#here i go again with my sappy shit don’t mind me | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lola-la-cava · 2 years ago

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Met ‘23

Timothée Chalamet x Reader

_________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

“Y-yeah, don’t even worry about it. Who needs air?. Just… keep going” I say as they continue to tighten the corset. I grip my waist, sucking up as much air as I can.

All of a sudden, I hear a familiar voice tsk. The women helping me with my dress backs up, causing the piece of clothing to loosen.

“Did she put you up to this?”, he asked the woman. She nodded.

“Traitor!”

He laughs at my quip and comes up to kiss my cheek. “You look beautiful”

Timothée looks me up and down, examining the dress and taking my hand to twirl me. “You don’t look half bad yourself.” I giggle.

The curly haired boy gasped, “Half bad? Come on! Give me a little more credit!”

“Ah fine! You look gorgeous!” I praise, getting my body close to his to pull him in for a needed kiss.

“Ah, ah, ah. I’m not done yet! Couldn’t keep your hands to yourself, huh, lover boy?” my make-up artist comes to pull us apart and retouching my lipstick.

“How could I?” he stared at me with a love sick stare that I didn’t quite notice at the time.

Timothée hears a quick snap!from the camera. He whips his head around to see one of the photographers catch the perfect moment.

“Whoops” the guy shrugged.

“You people are sickening!” my assistant screamed from the other side of the room.

Timothée answers back, “Jealous much, Meg?”

“Ha. ha.” she teased. “I happen to enjoy being all alone, thank you very much”

I playfully roll my eyes at her antics. “Yeah, sureee”

“Aaalright, Y/N you’re set!” She pats my cheek as I look at her with grateful eyes.

Timothée’s arms wrap around my front once again as soon as she let go. His head resting on my shoulder, kissing my neck

“I just hope lover boy here doesn’t ruin your make-up”

“No promises” he giggles as he playfully placed wet kisses on the side of my head.

“I swear, you will never hear the end from me if you do” she warns him.

“Now, get on out there. Tons of people are expecting you”

_________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

Ah, the calm before the storm.

Well, as calm as it can get. Which was not very.

They stood in the line before getting their pictures taken. Celebrities in extravagant clothing surrounded them. Some familiar faces present that Y/N took note to say hello to later on.

Y/N smoothed over her dress and brought her hand up to fix her hair again. Timothée noticing this, he interrupted her movement and took her hand. He squeezed it three times before kissing it.

I love you.

She took her hand back and grabbed her phone from a discreet pocket on the dress.

She scrolled aimlessly through social media, trying to get feeling of impending doom of my mind.

Her eye catches a random headline from an entertainment news update account. It read:

‘Timothée Chalamet and Kylie Jenner hard launching their relationship at tonight’s Met Gala? Y/N Y/L/N left in the dust?’

She lets out an obnoxious scoff. Timmy hearing it, he looks at her screen, reading the obviously made-up headline.

“God, they’re still on that?”

He notices his partner’s silence. “Come on. You’re not really bothered by this, are you?”

She opened her mouth to say something. No words came out. She merely shrugged.

He gripped her shoulders and pulled her in for a bear hug. Timothée rested his head on hers as she got close to his chest, hearing the comforting beat of his heart that never failed to comfort her.

The couple stayed like that. “Trust me, mon coeur. I wouldn’t have this any other way. I’m perfect where I am and who I’m with”

“Shit, I actually might cry. I never know what to say when you say this sappy shit”, Y/N chuckles as she puts her hand up to mess with his styled hair.

Feeling her hand creeping his back, Timmy pulls away and bows. “I aim to please you. It’s my sole purpose in life”

A smile instantly appeared on her face and butterflies in her stomach. Nothing had definitely changed from when they first started going out. Same sparks, same chemistry, same tension. Whatever you wanna call it. It was there. They had it.

She tugged on his hand, pulling him in for one more kiss. Y/N looked at him, looking over the features she admired so much that she practically memorized them. Her gaze lands on his lips.

Some of her lipstick and gloss had transferred to his lips. She quickly tried to get the makeup off. “Shit, wait hold on. You have some-“

He smacks her hand away. “No, no. Keep it.” He rubbed his lips together getting the substance to cover all ground.

“Y/N Y/L/N and Timothée Chalamet? They’re ready for you.”

_________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

“Right now, I’m here with everyone’s favourite couple, Timothée Chalamet and Y/N Y/L/N” Emma, the interviewer, spoke with enthusiasm.

We’d just finished the carpet and were almost home free. Camera flashes blinded my vision as I tried not to close my eyes throughout the whole thing. Screams of my name were heard throughout the venue. Meddlesome questions and controlling demands to pose a certain way were yelled. To which, I didn’t respond to. Why should I? I maintained my balance by holding onto Timothée. You’d think after a few years, you’d get used to the bordering aggressive personalities you have to deal with every single day.

It turns out not really.

“How does it feel to be back? I mean, you guys have gone before, but how does it feel to be here as the quote-unquote, it couple?”

Me and Timmy both give awkward chuckles as we heard the last two words.

“Uh- I really don’t know about that last part, but it just feels great to share such a meaningful moment with him. I’ve personally dreamed of attending since I first saw it as a kid and to be invited for the second time… It’s just… yea”, I answer, not being able to expound on the statement.

Emma hums and gains back the mic.

“So, rumors have been swirling about the internet that actually said othewise. Do you have anything to say about that?” She points the microphone at Timothée this time, definitely hinting at the Kylie rumors.

He seems taken aback by the question, not knowing what to say and the only thing I’m able to do was squeeze his hand. Three times.

I love you.

Emma realizes this with a regretful look on her face. She leans toward both of us as she moves the mic away.

“It’s totally fine if you guys aren’t comfortable. We could just mov-“

He takes the mic, she gives him a grateful small smile.

“No, I uh, me and Y/N have actually seen a handful of tweets about this and I just wanna set the record straight and say we are very much still together”, he nods as he hands the microphone back to her.

“I think I’m right by saying that this has definitely relieved viewrs at home and me.” We laugh genuinely at her quip.

I imagine people on Twitter have stopped adding fuel to the fire after what he said and can have a better goodnight’s sleep later in the evening.

“And that’s our time. I’ll see you lovebirds inside! Have a great time together!”

We both shook her hand and left with an indebted expression for keeping it mellow (for the most part) after such a nerve-wracking red carpet.

“Very professional with that answer, Chalamet”, I hook my arms with his and leaned on his shoulder.

“Of course, ‘gotta remind everyone you’re still my girl”, he says with a smug smirk.

I laugh, “Your girl? I suppose that means you’re my boy?”

He playfully rolls his eyes. “Come on! As if you didn’t know that from the beginning”

“Ohhh, I know. I just wanted to hear it from your mouth!”

#timothee chalamet fic #timothee x reader #timothée chalamet imagine #timothée chalamet x reader #timothee chalamet x y/n #timmy chalamet #timothee fanfic #timothee imagine #timothee chalamet x reader #timothee chalamet x you #timothee chalamet fanfic #timothee x y/n #timothee x you #timothee chalamet fluff #timothee chalamet imagines

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ghoulangerlee · 5 days ago

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HERE WE GO. dewther phone sex that probably could have gone on for another six thousand words if I'd continued writing instead of forcing myself to end it :)

there is some lore-y stuff in here because I am not me if I don't include my own personal lore, and at the end there's mentions of heats and knotting but neither of those actually happen :)

Dew is a lil mean in this but as it turns out, Aether really likes em mean.

The phone rings, pulling him from the inventory reports in front of him—it's the desk phone of all things, not his cell that sits face down a little further away and for a moment, he thinks to ignore it, to continue his work so he can finish quicker and get to bed sooner, but at the late hour it could be some kind of emergency—

He picks it up, balancing his pen in his other hand as he cradles the desk phone between his ear and shoulder, “Infirmary, this is Aether speaking, how can I help you?”

There’s silence on the line for a moment and Aether tilts his head, “Hello? Is someone there?”

A sigh, familiar in its tone echoes across the line, “Hey Aeth,” Dew mumbles, sounding tired, “Didn’t know if you’d still be awake.”

Aether glances up at the clock across the room, the hands ticking by slowly, it’s late, much later than he’d expected, “Ah,” he says, “I was finishing up some inventory reports in the infirmary, some new guy decided to double the amount of gauze we need so now we’re swimming in it but don’t have any more antibiotics,” he glances down at the papers in front of him, red lines crossed through black numbers, “Been down here most of the day counting things to get everything right again.”

Dew hums, a pleased little sound, “I like hearing you talk about the work you do,” he says, tone bordering on that sappy-tired one he gets whenever he’s worked to the bone and sleepy, “I miss you.”

“I miss you too,” Aether murmurs with a small smile, leaning back in his chair and focusing all of his attention on Dew, “How is guard duty with Frater Imperator?” he asks, a brief flash of worry catching him.

“He’s safe,” Dew says, yawns widely over the line, “A little annoyed by the travel, a lot annoyed that there may still be something or someone after him despite everything,” he’s candid about it, and if Aether closes his eyes, he can almost see Dew sitting in front of him, waving a lazy hand in emphasis as he speaks. “Of course, we’re doing fine, this other church is okay, a little drafty and the ghouls here don’t really speak, but I guess it’s fine for a little while. The elders keep giving me dirty looks when they think Copia isn’t watching though.”

A pang of regret goes through him, he’d almost went with Dew and Copia, but something had come up in the infirmary, someone had fallen ill and he’d been the best person to fill in, he wishes he were there with Dew right now. “Sounds exciting,” he says, “A little draft isn’t too much for a fire ghoul, right?” he asks teasingly, feeling the tension of the day fade the longer he speaks to Dew.

“Cold day in Hell that a puny little church with an annoying clergy bothers me enough to make me leave early,” Dew says with a snort, “I wanted to talk to you though, time differences suck. We’re on different continents and everything so I can’t even really feel you right now either.”

Aether gets it, he can feel the way his bond with Dew is weakened, barely there, dormant in the distance between them—in the back of his mind he can still feel him, but it’s a far cry from the usual. “I know, wisp,” he murmurs, “I wish we were closer too,” he admits, “Church is quiet without you here.”

“Copia was giving me shit earlier,” Dew admits after a few moments of silence, “Said I looked sad, like someone stole something from me,” he pauses, clears his throat, “Told me to come call you, that you’d probably be up working still even at the late hour.”

“He was right,” Aether says with a little laugh, “Not that he has any room to talk about what is and isn’t late,” he continues, and then glances up at the ceiling, “Are you still sad?” he asks cheekily, lazily spinning his chair to the side, “Do you need me to talk to you so you can fall asleep?”

He means it as a joke, but there’s a serious undercurrent there, something they’d discovered before Copia’s lateral move, when Dew had toured but Aether stayed behind—sometimes, sometimes his brain wouldn’t let him sleep, not alone, and he’d call Aether, listen to the quintessence ghoul talk until his eyes grew heavy and he fell into a comfortable sleep—imagining his mate right there beside him.

Dew hums lazily, “Maybe,” he starts, but this time, there’s something of a breathless quality to his voice, “Or maybe I want to talk to you about other things.”

It takes Aether a moment, if he focuses hard enough, he can hear something on the other line, a slick sound, a hitch in Dew’s breathing, “Is this a booty call?” he can’t help but ask, the words spilling out before he can stop it, “Dew are you—” he cuts himself off, presses his palm against the bottom of the phone and glances around the office.

It’s late, of course, and the door isn’t locked, but he’s the only one down here right now, having sent the rest of the staff off, only keeping a bare bones support staff in case of emergencies, but he can’t sense anyone else.

“I am working,” Aether finally says, lowering his hand, feeling a flush come up the sides of his neck, “If someone were to walk into my office, they’d—”

“They’d what?” Dew asks sharply, the hitch in his voice making it obvious what he’s doing, “They’d think you were on the phone, right, baby? That you’re working late, working so hard for everyone, making sure the inventory reports are all correct. You’re not doing something silly like touch yourself, are you? You’re on the phone and you’re working diligently.”

Aether grits his teeth, pressing a fist hard into his thigh, “I’m not touching myself,” he says, and looks down at his desk again, numbers taunting him on the page, “I’ve stopped working for the moment to talk to you,” he inhales deeply, bites his lip when he hears Dew moan quietly over the line.

“You’re being such a good boy,” Dew murmurs the praise, praise that shoots right down to Aether’s core, “I’m going to touch myself and you’re going to listen to me and keep working, aren’t you?”

Aether bites harder at his lower lip, tilting his head back against the chair, “I am,” he finally agrees, after a long moment of listening to Dew breathe heavily, the slick sounds of his hand.

Dew waits for a moment, almost as if he’s aware that Aether’s not working, waits for minutes until Aether sits up, scoots his chair forward and picks his pen back up, “If I were there with you, I’d situate myself under your desk,” he purrs, words going a bit high on the end. “You’d be a busy body about it, complain about me distracting you but we both know you want me to.”

Aether digs the pen into the paper in front of him, keeping his gaze trained on the numbers on the page and he hums a little, “You are good at being a little shit sometimes,” he says, trying to keep his tone casual.

A laugh, breathless and the slick sounds seem to get louder, “Uh huh,” he agrees, “I am, but you love me like that, you love when I push your buttons. Take you down a peg, big guy.” Dew grunts a little and Aether can only imagine that he’s fucking up into his fist, “You turn to putty in my hands the second I get my mouth on you,” he breathes.

“Lies,” Aether says, trying to keep his voice firm as he presses his legs together, “You’re just running your mouth.”

Dew swears softly, “Aether,” he moans out, “Strong words for the guy who begged me to fuck him right before I left,” he teases, and Aether feels hot under the collar when he thinks about it, how desperate he had been for Dew’s dick. “It’s okay big guy, I love when you fall apart for me, when you can barely speak because you’re so dick drunk,” he coos, “Thinking about how your skin’s so cold, but every time I get inside you, you heat up like a fire ghoul,” he teases, “Like I’m branding you from the inside out, isn’t that right baby, you’re all mine and no one can fuck you as good as I can.”

Aether squeezes the pen in his hand tight enough that he can hear the plastic creaking, “Dew,” he says sharply, but doesn’t speak beyond that, knows if he says anything else he’s going to make a fool of himself, he’s going to start babbling about how much he wishes Dew were here now, down under his desk, mouth on him, making him come.

As the silence stretches between them, Dew moans again, this time higher, another swear, the steady creak of bedsprings, little ah, ah, ahs falling from his lips as he does, “Say something sweet for me baby,” he finally says, breathless and oh so close. “Let me hear your gorgeous voice, tell me what you want me to do for you, baby.”

And oh Dew’s begging now, desperate in the same way he gets when they’re together, even when he’s being mean and teasing Aether—when he’s close, when he just needs a bit more to come.

The pen clatters to the desk and Aether’s quick to shove his hand down the front of his scrubs, so glad he’d opted for them instead of the stuffy slacks he normally wore when on administration duties, “I want your mouth on me,” he finally admits, “Wanna fuck your face while you wait under the desk for me to finish working,” he manages to get out, moans when his fingers meet his dick, stroking over it quickly. “Want you to put a couple of fingers inside me, something for me to squeeze around,” he swallows heavily, tilts his head back against the chair as he arches his hips up into his own touch, imagining the heat of Dew’s mouth around him, “I feel so empty, firelight,” he admits, voice breaking a little as he does, pants out in the open, “Feels so empty when you’re away, want you to carve a place inside me and never leave.”

