kiss? Text him yourself.”

“No.”

“Why not?” Why not? I asked myself the same question. Because I can’t trust him to stay. Better, because I can’t trust him to not leave. “Don’t be stubborn, come on. Just by looking at you, I know you’re dying to get that kiss.”

“Can’t we go back inside and talk about work?”

“Oh, no, missy.” She shook her head. “Those AB tests can wait. I want to talk about you and how you’re so dumb you might lose the chance of your life.”

“You’re exaggerating. As always.”

“Eva.” She was stern, her eyes burning on me. “He was your best friend. At least try to mend that friendship. Even if you don’t want anything else. Whatever the reason.”

I sighed, bowing my head in defeat. Amanda had a way of making me see sense, even when I didn't want to. "And if I can’t see him as a friend but still can’t give a step in the other direction?”

“Then, you give it time. Just don’t give it too much space.” She got up from her chair. Mug on one hand. The empty white box on the other. “Remember how that worked up last time.”

Fact one about Amanda: she was probably the most curious person I knew. Any arguments in the office, celebrity rumours or gossip of literally any kind she knew by heart, down to the last detail. And while that was remotely irritating, especially at exhausting times, like during Amber and Johnny’s trial, or when (especially when) the news broke about Pique and Shakira's divorce, it could also be a blessing. At least from my point of view. Perhaps all the stories contributed to her having a broader view of relationships and, as a result, being so good at giving advice. Fact two: there was no one more insistent than her, so, evidently, she couldn’t leave the office without reminding me to text him.

It was 5 pm, and I was utterly absorbed in the presentation for the new restaurant. I was head down, consumed by the details of culinary and marketing analytics, and, to tell the truth, my mind was so focused on this project that I couldn't really think of anything else.

Amanda was getting ready to leave. Jacquemus purse over her shoulder and a strong pink lipstick on the place where a less saturated one had been during the day.

“You stay?” She asked me.

“Aham,” I briefly made my eyes leave the screen to look at her. “I need to finish this. Next week I’ll be too busy.”

“You leaving for Italy on Monday?”

“Tuesday,” I corrected her, my eyes going back down to the laptop. “Don’t want to leave this to the last minute.”

“Okay. I’ll try to have a look at it before you leave. Also,” my eyes went up again. “Send the man a good luck text.”

I sighed, rolling my eyes at her. "He doesn't need my luck text.”

Amanda nodded, her eyes still twinkling mischievously. "Okay, send him a whatever text, then. An emoji. Like his Instagram story.”

“I’m afraid liking his story won’t work.” I leaned back on her office chair, which I had taken in the middle of the day when she needed to leave for a meeting and left me to use her small office.

“Text him, then. Anything. I wouldn’t let Carlos Sainz escape, but you do you, babes,” she shrugged, turning her back to me to walk to the door.“Enjoy the weekend. Besos!”

“Bye!”

I didn’t text him. Of course. In the same way, she was insistent, I was stubborn.

Actually, let me rephrase it.

I didn’t text him then.

Mid-afternoon, Rio had called inviting me to dinner, and when I asked about the kids, he told me he had booked a nanny, so they would stay home. It was either business or pleasure. I didn't need to ask; as soon as he mentioned my dad was invited, I knew we'd be discussing business. And after Rocco's worries last night, I knew it was partly my business, too.

My nerves were on edge as I prepared to leave the office. They only worsened as I neared the restaurant - a way too fancy place for a Friday dinner with the family.

Crossing the sidewalk, my heels clacking on the cement, my head spinning from the long hours in front of my laptop, and the anxiety building in my chest, I looked inside. My dad was seated at the end of the table, with an empty seat to his right - the seat I was supposed to take. Marjorie was already waving at me. Smiling politely to the man standing at the door, I said, "They're waiting for me." He nodded and let me enter.

My eyes drifted to their table, and I allowed myself a few seconds to study the mood. They were laughing, but my palms were still sweating as I settled in for what would surely be an uncomfortable conversation.

"Sorry, traffic," I said, punctuating my apology with a kiss on each of my parents' cheeks. "Am I too late?"

"No, no," my dad said, his voice warm and comforting. "Your brother was about to tell me something, but you just distracted him. Go ahead, Fabrizio."

I turned to him, curious.

"I'm sure we can wait a bit more. Just... after the food," he said.

"Why are you so nervous?" Marjorie asked, her violet fingernails softly laying over his arm in a gentle caress. "It's something good," she said to me. "Don't worry."

"Are you pregnant again?" my mom asked.

"No! No, no!" my sister-in-law responded quickly, her voice almost echoing in the room. Even Rio seemed surprised by her rapid response. "It's Rio's news. Not mine."

“After the food, then,” my father said.

“I hate it when I do that,” I muttered to my brother, grabbing the menu from the table and letting my eyes drift through the print. “You haven’t ordered yet, right?”

My dad shook his head. "We were waiting for you.”

I glanced at the menu one last time before setting it back down. My dad's hand called for a waiter and, after the young man left, the conversation resumed. As usual before any Grand Prix, the race weekend was the matter on the table and, that night specifically, Carlos' penalty was the urgent matter. Ferrari had the pace and Carlos had the skill, but as I sat there, hearing my brother and dad's input on how wise the choice had or hadn't been, my attention diverged to the DNF he had suffered in Austria, less than two weeks ago. Vivid images of the flames engulfing the car, the heartbreaking words on the radio, and the cheers that echoed through the crowd as his teammate stepped onto the top step filled my mind.

One feeling the glory, the other one consumed in ruin.

“Good luck out there this weekend.” "Don’t pull another Austria. That one was scary.”

Done. I’d texted him. For better or for worse, it was done. And I didn’t have time to put the phone back in the purse before it vibrated again in my hand.

“Thank you. I really need it.”

I checked the time.

“Shouldn’t you be resting?”

“I’m resting." "Listening to my teammate rant about food, but resting.”

“Why? Did you tell him about the cheese-less pasta you tried to feed me?” “If I expect Leclerc to teach you something is how to cook pasta."

"He’s a terrible cooker.” “I’m better learning it from you.”

"I’ll be sure to give you a lesson someday."

"I'll hold you to that."

  "What are you smiling about?" Marjorie asked, my attention immediately being grabbed from my screen to the table.

"Nothing, sorry," I said quickly, tucking my phone back into my purse. "Amanda just texted me about the work I was finishing.”

"Ah, Eva, if you put that effort into racing…" he said, as the waiter came back with our food. I tried to ignore him, especially because there was no use fighting back his comment.

Even with the food on the table and the anticipation to find out about Rio’s news tugging on my chest, the conversation didn’t go further from Formula 1. My dad, a lifelong Italian Ferrari fan and a very biased Carlos supporter was ranting over the lack of professionalism he was sensing from the team and how the choices they repeatedly made ruined not only the drivers but the prestige of the team. Nothing new. Rio and I have been listening to the same tirade for a long couple of years and nothing seemed to change, even after the amazing start to the season the team had.

“I had my reservations at first, but you could be a nice fit for the team, actually”, my dad said, pointing at Rio, with the knife he was using to cut his steak. Rio looked confused at him, and then, at me. “Have they given you an answer?”

What?

For a moment, I felt like I’d fallen on a different table, a completely different conversation. My gaze shifted from one to the other, confused by my father’s question.

“Who’s they?” I asked. Marjorie was biting her lip; her violet fingertips on my brother’s arm, once again.

“Ferrari,” my father responded, clearly stepping over my brother’s feet. Rio seemed bothered; clenched jaw, restless fingers that Marjorie tried to calm by positioning hers over. “Are those the news?” He asked him.

Rio nodded, his jaw unclenching and his lips transforming to a slight grin. "Yep. They offered me a job." He looked around the table, his gaze caught mine for a second but quickly left again. “I need to let them know my decision until Monza.”

“You applied for a job at Ferrari?” I asked. Honestly, I was so confused I couldn’t piece all the things together. “We’re doing so good at the Challenge, you could have waited for just one m—”

“Eva.” My dad interrupted me. The strong stern voice pulled my attention. The authority value of his words over the sweet comforting voice of the beginning of the dinner. The mood had definitely shifted “Wait? You’re the one that’s always urging the team to aim for higher heights.”

"Exactly. The team won't do that without Rio."

"But your brother will. And so will you." I tried to interject but with no success. He continued before I even had the chance to talk. "You can't possibly think your brother would stay with the team knowing he could have this huge opportunity."

"I didn't know about any opportunity." I was replying to my father, but my eyes were directed to Rio. "What about the team? And the Challenge?" I inquired.

"In less than two weeks, the championship will be over. I have no doubts you will win it. You're just losing time there," my father's tone was bothering me, but the fact that he was still cutting his steak as he talked was really aggravating my temper.

Rio, on the other hand, didn't react. His expression didn't even shift. He remained silent, eyes shifting between mine and dad's face. In his silence, though, he was telling me much more than he thought.

"This is not a formality," I said to my father. "Can you please look at me while you talk about our future?"

Finally, he put down his cutlery and remained silent for a few seconds. Deep blue eyes looked up at me, cold and serious.

"There's no future for you if you're afraid to take a serious step," he said finally. "I won't let your brother get stuck in the Challenge when I know he can do so much more. I won't let you make him fall behind because of you."

"Because of me?"

"Why else would he stay at the Challenge?" I stayed silent, feeling my fake sense of confidence being stripped away with the weight of my dad's question. The answer that my conscience gave me was selfish and I refused to say it out loud. I was afraid of staying alone, rather, I was afraid to see Rio flying solo in the higher aims I ambitioned for me and not being able to carry along. Only if he waited, we could jump up together. "Why would he choose anything less than Formula One?"

"So, you have it decided, then?" I asked Rio. "How did that even happen?"