Dew swears again, louder, a litany of fucks falling from his lips and Aether thinks he comes, thinks if he focuses hard enough he can feel it, the heat of it inside him, that maybe their distance is driving him a bit mad with how much he misses him.

“Come for me baby,” Dew’s voice, rough with his orgasm, fills Aether’s ears, draws a sharp gasp out of him as he clenches around nothing and comes, goes completely breathless with it as he continues to touch himself until he’s too sensitive and he has to pull his hand away though it doesn’t go far, arm falling limp between his thighs once his hand is free from his scrub pants.

It takes a while for his heart to settle down, for his breathing to fall under control again and he allows it, floats there as he wishes that Dew were here with him right now, a warm weight between his legs, fire all down his chest and stomach as he cradles him close, chasing away the chill that always falls over Aether after coming.

“—ay we’re going to be back tomorrow, we’ve done all the ground work here, anyway, the rest is just boring admin work that can be done over Doom meetings.” Dew’s murmuring when he comes back into focus, “As soon as I see you baby, I’m going to get my hands all over you just like you deserve,” he promises, filthy and low in his ear, “Gonna have you coming so much you’ll be satisfied for days.”

Aether hums, interested when his brain catches on the first part, still mostly focused on the second half of Dew’s words, “Tomorrow?” he asks, hating the way his voice sounds so hopeful.

Fuck, it’d been weeks though, since he’d last seen Dew. Since they’d been together. He misses him.

“Yeah, baby,” Dew murmurs, “Our plane landed a bit ago, we’re at a hotel for the night, but Copia’s got a car coming to get us in the morning. We’ll be home before you know it.”

Aether makes another noise, something choked, “Oh,” he says, looks down at the paper on the desk in front of him, half-finished inventory reports, “I’ve got to—”

“Whatever it is, it can wait,” Dew says firmly, “You’ve got tomorrow off and maybe the day after, Copia’s feeling a bit benevolent,” he says that with a bit of a grin in his voice, “Inventory will be fine for a couple of days, besides, Copia said he’d work on whatever you didn’t finish, just leave it where you’ve got it and he’ll take over. No arguing with me, alright?”

And well, Aether can’t argue, because he’s feeling a bit selfish, a bit like he wants to shirk his duties for a few days so he can spend time with Dew instead, something warm settling in the pit of his stomach. “Okay,” he settles on, feels the weight lifted off of his shoulders at the word as he leans back in the chair, making it squeak a bit under his weight.

“Good boy,” Dew says sweetly, “Now, listen, I want you to hang up the phone and go get cleaned up, settle in our bed and before you know it, I’ll be there, waking you up with a kiss.”

Aether thinks about his nest, the one he’d been working on since Dew had left, how it still smells like the two of them and how much he wants to be there now, “Okay, yeah,” he says, “I can do that.” He swallows, bites his lip, “I love you, Dew.”

Dew hums softly, “I love you too, big guy, I’ll see you tomorrow, bright and early.”

When he hangs up the phone, it’s with warm feelings, and as he levers himself up out of the chair, he feels like he’s floating.

He grabs his phone, scrolling through the few notifications that he has, there’s a couple of text messages that he’s not too concerned with answering tonight, another text from Dew that’s just a heart emoji and then a singular calendar notification.

Aether raises an eyebrow but thinks nothing of it at first, locks up the office and deposits the key in the safe box for another staff member to find before he heads up from the infirmary and to his and Dew’s bedroom.

Once he’s showered and settled into bed, wearing only his underwear and a thin t-shirt that used to be Dew’s at one point and is entirely too short on Aether and stretched out the from the number of times he’s squeezed into it, he picks his phone up again.

Taps the calendar notification and blinks at the entry that had been added recently.

Mandatory Leave 10.26 - 11.3 – Accepted by F. Imperator

There’s a text, one that had come in while he was in the shower, from Copia this time.

Dew may be a little grumpy in the morning, our car arrives in three hours to pick us up, we’ll be back before your heat starts. The others have stocked your room while you were working and I’ve taken the opportunity to clear your schedule for the next week just in case. Let me know if there’s anything you need <3

He feels a surge of affection, sends back a heart in response and takes a moment to take stock of himself, feels the low simmer of something that had been bothering him for a while, something gnawing at him the entire time he’d been without Dew—and he didn’t think that it was heat, thought it was just something happening because Dew had been away for so long. His mind races a bit, wonders why his heat had decided to show now of all times—

His phone buzzes again, a text from Dew.

Go to sleep, Aeth. I can feel you thinking from all the way out here. We’ll talk about it tomorrow.

He huffs quietly, sends back a fuck you and a heart a moment later, almost immediately, another text comes through.

Of course, big boy, anything you need. I’ll even let you knot me if you want <3

#dewther #the band ghost fic #dewdrop ghoul #aether ghoul #my writing

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wynnyfryd · 10 months ago

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Trailer park Steve AU pt 44

part 1 | part 43 | ao3

cw: recreational drinking

“You’re just…” Robin looks at him sideways, her face doing something quivery and weird that he’s pretty sure is supposed to be sympathetic concern but mostly looks like she stubbed her toe right after smelling microwaved fish. “You’re sure it’s not too soon?”

It is.

It definitely is too soon.

Steve’s pleasantly buzzed at a New Year’s Eve party — some random rich kid’s house, loitering in the space between the living room and kitchen so he and Robin can properly people watch (see also: be hugely judgmental bitches about the fashion sense of the girls on the dance floor and the sloppy form of the guys doing keg stands on the back deck) — and Steve just opened his fat, drunk mouth and casually admitted to being in love with Eddie.

Eddie, the guy who hated him for years. The guy who tried to knife him the first time they interacted as neighbors.

The guy whose silhouette has started to fill the passenger seat in Steve's Winnebago dreams.

Eddie’s here, but he’s not here; probably posted up somewhere in the basement so he can deal to the stoners and the horny kids playing Spin the Bottle, and Steve—

Steve knows he falls too fast. Always has, but especially now. Steve fell for Eddie like a gunshot going off: a deafening bang, gurgling fish sounds, blood all over the floor. He kinda thinks he couldn’t help it. Kinda thinks he’d do it again.

And how could he not, when Eddie smiles at him like that? When he takes him apart so sweetly with his words, his lips, his tongue? When he dragged Steve by the hand into the back pew of a midnight mass on Christmas Eve, giggling about how he was shocked his satanic worship hadn’t set the bench aflame?

Yeah.

Steve totally understood why Jesus got up on that cross.

“Oh, my god,” Robin rolls her eyes with a strangled huff. “Are you seriously just—? You’re fucking hopeless.”

Yeah, he is, and yes, he is. “No,” he insists, crossing his arms over his chest and trying not to feel like a defiant kid who got caught lying to his mother, because yeah, he totally is spacing out into lovesick La La Land while being actively accused of spending too much time there lately. “I’m not fucking hopeless, and it’s not too soon.”

Robin gapes at him like 'are you kidding me right now?' “Steve!”

“Robin!” he answers, mimicking her tone. Wow. Vodka makes him petulant.

It makes Robin stubborn as hell. She juts her chin out and hollers over the music, gesturing so aggressively she almost spills her drink, “Admit that it’s too soon!”

“It isn’t!” Steve shouts back; digs his heels in and refuses to budge, never mind the fact that it’s only been, like, three weeks since Eddie fingered him for the first time oh, god, don’t think about Eddie’s fingers right now.

They stare at each other for a second, Robin’s nostrils flaring with the words she so clearly wants to yell at him, her breaths coming hot and harsh, and then, with a long sigh, her shoulders deflate. Her chin comes down. She bites her lip again, teeth turning the skin white as her eyes go big and sad. Worried. She's worried for him because she loved him first.

Steve smiles at her, a quick, closed-lip thing that feels more like shrugging with his mouth, and he leans into her space; pats her cheek and thumbs her chin until she stomps chomping on her lip.

“You’re gonna get it all chapped,” he says in a hush, hoping her Steve translator is still intact after a couple drinks. Hopes she knows that he’s really saying ‘I hear you’ and ‘I love you, too; I love that you care’ because they're at a party and god does he not feel like saying sappy friendship shit out loud.

Robin’s eyes get misty. Just for a second — message received; copy that — and she clears her throat and shakes it off. Points at something over Steve’s shoulder and drags him to the other side of the room.

—

part 45

tag list in separate reblogs under '#trailer park steve au taglist' if you'd like to filter that content. if you want to be added please comment and let me know (must be over 21; please either verify in the comment or have your age visible on your blog)

#trailer park steve au #steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #platonic stobin #my writing #my fic

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obsolescent · 1 year ago

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bad idea right?

Pairing: Fuckboy!Leon S. Kennedy x Reader

Author’s Note: This wouldn’t leave my head until I got it out!! Giggling, kicking my feet writing this up. I don’t know if I made him fuckboy-ish enough but, lol. This got really nasty then really sappy. Enjoy!

Song: bad idea right? By Olivia Rodrigo

Content Warnings: Explicit sexual content, oral sex, squirting, Leon’s cocky ass mouth, trans Leon, no gendered language for reader, edging, orgasm denial, confessed feelings.

Words: 3,258

“Haven't heard from you in a couple of months But I'm out right now, and I'm all fucked up And you're callin' my phone, you're all alone And I'm sensin' some undertone”

Getting trashed with your friends has become a weekly occurrence, going out bar hopping and dancing the night away. It’s the usual Friday night, taking shots in between your horribly inaccurate throws at the dartboard with your darts, sending you and your friends into a laughing fit. After finishing your turn, you ungracefully plop down onto a bar stool, pulling out your phone.

The screen lights up and you’re met with a missed call from your ex, Leon. ‘What does he want?’ Seeing a voicemail was left, you stand up and let your friends know you’re stepping outside for some air. Opening the back door into an alley, the brisk autumn air sending a chill through your body. Clicking on the voicemail, you let it play.

There’s some rustling on his end of the line, “Hey,” He starts, slurring his greeting, “What’re you up to tonight? Settled into my new place…Not too far from those bars you and your friends go to,” He knows? Like he can hear your thoughts, he lets out an airy chuckle, “Come over…Been thinkin’ ‘bout you...Missin’ you. Sent the address.” The recording ends there. Obviously drunk himself, yet that huskiness of his voice that always sent tingles through your being is present. He knows what it does to you, even after everything.

“And I'm right here with all my friends But you're sendin' me your new address And I know we're done, I know we're through But, God, when I look at you”

You bite your lip, contemplating. The way things ended between you two wasn’t that bad…He’s just an asshole! His antics drove you up the wall. The shit he would get into with his friends, that damn mouth on him. But, oh, he was so sweet when he wasn’t being a little shit. Crinkling his beautiful blues, cocking his head, that grin. Whispering the sweetest words in your ear, syrup dripping from his lips. Coating your senses and setting your body aflame.

The way he could work your body…Fuck. You don’t think you’ll ever find someone as good as him. The past couple months have been achingly empty for you, in so many ways. Your body yearning for his touch, it begging, one more time, please just one more. Your teeth bite into your fist, trying to rein in your hormones and your thoughts. You know it’s a losing battle, especially with your inebriated mind.

“My brain goes, "Ah" Can't hear my thoughts (I cannot hear my thoughts) Like blah-blah-blah (blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah) Should probably not I should probably, probably not I should probably, probably not”

Feeling fuzzy, your body warming up at the thought of his hands on you again. ‘He invited you! He wanted to show you his new place, you can’t be rude and turn that down. It’ll be okay, come on! You can just be friends now, there’s no harm in that.’ Your brain jumps through hoops trying to sway your answer.

“Seein' you tonight, it's a bad idea, right? Seein' you tonight, it's a bad idea, right? Seein' you tonight, it's a bad idea, right? Seein' you tonight, fuck it, it's fine”

You take a deep breath and walk back inside. Your friends are sitting at a table now, munching on appetizers and sipping away. You tell them you aren’t feeling good, that you’re going to go home and go to bed. Wishing you well and to be safe, their sentences blending together. You take your leave and head to the front, pulling out your phone to get a ride to Leon’s new place. It doesn’t take long for the car to show up, and once inside the car pulls away from the sidewalk, heading to your undoing.

“Now I'm gettin' in the car, wreckin' all my plans I know I should stop–but I can't And I told my friends I was asleep But I never said where or in whose sheets”

You don’t let him know you’re coming, in case you change your mind. ‘You won’t,’ Your mind hisses, ‘You need this too bad. It’ll be this one time and you can get it, and him, out of your system,’ Your mind is still persuading you, even as the buildings fly past and the streetlights blur across the window, ever getting closer to him.

The car reaches its destination, you thank the driver and step out to an apartment complex. Taking the stairs instead of the elevator, you give yourself a once over while you make your trek to the second floor. Taking the smallest steps, you finally make it to his door. Deep breath in, exhale, you knock.

“And I pull up to your place, on the second floor And you're standin', smiling at the door And I'm sure I've seen much hotter men But I really can't remember when”

Faint shuffling is heard before the door is opened, and there he is. Propped against the frame, taking up the majority of the space with his broadness. Shirtless, with gray sweats that hang dangerously low on his hips, that crooked smirk is plastered on his face. It soon turns into a grin as his eyes make his way up your body, flushing your entire system with want.

He sighs, cocking his head. His blond fringe falls away from his face. “Knew you’d come.” He steps aside and ushers you in, locking the door behind you while you remove your shoes and put down your belongings. The new place is quite nice, Leon having already unpacked everything, the kitchen and living room looking immaculate. The thing about Leon, is that he may seem like a douche on the outside, acting like he doesn’t care about anything, but he’s quite the perfectionist. What you lo–liked about him, how meticulous he was about things, small stuff that you didn’t think he’d notice.

Which makes it all the more frustrating for you. His outwardly behavior doesn’t make–You snap back from your thoughts when you feel him brush against you from behind, his body’s warmth seeping into your system. “Like it so far?” He whispers, bending down to your ear, his breath disturbing pieces of your hair. This close, he smells faintly of vodka and his signature scent, the fragrance washing over your senses. God, you missed him.

“Yeah, i-it looks great. You’ve always had an eye for decor,” You get out, tongue feeling heavy in your mouth. He hums, placing his hands on either of your upper arms. His fingers gripping softly, skin tingling around his palms. “Thanks. Let me give you a tour, yeah? You haven’t seen the best part yet,” He chuckles and steers you into the living room, seeming like he’s actually going to take you throughout the place.

He directs you to stand in front of the couch.

It’s the same one he had at his old apartment. A black leather sofa with solid wood legs, the contrasting colors make it pop. It had always been pretty comfortable, you could see why he wouldn’t get rid of it. “Remember this couch?” He asks, lightly squeezing your arms. You hum and nod, not sure where he’s going with this. He leans down, grazing his lips against the shell of your ear. You can hear the grin in his words as he says, “Remember when I made you squirt so much that it was dripping off the sides?”

The fire that erupts in your body scorches throughout. Like he flipped a switch with his words, your nipples harden, feeling wetness run out of you. You make a noise in the back of your throat while he moves his hands from your arms. One lowering to grip your waist, the other moving higher, to your throat. A firm hold, he adds no pressure. It sits there, possessively.