His tongue crept in between his lips, eyes wandering on my face, afraid to reach my eyes. It was making me nervous. Not just because he was about to leave me, but because he didn't tell me about it, prior. My dad knew about it. He even thought that I knew about it. And like a lightning bulb lighting up on my head: Rocco knew it, too.

"It was proposed to me. The job. At Silverstone, a few weeks ago." Even though Rio was stuttering, and his words barely constructed a sentence, piece by piece it all fell together. "Apparently, Carlos talked to someone about you. About the Challenge. And he mentioned me, my results..." he explained. "Carlos invited me there for the Grand Prix and surprised me with an interview."

Why didn't it surprise me? Carlos. The “right time”, of course.

"Your results? Why hide this from me?” I asked, looking around the table. “Clearly, everyone else knows.”

“I wanted to tell you, but didn’t get the chance to do it.”

“But what?” I asked, half defeated, half annoyed. Angry, even. There was so much going on inside me, I couldn’t think straight. “You just said you had the interview in Silverstone. Weeks ago. You had plenty of opportunities.”

“I knew you would snap and react like this,” Rio tried to justify himself.

“Snap? I’m not—” I paused and took a deep breath. At this point, I was seething with anger. “I’m asking questions. I’m not… snapping.”

“You should be happy for me,” I would if I didn’t feel betrayed. “I know you well enough to know that you would react… badly to the news. Especially if you knew Carlos was involved**.**”

Even though his name was blinking on my head, in bold red letters, I tried to set apart his involvement in this story. So, I carried on,

“And you’re just going to do it? Leave the team, the whole project and ditch us? Without even consulting me?”

He shrugged. “I’m consulting you now.”

“This is not a consultation, Rio. Please.” A pause. “This is you telling me what you’re going to do, without even considering my opinion or the team that’s behind your great results.”

“Go ahead.” He made a gesture with his hand. “What’s your opinion, then? You are the one that’s always telling me to aim higher. This is my dream. Always has been.”

“What? Formula One? I thought your dream was to drive in Formula One. Or was that before you noticed you’re a shitty driver? Enlighten me.”

“Eva, enough,” the deep voice cut me off.

I felt like I was going to burst. I wanted to scream, to cry, to express my anger somehow. But my dad's stern gaze kept me in my place. I felt completely helpless and unheard.

“You’re being ridiculous,” said Rio, cutting through the silence. “Childish, even. Ungrateful.”

“Ungrateful? I’m not the one leaving.”

“Why does leaving need to be bad?” The question settled in for a second. “Grow a bit, and maybe you’ll get some good opportunities too.”

“Sure, maybe then my friends will get me jobs, too. Is that what you mean?”

“Enough.” My dad's fist hit the table, loud enough to silence us, but not to the point of attracting too much attention.

My gaze lingered on his clenched fist on the table. I nodded, forcing myself not to say anything else. I placed my napkin on the table and got up, making sure my chair wouldn’t make any noise when pushed back. Before turning around, I paused briefly, my gaze now resting on my brother. “Good luck with your new job.”

  *

  It didn't surprise me when I saw Carlos fly through the track the next day, setting amazing times in the qualifying session, despite the penalty waiting for him for the race. He was dancing with the car, tracing beautiful lines within the colourful ones Paul Ricard was known for. Carlos would start P19 the next day, only ahead of Magnussen, who also had a back-of-the-grid penalty.

I traded the interviews for a dip in the pool and lingered there for the remainder of the afternoon. Perhaps because I was not the best person to have around that day, my parents had left just before lunch and didn't get back until after dinner. Alone, with music echoing throughout the house and the crippling anxiety the events that week had provoked, I felt myself get lost in the doubts and uncertainties.

My phone rang when I was already getting ready for bed. On my nightstand, the name Carlos appeared over an old photo of both of us. Like I couldn't control it, I walked to the phone and sat on the bed. I let it ring a few times before picking it up.

“Hi,” he said. I just looked through the window, to the dark backyard. “No good luck text today?”

“Guess not.”

“And why's that?”

“Did you know Rio had an interview to work at Ferrari?”

“Yes...?” He paused. “Is that a problem?”

“Did you know he got a job offer?”

We both fell into a moment of silence. A long sigh stretched through the line. I closed my eyes, not sure what to expect from the conversation. The next time his voice was heard, it was more serious.

"Can we stop asking questions instead of answering them?"

"The timing is funny," I said. "Just that."

"What do you mean?"

"You coming to Mugello? Was that a coincidence?"

"Eva, what?" Carlos was silent for a few seconds. "Don't make this into a drama," he said. "Rio is talented and if he got a job offer it's because he earned it. The things are not remotely related."

"I'm not complaining about him getting the job."

"Then what are you complaining about?" Carlos asked.

"That it took you years to finally come back and talk to me and it happened just when he got a job in your team. Did you really want to talk to me or did he make you do that?"

"I didn't do it for him," Carlos said. "I did it because I wanted to see you."

"I wish I could believe you."

"And why don't you?"

"It's been three years. Coincidences don't just happen."

I could hear him breathe. Silence weighed down my chest. He wasn't denying it. He wasn't telling me why he was there, that night. "Can I see you this week?" He asked me, before a long sigh.

"No."

"I'll be in Maranello for a few days." I bit my lip, shaking my head to the void. "You'll be in Imola, right? I can go there—"

"I don't want to see you." I talked over him and then paused for a brief second. "Don't show up there, please. It's an important week and I don't really need more distractions."

“Eva, por favor.”

“Good luck tomorrow.”

I put my phone away and let myself sink into the bed, feeling nothing but the warmth of the comforters on my skin and the instant sense of security that came over me. I allowed my eyes to close and my mind to drift away, and before I knew it, a prayer for Carlos came into my thoughts.

I prayed for strength for both him and me, for us. I knew that, whether we were on or off the track, we would need to find a way to get through whatever was to come.

Next Chapter: 04.

Thank you for your support in the previous chapter! Carlos will become a more present character in the future. Pinky promise. Don't abandon me until that happens, please! <3

[mariska]

one of my moms had to drop some of my grandpa's things off in his house after we left my therapy appointment today - he hasn't been home recently because he had a fall, and thankfully my mom found him and was able to help him get to the hospital because we're his only relatives that live close to him so my mom goes over there to help him with stuff or just to visit pretty often. he's in his 90's so we were all very scared about the injury but my mom says he's recovering pretty well.

i haven't been in his house in years and i don't think i've ever been there when he's not home. his house feels so safe and gentle and cosy and peaceful and quiet. all i could hear while we were there was the sound of crickets outside and the clock ticking each second.

when my mom was putting the things of his that she'd brought back where they belonged, i went to look at the photos on his fireplace. there were so many beautiful photos of my grandma throughout her whole life, she died when i was still really young but old enough to have had a lot of great experiences with her & my grandpa. they've always loved and supported me a lot and i will always love them very much, too. i haven't thought about my grandma in a while with all the other chaos happening around me & the world in general. so when i saw the photos of her on top of the fireplace i immediately broke down and sobbed. i was sobbing the whole time my mom and i were there. it just came over me really fast and i couldn't stop.

my mom gave me a little tour of the rooms in his house and pointed cool stuff out to me, before we left. i asked if i could take pictures and she said that was fine. i ended up taking a lot of pictures because i don't know if or when i'll see the inside of this house again, set up the way it is now by my grandpa.

he kept a big stuffed animal bear on a lounge chair in the living room. it was a bear that i specifically loved and played with a lot when my whole family went to visit him & my grandma at their old house in North Carolina one year when i was still a toddler, we still have the home video tapes of me playing around with that stuffed bear before i could even walk properly. he never got rid of it. it sits there in the living room.

my mom told me that my grandma painted the art framed on the wall that i included a pic of here. i remember doing lots of arts & crafts projects/activities with her as a kid but for some reason it's never occurred to me that she was probably an artist in more ways than just doing shrinky dinks and finger paintings with little kid me until now. im not sure if the painting has a title or meaning but i thought it was really beautiful. it made me wonder how many other paintings she did when she was alive.

it wasn't supposed to be an emotional thing, we were just dropping off some stuff of his for when he gets home from the physical rehab center he's recovering at, but i still can't stop thinking about it hours later. it was just so peaceful in there. he collects things in such a similar way as i do. he has dozens and dozens of photo albums filled completely with decades worth of pictures of him & his family's lives. in one of his rooms he has a big 70's style shag carpet rug like i do in my bedroom. i'm not genetically related to him or my grandma or that mom, because i'm a donor kid and only genetically related to my birth mom, the mom who is not related to this specific side of the family, but my grandpa and i have still always been so alike in certain ways. it's such a strange sensation to step into another person's home, when they aren't there, when you haven't been there for years, and have it feel more like Your Home than your actual home. i can't stop thinking about how quiet and peaceful it was in there. i can't stop crying about it all.

it's a weird, surreal feeling. it's been a weird kind of day.

[lil-melody-moon]

Do you really think I’d forget about my revenge?? Oh sweetie…YOU’RE WRONG! However, I’m gonna be good today and I’m just gonna send you these lovely pics of Keith I found on Pinterest.

And remember….this is just the beginning👀

The girl in the last pic is really lucky, don’t you think??? 👀👀 what would happen if…

Nevermind🙄

*is already praying for my own soul*

So you're gonna cause me a mild heart attack that will quickly turn into this:

Attacking me with shirtless Keith pic right away, GOD! And I came to conclusion that I'm somehow weak to him wearing sleeveless shirts - I don't know why, but my knees are growing weak. Now to comment and not get fucking bonkers on my chair, haha, good luck me!

1 - Like I said, attacking me with shirtless Keith pic right from the get go from the era he had a beard nor the less. Ideal body, I swear to God, IDEAL BODY

2 - He looks mischievous there, but cute at the same time *starts producing hearts* I swear he would look at me like that and I would start blushing and giggling like I did while looking at the pic anyway...

3 - ... ... ... YEP, DEFINITELY A WEAKNESS TO HIM WEARING THOSE SHIRTS, MOVING ON BEFORE I EXPLODE

4 - I think I already screamed that in tags and in posts but I love his side profile so much, he's so handsome, fucking hell

5 - Jumpy boi! I started loving how he jumps out on the stage from behind his drumkit <3

6 - *bangs my head against the wall* He looks so good with beard, OH MY GOD! Also that pose, THAT POSE, so serious, fuck, Mister, I'm on ma knees!

7 - ON MY KNEES I SAID ...he even looks as if he was waiting for me to do that, fuuuuuuck....

8 - Again the side profile *melting* Those eyebrows are driving me insane *is a puddle at this point* Also this is the first time in a long while that I stared at his hands and honestly... I remember a post floating around there that was talking about a girl holding herself if she likes guy's hands... I relate to this post on spiritual level now... Also that one button, he always buttoned only one and sat like that, it's a detail, but I love it

9 - *shoots myself* I can't look at him for too long, my body is reacting ;////////////////;

That's actually his girlfriend's butt XDDDD But yes, she's lucky, she's very lucky, you have no idea how much I would give to feel his hand on my butt, YOU HAVE NO FUCKING IDEA! ...If what? Another one that will leave me hanging there ;u;

[folliesandfolderols]

Writing prompts day 92-94

From this prompt list. If you’ve read this far, I’m not sure you need any explanation, but the short version is I hadn’t written any fiction since 2019, I set a goal to write at least 150 words/day in 2024, and this list was my way to restart. Also I abruptly decided on day 2 I would write an entire Tim/Damian story connecting all the prompts, because I am Good at Judging My Limits. /sarcasm Anyway, I finished the rough draft a while ago and am now unlocking the old entries as I edit.

Read from the beginning here, or on ao3 here.

Days 89-91 here

***

2. “I’m not sharing you with anybody. You’re mine, and mine only, and I’m going to make you remember that.”

55. “Only I get to touch you like this, okay?”

123. “Are we— are we really going to do this here?”

131. Hands firm on their thighs, keeping them from snapping them shut.

***

They ambled outside with deliberate ease, made it three doors down, and only then did Tim allow the breath to leave his chest in a massive whoosh.

"Oh my God, that was rough." Stephanie gave him a sympathetic squeeze around the shoulders.

Tim shook his head, nauseated and disappointed with himself about it. He was too dizzy to keep walking. Leaning one hand on the brick wall nearest him, he dropped his head low and focused on breathing.

After a second, Steph's hand rested between his shoulder blades, patting in sympathy. "It's okay. You handled it so well. I don't think he had a clue how hard that was for you."

"I don't know what my problem is," he wheezed. "I've moved on. I'm fine. We're friendly. But seeing him is—" He swallowed down the sick saliva pooling beneath his tongue.

Stephanie sighed, but her voice was warm with sympathy. "Yeah, you're fine, all right." She rubbed his back a little harder. "You just haven't seen him much since everything blew up in your face. It was a surprise, that's all. I think it would throw anyone off to see their queer awakening walk up to them at lunch and announce he cooked the food. It doesn't mean you're wrong."

Tim finally felt steady enough to walk to a nearby bench and sit down to lean his elbows on his knees. Steph wasn't wrong, but she didn't have the whole picture of exactly how shitty he'd been to his ex. Bernard's voice played on a loop in his mind, not relaxed and sociable like he'd been today, but furious, with an edge of tears lining the words: Of course I know! I kept waiting for you to trust me but you never will, will you?

To which Tim of course had replied, It's not about trust, it's about protecting you!

It's about prioritizing Batman and his mission above literally everything and everyone else. Keep telling yourself it’s to protect me, Tim, I'm sure the cause'll keep you warm once I'm gone. Fuck this.

That hadn't been the end. The end had been worse because Bernard had been so calm about it. Tim had been forced to be mature, and logical, and clear-thinking, all the things he was best at, in the most painful way.

Stephanie sat beside him, a hex wrench in her hand, and began working out the screws in the anti-homeless bar between them. He started laughing, glad for the distraction. "That's vandalism, ma'am. Pretty sure I should bust you for that."

She grinned, proud of herself. "Fuck anti-homeless architecture. You okay?"

He shrugged. "Sure. Like I said, I'm fine."

"Good, because Damian's texting me wondering what's wrong with you. I guess he's at the restaurant across the street and they seated him at the window because they're douchebags. I hope he doesn't go back."

Tim resisted the urge to look over and see if he could spot him. "Pon la Mesa always does that, so he only goes there when he wants people to see him. He's getting info for that human trafficking case that me and Jason have been working with him on."

"Well, he's worried about you." Stephanie gave him a searching look as he sat up straight. "When Cass sent me that pic of you two sleeping in the same bed, I thought it was just an accident because you had been keeping an eye on him after he got hurt, but he never used to worry about you. Wanna tell me something?"

Tim shot to his feet and strode away, determined to look one hundred percent okay to any watching eyes. "Nah, I'm good, thanks."

Stephanie hustled after him, dropping the divider bar into a nearby trash can as she went. "Oh, that is a fascinating reaction."

"Yeah, well, you can draw your own conclusions, Ms. Big-Time Field Agent," he shot back over his shoulder.

A plume of smoke flowed into the air precariously close to the garage where he'd parked, followed shortly after by a muffled boom and a blacker cloud following the first. A bright yellow figure leaped overhead toward the explosion as the shrieks and horn honking started.

"Shit." Tim drew to a halt and shaded his eyes, trying to pinpoint the source. "Think Duke's got this?"

Stephanie copied the action, bouncing on her heels. "I've got my communicator in. We'll know if he needs backup."

Tim fished around in his pocket for his own comm. Flashing her a grin as he put it into his ear, he said, "I'm gonna miss having you around, Batgirl the Purple."

She waggled her eyebrows. "Not as much as you would've if you didn't have a certain someone to keep you company, am I right?"

He was saved from replying by Duke's voice, clear in their ears, saying, "Oh my God, I think I see Tim's car in this parking garage. Dude, are you okay?"

"No names over comms!" at least four voices chorused, but since only one of them was Bruce all the rest were laughing about it.

"I'm fine, by the way," Tim added.

"Sorry, sorry." He didn't sound too sorry. "Can I get some backup? It's just, two of these bank robbers are metas but there are like ten regular humans in the gang too."

"On our way," Stephanie replied, and dragged Tim into a nearby alleyway so they could change.

***

Around 4 AM, when Damian texted him sleep well, Tim realized he'd been coming over every night. He hadn't noticed before because Damian’s presence hadn't felt like an impingement on his mental space the way other people’s did.

He got ready for bed but didn't lie down, wandering around his apartment and tidying up various flat surfaces, then moving on to the kitchen counters. When he caught himself considering descaling the coffee maker he finally admitted to himself that he was stalling. Frowning, he pulled his phone from his pocket and opened the message thread with Damian.

You've got me messed up.

A few seconds later, Damian called. “Why are you still awake?” he asked, sounding offensively alert himself.

Tim shrugged, remembered Damian couldn't see it, and said, “I dunno, it's weird, but I think I'm having a hard time because you're not here.”

A pause, then Damian said, “I can only see one solution then. I'll have to be sure to be with you whenever you're ready to sleep.”

Tim grinned. “Does that mean you'll hop on an elevator at WE and come hold my hand while I take a desk nap?”

Damian breathed out a laugh. “No, it means you can come to my office and use the couch there while I work.”

That actually sounded great. Damian’s glass walls could of course be turned opaque with the press of a button and no one bothered him unless it was absolutely necessary. It wouldn't help tonight, though. 

“If it weren't so late, I'd drive to you now.” Tim wandered into his bedroom and hopped onto the bed. “I think you've turned into my—” lovie, he almost said, but switched words at the last second, “—comfort object. I'm like a little kid who's lost his favorite stuffed animal. Which raises the interesting question of what type of stuffie you'd be."

"Tt. A dragon bat, obviously, like Goliath. No other creature would be worthy."

Damian spoke in lofty tones, but Tim had to restrain the urge to giggle. It wasn't often that Damian's playful side peeked out from under the reserve. And when had he started considering Damian's idiosyncrasies cute?

"Oh yeah, obviously, I don't know what I was thinking." Tim turned off the light, pulled the covers over his head and snuggled down.

"Neither do I. Clearly my absence has a deleterious effect on your brain."

He had to cover his mouth to stop himself from laughing out loud. Damian's idea of flirting made him sound like a Victorian professor, but Tim was into it. "Can't have that. You'd better come over tomorrow night or I won't be able to work my case load anymore."

"Gladly." That made Tim blush, but before he could reply, Damian continued, "For now, you should get some sleep."

"I'll do my best, but no promises. If I come see you tomorrow at work you'll know why."

"I hope you do." And that had no facetious edge whatsoever.

Tim let the following silence stretch out just a second too long before he experienced the horrified realization that he didn't want to hang up first. Sputtering out, "Okay see you later bye!" he hit the end call button and rolled onto his back, gusting out a sigh.

The bed felt too big.

***

Tim made it all the way to one o'clock before he gave in to the urge to go visit Damian's office. He did grab a condom and a couple of packets of lube from his spare utility belt that he kept in a locked drawer first, though, because it paid to be prepared. 

Damian’s administrative assistant waved him in with a smile. "He's in a lunch meeting now, but he'll be back in a few minutes. He said you might work here for a bit today," she said, hustling to hit the button to whiten the windows. "Let me know if you need anything, okay? I'll be at my desk."

"Thanks, Adriana," he said, perching on the edge of the couch like he wasn't going to pass out on it in five seconds flat as soon as she left. Once the door clicked shut behind her, he shoved off his shoes and stretched out on the leather cushions.