He guides your head back, tilting it so you can meet his eyes. Cerulean half-lidded, grin still spread across his face with satisfaction at your body’s response. Tipping his head forward, lips brushing. “You’ve needed me so bad, huh? Must’ve been so hard these past couple months without me fucking you.” You whimper, eyes fluttering closed. He tightens his grip on your throat.

“Seein' you tonight, it's a bad idea, right? Seein' you tonight, it's a bad idea, right? Seein' you tonight, it's a bad idea, right? Seein' you tonight, fuck it, it's fine”

“Look at me,” He commands, your eyes once again trained on his face. “So good, you could always follow directions so well.” “Please,” You plead, beginning to tremble. “Oh? Something you want? You know how to ask, or is that brain of yours already turned to mush?” He’s taunting you, you don’t even fucking care. “N-need you to touch me, so bad,” You whisper, lips parted. You lean up on your tiptoes to try to close the distance between your lips, but he pulls away.

He tuts, “Why don’t we start with you getting on your knees for me, then I’ll think about touching you, hm?” He pats your cheek with his hand. You turn towards him and immediately sink to the floor, knees hitting the rug a bit too fast, causing a bit of burn. Ignoring it to grab at his sweats, you begin pulling them down. “Goddamn, baby. If I knew you would get on your knees this quick, I would’ve called sooner.” Ignoring him, you work on his briefs next, joining the pants around his ankles.

Fully exposed to you, your eyes rake up his sculpted physique. Having looked like he was carved out of marble, freckles and moles scattered about his body, his chest scars faintly contrasting with his skin. “Admiring the view? Me too,” He props his hands on his hips, smirking down at you. You think if you rolled your eyes any harder they’d pop out of their sockets.

You look up at him, a smirk pulling at your features. He narrows his eyes. “What’s that look ab–oh fuck!” He yells out, hands shooting from his hips to entangle in your hair, having latched your mouth to his T-cock without warning. It jumps in your mouth and you quickly set to work on sucking, moving your head back and forth, hands gripping his thighs.

You set a ruinous pace, giving him a taste of his own medicine. You glance up to see his head thrown back and eyes closed, biting his lip to unsuccessfully stifle his whines. Your hand trails up closer to his cunt, fingers dipping into the wetness that’s accumulated. You slide one inside easily, immediately curling it and setting its pace to match your mouth.

He gasps out, body hunched over yours now, the grip he has on your hair tightens, a slight sting to it. “Ugh, God, baby don’t stop it feels so good, uh, yeah, you make me feel so fucking good,” That mouth of his never knows when to shut up, especially during sex. His babbles continue, his hips now meeting your mouth, thrusting into your warmth. You glide your tongue over his hardened clit, nose bumping into it while dipping down into his hole, tasting more of him. You love the way he tastes, eyes falling shut, savoring.

Leon’s body begins to tremble, a sign that he’s close. You latch your mouth back into place over his growth while you slide another finger inside, ramping up the pace. “FUCK, God! Don’t stop, I’m so goddamn close, baby. Feels so good, make me feel so good, love that fucking mouth,” continuous stream of words pouring from his mouth now, making you dizzy from the praise.

Feeling his beginning release splashing against you, you move your hand up to his lower abdomen and press down. Cock pulsing in your mouth while he squirts, soaking you and your clothes. They’ll surely be a noise complaint from the scream he produced as he hit his peak. You remove your mouth from him with a pop and lean back, loving the fucked out expression his face.

“God. I needed that,” He murmurs, his hands now soothingly running through your hair. You hum, reaching to peel off your ruined clothing. “That’s a good look for you, babe.” It never stops with him. Shooting him a glare, you stand up and pull your bottoms down, stepping out of them. You pull your shirt off next, throwing it against his chest. It meets skin with a satisfying splat. “Ugh, why’d you do that for?” He grumbles, tossing it to the ground.

“You and that goddamn mouth,” You spat, shoving your underwear down to your feet. “Whatever, you fucking love it.” He says, watching your movements with a starved look. Now fully naked, you turn toward him and catch his stare. You grin, “Admiring the view?” You repeat his own words to him, his eyes darting up to catch your amused look. Without answering, he stalks forward and you’re suddenly lifted into the air, a squeal leaving your throat.

Wrapping your legs around his waist to anchor yourself, latching your arms around his neck, he carries you into his bedroom. Tossing you onto the bed with an ‘oof’ leaving you, he opens his night stand and sets a few items to the side. “I’ve been thinking,” He starts, coming back to you and grabbing the back of your knees, pulling your legs apart. “About this since you walked out of my door two months ago. Been craving your pussy like a fucking drug.” He sinks to his knees.

“Yes, I know that he's my ex, but can't two people reconnect? "I only see him as a friend," the biggest lie I ever said Oh, yes, I know that he's my ex, but can't two people reconnect? I only see him as a friend, I just tripped and fell into his bed”

“Now, you’re going to keep those legs spread for me while I eat you out, and you ain’t cumming until I tell you to.” He spits on your cunt. He watches it drip down your clit, jumping at the contact, swollen from arousal. “Fuck, no, come on Leon,” You beg, propping yourself up on your elbows to look down at him. You open your mouth to plead some more when he lunges forward and licks a trail up from your hole to then suck your clit into his mouth.

You gasp, falling back against the sheets and he takes his fill, the noises of your wet pussy filling the empty space. You whimper, holding yourself back, but his fucking mouth. On a particular hard suck, your body spasms and you squirt, wetting Leon’s chin. He pulls away, narrowing his eyes. “What did I tell you?” He asks, pushing two fingers into your trembling hole. “I-I didn’t–fuck–cum!” You gasp out, his finger unrelenting. “No squirting either, or can you not follow directions, huh?” He goads. You huff, letting your head fall back to the bed once more. “Can’t help that it f-feels so good–ah–” Your back arches when he hits a particular spot inside you.

This isn’t what you were expecting from Leon’s call, thinking it would be a quickie, it soon evolving into what seems like an all night fuck session. You would have those every once in a while, his stamina seemingly lasting for hours. You were not prepared for it, but you’re not complaining, either.

His mouth returns to you, lapping up your juices, slurping as he goes. You groan at the sensation, gripping the sheets. “Favorite fucking meal,” His babbling coming back, pussy drunk. You tense up, fighting off the waves of pleasure and bite your lip, taking deep breaths. He must notice, as he pulls up for a breath he asks, “Aw, poor thing. Bet you’re wanting to just gush on my face, huh?” You whimper, “Leon, please. I’ve been so good, let me cum,” You’re close to tears, willing to tell him anything if he allows you to finish.

He hums, contemplating, rubbing his thumb against your clit, it throbbing against his finger. “Tell me how much you missed me, how badly you needed me these past couple months.” You tense, your brain in a frenzy trying to form a sentence. You did miss him. Missed his cocky smile, his corny jokes and his softer side he showed only to you. Your brain conjured up something you didn’t proofread before it left your mouth, saying, “I love you.”

Leon stills. His movements paused over your overly sensitive area, watching your face. “You…What?” Unbeknownst to you, his widened eyes shimmering with emotion, you hastily try to backtrack. “I-I didn’t mean to say that, not what I meant to say,” You get out, pulling yourself up on your elbows. “I didn’t mean to make this awkward, I’m sorry, Le–AH” You yell out, your lower body getting grabbed and dragged even further off the edge of the bed, Leon starting again with renewed vigor.

“F-fuck, Leon! Oh God, I c-can’t hold back anymore, gonna cum,” You wail out, hands reaching down to pull at his silky strands. He groans against you, “Cum for me, baby, come on. Make a mess all over my fucking face,” He growls out, unrelenting. Your hips buck up to meet his suckling, fingers squelching in and out of you. Keening, you reach your orgasm. Chanting his name as you quiver against his head, your release running down his face and chest. He groans, letting you ride it out. Rutting into his mouth, his jumbled words indecipherable to your blissed out mind.

Laying limp against the sheets, Leon finally pulls away, eyes raking over your body, taking in every detail he can. He maneuvers your body to lay your head against the pillows, climbing into bed himself. He engulfs your frame, burying his face into your neck.

“Did you mean it?” His ask is muffled by his face’s position against you. You bring your hands up, running one up and down his back while the other cards through his hair. You take a breath before responding. “Yeah, I did,” Turning your face, your confirmation whispered against his head. His grip tightens, a noise bubbling up from his throat.

“Do you…Love me too?” You ask, the air around you two seemingly waiting with anticipation. He moves his head against you, nodding. A smile adorns your face. You kiss the top of his head, letting him continue to latch onto you. He shifts, clearing his throat and pulling the blankets over your bodies. You’re now turned away from him, with him spooning you. Wrapping his arms around your waist, he pulls you closer. He buries his face into your hair, “Do you, you know. Want to try again?” His voice is quiet, muffled still.

“Yeah, I would,” You smile, squeezing one of his forearms. “Cool,” He says, his grip tightening. Emotional constipation aside, It’s moments like these where you forget why you left to begin with. These moments you cherished with Leon after being so vulnerable. The way his voice softened and became shy, how he would hold you close. Maybe, after your confession, it would change things, maybe.

Maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

Tags: @neondogs, tagging since I finished it before I sent you the excerpt 😭

#o fics #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x gn!reader #leon s kennedy x gn!reader #trans leon kennedy #leon kennedy smut #resident evil smut

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6esiree · 6 days ago

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𝟐.𝟑𝐊 𝐅𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫!

Before I set up this contest, I knew that deciding to pick a winner would not come so easily, especially considering that the people in this lovely community are skilled writers with creative minds that I admittedly envy. Still, I never anticipated the amount of time I’d spend going back and forth between the two stories I eventually narrowed it down to, rereading them, jotting down what I loved about them, and all while trying to stave off the idea of disappointing anybody. Sorry, I’m an overthinker.

Again, I really enjoyed each and every story that was submitted. I don’t care if I’m doing too much by adding this next part, but I’ve been in this community for quite some time already, and though I have not formed any deep connections, I can say with an overwhelming amount of confidence that everyone here is amazing. Seriously. Mutuals or not, your kindness, your passion, your dedication, and many more wonderfully admirable and unique traits you hold, they—you—are the reason why I’m still here.

I don’t think I’ll ever summon up the courage to befriend anybody. It’s intimidating starting something new, but that’s okay. The mere knowledge that I’ve positively interacted with such wonderful people through likes, comments, and reblogs is enough to satisfy me. I wasn’t that confident about my writing—and I’m still not—yet I decided to give tumblr a try, to distract myself, to make me feel better, and it was the best decision I had ever made. Life is tough again, but it’s okay. I’ll push through, like I always do.

Anyway, let me push the sappy shit aside and finally say that I decided that @xalygatorx’s fic has ensnared my heart. When I reread it, I found myself just as absorbed and profoundly affected by her writing style, the personally flawless manner in which she executed a prompt I had admittedly forgotten about, like the first time I read it. It’s always satisfying when a character is captured so well, especially one as complicated as Alastor, but God, the entire story was just phenomenal.

Unfortunately, my poor brain is spent from all the energy I’ve put in as of late in researching and writing my final projects for two different classes, so I don’t have the ability to delve into or outline each and every little detail I enjoyed. It would take me a while to do that. Nevertheless, I hope with even the simplicity of my statement that anybody who reads this understands that this decision did not come easily. There’s too much talent in one place—it’s overwhelming, but in a good way. That just means that the Hazbin community is blessed!

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nzia-writes · 2 years ago

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•{Speak life unto me}•

RATED SLUTTY 18+

Sums: Riri let’s you practice a majorette dance routine in her garage while she remodels her prototype.

I feel like Dom would channel Riri in this manner. It’s a sappy little something that’s heavy with dialogue. You have been warned. Enjoy.

Interact please and thank you

(tagging a couple folks I seen under riri fics: )

@donewit51life @mysticalmarss @shinsousliya @c0cac0laguns2 @mlmilani @melodykisses @doms-fav @verachii @luhreen @zayswriting

Riri Williams

You draw a breath, trying your hand at Coach’s complex combination once more. You fail with ten steps off count, ten seconds off beat, and ten milliseconds from freaking out.

This is the 100th time and disappointment has been the only result. Come on man. Seems as if fuck-ups is what you run into and a fuck-up is what you are. What else do you call someone allergic to consistency within performance in life and in art?

Coach is gon’ tell me that my efforts ain’t worth a damn again.

Skylar, the captain, gon’ call me all sorts of expletives again.

Maybe they are right. You are not the dancer you presumed yourself to be. You aren’t exhorting enough passion. You aren’t going to succeed with a dancing major. You aren’t going to dethrone Skylar from her rank as captain. Not with all of this lack. So much lack.

“Imma failure, man,” you grit.

The shrill of Riri’s hand-held power tool spurs the cacophony all the more. There is too much going on. There is too much not going on. Failure. Tears. Doom. It is an incessant thought.

You have had enough.

A reverberant scream rattles every solid item within the garage. “Fuck! Fuck Fuck!” Your vocal chords give a roiling wave of heat.

A startled RiRi flips up her welding helmet and lays her tool on the floor. By the time your hollering simmers down, your big brown eyes leak with the pressures of failure and your edges coil from sweat; a newly installed thirty-six-inch buss down gone with the speed of light.

“Y/N.”

A boisterous scream again.

Riri jumps in fright. Damn.

You labored pants follow thereafter.

“I keep on and keep on failing! Busting my ass day in and day out. Still coming up short!” You yell. You yank up your duffle, lodging your belongings inside as aggressive as your body allows. Surely it allowed just the right amount. It wasn’t offering much in many other departments. Useless, it was.

As she powers off her prototype, Riri hesitantly speaks. She’d be damned if she triggered more rage and hurt. Then there’s two bitches arguing and one leaving. “Sugg.”

“Uh uh I’m leaving. I can’t keep doing it, Ri.”

“And what you plan on doing after?”

“Ion know! Lord knows these folks don’t wanna see me win. Lord knows I ain’t got the talent in me to win!” You zip your duffle and turn to Ri, face stricken with defeat. “I’m just tired. I’m not cut fah this shit, ya heard meh?”

“Rest. You need some,” Riri says. She’s so calm, you have no other choice but to be.

“Rest? You think the world gon’ let a nigga like me rest?! Outta’ yo’ damn mind. I’m out.” You turn to go.

“You need cooling and I got it for you. Come talk to me real quick.”

“Ri…”

“Come here, boo. Please.” Her eyes plead beneath fanned out eyelashes.

She removes her welding helmet and places it on the table congested with her quantum technology and hammers. Once she shakes out her box braids, she waves you over. Maybe..just maybe..entertaining what she has to say will end with weights being lifted.

Your bag slumps to the floor and you make your way to Riri. She keeps herself true to her concern and wipes away your tears the moment you are in arm's reach. She reeks of oil and burnt metal but her aura is sweet enough to mute the most unpleasant fumes.

“I can’t stand seeing you like this..” She leans against her work table while you stand before her. Her hands work with caution to fix your disheveled appearance. “Worryin’. Stressin’. You too pretty for that.” She then laughs a bit inwardly. “Got yo’ minks lifting like they got something smart to say.” She simply peels them off and sets them aside.

You persist with a hardened mug, ever the one to cradle rage until everyone feels it.