Just as he was about to drift off, his phone chimed with Stephanie's text tone. Grumbling under his breath, he picked it up to read: well, shit.

That never boded well. He opened the link she'd sent. It was an Pixtagraph post from appetite_gotham, a local foodie scene account, detailing the new menu at Chez Vous. There were ten pictures on the post, mostly of the revamped interior of the dining room, the lunch entrees, and the dishes they'd ordered, but the eighth one was what Stephanie had linked to.

Tim sat up, staring at the picture in growing dismay. It was of Bernard, Tim, and Stephanie, taken from behind Tim so only his blurry back showed as he hugged Bernard. The angle made his embrace look a lot more enthusiastically full-body than it had actually been. Bernard's smile also appeared to be brighter than it had in reality—he always did photograph well.

The relevant part of the caption read, 8. Chez Vous's new sous chef, Bernard Dowd, gives a warm welcome to Tim Drake, one of Bruce Wayne’s assortment of adoptees. At least three highly-liked comments below excitedly recalled seeing Tim and Bernard together in the past at a few Pride parades. Apparently Stephanie didn't warrant any identification.

He tapped back to messages and texted her, shiiiiiiit that looks rly bad steph

She replied, it does! and they've got like a million followers. someone else linked to their own creeper shot of the three of us hanging for that whole five minutes saying I'm your new beard which is hilarious for a bunch of reasons. idk you might wanna talk to bruce's pr team about this one even though I know you usually fly under the radar.

Tim scrolled through the comments in a state of mild horror, not least because less than half of them were about the actual restaurant that was supposed to be highlighted. Bernard was going to want to kill him. Ugh. He was supposed to be the least interesting Wayne kid. No one in the media ever recognized him or cared unless he was with Bruce or Damian.

Damian. Oh shit.

Tim hopped to his feet, ready to get his shoes on and run for it until he could figure out a plan of action, but before he could leave Damian stormed into the room, phone in hand, color high on his cheeks. He drew to a sudden halt at the sight of Tim, spun around, and softly closed the door behind him.

Tim bounced on the balls of his feet, identifying alternative exits although he kind of hated himself for the automatic impulse. "Before you say anything, I can explain," he blurted, waving the phone in his own hand as if that would tell the tale.

Damian paused, then flipped the lock in the door. "Explain, then," he said, without turning to look at Tim.

Who narrowed his eyes in sudden suspicion. "Hold on. What are you mad about?"

Damian faced him, jaw set in the way that meant he was truly furious. "I just had to give a mid-quarter report to some board members, one of whom is on Katarina's list of clientele. Looking into the face of that smug pervert and pretending I'm not going to punch his nose flat at the first opportunity has put me into a temper, I'll admit. So, say what you're going to say. It's already been a shit day."

Great. Excellent timing all around. Tim bit his lip and wordlessly held out his phone.

Damian took it and looked at the picture, first with a frown of confusion and then with no expression at all. The redness faded from his face, leaving him pale. He scrolled down a bit, then handed the phone back to Tim and stood straight, stance wide and gaze direct. "I take it this post is a surprise to you."

Tim nodded. "Yeah, I didn't realize anyone was taking pictures. He really was only with us for a few minutes, and we left right after."

"Yes." Damian's fingers gave a restless tap on the biceps they held. "I saw you on the street afterward, if you recall."

Where he'd spotted Tim having a mini-breakdown that he now knew was over his ex. Tim slid his phone back into his pocket and reached to touch Damian's elbow. "I was taken by surprise. I haven't seen him in over a year."

"And are you sorry about that fact?"

Tim wrinkled his forehead at the question. "I mean . . . I guess? Because that means I didn't do a very good job of staying friends with him."

Damian's whole body jolted as if the answer had hit him with an electric shock. He strode to his desk and rested his hands flat on the oak surface, pressing so hard Tim half-expected to see dents appear in the grain. "So I should expect more photos of you being friends with your first boyfriend in the near future. Understood. No further explanation is required, so you should go."

Tim ignored that last as inconsequential, suddenly struck by a conjecture that seemed too good to be true. His heartbeat sped up, until his voice felt thin in his throat. "Wait. Damian. Would you not like that? Like, would it bother you?"

Damian shifted to grip the edge of his desk so tightly his knuckles whitened. "Of course not. Why should I mind if someone I . . . someone I . . ." He growled in frustration. "Why should I mind if you meet with and touch the man who was your first male crush, your first male kiss, your first male everything, not to mention your first live-in relationship? It's meaningless as long as you say so, correct?"

Tim swallowed, mouth dry. He couldn't miss the implications. But at the same time, “I've had to watch a gorgeous blonde hang all over you for weeks now for the fucking job and you're telling me you're bothered by me hugging my ex after an accidental run-in? That's not really fair.”

“I'm not interested in being fair,” Damian gritted out. “And yes, for the fucking job. Did you expect me to do anything other than my best acting knowing the success of a case we’ve worked on for months depends on it? Believe me, I'm not getting nearly as much out of Katarina as you did from that asshole Bernard Dowd.”

Despite himself, Tim bristled a bit. “One, not an asshole, and two, I've seen your face when you look at Katarina. Don’t insult my intelligence by pretending you don’t like her.”

Damian waved that away, impatient. “Of course I care about her. Why shouldn’t I? She’s a sex trafficking victim showing extraordinary courage without any training. And he absolutely is an asshole. He knew your vigilante identity and familial obligations and instead of accepting your need for privacy for what it was—protection for him—not to mention your preexisting commitments, he chose to tax you with them as if they were a betrayal. When in reality, it was simply two teenagers having outgrown their relationship, as is perfectly normal.” He paused. “Or so I’ve been told. I myself am far more single-minded than a typical person. In any case, I despise false reasoning and blame shifting and he’s guilty of both. Therefore: asshole.”

Tim had to think for a moment, unaccustomed warmth at the sideways defense suffusing him. (Although how Damian knew all that would necessitate further thought.) “I . . . okay. I see your reasoning though I’m not sure I can agree with it. But, I promise I didn’t know he was there yesterday. Steph just really likes French food and neither of us had been keeping track of his movements. And I’m sorry that it bothers you. It's okay if you’re jealous."

"I don't need your permission for jealousy," Damian spat out, spinning to give him a baleful glance. He reached out one long arm and grabbed Tim by the wrist, yanking him close. 

Tim didn't bother trying to avoid his grip. “I know. But, like you said to me, it’s kind of flattering. For the record, I never felt jealous about him like I've been over you.” Mostly because he'd never wondered where he stood with Bernard until it was too late to fix said standing, but it was the truth.

Damian shook his head, eyes glittering with anger and something else Tim couldn’t put his finger on. "Very well then." He seized Tim's waist and sat him on the desk, then shoved his thighs apart with firm hands and stood between them when Tim would have snapped them shut. "Since you've so kindly given your approval, I'm going to make my opinion on the matter very clear. I’m not sharing you with anybody. You’re mine, and mine only, and I’m going to make you remember that."

He kissed Tim, hard enough to lean him back onto his elbows, teeth a mean edge against his lips as his tongue demanded entry. Tim unbuttoned Damian’s blazer and waistcoat, and slipped his hands inside to crumple the fine linen shirt in his fists, pulling him even closer. His legs were shaking, so he hooked his ankles around Damian's thighs to hide it.

“Yeah? Well, likewise, you cocky bastard,” he snapped out, fighting to keep his tone cutting when really all he wanted to do was lie down on the desk and give in. He slid his hands down to grip Damian’s ass. “Only I get to touch you like this, got it?”

Damian’s hands made quick work of Tim’s tie and shirt buttons, yanking his shirttail from his pants and flipping the button at the waist loose. “Got it.” He bent to suck a bruise into the delicate skin over Tim’s collarbone.

"Dami," he moaned, then flushed in embarrassment at the sound of his voice, already gone weak with pleading. "Are we—” He cut himself off with a muffled exclamation as Damian gripped his waist.“Are we really going to do this here?"

Damian looked at him as if he were insane. "Do you want to wait for the end of day?" He dropped a hand to Tim's crotch and palmed his rapidly hardening erection. "I don't think you do."

"No," Tim agreed. He pulled Damian's head down again by his tie. "I really, really don't," he whispered into his mouth, and kissed him again.

day 95 here

[jodilin65]

Yesterday turned out to be a pretty good day because I had more energy than usual. We did some cleaning together, changed her cage, and went out for a walk. Plus, I did lots of other things in the house.

I decided that because I had good energy, I wouldn’t sleep with the mouthguard last night unless I was having trouble falling asleep. So I didn’t sleep with it, and I’m not as awake today. I’m not so tired that I feel the need to nap, but I’m definitely back to my old self.

The annoying honker across the street cleaned his motorcycle but never rode it. Then when he got home in the evening, he turned it on for a few seconds and revved the motor. Tom said it was necessary to get the engine to run because of something he explained that I don’t remember. I’m glad I was awake because that might have woken me up. He has the damn thing covered for the first time in a while. Hopefully, that’s because he plans to pack it into his trailer soon. I can’t wait to see that ugly black thing and for him to go home! he seems to be spending as much time as he can with Colleen. What happens if he meets someone else at home or she does while he’s gone? I don’t think she’s a snowbird.

I may have said this before, but I’m not gonna use my second Facebook account as much as I’m going to use Twitter. Twitter is much easier because I only have one account there, and I don’t have to keep switching accounts. I don’t want to take a chance of forgetting to switch out of my main account and posting something there that confuses everyone. I’ll still use the account sometimes, though.

Did a Temu order and got this cute ballerina wall clock for the bedroom. The way she’s posed determines the time. One leg stays in the same position, but her body and arm represent the hour wall the other leg represents the minute. Other than when the computer is on, I look at my phone, Fibit or ask Alexa, I have no digital clock in there because I hate light in bedrooms.

I also got a couple of pairs of shoes, a towel you slip your arms into and secure with velcro that’s great for not only in the house, but also at the pool or beach, and some Swiffers.

My shoe size is 5.5 and that’s very hard to find so I’m surprised they had my size. I usually find more options if I look for a size 4 in girls. I’ll share pics on Facebook or Twitter when I get them.

[jwittekchatter]

October 23, 2023 Livestream Recap

-He’s not in NY, he’s at his LA apartment with Kyle.

-he’s been MIA because he got sick after England. Thinks it was strep but didn’t go to a doctor. Today was the first time he ran since England because he was so sick. Felt miserable. If he’s laying low then he’s either sick or working on a project (we already knew that).

-showed the new podcast setup. The walls are now brown. Said that’s what he originally wanted but Oscar’s dad misunderstood before. He’s excited to shoot in the pod room again.

-before he went to England a drunk driver crashed into his Tahoe and wrecked it. He rents his cars so he’ll just get another one. (Omg, remember someone wrecked his car when Cody was driving also?)

-told a long story about missing his flight with Shaban by two minutes, Kyle made the flight. Then when they searched his bad found the weed he forgot he put in his carryon. Was interviewed and detained for six hours; could’ve been 24 hours but the officer knew who he was and liked him? Said the weed was for the pain for his eye injury. He’s grateful/happy it happened. Was about to be walked through the airport handcuffed and Shaban gave him a piece of gum with a Klonopin pill in it. Jeff said it’s like 1/4 the dosage of a Xanax. Said that helped him take a nap in the cell. He was fingerprinted and got a mug shot but they wouldn’t show it to him. He offered $1,000 of anyone can get it. Said it’s humbling and funny to look back at. (It’s literally not funny at all and he could’ve been in a lot of trouble). Said he feels like he’ll end up back in jail at some point (what a positive thought 🙄). Also said earlier that he doesn’t do bad things anymore so ? Also told the TSA he’s doing a marathon to raise money for kids. Really hope he’s not lying about that but wouldn’t surprise me.

-got an offer to invest in a Sicilian (Italy) soccer team with Lil Mo Mozzarella and the other guy they did the podcast with recently. Said he’s going to Sicily in November for it. Later in the live said he might do Jeffrey Shore part 2 in Sicily (can we all manifest this not happening?!?)

-someone asked if he’s doing rollerblade Ken and he said NO!! Said he doesn’t want to do anything else for Halloween; the barbershop was enough for him. Is hoping his sickness will get him out of it. No mention of Tana “making” him do any costumes.

-someone asked why they deleted the last live. Said it may have been an accident or maybe they talked about something he didn’t want replayed. The only thing I remember being like that was when he talked about going on Trisha’s pod but he ended up doing it so ?

-he called Yung Blud’s team the day before they filmed to pitch to him. Met him for the first time right as he walked in the barbershop.

-said he was at Andrew Schulz’s comedy show. (No one posted any pics of Jeff being there so that’s weird). Said he bonded with Andrew and will go on his Flagrant pod when he goes to NY.

-someone asked about his plan for moving to NY. He said he was more serious about it when the flood happened. Thinks he’ll stay in LA until end of year, maybe move in January or March but it won’t be permanent. He’ll keep the LA apartment and have NY to share with friends so he won’t need a hotel every time he’s there (did not say who but was talking about his NY crew; no mention of Tana when talking about NY). Is going back to NY for marathon/holidays. Will stay with his parents before marathon and they will drop him off for marathon. said he’ll probably be in NY for a week before marathon. Not getting a studio in LA, will use that money for NY apartment. Will make a temporary set

-doing two pods this week: Mike and Tana to catch up and then will get guests (his words)

-was not in a good place with Oscar for a while but they are fine now. Worked together for seven years and had a weird relationship. Talked about what they each want for their lives. Joined forces again and Oscar/his dad helped fix Jeff’s studio. Not sure if Oscar will rejoin team. He might help produce from the outside. Said the flood got the crew back together (but it didn’t if Oscar isn’t there 😂)

-Jeff said he wants to help produce content for Steven, Ryan, Lil Mo, and Mikey’s new podcast (Jeff’s team is already stretched too thin working on Tana’s pod so adding more is not smart).

-said he only cares about the podcast and barbershop right now. Someone asked if he’ll come to Australia and he said maybe for Jeffrey Shore (talking out of his ass 🙄)

-someone asked if he’ll do more lives and he said he’ll just do more podcasts (huh?? They are different)

-said he would go on that Chicken Shop Date show, she’s funny.

-said the main events at Logan’s fights were terrible. No mention of those idiot Just the Tip girls at all.

-will get back into combat sports after marathon.

-had a few callers

-joked that he thinks he had strep because he kisses everyone he meets on the lips. (That anon saying they think maybe he always kisses girls on trips is funny considering he literally said this. Tana said last year at fashion week that’s probably how he got sick. I don’t think it happens every trip but it has sometimes)!

**no mention of dating, hooking up, kissing, any girl stuff at all. I guess we’ll see if he meets up with Sofia when he goes back to NY but doesn’t seem like anything’s happening there. He would’ve told us about the new “woman in his life” if it were. The live saved this time after a few people asked for them to please make sure to so you can see the replay if you have Patreon.

I wish he would let go of this Jeffrey Shore thing, the first one was already awful, we don't need another one 😩

[madhattersez]

I finally got my hands on something I've been looking for (for a reasonable price) since I was just a lowly little level 12 hornball - A "Marvel Swimsuit Special!"

This is the second issue in the series (though the third book of its kind), and it was released in 1993 when... times were different.

The coolest thing about them (other than the totally radical '90s hunkeroos and baberinos in general) is the amount of really talented artists that submitted pieces - So many industry-leading folks putting their spin on the self-aware, low-brow, tongue-in-cheek project.

This first image was by Joe Jusko, a super popular cover artist at the time. I remember his Conan covers the most.

I'll eventually scan the whole thing in high quality, but for now, I'll take some preview pics to show you some of my favorite and/or goofiest pages:

Here is Domino, looking like we might need to race her to a Dermatology appointment. She's apparently tacky enough to wear a swimsuit with a domino print on it.

And check out Cable in the back - Sun's out, cyberbun out! He's ready to catch some waves on a totally-worth-the-money-and-production-time rocket-powered machine gun surfboard.

I really appreciate this artist's commitment to all the "Liefeld pouches" here. I hope they're waterproof, or all those Tic Tacs inside 'em are gonna get ruined. :(

Penciling by Chris Batista, ink by Hector Collazo, coloring by Mark McNaab.

Let's kick off the "after the jump" part properly with this glorious image of Pip. Because this is certainly what people bought this book for.

It just so happens that this fuzzy little asshole narrates the entire issue, so he's to blame for the inherently sexist captions on all the pictures.

Jesus Christ, he's got two big toes on each foot.

Pencilking by Darick Robertson, ink by Andrew Pepoy, coloring by Tom Smith.

I love me some Cloak and Dagger.

Tandy looks as gorgeous as ever. Surely she owns stock in boobie tape by now.

Tyrone, however, is getting so much sand stuck to him right now... I don't think he digs being used as a beach blanket. I'm... not even sure he's ever had to wash his cloak before today! Yikes. He's all like:

Penciling by Joe Madureira, ink by Terry Austin, and coloring by Gregory Wright.

I can't stop laughing at how much Thunderstrike looks exactly like the Genetic Freak, Big Poppa Pump Scott Steiner in this picture:

The work is entirely by Lou Harrison. It may not surprise you to learn he's also a Fantasy artist.

I've always had a thing for Silver Sable, and this page is just fantastic.

That being said, my favorite part is Sandman sitting there, looking like a dope, shaped like a sand castle. Which, while it seems silly, was probably the most challenging and detailed thing I've ever seen him do with his powers. Worth it for the shot, I suppose!

Line work and ink by Steven Butler, a favorite of mine. He did penciling for the "Silver Sable and the Wild Pack" series (which got me attached), but he's also known for designing the Scarlet Spider suit. Coloring by Gregory Wright.

If you thought I wasn't going to Morb out on this post, you were undead wrong.

Just look at that ridiculous batpackage. Also... Is he really serving a cape over a leather jacket, but with absolutely no pants? Damn, dude.

Penciling by Gary Barker, ink by Jimmy Palmiotti, coloring by Tom Smith.

I can spot Adam Hughes' work a mile away, wow. I guess I didn't realize he was doing work for Marvel this far back.

A fierce-as-ever, short-haired Natasha who looks like she got slammed so hard against a rocky wall that it cracked, got up, emptied out the rest of her clip, and still had enough time and energy to pose during a reload.

Black Widow, bay-bayyy. ♫

Oh my god, Ghost Rider is just so naughty. Wearing nothing but his birthday bones.

This scene just looks like it smells awful.

Artwork by Tristan Shane.

Shulkie in a metal bikini (function over fashion?), bursting out of the lava from an active volcano. You wanna talk "hot tub?" Sure, this gets a feature.

Penciling and ink by cover artist Steve Geiger, coloring by Paul... Mounts.

Deezamn, Bishop. Never seen guy looking so buff before.

Instead of just Bishop, this looks like Hank McCoy and Bishop had a child together. Does he have any other mode than "arm vein p-pop?"

Penciling by Dwayne Turner, ink by Mark Farmer, coloring by Gregory Wright.

Ah, one of the more famous '90s Psylocke images that wasn't done by Jim Lee.

This centerfold was used in lots of comic store ads for several years after this issue came out. I remember seeing posters in the shops themselves. Trading cards of this picture are one of the most costly to collect.

It's beautiful, and the colors/lighting/shading are all fantastic.

Penciling and ink by the wonderful Art Thibert, creator of the Raft max security prison and inker of some of the most iconic X-title covers.