“Come here,” she sighs, inviting your rigidness into all of her softness, raising on her tiptoes to wrap the parts of you in need of double love. “Let that shit out, sugg. You owe yourself that much.”

She is right. You do. Your rage has cracked a series of dams, but Riri’s love has cracked many more. You whimper and squeeze her small frame tight. “I love you, girl.” The words shake as you inhale. “I love you s-so much.” You squeeze tighter, rocking from side to side.

When the tough battles are fought, she’s the only man standing, willing to fight with you no matter who the enemy may be. She’s going to step about her Sugg.

“Imma always be here when everybody else ain’t, you understand me?”

“Yeah,” you exhale. She coaxes with back rubs and encouraging words until the sniffles are no more. You both soon separate to lean on the table side by side. Her fingers brush yours.

“Whatever rage you feelin’, you entitled to feel. Let it all out, much as you can.”

“Tell that to my mama. To coach. To that doghead bitch Skylar.”

Their hatred and high expectations have silenced your innermost parts. The Y/N you strive to be. And you keep silenced to keep safe, for life has become something that needs to be survived. Not lived.

Riri frowns. Your strength is admirable. You were forced to the bottom at such a young age, unheard and treated unfairly, yet here you stand with the dignity of a knight. She has sworn to sit for hours if it means you are being seen and heard and validated. She will be the change you need to see if no one else will.

“The only way out of this hurt is into it. You gotta face it.” As harsh a truth it is, life will not progress until it is experienced.

“Please… ion know the first thing about facing life. I’ve hid from most of it.”

“It ain’t something you know how to do, it’s something you learn to do. I’m here to help you find your way back. Always.” She slides her hand in yours. Squeezes softly.

“Thank you..so much.”

“That’s what I’m supposed to do. Now go ahead. Tell me how you feel. I wanna hear your heart.”

“I just got too many folks praying on my downfall. Especially back home where my mama swears my dance major ain’t worth it. No support from them unless it’s to flaunt their lavish lifestyle.”

That’s that shit right there, Riri thinks. Makes her want to disrespect your entire bloodline. But she holds back for your sake. You love them, after all. “Listen here.” She turns your face toward her, eyes locked.

“We are two young black women who made it out the slums with what we had. Talent and brains. Your ‘mama nem’ can’t take credit for that shit. You got out and did the work. That’s truth. Don’t let nobody tell you no different. Not even yourself.”

You nod. It is hard to believe, but is isn’t impossible to believe.

“Now as for the dancing. What’s up with that? Had you saying you not talented enough and whatnot. I don’t want you talking about my girl like that again, alright?”

You cheeks flush. “I don’t see nothing untruthful about it, Ri. I’m last…always. Coach and Skylar make sure of it. I’m trying for captain but… as you saw earlier I ain’t got it in me. I fuck up more than anything, ya’ know?”

Riri lets that process. She then gestures to her prototype. It’s a polished transformer looking thing. “From one creator to another, the best work is produced during our moments of strife. I’ve failed more times than I have succeeded, but that’s what makes a legend. You are a legend in the making. Don’t give up.”

“I ain’t say I was allat na’. I’m just dancing to somebody else’s shit, ya heard meh?”

“You are always so wrapped up in all you lack that you don’t take the time to see how blessed you truly are. Mama, you got it good. Real good. You shine bright and you have this remarkable essence. That shit changes people and I need you to see it for yourself.”

The more one disregards their gift the quicker it is lost on them.

Riri continues. “Hear me out..if you ain’t invited into somebody else’s circle, form your own. You were co-creator of some of the most viral dances in the loop. You got the smarts, the talent, the moves..” her eyes drink you in from toe to head “the body,” she smirks. “You can do it.”

You lick your lips and look away. Forming a dance team? Hell no. Impossible. There will be too many odds: people willing to sabotage, your own self-esteem, and the pressures of adulthood. It wouldn’t work.

“Nah I’m good on that. I’ve hid from the spotlight, cast as a shadow all my life. I’m fine where I’m at.”

“Did you hide in the back? Or were you forced to the back?”

“I um…”

You are sent on a voyage of memories that were to not be seen again. Now here they are demanding you see yourself for who you are. You have existed so long in this world as nobody. How would it feel to actually be somebody?

“Gotcha,” she laughs.

“You did,” you chuckle. “Look at you being a ghetto monk and shit.” You tug her to stand between your legs.

“And look at you flodgin’ like it ain’t making you feel something good inside. Let yourself feel it, boo. It’s what you deserve.” She flattens her palm on your abdomen, teasingly trailing it up your chest. She outlines the swirly ink sheathing your neck, acrylics lightly scraping brown skin as her hand curls around it.

“You think so?” You bite your lip, fighting the inner-princess.

“Mhm.” She knows it so. “You cool with the backseat?”

“But you all dirty and dusty.”

She tilts her head, braids falling to one side. “Under these clothes I ain’t.”

“I-“ Eyebrows raised. “Girl go head, hea’? Lemme get in this backseat.”

She laughs like the goddess she is and removes her fire-proof apron with the rest of her gear. “On your back for me too.”

“Yeah, mama.” The words melt off your tongue.

Yes, you feel as if you are gliding on your toes, carrying your heart with less strain. It is the Riri effect so it seems. You are truly grateful for a friend with a lethal mouth.

~¥~

The back of Riri’s car is humid and smells of sex. You lay across the seats, thighs forced back into their plushness, pussy spread open for her filthy onslaught. She is situated in a sniper's position with her small feet dangling out of the open car door. Her devious eyes bore into your own. This has surpassed casual sex long ago. This is love-making.

“Damn girl,” you gasp as she jerks your thighs open the moment they close in on her face. She hums against your bundle of nerves, wagging her head for a deeper dive into your oasis. You sweep her braids into a makeshift ponytail, gyrating lusciously. She eats it like she’s starving; so precise and sloppy.

“Riiii. Just like that.” You nearly force your face to become one with the seat cushion as she swiftly slides her favored fingers inside, stroking your gushy walls, twisting deliciously. She had made the quick decision to pop those acrylics off before the escapades began.

She comes up for a breath, licking her lips slathered in your nectar. “Come on, mama,” she whispers sweetly. “Don’t close up on me. I need you to take it for me, okay?”

“Okayyy. fuuu…uhhn.”

“There we go,” she whispers, glancing down. “Look at you.”

It takes all the strength in you to open your eyes to look down on command. “Shiiiit,” you whine. You didn’t feel yourself creaming.

“She’s creaming like this for me?” Riri bites her lip.

Your response sounds scrambled. You were sure it was a stammered, “all for you.”

“That’s my sweet girl.” She means that in a myriad of ways.

“My god,” you cry softly, “Baby.” You use two fingers to widen pretty brown folds, the back of your head sinking into the seat as she plunges her fingers deeper. Wet squelching noises and breathy moans surf the wind. Your brain is shoved into a mind-bending utopia, it feels so fucking good.

You glance down again to see a string of arousal dribbling down the valley of your ass only to be slurped up by the very lips milking you out. Fuck. The lick is long and ravenous, from the crack of dawn to the peak of your mountain, pouty lips suckling as if it were a dreamsicle in sticky heat.

The more speed she exerts the lower your moans drop. You are now whimpering and whispering incoherent babbles, trying your hardest to fuck back, but you consistently run up the length of the seat from Riri’s freak nastiness.

“That’s it, beautiful.” She hooks her fingers, submerges them to their deepest, and holds still. Her thumb flicks your nub deliciously. Your sharp inhale churns her brain in the best way there is, smooth skin prickling in awe of your slick muscular body and your contorted faces. So beautiful, she moans.

There is a pause in time. A hitched breath. A stuttering heart. Love. So much of it it spills over the both of you.

Riri transmutes it powerfully, keeping the pad of her fingers rubbing that raised sensitive spot inside. Your eyes cross and roll back. “Oh yes yes..” Your hand comes down to plunge her fingers in deeper so she can get in that. “Fuuck…..gonna cum. Cum…” You whine in melody, pushing out a river of glistening slick. It drizzles down Riri’s fingers just as promised. “Uhh my god.” You exhale deeply.

“There we go. Feels good to let go?”

You nod, moaning uncontrollably. She crawls up your body to enrich your lips with a salacious kiss. It’s a moaning mess clouded with a tenderness neither of you will choose to acknowledge until your hearts see fit. You spread your cheeks as she slides her fingers in and out of your creamy canal, white fluids oozing out as you clench and unclench.

“You so…” you hiss in pleasure as she slips her fingers out with care, gathering all of what you spilled with an idle circle of her fingers.

“Talk to me nice,” she hums. “Unless you want it again.”

“I can’t do it again,” you exhale, eyes heavy. You palm her cheeks, kissing her lips sweetly. Her long braids fall over your faces but you don’t care to move them.

She brings her fingers up and plunges them in your mouth. You leave not a drop leaking as she slides them out and leans in to suck it off your tongue. You both pull away to stare. You see it. She sees it. Feels it. Smells it. It’s there and it’s mighty.

“Thank you fah that, baby,” you grin. You pronounce it as beh-beh. That ‘nawlins’ never left.

“You know how deep my love runs for pussy. No need to thank me.”

“Mhm. Cute ass.” You press another fat kiss to her lips, running your hands down to her ass to grip her up. She bites her lip and breathes through her nose. She loves that shit.

“I need me a cold drink,” you chuckle.

“Guh you and me both,” Riri laughs.

End note: Imma eat every single time. 🤷🏾‍♀️

Fun fact: I write the smut quicker than the story itself.

#riri williams x black!fem!reader #riri wiliams x reader #riri williams x black!reader #riri williams x reader #shuri x riri #riri x shuri #riri williams black panther #riri x reader #riri imagine #riri smut #riri williams #wakanda forever fic #wlw love #wlw lesbian #wlw literature #smut minors do not engage

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elliesflower · 2 years ago

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i saw you in a dream [4]

chapter 3 here

summary; you finally take your anticipated final

chapter; 4/? 2.6k words

cw (per chapter); recreational marijuana usage, language

an; *peaks out from behind the curtain* hey lol

thank y'all so much for bearing with me, i know it's been over a month since the last chapter and i'm gonna try real hard not to let that happen again. just a genuine, sincere thank you to every single one of you who have reblogged or liked this story, given kudos on AO3, messaged me, sent anonymous asks, all of it. you all make my heart swell, thank you for supporting my works and loving this story. i love you all endlessly <3

okay enough sappy syd, on to the story! (as always, find it on AO3 here)

Okay. You have her number now. That was the easy part, and you didn’t even have to work for it. She just gave it to you. Which must mean she wants you to have it…right? There’s no other logical explanation as to why she’d email you if she didn't care. But now, the hard part was actually formulating a response—which you couldn’t do if you just stared at the screen.

And, there was another facet—you actually had to attend your final before you could let Ellie know how it went. But, should you respond anyways, just to let her know you got the email? For fucks sake, its the twenty-first century, of course she knows you got her email. But maybe, you should just reply anyway, and let her know you were planning on texting her? Your finger hesitated over the touchpad of your computer, cursor tauntingly hovering over the reply button at the top of the screen.

God, maybe-kinda-sorta liking someone is annoying.

“Don’t you have a final to go to?” Dina suddenly raised her voice, snapping you out of your thoughts. You glanced up at the time on your computer and realized you were running a bit behind.

“Shit,” you mumbled under your breath, quickly closing your laptop and rising from your seat. The music stopped abruptly as you turned around to face Dina, who was now watching videos on her phone. Even at the risk of being late, you had to tell her about the message.

“Dee, you’ll never guess who just emailed me,” you said, words coming out rushed and giddy. She sat up quickly at your tone, leaning over the railing of her bunk to give you her full attention.

“Oh my god--wait, let me guess,” she replied excitedly. “The Queen of Sheba?!”

You resisted the urge to step forward and flick her in the forehead, instead opting to give her the finger.

“Ellie fucking Williams,” you beamed, unable to contain yourself. Just the sound of her name rolling off your tongue filled you with joy, curling up like a ball in the pit of your stomach. It was literally already impossible to get her off your mind, and it sure doesn’t help that all you’ll be able to think about for the foreseeable future will be that email—when to text her, what to text her, if you should text her.

Dina’s mouth fell open as she gave you an amused look.

“I knew it, I knew she’d be the first one to say something,” she said confidently, leaning back onto her elbow. “Come on, admit it. I was right.”

You rolled your eyes, turning back to your desk to grab your wallet and keys to put in your backpack.

“What, you have absolutely no faith in me?” You feigned shock, and Dina shrugged at you. “I’m sure she just wanted me to let her know how my final goes for proof of her extra credit.”

“Well, what exactly did she say?”

“She said to let her know how my final goes,” you said nonchalantly, turning back to face her. “And she also gave me her number and said I can text her if that’s easier.” The last part came out rushed, again. Dina’s hand flew over her mouth, muffling a scream.

“For fucks sake, it’s a good thing you’re not a journalism major, always burying the lead!” She exclaimed, throwing her blanket off and climbing down the small ladder at the end of her bunk, landing on the floor with a soft thud. “That’s amazing! So what did you text her?”

“Nothing, yet,” you admitted, sitting back down at your desk to gather your sheet music for your final. You heard Dina plop into her own chair across the room. “She literally emailed me like five minutes ago.”

“Okay, so what?” Dina pressed.

“So, I don’t wanna seem desperate!” You whined, spinning around to face her again. The sheet music creased between your fingers as you gripped it in your sweaty hands.

“Dude, she made the first move, I’d hardly call you the desperate one,” she replied, and you had to let out a laugh.

“Well I’d hardly call it ‘making a move,’” you scoffed, turning back to your desk to grab a pen. “She probably just wants me to confirm I did well on my lesson so she actually gets her extra credit.” In your haste to grab the pen, you knocked the sour pineapple pre-roll off your desk, and it flew across the room.

“Yeah, but email works just fine for confirmation. She didn’t have to give you her number,” she pointed out, bending forward to snatch the pre-roll off the ground. “And she definitely didn’t have to give you this expensive-looking pre-roll—” she popped open the cap and inhaled the deep, earthy scent. “—you don’t give perfectly good weed out to just anybody, you know?”

Your shoulders slumped in defeat, a smile still playing on your lips. In your mind, you knew Dina was most likely right. But your insecurities definitely got the best of you when it came to this sort of thing, not letting you fully believe Ellie may just be kind of into you too.

“Maybe you’re right,” you admitted reluctantly, standing up to pack away the papers into your guitar case.

“So, what are you waiting for? Text her now!” Dina exclaimed, sliding the pre-roll out of the tube.

“Okay, I take it back, you were wrong,” you held your hand out to her and beckoned, silently asking her to hand you the joint. “I’ll text her after I don’t completely fuck up my final.”

“You’re gonna do great,” Dina rolled her eyes playfully, pulling a lighter out of her back pocket. “And you’ll do even better if you share this pre-roll with me before you leave.”

She left you no time to respond before she was lighting the tip and opening the window.

*********

Okay, maybe smoking half a joint before taking a really important final wasn’t the best idea.

In theory, you feel like you had done okay. After practically running to make it to the music building on time, you still felt like a bundle of nerves despite the high—heart racing, palms sweating, brain fog—even weed couldn’t suppress the fact that you were an anxious test taker.