Coloring by Paul Mounts, who did the coloring in hundreds and hundreds of just Marvel comics alone - I didn't mention that earlier because I was snickering at his name earlier in the She-Hulk feature. My bad.

Well, this wouldn't be Tumblr without a cat picture, yeah? Or a catgirl picture, I suppose.

This is the most adorable scene in the book. Just Tigra innocently taking a cuddle nap with some... um... wow, I don't know what the fuck those things are. Snuggle up anyway!

Penciling and ink by Amanda Conner, coloring by Gregory Wright.

Huh. Of all the characters in this book, I really didn't expect to see Dr. Cooper... Either which way, the swimsuit under the detective get-up is pretty choice, honestly.

This is, of course, another Adam Hughes line art joint. Ink by Mark Farmer, coloring by Gregory Wright (who did a lot of these, huh?).

What's this? A parody ad that you'd more expect to see in an issue of "What The--?!" that only '80s kids will understand? Yup, totally.

This was in the back of the book and doesn't fit the theme at all, but it gets a mention because of the weird inclusion and also to stall time until I had the final image ready, because I needed time to prepare...

THIS.

This is the one.

How could I not end this little "show and tell" without this beauty right here?

Here, we have remorseless killer Frank Castle flexing his best end-of-catwalk pose in front of a... wrestling match between a bunch of lady demon dinosaurs battling... for his affection? To tip him American cash? Or maybe all those hearts come from their love of beating each other up? I'm not here to judge.

And then there's a sign for 75 cent hotdogs, but it's been covered with another sign for... $20 tooth brushes? What in the shit is going on here?

There is one thing I do know, though. The artist wants you to think that The Punisher has at least $2.75 worth of hotdog under that massive crotch skull.

[nostxlgia18]

Mother To My Children.

Pairing: Chris Evans × Wife!reader

Summary: You didn't know that funny comments between your husband and Lizzo would affect you this way.

Warnings: fluff, feeling sad a bit and eventually fluff again. Lisa being lovely (as she is)

It all started when the American singer slid into your husband's dm with a drunk text message

"what!" Chris muddled

"huh, what's up?" you enquired while taking your attention off a magazine

"Lizzo sent me some wired emoji's" Chris said tilting his phone for you to see

"oh my god, I think it's a drunk text" you chuckled checking the time it was sent

"i think so too, 'No shame in a drunk DM 😘 god knows I've done worse on this app 🤦‍♂️' " Chris replied and started following her

His reply made you laugh hysterically remembering the time when he accidently leaked his d*ck pic on instagram

"stop laughing that was such an embarrassing time for me"

his comment making you laugh even more if that was possible

"oh you love this don't you baby, I'm gonna show you now" he got up to catch you

you shrieked up running as far and as fast as you can but the luck wasn't on your side today

As soon as Chris got you, he put you on his shoulders and made the way straight up to your shared bedroom

It's now been 2 weeks to the incident and nothing else happened other than Lizzo posting their convo on social media

you were currently on the way to meet up your best friend at a café

"hey babe, oh finally I got you out of the house! Your husband has you all the time, I'm getting jealous now" (y/b/f/n) faked a pout

"shut up! I'm always there for you" you giggled

30 mins of chatting, you needed a quick loo break

once you returned, (y/b/f) tilted her phone to you show you something on twitter "oh my, you saw this" she asked chuckling

It was an E!new post stating that Lizzo commented about being pregnant with Chris's baby and soon will give birth to a baby Cap

you smiled and changed the subject, instead of finding it funny 'which you should've' you could only feel wired about some other woman even joking about having your husband's kid

But you brushed the thought off and concentrated on what you friend was saying.

Later that evening, Chris's mom and siblings were to come to your place for some dinner

you were busy preparing for it when Chris walked in smiling at something on his phone

"what's the smile for?" you asked

"oh it's nothing, by the way Mom called they are 5 mins away" Chris informed and you hummed in response

Everybody loved the dinner you cooked and practically ate their hearts out

"So Chris, what's all this with Lizzo?" Scott brought up the topic

Chris who was sitting next to you snorted and replied "haha, just some stupid joke"

"You replied to her pregnancy joke?" Shanna asked zooming into something on the phone

'Hi! Just heard about our little bundle of joy, 😂. My mother will be so happy lol. (Just promise me no gender reveal parties lol).' Shanna read his reply out loud

"Ohh, she is amazing. I just love her" Chris commented laughing with his classic left boob grab

His reply hit you hard and you were on the verge of tears spilling out of your eyes

Everybody laughed at the joke except Lisa, who was staring at you.

You smiled at her and excused yourself to go to the bathroom

you went straight up to your bedroom and just sat there staring at wall with various mixed feelings

you heard a knock on the door and wiped off the single tear that had fallen

"ye-yes" your voice cracked SHIT.

Lisa opened the door

"Lisa, I was about to come down", you got up but were forcefully pushed back to sit by her

"SIT." she ordered

"look i know you are saddened by this joke, and don't you dare deny it honey" she looked straight into your eyes

"I don't know why, I mean it's just a joke but.." you started

"Hey y/n, it's okay to feel this way. He is your husband and him talking hell even joking about having a child with someone else is upsetting. And he should be smacked for doing this" Lisa said gesturing a slap with her hand

You chuckled at her gesture

"Talk to him, tell that stupid ass how you feel" she held your face up with your chin and you nodded in response

The door creaked open once again, "Hey, what's going on?" Chris entered

"nothing we were just bitching about you" Lisa said getting up and leaving the room

Chris sat down next to you

"hey you okay?" he asked

You sighed deeply and began

"Look I know, this is a joke and I might be stupid to even feel this way but.."

"I heard your conversation with Ma,..... I didn't mean to eavesdrop but i was coming to check up on you guys and the door was open and I accidently heard it" Chris interrupted you

You were about to say something when

"No, let me finish. I am so sorry baby, I didn't realize or even think in your point of view as to how you will feel. I-I feel so guilty, I'm your husband I should be making you happy but here I am....ugh"

You pulled his face towards yours and kissed him passionately.

"I love you" you whispered breaking the kiss

"I am sorry" he whispered leaning his forehead to yours

"You mean so much to me, you and only you can and will be the mother to my children okay, remember that" Chris stated kissing you on the back of your hand

Masterlist

Reblogs are appreciated 😊

hmu, if you want to be a part of my taglist

[babyboibucky]

The Match - Part 3

Pairing: CEO!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Bucky’s becoming extra horny around you in the office.

Word Count: 2,697

Warnings: still smut, boss x employee affair, unprotected sex everywhere, hints at misogyny???

A/N: And a mini series was born 😂 no but honestly, I didn’t expect for parts 1 and 2 of The Match to receive such amazing feedback 😭 I really enjoy reading everyone’s reaction to this series and trust me, all comments keep giving me ideas. Thank you all so much!!!!!!! 😘😘😘 and btw, this part isn’t their promotion “celebration” because that will have a chapter on its own. Long story short, that will be pure porn with no plot at all so stay tuned for that 😂

The Match Masterlist || MAIN MASTERLIST

It’s been a rollercoaster ride since you matched with James— Bucky, on Tinder. Maybe not a literal rollercoaster ride but with how Bucky had you bouncing on his cock as he sat on the couch, or that one time he asked you to sit on his face inside his car, it was a ride nonetheless and an exhilarating one at that.

Despite your relationship with him, the both of you surprisingly managed to keep things professional when there was work involved. Of course there were times when quickies in the office took place, given that Bucky was fucking insatiable (let’s all admit it, so were you). Work was work and you excelled at being the head of your department, but once office hours are over, you excelled more at giving Bucky head.

Oftentimes you found yourself worrying about getting caught. You’ve always been careful but lately, Bucky seemed to be slipping up. He just couldn’t seem to get his hands off of you and he was becoming more and more obvious. You were pretty good at being discreet but sometimes, it was hard not to react to Bucky when he would look at you with a naughty glint in his eyes, a smug smirk tugging at his lips as he watched you present. He’d tilt his head sometimes as he looked at you, lifting a brow as he smirked whenever he was impressed.

You ended up stuttering when he gave you that look one time. It was proud and it made your chest swell and your pussy throb. He rewarded you that night in his office by making you cum on his face twice.

That look was going to be the death of you and he was giving it to you now as you entered the conference room for the monthly mancom meeting. Bucky eyed you as you went around the desk, lifting a brow and pulling the empty chair next to him, commanding you to sit beside him without having to say a word.

You cleared your throat and pulled the chair, noticing how Bucky eyed your ass before you sat down.

“Is everyone here?” He asked after ogling your backside for a good five seconds.

All the department heads affirmed their attendance and soon enough, the meeting began with the HR manager reporting first. Lights were shut off and as soon as the report was projected onto the wall, Bucky began his little game. You were paying attention to the slides being presented until you felt Bucky’s foot nudge your ankle, hooking around it to slightly open up your legs.

You side-eyed him and subtly shook your head. He had never done this in public, at least, not during meetings. So you weren’t sure why he was being so frisky now, placing a hand on your thigh. You grabbed his hand and moved it away gently before slightly moving your seat away from Bucky, crossing your legs in the process.

“What do you think Mister Barnes?” The HR manager asked.

All heads turned towards Bucky, who obviously wasn’t paying attention provided that his hand was trying to sneak back onto your thigh. He cleared his throat and straightened up on his seat, fixing his tie before pursing his lips.

“I’m sorry, can you please repeat that?” He asked and you fought the urge to snort.

“I was wondering if we can hold another seminar about workplace etiquette.” She said.

Bucky hummed, “Do we have problematic employees?” He asked curiously.

The HR manager sighed, a blush creeping up to her face. “There have been rumors going around the office about employees engaging in...lewd acts within the workplace. I thought that we should revisit the topic about workplace code of ethics.” She explained.