It felt like everything Ellie had taught you was slowly fading away. Though, you found that if you just closed your eyes and pictured her sitting there, strumming her guitar with those perfect fingers and that goofy sideways grin and that quiet breathy singing you could…fuck, what were you doing again?

“So that’s it?” You asked when you were done, palm laying flat against the strings on your guitar. Your teacher sat in a small folding chair across from you, one leg crossed as he took notes in a small notebook. He briefly glanced at you from above his glasses before looking back down.

“Yes. I’ll have your final score posted online by the end of day,” he said dismissively, continuing to write. As you stood, you tried to nonchalantly crane your neck to get a glimpse of what he was writing, but damn him and his tiny, scribbly handwriting.

“Okay, uh, thanks for that, and for a great semester,” you smiled weakly. Sure, they say flattery will get you nowhere, but it’s worth a shot, right? You received nothing but a tight-lipped smile in return, and he couldn’t be bothered to glance your way again.

Dick.

You packed away your things hastily and left without another word, wanting to get as far away from your professor and this goddamned class as possible. With a deep breath, you took your guitar off your shoulder, sliding down the wall at the end of the main hallway. You crossed your legs and pulled out your phone, opening your email and re-reading Ellie’s message over.

Did you tell her what time your final was at? Surely she’d think you’re obsessed if you took less than an entirety of five whole minutes to text her after it was over. But she actually needs to know how you did for her extra credit, so, you’d actually be doing her a favor by texting her as quickly as possible. You know, so she gets her extra credit…quicker. Or something like that.

Dina, SOS

Obviously, you weren’t going to be able to craft a message to Ellie on your own.

oh no, did you bomb your final?

i’ll never be able to find a roommate as cool as you if you fail out

Very funny.

First of all, fuck you. Second, what do I say to Ellie? Should I text her? Email her?

Dina will know what to say.

text her, definitely

maybe something like “hey, just finished my final, wanna bang?”

then say “oops i meant hang”

Okay, never mind.

You have been absolutely no help at all.

You rolled your eyes at her response:

love you roomie <3

Alright, so Dina helping you was out of the question. Looks like you’ll just have to formulate a response all on your own, of which the thought was looming over your head already. Closing your eyes, you leaned your head against the wall, sighing.

“This is so stupid,” you mumbled quietly to yourself.

“Final was that bad, huh?”

You nearly broke your neck looking up to the sound of the familiar voice.

“Ellie,” your voice broke pathetically with your surprise, and before you could even have another thought, she was sliding down the wall next to you. You could smell her, that same woody aroma melding into the ever-present trace of weed. Holy fuck, were you dreaming?

You looked to your left and had to stop yourself from consuming every part of her at once, in fear of losing all inhibition. You started with her face, those iridescent jade eyes that could even look pretty in the shitty fluorescent hallway lighting, halfway covered by heavy lids and long eyelashes; the freckles that littered constellations across her face, that fucking crooked smile. It had to be a dream.

“What are you doing here?” You found yourself saying for lack of a better response. It didn’t seem to phase her though, as she smiled just a little bit higher on one side and slid her backpack into her lap. You watched her tattooed arm flex, her bracelets tinging together softly as she reached into the open zipper and pulled out a few papers. She was so close, you noted the way she practically felt like a furnace next to you, despite the chill outside.

“Just turning in my extra credit. Last minute as always,” she shook the papers in her hand for emphasis. Right—she was a Music minor. A completely valid reason to be in the music building at the same time as you, during finals week. She obviously didn’t come here just to see you, that would be ridiculous. “Don’t tell me my tutoring was that bad?”

“Oh, no, not at all!” You exclaimed, sitting up just a bit higher. “My final actually went pretty well, I was just texting my friend. She’s…thinking about getting back together with her ex.” Yikes. If Dina were here she may have slapped you for that one.

“Yikes,” Ellie mirrored your thoughts, and maybe it was just the fact that she seemed a little high too, but she didn’t seem to notice your cover-up. “I know plenty about those toxic exes.” She smirked, putting the papers back into her bag before zipping it closed. Briefly, you wondered what exactly she knew about them—part of you wanted to ask her, but you definitely weren’t to that stage yet. For fucks sake, you were barely acquaintances at this point.

“Uh, did you need me to sign one of those papers for you or something? For proof of the tutoring or whatnot?” You pointed lamely at her backpack. It was like your brain and your body were fighting over what to do or say when you’re around her.

“Nah,” she shook her head, fidgeting with one of her bracelets. “I have enough signatures. I’m just glad your final went well, and that I could help.” Ellie looked up at you now, that goofy grin slowly spreading back on her face. Your heart felt like it was about to jump out of your throat.

“Oh, okay, yeah,” you smiled back, looking down at your phone in your hands. She was so close, you could almost feel the fabric of her hoodie against your arm, you wanted to feel the fabric of her hoodie against your arm, oh god— “Well, you were a great teacher. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

Ellie leaned into you slightly, and you felt like you might light on fire.

“I’m glad I could help,” she said softly, before sitting up just as quickly as she had leaned in. Swiftly, she grabbed her back and stood up. You watched her legs extend and her shirt ride up just slightly over the top of her jeans, revealing a small expanse of her skin. You had to look away, you had to, or she might see the stars in your eyes.

“You leaving?” She asked, shrugging her backpack over one shoulder while extending her other arm. You looked up at her hand and it seemed like there was no other answer except yes.

Her long fingers nearly enveloped your hand as she gripped, pulling you up with seemingly no effort. Her hands were almost exactly how you’d imagined them—warm, the skin on the back of her hand soft in comparison to the rough, calloused pads of her fingers. You yearned to feel them again, in your hand, on your face, anywhere. Whatever she would give you.

Ellie dipped down quickly to grab your guitar case before you could protest, and it felt like when you were standing in her doorway, stomach doing backflips and full of nervous excitement.

“I know I already said it, but I’m really glad that I was able to help you with your final. I’m sure you did great,” she said, and her confidence slipped, just a little. She passed your guitar between the two of you and you took it, careful to avoid the touch of her hand. “And I’m really glad I ran into you just now. It was good to see you.”

Yeah, this had to be a dream. Was that…a blush creeping up her neck? Oh no, stop looking at her neck.

“Me too,” you said stupidly, but it earned you another grin nonetheless. “To both those things…you know, you helping me with my final, seeing you now…” You trailed off, running a hand through your hair nervously.

“Hey, my roommate set up this…open mic thing as part of her final,” Ellie started, her casual tone of voice a contradiction to the nervous shuffling of her feet. “I’m gonna be performing a song and…I was wondering if you’d maybe wanna stop by. There’ll be other acts to watch too! Some cool poetry, other musicians, stuff like that. Oh, and free food, of course,” she began to ramble a bit, adjusting her backpack higher on her shoulder, scratching lightly at the back of her hand.

Oh. Oh. Holy shit. She was inviting you to something and playing it off like she wasn’t.

“Yes, I-I’d love to!” You exclaimed, maybe just a bit over the top. You had to respond before she changed her mind or something. That earned you a smile though, and it was almost worth the embarrassment.

“Cool, cool,” she replied. “It starts at seven on Friday, in the black box theater downstairs.”

“I’ll be there, for sure,” you said, your knees feeling weak.

“Great. See you then,” Ellie gave you one last smile, and a small wave before turning and disappearing around the corner.

You may or may not have pinched your arm just to make sure this was in fact, real life.

chapter 5 here

#ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x you #ellie x reader #ellie tlou #dina tlou #tlou part 2 #the last of us #ellie x you

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tojiscumdumpster · 1 year ago

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CHAPTER FOUR - TOJI

⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀✧ summary page

content warnings - reader is sexually as*aulted in this chapter. she's drunk and another guy is too touchy while dancing together on the floor.

The music and the noises from the party goers fade the moment me and Y/N steps inside the utility closet. This wasn’t the ideal spot I had in mind, but anything will do so as long she’s here with me.

I could be standing on top of a fifty feet tower, and I wouldn’t give a damn if I knew Y/N was there, too.

Now, fuck my job. Fuck the bachelorette party. Fuck that annoying Gojo shithead and everybody else. All my attention is to the outrageously sexy woman that stands in front of me that can’t keep her eyes to herself. Even under the dull light of the utility closet, she has this soft glow to her deep umber complexion that’s salivating.

Her hands find purchase on my chest to become familiarized with the feel of me. Slow and delicate strokes that build arousal in my cock and burn heat on the tip of my ears. Essentially, I wanted to take her somewhere alone so I could fuck the shit out of her, but this tenderness feels… much needed.

I hate that I’m craving softness right now when I’m hornier than a virgin. Still, with how I’ve been thinking about Y/N lately. I can’t deny that I want this to be more than just a fuck.

She balances on her toes to meet with my lips because heels or not, I still have a lot of height over her. The kiss she gives me is sensual. Controlling yet needy for some type of touch. I’m quick to take the lead, but this time, I allow her to explore the inside of my mouth.

Y/N wraps her arms around my neck and loses her slender fingers into my locks to pull me closer to her. I want to tell her that I’m not fucking going anywhere, but we both know that’s not the reason why she deepens our kiss. My tongue is caught between her lips to suck on eagerly while my hands work their way to her ass.

There goes that sweet, sounded whimper that fucking drives me insane. No matter how she breathes, laughs, talks—hell, fucking blinks, she’ll always unintentionally find a way to make me hard.

Y/N breaking from our kiss almost had me whining like a brat, but seeing her plumped lips, gloss smeared across her face like the first night we met, is a sight worth seeing.

“It’s you,” she says softly, smiling.

“It is. Thought I’d never see you again.”

“You missed me, Toji Fushiguro?”

I give her a half grin because yes, I feel too sappy to admit that I miss her, but I do. “Possibly.”

“A touch one to crack, Mr. Fushiguro.”

Say my name like again and I will fuck you until you lose all feeling in your hips.

“Not really lovey dovey,” I admit.

“Understandable,” —she leans into the counter behind her— “May I ask why?”

Assuming that her stilettos are wearing her out, I lifted her onto the counter so she could sit comfortably. I took it upon myself to stand between her legs, having them both straddle my sides and if feels so damn right to be here.

Before I answer Y/N’s question, I peck her lips a few more times, then nip at her jawline, causing her to squeal and swat my chest.

“Comfortable?” I query.

“Are you comfortable? If I was any lower your dick would be rubbing against my pussy.”

Fuck .

The corners of my mouth tips up. “Alcohol makes your lips loose like that?”

“Maybe.”

I hum. “Well, to answer your earlier question, I haven’t really felt shit since my wife died. It’s like the last bit of decency went with her or it’s kept for my kid.”

“You don’t think you’re a decent guy?”

“No, I don’t think . I know I’m not, Y/N,” I tell her.

“I think otherwise.”

“Tell me.”

“Want me to stroke your ego?” she asks, teasingly.

“Hm, that, amongst other things.”

“You always find a way to be a perv.”

Y/N goes into deep thought while thinking of a way to answer my question. She looks into the ceiling but occasionally takes glimpses at me, seeing how I have a small smile on my face.

There’s a possibility that my “Not into lovey dovey shit” admission was a half lie. Fifty percent of me just want to have my way with her and pound her pussy. Then, the other fifty percent wants to be possessive and controlling to make sure no other fucker tries to push up on her.

A hundred percent of me? Well…

“It might be a reach, but from the two times that we crossed paths, you have a tendency to say how shitty of a guy you are. But really, you’re just trying to scare people away,” she deciphers. “Maybe so you don’t catch feelings, or they don’t. Maybe even both. I’m not a therapist, so who knows?”

I simpered. “And from the two times we crossed paths, you tell me you’re not a therapist, yet you say some deep shit like that—again.”

“I majored in psychology when I was in college. Therapist in the making, but I decided to be a teacher instead.” Her hands return to my chest and glide up until she reaches my shoulders to rub. “You want me to be scared of you, Toji Fushiguro… I’m not scared of you.”

For once, I’m left… speechless. What the fuck am I supposed to say to that? That’s she’s right? Because maybe she is. I just can’t admit to that. At least, not right now. It’s so loud yet quiet in my head, like my senses zeroed in on the muffled noises on the other side of the door and Y/N’s soft breathing.

I can’t blame everything on wanting her to be scared of me. That would be cowardly of me. But I’m not vulnerable enough to admit that I can’t go through that again-this again, with losing someone I got close to.

“Well, you should be,” I replied harsher than I intended to. I know Y/N felt it too because she flinched a bit and curled her fists into her lap.

Shit, great job, Fushiguro.

This just feels too deja vu-ish.

“I said something that pissed you off?”

I step away from her and run my hands through my hair. “No, fuck. Just… I don’t know, Y/N. I don’t know you. We don’t know each other.”

I can’t tell if that was hurt, anger or a mixture of both in her eyes. But whatever it is, was caused because of my words.

“You’re absolutely right, and it’ll probably stay like that, too,” she bites back. “Excuse me. I have a party to attend.” Y/N brushes past me to leave the closet, but I grab her wrist.

“Y/N.” Is all I say. I don’t know what else to fucking say, but I’m hoping she hears the desperation in my voice.

She looks over her shoulder. “I don’t know you. You don’t know me.” Snatching her wrist back, she leaves me in the room to leave me with my thoughts.

I never had the urge to walk out of work until now. Not when Gojo fucking talk my ears out. Not when the nightclub owner bosses me around a little too much for my liking. And not when I get puked on by some random woman after a failed attempt of hitting on me.

But at this moment, if I don’t walk out of work, at least, the floor, I will be charged with murder. Because why the fuck is Y/N on the dance floor grinding her ass on some piece of shit?

I know she’s not my girlfriend, let alone casually dating, and I understand I said some stupid shit back in the utility closet. However, this? That? What I feel like doing right now is snatching that motherfucker up and thrash his face repeatedly into the ground.

Anger flush throughout my body, and what makes me even more pissed is Gojo fucking snickering like a little bitch, knowing the reason why I’m mad to begin with.

The bachelorette party is still partially going, but most of the party either left or dispersed onto the first floor to dance. So, I’m back to my normal routine of walking the floors.

I mean, that’s what I'm supposed to be doing.

Instead, I’m in the corner near the bar, leaving a comfortable distance between me and Y/N, but just enough to see how touchy this fucker is. And Y/N is drunk. Drunk as shit. In the past twenty minutes, I noticed her downing two cocktails and three shots.

Fuck, I just hope she’s not mixing her liquor.

She probably feels numb to his hands on her. Grabbing her waist. Kissing her neck with his nose. Rubbing his fucking dick against her ass. I want to kill him. So badly. I’ve never had blood lust like this until now.

And the split second that passes when he slithers his nasty fingers up Y/N’s dress to invade her privacy and take advantage of her intoxication, all bets are off.

My strides are long and quick when I push through the other drunken individuals to get to Y/N. I noticed that she detached from that shitface and faced him head on with a drunken smile of confusion, barely having any control over her body.

I’m now inches away from them both and I see that he tries to reach for her again, aggressively. Not quick enough before I grabbed him by his shoulder, turned him around, and punched the shit out of his jaw, that I felt crack against my knuckle.

Some bystanders stop to stare, and others are too fucking drunk to care. But me? I want to make an example out of him. Though, for the sake of being in a public place, I don’t.

He’s on the floor, crying like a little bitch and looks at me like I’m his worst nightmare. Good, because I am.