You ended up in a coughing fit, quickly apologizing and reasoning out that you were having allergies today. Bucky tensed in his seat but managed to remain calm. He stole a quick glance at you before turning back to the HR manager.

“And have we identified these employees?” He asked, rubbing a hand on his chin. A nervous habit of his, you noticed.

This was what you have been worrying about! Bucky has been fucking you around the office and now everyone was catching on to it. And although you wanted to blame Bucky for this, you knew you were just as much to blame. Damn you and your hormones!

The HR manager shook her head, much to your and Bucky’s relief. “No sir, but some employees have been noticing and hearing things, especially after office hours. Janet for instance, filed a report last week about hearing hushed whispers from the pantry, followed by the creaking sound of the table. The following day, shards of someone’s mug were found in the trash. There was an assumption that there might be employees behaving inappropriately.”

“Oh my god, I’m close. Bucky I’m—“

Bucky’s hand clamped around your mouth as he shushed you, hearing footsteps approach the pantry. You stilled as you nervously watched shadows move beneath the door, but of course, this didn’t stop Bucky from snapping his hips against yours.

His thrusts were slow and languid, but he slammed back in with such force that made the pantry table scratch against the floor. Once the footsteps faded, Bucky wasted no time to get back to fucking you. He lifted your legs up and rested the back of your ankles against his shoulders, slightly bending down over you so he can angle his cock to perfectly hit that one sweet spot.

A single, powerful thrust sent you reeling, your hands finding purchase on the sides of the table.

“Cum, baby. Cum.” Bucky growled.

Another thrust made you gasp out loud, feeling the head of Bucky’s cock nudge against your cervix. One hand reached for his bicep, your nails digging into his dress shirt while the other reached back for the edge of the table only to knock off the mug resting on top.

You made a face when you heard it crash against the floor. The mug was soon forgotten when Bucky leaned down to kiss you, his tongue sliding into your mouth as his hand reached down to rub your clit.

You wiped the sweat on your forehead upon remembering that incident. Fucking Janet just had to file a report. It was after office hours, for fuck’s sake! Who cares what employees do after their shift?!

“I see.” Bucky responded, fixing his suit. “Okay. I approve of the seminar. Who’s next?” He asked, quickly changing the topic as if it was no big deal.

The head of the Finance department began with his presentation and just like that, Bucky returned his hand on top of your thigh, prying your legs open. You turned to him with a look of disbelief on your face. He was acting as if there wasn’t any close call earlier. You couldn’t believe this man, sure he was hot as hell, but you weren’t giving in to him. Not today, not when the both of you were almost caught.

The entire mancom meeting was pretty eventful, with Bucky teasing your legs with his hand despite your half-hearted protests. You hated how Bucky was able to familiarize himself with your body and how it reacted to him. Your eyes might be saying no but with how your legs eventually spread on their own, Bucky knew you were desperate for him too.

-

It was an hour past your shift when you received an e-mail from Bucky with the subject being “Report”. Thinking it was one his follow-up e-mails (Bucky is an impatient man when it comes to the submission of reports and you weren’t an exception) you opened it immediately and choked on your spit when a photo of his dick showed up on your desktop. You started clicking around in an attempt to close his e-mail, but instead of hitting the “x” button, you ended up maximizing the window instead.

“Jesus fucking christ!” You cursed and covered your monitor with your hands as you frantically looked around the office.

It was like a fucking jump scare, like one of those computer pranks asking you to concentrate on a dot before a scary photo would pop out. Except that it was Bucky’s dick that appeared. A dick scare.

Fortunately, you were the only one left in your area since pretty much everyone else scrambled out of the office as soon as work hours were over. It was a Friday after all.

You sighed in relief and quickly scrolled down to see the message beneath the photo of Bucky’s dick.

Need you in my office in ten.

P.S. Bring the report I asked from you the other day.

Best,

Bucky Barnes

Who sends an unsolicited dick pic through e-mail followed by a work reminder? And the signature? It was the cherry on top. Bucky Barnes was something else. Sweet jesus, you really couldn’t believe this man.

Grabbing your report, you marched your way to the elevator and headed up to Bucky’s office. Seeing that his floor was empty, you didn’t even bother knocking on his door and simply barged in.

“I can’t belie— what the fuck?” You called out when you were welcomed with the sight of Bucky leaning back on his chair, his cock out for the world to see as he gently stroked it.

“Need your pretty mouth around my cock, baby.” Bucky cooed with half-lidded eyes.

You huffed out a humorless laugh and shook your head, “I’m not sucking your cock, Bucky.” You refused and walked over to his table, slamming your report on top of it before walking away, but not before stealing another look at his majestic cock.

“Are you mad?” Bucky asked but he was smirking with amusement. He was giving you that look again but you were having none of it tonight.

You stood in front of his desk, keeping a safe distance away from him. Crossing your arms over your chest, you scowled at Bucky and tried your best not to let your eyes fall down to his cock again. Which by the way, he continued to stroke.

“For someone as smart as you, I can’t believe you’re so fucking dense.” You said with irritation when Bucky didn’t seem to understand why you were agitated.

He licked his lips, bucking up his hips when he squeezed the base of his cock. Bucky let out a delicious grunt as he continued to stroke himself. As much as you were salivating at the sight of Bucky’s cock— tip red and swollen, begging to be sucked— you didn’t want to give in.

“You’re fucking priceless, James.” You said, exasperated and turned around, heading towards the door.

You were about to reach onto the door knob when you heard the sound of a zipper followed by the wheels of Bucky’s chair screeching against the floor before a pair of hands grabbed at your waist. Turning you around, you were met with Bucky’s worried face.

“Shit, you’re really mad. Talk to me?” He pleaded, eyes apologetic as he took a step back, urging you to speak up.

“You might want to take a seat because I’ve got quite a list.” You said.

Bucky obeyed and returned to his chair immediately, sitting upright as he looked at you with doe eyes. If you weren’t so mad, you would’ve melted at the sight of him like that. And the Bucky Barnes? The CEO? Obeying you like a good little boy? Huh, what an interesting concept. You mentally took note of a certain kink that you might enjoy. But for now, you were mad at him and you were going to make him understand why.

“Number one, I don’t particularly enjoy it when you tease me in front of everyone else. We talked about staying professional when there’s work involved and what you did during the mancom was definitely not professional.” You told him.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t hold back not when your ass looked so fuckin’ tight in that skirt of yours. Can you blame me?” Bucky almost whined.

“Keep it in your pants, Barnes. I’m not yet done.” You reminded him and went over your second point.

“Number two, we almost got caught to the point of the HR deciding to hold a seminar on workplace ethics! Do you know how awkward it would be for me to sit there and listen to scenarios about office misconduct? Most of which we’ve probably done. I’d sweat like a whore in church!” You hissed.

Which scenarios could that be? Fucking inside the janitor’s supply closet? Check. Doing the nasty in one of the bathroom cubicles? Check that twice. Giving a blowjob beside the fax machine during lunch break? Triple check that shit.

“And oh, you sent me a dick pic using your work e-mail! You do know that the IT can access our computers right? Almost gave me a heart attack when it flashed on my monitor.” You asked in a huff.

Bucky snickered, “Are you forgetting that I’m the CEO? Baby, I can easily clean up our mess.” He reassured and stood up, approaching you.

You shook your head, “That’s exactly the point, Bucky. You are the CEO and I’m an employee. You may not understand it but I’m scared. If we get caught, it’s over for me. Whether you have it cleaned up or not, I’d still be the one at risk here. You’ll never be in the same position as I am. People won’t call you names if we get caught. No matter what happens, I’d always get the short end of the stick.”

You didn’t mean to be all serious, talking about the possible misogynistic outcome of your relationship with Bucky. As much as you enjoyed it, it still scared the living daylights out of you. Some were already spreading rumors about your promotion, getting caught would only add fuel to the fire.

Bucky sighed and nodded, “I’m sorry. I didn’t try to understand where you were coming from.” He genuinely apologized.

“If it scares you that much, then let’s make it official.”

You deadpanned at him, “Make what official, Bucky?” You asked, eyebrow raised in curiosity.

Bucky shrugged and motioned his hand between the both of you, “This...us.” He simply said.

You scoffed, “Tell the entire office that we’re fucking every chance we get? Are you out of your mind?”

Bucky ran a hand through his cropped hair, “Not like that. Look, we’ve been at it for what? Two? Three months now? We might as well make this into an official relationship.”

You blushed at Bucky’s suggestion. Sure, you practically jumped at the opportunity to fuck your boss when he asked you. But were you an easy bitch in general? Of course not, even with how thirsty you were for him, you still had a little bit of appreciation for the old-fashioned ways.

Pushing Bucky’s chest away, you shook your head at him. “That’s now how relationships work, Bucky. You can’t fuck your way into my heart.”

Bucky laughed and bit his lip, “Fine. Then I’ll do it properly.” He said so easily you were starting to wonder whether he was fucking with you.

You narrowed your eyes at him suspiciously, “I don’t believe you.” You said.

“You will, baby. I’ll make sure of that. We’ll do it old-school.” He said, caressing your cheek.

You were caught off guard but you didn’t want to get your hopes up. Bucky had been an amazing lover and in the past months you’ve fucked, he treated you with respect and took good care of you. He brought you dinner, drove you home and texted you good night. Sometimes he’d text you during the weekends too.

“Old-school it is then.” You shrugged as if it was no big deal but oh, it was a big deal.

Bucky nodded with a grin, “Okay. But...” he trailed, his smile turning upside down in deep thought.

“Does that mean we’d stop fucking each other for the mean time?” He asked.

You snickered, “I said you can’t fuck your way into my heart, not my pussy. So sit down and let me suck your cock.”