I pull up my slacks to crotch down to his level, close enough so he can hear me over this loud music.

“You fucking psycho. I’m going to make sure you lose your job and go to jail,” he says.

I chuckle. “Funny, because the NDA you and everybody else in here signed before entering says, all security personnel can handle any party goer how they see fit that causes disruption, damage property, steal, coerce or attempt to sexually assault a drunken or sober individual, etcetera, etcetera, and all that other shit, so long as it doesn’t result in death.”

Continuing, I say, “That woman behind us,” — I point to Y/N that watches me with heavy eyes— “is drunk. And that camera up there,”—I look up to the ceiling— “has been recording every fucking thing. So not only will you walk out of here with a broken jaw, but you’ll also end up in handcuffs. I advise you to pick your ass up and leave before the latter happens and I rearrange your face.”

The motherfucker probably just made the wisest decision of his life because it takes him no less than three minutes to leave the club. I’m honestly surprised of the restraint I showed because quite frankly, I need this fucking job. No matter how much I hate it.

Though, what I didn’t expect was Y/N grinning at me with heart eyes. She’s really drunk. It’s like she’s in her own world and completely oblivious to what happened between us earlier and just now.

“My hero,” she giggles, slurring her words. She jumps on me and wraps her legs around my waist to give me a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you, Mr. Security Guard.”

I shake my head. “Y/N, do you know who I am?”

She lays her face in the crook of my neck and nips at my flesh. “Of course… How could I ever forget you, Toji… Fushiguro?”

Drunk, yes, but she manages to remember me. I know there’s a no touching guest policy when on the floor, however, Y/N is drunk. And she’s not just a guest to me, either.

I look at my watch to see that it’s twelve fifty-five. Five minutes before my shift is over. Thank fuck I’m not closing tonight because it’s time to cut Y/N off.

Now.

She clings onto like a damn koala bear while I’m passing through to the crowd to head to the security locker room. Y/N is… clingy. Affectionate when she’s intoxicated. She keeps kissing around my neck, my face all while whispering nasty shit in my ear.

It’s not like I’m complaining. Every word and action she does goes straight to my cock. But of course, I’m not going to act on it. My main priority is to get her home safely.

“Toji, where are you going?” she asks.

“I’m going to the security room so I can change out of my clothes and take you home.”

“Oh? You’re going to take off your clothes for me?”

I give her a kiss on the cheek. “Not like that, sweetheart. Maybe another night when you’re not drunk.”

What type of hold does this fucking woman have on me?

I eventually got to the room and Y/N energy seemed to fade. When you’re drunk at one in the morning, that’s bound to happen. I wouldn’t be surprised if she got the munchies. Typically, that’s when you’re high, but either way.

Before I go to change, I place her on the couch we have in here and cover her with my sweater. She immediately dozes off. I need to hurry up out of my clothes before—

“Fuck, tonight was exhausting,” Gojo fucking obnoxiously yells. I snap my head at him while standing in my boxers, a silent command to tell him to shut the fuck up.

“This is the girl Satoru was talking about?” Geto walks in behind and asks. “She’s pretty.”

“And in what way was he fucking talking about her?”

“Relax, Fushiguro,” Gojo says, raising his hands in innocence. “I just said she was hot and apparently off limits. I saw what you did to that guy's jaw. I’ll pass.”

That’s what I fucking thought.

As much as I enjoy standing around and chatting with these two (I don’t), it’s time for me to take Y/N home. I walk over to her and her soft grumbles do something to my chest. She seems at peace, and I don’t want to ruin that, but I have to.

“Y/N, I’m going to pick you up again,” I warned her.

“Mhm.”

I take the keys out of her before I carry her bridal style, taking the employee exit that leads to the main parking lot. It’s annoying and might disrupt her sleep, but I need to sound off her alarm to know which one is her car.

It doesn’t take long for me to find it and she’s still sound asleep.

With one hand, I unlock the passenger door to Y/N’s car and place her in the seat, adjusting it so it leans back a bit. When I get in the driver seat, I look inside her purse (I know an invasion) to find her ID to put her address in the GPS.

“Fifteen minutes. Not bad,” I mutter to myself.

The radio is off. The silence in the car is loud, and I enjoy the soft sounds of Y/N sleeping while we head to her place.

Y/N’s home is very her. Earth toned colors. Plants. Art on the wall. Plants—everywhere. I couldn’t imagine it to be like anything else. I’m even picking up her vanilla and warm berries scent that drives me fucking nuts.

She’s a heavy sleeper. I can tell because since we left the club, I moved her around several times, and she hasn’t stirred once. But the moment I lay her in bed and walk away, she does.

Like the loss of my touch is what’s affecting her.

“Hey, big guy,” she mumbles. “Where ya going?”

“Home.”

She pouts. “You’re not going to help me get ready for bed?”

I’ll do anything that will let me stay with you a little longer.

“What do you need me to do?”

“Take me to the bathroom… please.”

For the next thirty minutes, I prepare Y/N for bed. Part of her being drunk is getting a ten-minute explanation about her skin care routine. I don’t know what the fuck is a cleansing balm, toner, or retinol, but she managed to show me how to put it on her face after I washed off her makeup.

We go back into her bedroom, and she sits on the corner of the bed while I go through her dresser to find something comfortable for her to wear. She prefers an oversized tee shirt, so that’s what she’s getting.

“Y/N, this okay—” I turned around to see her completely naked. Beautiful breasts out with hardened nipples. A puffy pussy. Natural thick curves with a full stomach. My cock is reacting painfully.

But this isn’t right. She’s drunk. Y/N has no idea what’s she doing right now, and I’m not taking fucking advantage of that.

I quickly turn back around and stretch my arm out so she can take the shirt out of my hand. “Here. Put it on now.”

This night just feels longer than usual. I need to go, but I couldn’t even get through the room door before Y/N grabbed my wrist.

“Stay.”

It throws me off, her asking me to stay. That one simple word didn’t sound like she was drunk or tired. And I know she’s clingy right now, but it’s more than that. It’s… the same declaration I was too pussy to say when we were in the utility closet.

I wanted her to stay. I didn’t want her to go back to the bachelorette party, and I didn’t give a damn to go back to my post. Being in that room with Y/N, just the two of us, felt like another world. And I hate that she makes me feel this way after only two times of meeting her. She’s just so comforting.

The word stay has so much meaning to it. I meant it earlier when I said I don’t know her and she doesn't know me, but I want to be around her as much as possible because the trust Y/N has in me—knowing where she lives. Driving her car. Protecting her. Caring for her before bed. It makes me feel even more possessive.

Me, the loss of my warmth from a motherfucker like me, stirs Y/N and makes her feel uneasy. Staying with her might spew out feelings, especially on my end, that will be difficult to sort out. But I don’t give fuck. I’ll figure that out later.

For now, if Y/N asks me to stay while looking at me with those pretty brown eyes, who am I to deny her?

“Okay,” I answered. “I’ll stay.”

PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER

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theshotsheardacrossworlds · 1 month ago

Text

Confess

In which Rolan drunkenly confesses his feelings to Louisa and the following morning Louisa shares a confession of her own. SFW.

Some of Rolan's drunken lines are from here.

Louisa could not sleep.

Not for a lack of trying.

After laying in her bed at Last Light and staring at the ceiling for gods know how long, she decided to make her way downstairs and make herself a cup of tea.

She did not expect to see Rolan sitting at the bar, bottle in hand.

Aw, he looks happy.

I mean, obviously!!! We saved the prisoners, which included his siblings.

When he caught sight of her, he did this cute little wave!!! AWWWWW! “You're cute. And a bit blurry. But definitely always so cute.” He slurred, smiling at her.

Did he just call me cute?

The only response she could manage at so late an hour was a giggle as she grabbed a mug. “You’re drunk, Rolan.” She teased with a chuckle, her gaze meeting his.

With a mixture of cockiness and adorably drunk, Rolan snorted. “Yes. And hopelessly in love with you.”

WHAT?!?!?

The resulting squeak from her at his confession caused him to laugh hysterically.

“You're so adorable. I want to pick you up and never let you down.” he said dreamily as he watched her magic hot water for her tea while a mage hand dragged a stool next to him.

He wants to pick me up and never put me down.

He loves me.

He’s really fucking drunk.

Shit.

“Rolan, do you mind—” She handed him her mug, which he placed on the bar counter. “Thanks!” And now he’s very firmly holding the stool. It’s not going to fall over? Louisa shook her head with a grin. “I wasn’t in any danger, love.”

Love.

The last time I called someone that was…

Shit.

Rolan’s drunk off his ass, we love each other, and I’m going to potentially ruin it by being honest. Great. Amazing. Perfect.

He waved a dismissive hand as he drank heavily from his bottle. “It’s the least I can bloody well do for you. You saved Cal and Lia. You saved me, of all people…”

“Why you ‘of all people?’”

“Because I’ve treated you a…a bomb…a bomb diddly…” That’s not even a word. That’s a few words and one that’s not a word. “I’ve. Treated. You. Abominably. You should hate me. I’m a selfish, arrogant fool of a man.” He squeezed his eyes shut. “But…you don’t? You…” Quickly opening them, he turned, his expression hopeful. And drunk. I cannot emphasize that enough. He’s pissed. “You called me…love?”

She nodded breathlessly. “Yes. Yes, I did.” Might as well start crying. Fucking hells. “I love you too, Rolan.” The words barely left her when his lips crashed into hers. She let out a surprise yelp but moaned softly as she wrapped her arms around his neck. I love you. I love you. I love you. And I promise I’ll always save your drunk ass.

When he broke the kiss, he placed one more on her forehead before he finally rested his hands on her soft sides. “Forgive me. I-I couldn’t help myself.”

“It’s okay, love. I’ve been wanting to do that for some time.” And now that I have, I want to kiss you forever. But first… “How about I’ll finish my tea and then we can go up to my room and rest?”

He took a long swig from the bottle, which Louisa noted was now thankfully empty. “Sounds good to me, darling. Just let me…let me…” His demonic yellow eyes widened as he hiccupped. “Pardon me.” Taking a second to I suppose remember what he was going to say, he blinked and then smiled like an adorable drunk. “Let. Me. Hold. You. Tonight. Please?”

Louisa barely stifled a laugh as she sipped the last of her tea. “Why are you talking like that?”

“Because I’m quite drunk, madam.” Rolan chuckled, slowly standing and offering her his hand. “I’m drunk and in love with you.” There’s that sappy smile again. I love him grumpy. I love him happy. I love him. “And you somehow love me! Ha!”

“I certainly do.” She took his hand and slowly ascended the stairs. After they reached her room, she closed and locked the door. I’m not having someone, especially Astarion, walk in on us. Nope. Nope. Nope. “Rolan, do you…oh.” Louisa barely stifled another giggle when she caught sight of him stripping down to his smalls. Oh. Oh, he’s gorgeous. All those ridges. I wonder if he’ll let me touch…kiss…

Tail wagging like a cute little puppy except he’s a cute tall sexy man, Rolan fell into the bed and let out the most adorable whine. “Please…”

“Coming, love.” She said as she disrobed. Smalls and a loose top. Hopefully we get back to the city soon, and I can access my clothes. My gold. My bed. MY BATH. Giggling, she climbed into bed next to him, and with a frankly maniacal laugh, he sort of tackle hugged me and now he’s spooning me. Perfect! He’s such a fucking sap. I adore him.

But I need to tell him about—

Tomorrow.

When he’s sober.

And it might ruin everything.

“Wh-what’s the matter, my love?” he slurred softly. “Am I not pleasing you?”

Oh gods.

She laid her hand over one of his, which rested on her belly. “Love, no! You’re wonderful. Truly.” Can you hold me like this forever? Louisa then stifled a yawn. “We can talk tomorrow, okay?”

Rolan hummed softly, his hold on her tightening slightly. “As you wish, darling.” With one more snuggle and a kiss on her ginger curls, his breathing began to even. Aw, is that a little snore? That’s so cute!!

Maybe it could be like this every night.

***

“Good morning.”

She smiled at the sound of Rolan’s sleepy but happy voice. “Morning, love.” She rolled on her other side and scooched up a little to face him properly. Grinning, she placed a kiss on the tip of his nose. “On a scale of one to ten with one being sober and ten being still plastered, how hungover are you?”

He groaned. “I’m not that bloody hungover. Only a little.” They shared a brief kiss before he continued. “Did you sleep well?”

Best night’s sleep I’ve had since the abduction.

Nodding, she hummed softly.

Tell him.

“You said there was something you wanted to talk about? Am I remembering that correctly?” he asked with a self-deprecating chuckle.

Tell. Him.

And when I do, he’ll never look at me the same way again.

He won’t love me anymore…

A soft sound emerged from him as he wiped away a tear with a clawed finger. “Oh, sweetheart. Whatever is the matter?”

With a shuddering breath, more tears flowed as she answered. “Fifty years ago, I had a fiancée. His name was Estinien, and he died. He was killed trying to protect others from a monstrous beast. Losing him was bad enough…but when I was finally ready to open my heart again and I’d be honest about my past, then suddenly I’m untouchable. Unlovable. Like I should’ve died with him.” There are more than a few relatives who think I should wear black and a mourning veil for the rest of my days. Hells no. “Like I had my chance at love and happiness and don’t deserve another—oh!”

Louisa did not expect Rolan to embrace her so suddenly.

She also did not expect him to roll on his back, taking her with him. He peppered her with kisses and rubbed her freckled back gently. Is that his tail wrapped around my leg? I think so!

“Gods, I’m so sorry you went through that. I’m so sorry, darling.” He sighed and then with his other hand he cupped her head, slowly massaging her curls with his fingers. “You may always confide in me, my love. Always.”

My love?

He…doesn’t…he still…

A disbelieving, breathless laugh escaped her. “Even about Estinien?”

His tail gave her leg a reassuring squeeze. “Even about Estinien. You need not bear that burden alone anymore.” He chuckled. “Would you believe that I love you even more now?”

“Oh?”

Maybe he’s more hungover than I previously thought.

The hand on her head traveled to her chin, tilting it so his gaze could meet hers. The warmth in his eyes both surprised and pleased her. He loves me. He really does love me. “You went through something terrible, truly terrible, and came out the other side, willing to love again despite the loss you endured…” He smiled. The happiest smile I’ve seen from him. He’s so handsome. “How could I not love you more because of that? You’re brave and brilliant and beautiful and most importantly…” His lips touched hers, and she melted. Slow. Sweet. Perfect. “You deserve to be happy. You deserve to be loved. You deserve more than I could ever give you,” he grinned. “But I shall try.”

She touched his cheek. “I love you, Rolan.”

“I love you, Isa.” He blinked. “I, erm, I hope that’s alright if I call you that. I mean, Louisa is your name, of course—”

Aw, he’s so cute.

She laughed softly, kissing him. “I’ve never been called Isa before, and it does sound so lovely coming from you.”

Blushing, he nodded quickly. “Yes. Right. Good.” Rolan smiled as she settled herself so that her head was resting on his chest. “I take it we have some time before you’re summoned by your companions?”

“We might.”

Rolan let out an indignant huff. “Good, because I’m simply not ready to be parted from you yet.”

She giggled. “You and me both, love.”