-

Everything Bucky Tag List:

@ddowii @jessou893 @stealapizzamyheart @bagelofthelord @mxnt @dontputyourfckingdrinkonmytable @jeeperky @ohladymacbeth @wildflowergubler @supraveng @twinerd14 @buckysmar  @bakugouswh0r3 @sweetcoldharmony @wintersfilm @charminivy @amelia-song-pond @iamvalentinaconstanza @mcubqrnes @i’m-squished @tcc-gizmachine @sipsteacasually @prettyintopeerpressure @weloveyasmin @est19xxshit @bloodhon3yx @dressed-in-prada @lizette50 @thatfangirl42 @sunflowerbunny2​ @unmagically​ @okiegirl24 @sugarpunch-princess @enlyume @vvipgotbb @slimeyderp @lyoongx @just-deka @nobody-will @jaziona92 @elisebuitron @dpaccione @suvikamahes98blr @buckybarneshairpullingkink @earthtonav @x-judyjude-x @nani-kenobi @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @belladonnabarnes​ @iloveangstposts @weenersoldierr​ @asemistablehundredyearoldman​ @reidbuck​ @lizzarooni​ @girlfriday007​ @5-seconds-of-mendes​ @whoth3hellisbucky​​ @bonkywobble​ @lost-in-the-stars03 @its-yasbxtch @twinerd14 @bluehour-553​ @old-enough-to-know-better73​​ @aikeia​ 

The Match Special Tags:

@marvelslag​ @weird-mumbling​ @propertyofpoeandbucky​ @lostinthoughtsandfeelings​ @mostly-marvel-musings​ @squishybabies​ @megzdoodle​ @little-baby-vixen​ @annathesillyfriend​ @xhollycowx​ @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog​ @5-seconds-of-mendes​ @gogolucky13​ @countonthesun​ @iloveshawnieboi​ @learisa​ @borikenlove​ 

[amara-scott]

Movie: Divergent Characters: Eric Coulter x f!Reader Categories: Anger, Fluff, Eric

“Again.” Another jump, down to the ground, push up followed by another jump. Kick, kick, uppercut, hook. My hands fall to my knees, hunched over I try to gulp down the pain in my burning throat. I don’t know if it’s tears or sweat but it’s covering my hot face.

“Again.” He sounds more and more stern. I blink a couple times, standing up straight and am about to do the whole circuit for the- what, 40th time? I lost count long ago. My bones shake and muscles ache. It’s past the point where only numbness is left and I am scared I won’t feel anything anymore after I am done today. If I will ever be done. If he lets me.

I jump and am about to go down to the ground, my hands planted on the cool mat, feet ready to kick back into a plank but my arms shake before they give out and I fall to the ground face first. The ground cooling my cheek. I close my eyes and only hear my breathing, it's loud. Just as my thumping heart. Sweat stinging my eyes now.

“What are you doing?”

My eyes snap open at that question and I feel full of rage and hate. Just- frustration spreading inside every fiber of my being.

I twist my head around, supporting myself on my elbows. “Taking a break maybe?” I say, trying not to sound ironic or rude- but I do. I really don’t care though. I am past the point of just sucking it up.

“What did you say?” He challenges, his cold orbs boring into mine as he folds his arms and shifts in his stance, glaring down at me. His lips twitching into a not so amused smile before sneering down at me.

“I said- taking a break, maybe.” I repeat and twist, sitting with my knees angled up, placing my arms atop. Eyes now down between my legs on the ground. Maybe I shouldn’t have said that. He still is a leader. Someone I should respect and who's orders I have to follow.

“Stand up, now.” I sigh with closed eyes and stand back up, looking at his arms, chewing my lower lip.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you.”

I gulp and look up, trying not to forget to breathe. My heart calmed down but once I meet his eyes, my heart rate picks right back up.

“You’re not here to take breaks. You understand?” I nod quickly, not really having enough energy to even form words. He keeps silent for a moment longer, knowing that I struggle to keep up the eye contact. He smirks at the end, moving his head a bit closer, leaning forward.

“I’ll see you here tomorrow. Same time." I force myself not to close my eyes and sigh in frustration.

"-Actually, for the rest of the month. Every day.” My eyes grow a bit wider and I want to reply, talk back- but he just raises his pierced eyebrow, daring me. I gulp down my pride and nod once.

“Go.” His jaw is clenched and I quickly, dizzily grab my bottle and move past him, walking quickly.

Why, of all people, does he hate me so much? Am I doing that bad? I didn’t feel like I was. I rarely lost a fight and Four even complimented me after a few. I can’t say the same about Eric though. He never spoke. Only to correct or mock. Nothing kind ever left his lips.

With a sigh I fall into bed after my shower, not even in the mood to go get any food. I’ll just eat more tomorrow at breakfast. My eyes sealed shut and I doze off.

Eric is back at it, yelling at an initiate for losing and telling them to go back to the punching bags. He scoffs and turns around, his eyes wandering around the room and landing on me. I quickly turn away, holding the knife tightly between my fingers and focusing on the target ahead. The clashing of knifes the only sound I hear until he stands next to me.

“Throw it.” He commands and I take another deep breath, throwing and hoping I hit anything. But the knife just bounces off the wall and lands at the bottom of the target.

“Pathetic. Go get the knife.” I whip my head around and look at him with wide eyes.

“You mean- right now?”

“No, after practice. Of course now, go!” I flinch as he ends his sentence and turn back around, looking to the side as a couple people stop and watch.

“Did I say stop? Keep going, all of you.” I squeeze my eyes shut for a second before taking a deep breath and not looking back as a few knives land in my way, only making me stop a few times. Don’t look back- don’t look back- don’t-

A knife whips right past my ear, I feel the wind brushing my hair away and I stop, watching it emerge from the target I practiced at. I grab the knife off the ground and turn around. Eric standing there with another knife in hand and throwing it up a couple times.

“Next time I won’t miss.” I can’t move my legs after that and Eric frowns, sticking the sharp weapon into the wooden box it’s usually stored in.

“Come on, get back here. You’re not done practicing.”

I want to say anything but I can’t, my feet also glued to the ground. I want to lift anything but I’m frozen.

“(Y/N)? Come on.”

“(Y/N)?”

“Stand up, hey!”

I gasp, sitting up in bed, breathing heavily.

"You looked exhausted, I just wanted to let you sleep longer." Emma sits down next on my bed, giving me a sad smile.

"Thanks, I probably needed that." I mumble, clearing my throat and sit up next to her, head in my hands.

"I brought you some food, don't tell anyone." She whispers and unpacks a sandwich and an apple, handing both to me.

"Wow, thanks, you're amazing." I side hug her, taking the food and gulping everything down with water. Emma giggles watching me and stands back up.

"You shouldn't eat so fast, you'll get a stomach ache- we have to be in the training room in ten." She turns around, smiling one last time and walking off to join some others on their way to the training room.

I sigh, remembering what will happen after training. The dream- it felt so real.

I get ready quickly, jogging down the hall and entering through the tall doors. Everyone is gathering in a circle and I join in, blending into the back of the group to maybe not get noticed.

"This week will be all about your aim. Especially throwing knives and shooting guns." I roll my eyes, shaking my head to myself. This is ridiculous.

"Any complains?" My eyes shoot over to Eric, who's stare is fixed on me for a second longer before wandering around the group. Some are shaking their heads or mumbling no. He saw my expression. I will suffer even more today. If that's even possible.

"Let's get ready then, the targets are back at the wall, pic one and start throwing." Four tells us and we make our way to the targets. I jog up to Emma, sending her a smile.

"You think you're any good at this?" She asks and I shrug.

"Well it's not like I would have a lot of experience so- I can just hope."

"I actually did throw knives a lot back in Amity." I frown, my eyes boring into the side of her face as she smirks.

"Well, more in my head but still. Not the first time I'm thinking about it. Maybe that helps." I chuckle and shove her lightly, both of us finding a spot and trying out the knives, holding them, turning them.

"You have to take multiple aspects into account when throwing a knife. The weight, size and distance to your target. Have a go." Four says and starts pacing behind us hands behind his back and observing. I glance around more, trying to find the piercing blue eyes and I find them, a few steps further down the line but he turns, as if he felt me watching him.

I get ready and try to mimic someone who just hit their target. Legs steady, slightly parted- arm leaning back and then- I close my eyes until I hear a clashing sound. The knife fell down, not even close to the target. Wow.

I try a few more times and get closer and even hit the target but the knife never sticks fully.

"What are you doing?" I flinch at his voice, nearly dropping the knife in my hand. I turn to the side, watching Eric.

"Trying to hit the target?" It sound more like a question as I'm not in the mood to come off as a smart ass or the ironic bitch I usually am.

"Well, you're not doing a great job then." He states and I nod, agreeing with him. There is a small pause before he raises an eyebrow with folded arms.

"Could you maybe- help me out?" I say before thinking about what I actually just said. I hear Emma snorting beside me, trying to cover it up with a cough. Eric's eyes find her for a second before coming back to me.

"Turn around." I frown but quickly follow his order.

"Angle your hips." I shift, one foot forward the other further back, trying to stand sturdy.

"Further." His hands find my waist and he twists it more, my breath hitching as I glance down at his fingers sitting atop my hips.

"Look up." He says, his breath hitting my neck before he steps back again. I focus on the target, reaching my arm back and twisting my shoulders.

"Don't just reach your wrist back. The whole arm." He pulls at my elbow, correcting my stance and I feel my skin burning from where he touched me. My skin tingling.

"Twist your whole body while throwing. Full force." I take another deep breath and do as I'm told yelling out this time, not closing my eyes, too curious if it changed anything.

It did. I hit the target. It sticks. I grin and turn to Eric- but he's already gone further down. I turn back forward and want to do it again. And again.

Maybe I'm actually looking forward to after-practice today.

_________________________________ More Divergent Imagines Full Masterlist