It was in that moment---safe and secure in his arms, laughing together, holding each other---she practically melted against him, completely relaxed, and the happiest I’ve been in fifty years.

All because of you, Rolan. You have no idea how truly wonderful you are…

But I shall try.

#louisa wildheart #rolan #rolan bg3 #bg3 rolan #holy rolan empire #rolan nation #dwarf tav #wizard tav #plus size tav #chubby tav #louisa x rolan #love confessions #thanks to the drunk love confession prompt list lol #i had so much fun going through that list and picking ones for him to say

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oh-surprise-its-me · 1 year ago

Text

You guys deserve to know I listened to Not Strong Enough by boygenius on repeat the entire time I wrote this. So you know. Keep that in mind.

He just keeps running. He can’t help it. Knows it will throw off his run at 4am with Roy.

Roy.

The point of his current problems.

Jamie’s worked a lot in therapy in the past two years. He knows he has self worth issues. Some days he wishes he can’t look into himself and see what’s wrong.

What’s broken.

What’s been tossed around for years and handled without the care it deserves.

He keeps running.

He’s always run when things get complicated. Sometimes literally sometimes not. He’s not running with a plan. He’s in Colin’s neighborhood though.

He thinks fuck it and runs to his house.

He knocks without thinking.

A light flicks on. Shit he woke them up. The door opens and Colin is standing there. “Jamie? You okay?”

Jamie opens his mouth, he thinks about lying. Michael comes up behind Colin, “hey Jamie? Wanna come in?”

God bless Colin and Michael. They’re incredible.

They are all sitting in the living room, Jamie keeps shaking his legs, “can I ask you guys something?”

Colin and Michael look at each other, “Jamie if it’s about knowing your sexuality-” Jamie laughs. “No mate I’ve known I’m bisexual for years but thanks.”

Colin nods, “okay go for it then.”

Jamie takes a deep breath, he looks at Michael first. Less scary then seeing Colin react to this. “How did you two know you were it for each other. Like that you wanted forever.”

Michael smiles at him. “It was like waves, it hit me one day and then kept hitting me stronger until I was swept up into it.”

Colin blinks away what look like tears, six months married and they are still sappy as hell.

“It wasn’t really a sudden thing. It was like I adjusted everything in my life so that he came first. There wasn’t a question about seeing him in my future plans. He was just there.”

Michael looks a little surprised. He leans over and kisses Colin.

“You wanna explain more Jamie?”

Jamie blushes. “I think I feel forever about Roy but we aren’t even together. Fuck I don’t even know. It’s like I’m an Angel and he’s a God and want to worship him.”

Michael has slowly started smiling more, “Jamie if I may?” Jamie nods, can’t get much worse. “Roy has been worshiping you and in love with you for as long as I’ve known you both.”

“What??” “Michael!”

Colin lightly taps his leg. “What he’s trying to say is that we think you’ll be okay if you tell Roy you want forever.” “I said what I said.”

Jamie nods again, if feels like he’s been nodding to a lot of things recently.

“Thanks I’m sorry I woke you guys up. I’ve uh. I’ve gotta go.”

Colin and Michael hug him before he takes back off running.

He makes a detour to the park. It’s empty at this time of night. He sits on a bench. Curls his legs up. He can’t do this. He can’t be this person.

He was never allowed. His dad tried to ruin everything for him.

What if Jamie ruins this.

His phone lights up. Roy’s texting him.

Where are you.

Christ what time is it how long did he run for.

Sorry took off early for run. At the park near my house?

Be there soon stay in place.

Okay.

God. Now he has to see Roy.

When Roy shows up he sits on the bench next to Jamie. “Where’s your head at Jamie?”

Jamie shrugs. Tucking his arms over his knees curling himself as close to a ball as he can while sitting up. “It’s here, just loud.”

Roy slides closer, he puts an arm around Jamie’s shoulder and pulls him closer. Jamie didn’t realize how cold out it was until he felt Roy’s body heat.

“Can I say something and you not be mad? Let me finish talking before you say anything?”

Roy nods, “course you can. It’s hard to be mad at you when you look this sad.”

“I’m in love with you. Want forever with you. Ran to Colin and Michael’s house to talk about how they knew. They just did. Roy I don’t know when it started but I just know I can’t stop it. I’m in love with you and it’s fine. It’s fine if you don’t feel the same. I just needed to tell you.”

Roy brushes the tears that fell off of Jamie’s face. “Good thing I feel the same then huh?”

Jamie felt the tears flowing down his face when he was talking but didn’t realize Roy saw them, let alone cared enough to remove them.

“The same? Roy you can’t. That’s crazy.”

Roy laughs. “Jamie I’m crazy, I haven’t done anything about it because I’m your coach. Didn’t want you to feel pressured. But I love you, I want forever with you too.”

Jamie risks a look at his face. He’s smiling. “Seriously?”

“Can I kiss you?”

Jamie nods, and suddenly he’s being kissed by Roy Kent. It’s maybe the softest kiss he’s ever gotten. He melts into it.

He pulls away. “You love me?” Roy touches his cheek, “I love you.”

Jamie leaps off of the bench, he starts spinning around he lets out a shout. “ROY KENT LOVES ME!”

Roy starts laughing and stands. “Jesus baby. Come on let’s go back to your place. I’ll cook.”

Jamie spins right into Roy’s arms. “You’ll cook for your.. boyfriend? Partner?”

“Future husband?”

Jamie smacks Roy. “We can’t just skip straight to that.” Roy takes his hand and holds it, there’s starting to be people out but clearly he doesn’t care. “Fuck straight, be my fiancé. We’ve known each other long enough, know everything about each other.”

“You’re going to kill me.”

Roy kisses him again. “I’m trying to worship you.”

Jamie blinks. Maybe this time he’ll be the God and not the Angel. “Let’s go home then fiancé.”

It’s Roy’s turn to whoop. He picks Jamie up with a spin and sets him back down.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

#ted lasso #jamie tartt #roy kent #jamie x roy #royjamie #jamie tartt x roy kent #roy kent x jamie tartt #this got a bit out of hand #get together to fiancé speed run #they aren’t normal about each other #michael colin’s boyfriend #colin hughes #colin x michael #mac writes ted lasso

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snowangeldotmp3 · 2 years ago

Text

dear lucas; from max

hehe i have more letters. anyway, this is from my kas!max wip, and these letters are supposed to be holding back a little bit like max was in the series, as these were supposed to be written around episode 4. this is my first Real time writing for max, so please be kind lol. again like with the dear barb letter (which you can read here) it will be in first person, and will be posted to ao3!

Lucas,

Hey, stalker.

You know what this means if you’re reading this.

I’m sorry for not telling you sooner. I just didn’t know how. I’m sorry I kept pulling away.

And before you start, don’t blame yourself. This isn’t your fault, and you couldn’t have stopped this. Vecna is just an asshole, and I was a bad girlfriend. A bad friend, too. Friends don’t lie, or whatever, but I did. I said I was fine and I wasn’t. I’m sorry for being a bad friend.

I heard about the game, by the way. I listened to it on the radio. I can’t believe your Hawkins High’s star player now.

I should’ve been there.

This is about to get really sappy and gross, and if you tell anyone I swear to god I will haunt your ass, Sinclair.

I’m glad I came to Hawkins. Sure, every six months there’s a world ending threat and now one of them is directly attacking me, but, I’m still glad I met you guys. Hawkins was new and scary, not just because of the monsters.

You asked me, about two years ago, in the back of the Palace Arcade, “Do you accept the risk?” Do you remember that? Back then I thought that it was just a story, that you were just really, really into the nerd shit that you and your friends had created and just wanted me to play along. I hadn’t realized it was a serious thing until the junkyard. Until I saw the monsters for real. Then I understood.

I’m glad I accepted the risk. I’m glad I got to meet you and the rest of the Party and become part of your weird little friend group. I don’t regret it. Even if it seems like I should, especially right now, especially with what happened in the summer. But I don’t. I don’t think I would change anything about how we met. I would still accept the risk.

I do want to make him pay, though. The shit head behind all of this. He’s been doing this shit the whole time, the Mind Flayer, the Spider Monster, and now all of this. You have to swear to me, Lucas. You’ll make him pay. You and the Party and Steve, Nancy, and Robin. Shit, El too. She probably already knows that something is up even if she doesn’t have her powers. You all have to make him pay. Not just for me, either. Everybody who’s been affected by this. Will, Nancy’s friend, all of those people last summer, Chrissy, Fred, everyone.

This letter is the hardest one, besides the one I wrote for my mom, and I’m glad you’re all asleep right now so you can’t see me crying like a baby trying to write this. Don’t laugh at me. I’m really gonna miss you guys. Our movie nights, or sneaking into the movie theater and the drive in or walking downtown and just talking or planning our Halloween costumes together. (You have to go as the Green Lantern this year. Especially if I don’t make it out of this. I don’t give a shit what Mike plans.)

I’ll miss you most, Lucas. You are such a good person, you’re so kind. You were there for me and wanted to be there for me when I didn’t want to be around people at all. I know it’s cliché to say, but you’ve got a heart of gold, Lucas. You have never given up on me. And I know that if you’re reading this it means the worst has happened, but I’d like to think you didn’t give up on me then, either. That you were there until my final moments.

You are my guiding light. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you when you were there for me. I hope whenever you hear Kate Bush, you’ll think of me, Stalker.

From,

Love, your girlfriend,

Mad Max.

#stranger things #lumax #kas!max mayfield #my writing #again this is my first time writing as max so pls be kind!! still getting her voice down lol #but yeah i wanted these to be still holding back a little bit like she was in episode 4. still a little closed off. ya know?#max mayfield #lucas sinclair #not my usual stuff but!! glad i'm writing these. i love stepping out of my comfort zone [said through gritted teeth]

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rebelsandtherest · 2 years ago

Text

Let Down

Words: 1,453

TW: None, except for some cursing and the author blatantly self-projecting onto a sad fictional dickhead war criminal

Author’s note: Don’t mind me I’m just Going Through Some Shit™ and these morons are my coping mechanism, so here, have some sappy NA bro emo shit

--------------------------------------

Matt was used to looking after his brother. Alfred may have been the eldest, but both history and temperament had long shaped them to fit the molds meant for each other. Independent, impulsive, and often selfish to a fault, Alfred fit so snugly in the archetype of ‘hyperactive little brother’ that even Matt forgot sometimes, whipping out parenting techniques he’d learned centuries ago while raising his actual little brother, Jack, to knock his reckless big brother back to his senses.

In contrast, Matt was likable and mild, responsible, dutiful, and never raised a fuss, even when he should. Matt had long been responsible for controlling (or cleaning up after) his brother in both international incidents as well as family gatherings, to the point that the entire world had grown to expect it of him. It was not a chore he always relished, but such duties had sunk into his bones over the centuries, and it had ceased to surprise him when humans assumed he was a firstborn.

However, the inverted patterns that history had taught them melted away when they were alone. Alfred was older than Matt by a handful of short but appreciable decades, and in many ways his role as older brother was never so evident than it was when it was just them, cozy along their shared border, an ocean away from the European allies who piled expectations on Matt’s diplomatic abilities even as they grew increasingly allergic to Alfred’s shrewd, loud, ridiculous personality.

Here on their own, it was more often Matt who needed looking after, in the form of a bagful of citrus in the winter, an unannounced visit to keep him company, or an invitation to go on some wild bender that their father would never believe wasn’t a hostage situation. Alfred was the sunshine to Matt’s melancholy, the summertime to Matt’s eternal winter, the optimism that balanced out Matt’s pessimism. It was Alfred who did the cheering, and Matt who, usually, allowed himself to be cheered.

Unfortunately, the openness and optimism that made Alfred a good brother was also his soft underbelly, and once in a while, it would land him in a world of hurt.

“You awake?” Matt asked softly, trying to spy his brother's face. He continued combing his fingers through Alfred’s hair, which was far shorter than last he’d seen it, recently cut to a military standard style. He smoothed out the golden strands, still just long enough to fan out against the pillow. Voice hoarse, Alfred grunted, not budging from his spot lying across Matt’s couch, face smushed halfway into a pillow that pressed against Matt’s lap. Matt scratched Alfred’s scalp in acknowledgement.

“You should drink some water.” Alfred didn’t budge.

“I just,” Alfred began, before sniffling loudly and adjusting his face against the pillow so he could breathe more easily. “I really wanted it to work out,” He said miserably, quietly. Mat pursed his lips and let his hand linger on Alfred’s neck, giving it a soft squeeze. “I know you did, bud.” Generally speaking, Matt saw all of Alfred’s heartbreaks lightyears away, careening towards them at high speeds even as his brother ran full steam ahead like a fool. It would be easy for anyone to wonder why Alfred never learned to protect his oh-so human emotions in all his centuries of life. Today’s calamity, however, was one even Matt hadn’t seen coming.

“They said they’d let me pilot again, before they shuttered everything. I should’ve gotten it in writing, I’m such a fucking idiot. Assuming I had it guaran-fucking-teed.” Alfred brought a hand up to his disheveled face, digging fingers into his eyes and sniffling again. He groaned. “Shit, my head hurts.”

“You’ll feel better if you drink some water,” Matt offered. After a long pause, Alfred did, short hair puffing up in comical angles as he pressed up on his elbow to drink. Matt would’ve laughed at the sight if it weren’t for his brother’s red-rimmed eyes. Alfred had tossed his glasses onto the coffee table hours ago so he could dig his face into a pillow, a position to which he returned as soon as he’d gulped down the glass of water Matt had left him.

“Why didn’t they fuckin tell me?” he whined into the tear-stained pillowcase, tucking his bulky arms beneath himself like a child while Matt resumed combing through his hair, a gesture that usually put Alfred straight to sleep. Today, it seemed, his thoughts would keep him awake for hours yet.

“I’d go down and fight them for you,” Matt told him, surveying Alfred’s hair and wondering if he could re-style the pilot’s cut to take Alfred’s mind off of things. “But it wouldn’t be a fair fight, and I’d probably get heatstroke anyway. Also, I’d hate for you to have to fill out all that paperwork when I abuse my diplomatic immunity.” That, at least, got a snort from his prone brother. Or perhaps it was a hiccup leftover from his crying. It was hard to tell.

Matt reached further down and gently scratched the top of his brother’s back, still clothed in the now-wrinkled NASA-branded tee shirt he’d been wearing when he’d shown up at Matt’s house, teary-eyed, angry, and nearly inconsolable, having traveled directly to Quebec from Florida. It was less than twenty-four hours from launch when Alfred had learned that, due to a massive mis-communication that spanned seven years and multiple administrations, despite the handshake and promise of a former President, there was not, in fact, a spot reserved for Alfred aboard Atlantis for her final voyage—the final voyage, in fact, of the entire Space Shuttle program.

“I didn’t want to have to see it wrap up from down here,” Alfred said pathetically. He sounded like a child—not in his usual, petulant way, but in the soft-hearted, hurt way that came from a man who’d been in love with the stars since before he could crawl.

“You could’ve easily kicked someone out, you know,” Matt reminded him. “Who would’ve told you no?” “I can’t do that,” Alfred moaned, rolling over to breathe, this time all the way onto his back, so he could glance at his brother upside-down before returning his gaze to the out-of-focus world around him. “I’m not going to kick some poor human out of that special of a—I mean, they’ve been dreaming about this their entire lives, probably, it would devastate them.”

“You seem pretty devastated yourself,” Matt pointed out.

“I am,” Alfred said, sniffling again. “Fuck, I am. But I can’t just…” Alfred gestured vaguely and let his hand fall, sighing.

“You’re far from done up there, you’re going to go back,” Matt told him, leaning over to force Alfred to make eye contact with him. Though his face appeared upside-down, he could see the deep hurt lingering in Alfred’s puffy face.

“I mean I hope so,” the American said miserably. “I just… it seemed so perfect, you know? The last mission, wrapping all that work on the ISS, I’ve seen it grow from the ground up—literally—fuck I designed some of the shit on board, and I wanted to be there when it… And now it’s just…” he gestured towards Matt’s muted TV, which continued to broadcast desks full of talking heads as they replayed clips of Atlantis’ final launch. “I didn’t ever think I’d be watching it happen on a ten-year-old TV with a fucking migraine in fucking Quebec. I hate this.” In a moment of clarity, the American frowned, and glanced up at Matt. “The whole shuttle thing. Not Queb—not you.” Matt snorted, and patted Alfred’s chest in forgiveness.

“I figured.”

Alfred sighed, and rolled back over, pulling a throw blanket off the back of Matt’s couch and curling back up on his side, pulling the soft blanket up to his nose so only his shining eyes were visible, fixated on the television as the evening shift of newscasters took over to continue reviewing the history of the Space Shuttle program and the historic last launch of Atlantis. He sniffed again as he watched, but said nothing.

“You’ll find your way back up there eventually,” Matt said, “You wouldn’t be you if you didn’t.” Alfred didn’t budge. After a long stretch of silence, he asked:

“But I’m allowed to be sad about it now, right?” His voice was soft and hurt, always a little too human for any nation, let alone a superpower. Matt ran his fingers through his brother’s hair, trimmed too-soon by the optimism and confidence of a man who held on to more dreams that he could carry. He brushed a thumb gently over his older brother’s hot, salty cheek.

“Yes, you’re allowed to be sad about it now.”

#hws america #hws canada #my writing #my fanfic #might delete later i haven't decided #I'm just distracting myself from my problems

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echovale052 · 1 year ago

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Ugly Sweater Contest

A fandomcember prompt for a mini library trio fic, because I am absolutely a simp for Abby and Rose. It was meant to be about an ugly sweater contest but turned into a fluffy library trio mini fic. I’m not much of a fic writer but I give you the babies. Absolutely cheesy sappy shit ahead, full to the brim of pining, fluff, anxiety, and our favorite bearded dragon drake! Merry Christmas!

Library trio + Exscaliber

@castleaudios

“Oh come on Rosie! He’d look great in it!”

“Absolutely not, I am not subjecting Exscalibur to your nonsense.”

Dear enters the living room to find Rose guarding Exscalibur from what looks like a miniature Santa costume. At least, it looks like that? Wordlessly they settle on the couch to observe, their own absolutely ridiculous sweater itching at the neckline.

“Can we at least put the hat on him?”

Dear had suggested a cozy night in at their place, but Rose insisted on hosting. Was this a good idea? Maybe. Their haphazardly bandaged hands were still shaking as they fiddled with the boxed gifts they’d wrapped. The nights leading up to this one spent with hours of YouTube tutorials and too many paper cuts to make sense of.

“Bud! Help me out here! You agree that our son should participate in the festive family photo right? I spent forever trying to get a hat his size!” Abby says dramatically presenting a miniature Santa hat. It easily fit in the palm of her hand, the idea was too funny not to egg on. Besides Exscalibur didn’t seem to mind.

“Absolutely not!” Rose laughs through each word as Abby explains the supposed shared custody agreement, again. “Dear don’t you dare encourage her!”

Dear swiftly scoops the lizard out of Rose’s hands and sets him down on the coffee table, Abby quickly following suit with the hat. “Look at the lil guy Rosie! He’s snug as a bug!” Exscalibur freezes in confusion for a moment as the hat is set upon him. He looks decidedly cozy under the red and white fuzz after being plucked away from his heat lamp.

The two share a triumphant fist bump as they take various turns with the mini Santa on their shoulders. Rose finally concedes, sitting down with the gifts she got for Abby and Dear. The miniature tree the three of them originally decorated for the library had somehow traveled to her house. Abby and Dear follow suit trading their gifts and voting on who would open their gifts first.

“I think we should let Rosie go first, she’s the host after all!”

Rose opens a messy wrapped box from Abby the contents of it varying in size from sticky notes she promised to replace, to podcast merch, to a few fancy glass cups.

Rose rifles through the box of goodies each one earning an excited recap of the memories they hold from Abby.

“Abigail these are wonderful! Thank you so much!” The two share a hug and Dear catches sight of a piece of paper sticking out of Abby’s back pocket. They weren’t looking at their best friend’s- nope totally not. They shake their mind away and anxious produce their gift for their boss. Oh god this is my boss maybe I should take the note out of it. Abby did. What was her note about?! Focus!

Dear? Rose pops into their head to interrupt their train wreck of a thought. Are you alright?

“Oh uhm yeah I’m ok just thinking”

“About? Cmon Bud don’t leave us- well me hanging. Rosie can hear your thoughts but I can’t!”

Ok ok ok I’m really doing this.

Dear hands over a red boxed present and nervously over-analyzing the contents and each part of it in their mind as Rose unwraps the gift, Abby also eager to see the gift herself leans into Rose. Carefully she produces the three stems of paper lilacs tied together with an orange ribbon.

“Oh my goodness, Dear! You made these?” As they nod she stands up immediately searching for a worthy vase to display them in. “This is absolutely gorgeous! Thank you so much! I can’t begin to imagine how long they took!”

“There’s one more thing in the gift!”

Rose pulls out a the small note, reading it to herself as Abby digs open her own gift finding her own note after the paper frogs, hearts, and flowers. An unusual silence between the three settles as the librarian and the podcaster read their letters. Dear picks at their neckline, holding their breath waiting for their response.

Maybe I was too sappy? Maybe they can’t even read my handwriting? Maybe they’re having a conversation in Abby’s head about me?

Drawing out a steady breath Dear looks the two over again their eyes teary for a moment before Abby engulfs them in a hug. Rose stands in front of them awkwardly with a soft smile as she watches the two hug tightly. Quickly she’s tugged into the hug full of soft thank you’s and a few happy tears.

“Ok no fair making us cry!” Rose throws her head back in a laughing agreement, shoving her present into their hands.

“Your turn, Dear.”

“Yeah close your eyes I got a surprise I put together!”

“Abigail why are you- standing on a chair? You are going to fall.” Dear closes their eyes with a barely swallowed grin, their own face stained from sympathetic tears. “Oh! That’s- I- that’s rather cheesy but I don’t think I’m complaining.” Curiosity gets the better of them as they stare down at the gift wrapped box in their bandaid and paper cut ridden hands with chipped nail polish. They pull off the ribbon and reach into the box only to find a small hand bound book. Rose’s book. This is the one she’d joked about writing after she gave them Abby’s liaison papers. Their heart almost skips a beat as they turn to the dedication.

“For my dear open wielder and my wonderful perpetual hurricane that stirred me from complacency into hopeful fear and turned a small town to all I’d want with them in it. Thank you.”

It’s signed too, and a strange courage tells them to look up. Abby smiles her gorgeous lopsided smile and Rose even laughs a little as they spot Abby’s gift suspended above the three.

Mistletoe.

#castleaudios abby #castleaudios rose #fandomcember2023 #christmas #fluff #echovale voicemail

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toyama-division · 24 days ago

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ARB Birthday Special: Kensaku Morimoto

～ November 5th ～

“Age is an issue of mind over matter. If you don’t mind, it doesn’t matter.”

“I'm getting the feeling it can't play dumb about my birthday like last time. It didn't work out for me last year, so I might as well surrender. Free stuff isn’t the worst thing anyways!”

“Hey, free things! Nah, I kid, I kid. Thank you for the gift.”

Voice Lines:

“Ah… You know, having partners means they're probably going to try and do something for me. Mmm… I'll let it happen this year, but maybe I should tell them that having them in my life is enough. No need for extravegant surprises or presents.”

“Apparently, my niece has started baking so my little brother and his family are coming over to deliver a cake to me. Maybe I'll go out to lunch with them… It'll be nice to catch up with Hayato.”

“Oh, Asato-kun! It's good to see you! Hm? Yeah, I've been fine. Nobody has come for my bounty yet. Then again, I doubt anyone is wanting to do anything to our team! What? Oh yeah, except him, haha.”

“What did you forget? Oh, presents! Haha, ‘I make horrible science puns but only periodically’? Where’d you find this? Of course I like these cheesy things, I love them! Thank you Asato-kun! And something from Toshiko, huh? A picnic set? Why did she… Oh. Oh! I guess I did tell her about Jakurai and Sayaka. Or more like she forced it out of me. Huh? Did I not tell you guys? Wait, really? I’m sorry! Here, I’ll explain it later… N-Now? Asato, I don’t think- Calm down, kiddo!”

“Hello Yano… I forgot to tell Asato about Jakurai and Sayaka. Yeah, it just slipped my mind. H-Hey! I’m just a little caught up with stuff… It’s nothing like that, Yano. Don’t be gross…”

“It’s a couple of things! Let’s see what the book is first… ‘The Drunken Botanist’? …Yano. Really? You better be honest, I don’t appreciate you mocking me. Pfft, okay fair, fair. Still, this looks like an interesting read! Now the second thing… Aw, cute! They fit together? How do you- Oh, thank you Yano-kun. That is adorable! I’m sure they’ll like their cats too. Wait, is it really that much of a surprise? I guess I wasn’t sure what exactly I was feeling with Jakurai since I thought my days of experimenting my sexuality was long past… What’s that face for? Don’t judge me for being slow about that. Sure, sure, just ‘surprised’.”

Asato Lines:

“Happy birthday Ken sensei… Mhm. Have you been safe? Yeah… I guess nobody is really hunting us down. Well? Yano might be different. Since he has ties to the yakuza, I guess. It must be rough for him…”

“Ah, almost forgot. This is for you. The little retractable badge clip. Looked like the cheesy stuff you like. And gramma insisted I deliver this to you. Not sure why she wanted you to have this thing… Something about you being able to put this to better use…Huh? Jakurai… Saya… Since when? Why didn’t you say? Hmph… No, you gotta tell me now. How long have you been keeping it secret? Sensei…!”

Yano Lines:

“What the hell did you say to get Asato so upset? …You seriously forgot to tell your teammate about your new relationship? Are you stupid? Yeah, I’m sure you’re busy. Anyways, don’t bother sharing your sappy romantic stuff. Just take this gift.”

“Have fun digging around that bag. It’s not much, but you’re hard to buy for old geezer. Heh, figured you could put your two hobbies together. No, I’m not making fun of you! I told you, you like your booze and you do science shit with plants, so? See, I know you at this point. Yeah, that keychain is a set of three. They go together. N-No not like that… Just hand it over. See? Just like that. I figure as a celebration for being able to finally confess, you get your own little cat. Still, you liking Jakurai caught me off guard… I’m not judging! I’m just surprised, prick!”

#hypmic #hypnosis mic #hypnosis microphone #hypmic oc #hypnosis mic oc #hypnosis microphone oc #toyama division #eco boon #kensaku morimoto #happy birthday kensaku 2024 #nugsters art

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jaybirdh · 1 year ago

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Okay, so I have spent the better part of a year trying to write a Jayroy fic that I thought would honestly take only a couple of months. I was inspired by this other fic, and had gotten full permission, and I wrote loads for it, but nothing ever quite worked out.

What happened was I read That issue of Red Hood & the Outlaws.

I pretty much ignore the whole penguin beatdown thing (I also ignore the titan’s tower attack, but that’s another matter), I always want Bruce to be a good father and I have tended to write him that way.

Same with Oliver Queen.

However, I thought, within the continuity, it was very stupid and unfair that this incident never gets mentioned again and Bruce never encounters any repercussions whatsoever (all this assuming you want to believe that the “fight” was at all canon, which I don’t really), and I wanted catharsis. Sort of.

I wanted a reason for the main premise of the story to happen, and that seemed like the perfect opening for that, in addition to wanting to see some comeuppance.

That was the main downfall for this story. I got way too invested in the toxic familial relationships the New 52 spat out, and it kept going into all the wrong directions. I ended up disliking all but individual bits of it. It was too nasty for me to handle.

Add to that that I couldn’t seem to get a single characterisation right, and in spite of the great inspiration, the story had almost no plot, and I couldn’t figure out how to worm one in.

So I’m scrapping that effort, and starting completely from new.

The thing is, there was one bit I did really like, from Roy’s perspective, and I don’t want it to be completely lost, although I know it wouldn’t have anywhere to go in my new attempt.

It will probably showcase all the flaws I described, and may not be written terribly well, but I still liked the voice (even if it isn’t necessarily in character), and I liked some of the points I made about what I know of how they handled Sanctuary, so I’m putting it out here.

Content warnings will be tagged. If anyone thinks they can expand on this or do it better, feel free. Just remember to credit me or even piggy back on this post. If someone does write more to this, I would like to read it.

Writing under the cut.

Therapy sucks.

That was Roy’s professional opinion as a Therapizee. And his opinion about it mattered, damn it! Customer satisfaction, and all that.

It didn’t help that all his therapizers were robots or holograms.

In a way, it made it worse.

The robots could pretend to care all they wanted, but you always knew they didn’t.

And they were always recording. Roy was sure that was some sort of violation.

But seriously, you might as well be talking to a metal wall for all the good that did (a certain saying about first signs came to mind).

Add to that the fucking holograms.

They were meant to represent the people you had issues with, or who you cared about, giving messages of support and all that sappy stuff.

Roy guessed it was supposed to be cathartic, or some shit, but really it was just frustrating, bordering on maddening.

If he weren’t already in rehab for capes interacting with the stupid fuckers would have certainly put him there.

Really, there was nothing worse about yelling about a problem you had about your adoptive father to his face, then hear him say something you know he’d never actually say to you.

All it seemed to do was increase the issue exponentially, drive you crazy with the knowledge that you might be working through your problems, but the people the holograms were pretending to be sure as hell weren’t.

Roy found himself moving just as roboticslly through his day as his so-called therapists. Sleeping badly, missing his Jaybird, and finding he didn’t have much of an appetite for anything anymore.

He supposed the one good thing about it was that he was so numb he didn’t even feel the need for drugs or booze anymore.

Just…nothingness, really.

And missing Jason, obviously, but there wasn’t much he could do about that. His boyfriend was off being a hero, no thanks to Batman (may he lose the use of his stupid fortune and die alone in a ditch), and Roy had made a commitment.

He’d stick it out for his two months, and if it got better, great! If not? It’s only two months, and then he could go back to out-law-ing with Jason, no problem.

He’d never felt the loneliness, the sadness, that drove him to addiction when he was with Jaybird.

And yes, he knew being dependant on someone else for recovery was a Bad Thing, but it wasn’t that at all.

What he’d realised, almost the first day in this purgatory, was that he’d kept himself sober with Jason, so that he could be the best he could be for Jason.

Jason, who’d always told him—always showed him that he was worth more than Oliver or anyone else had ever treated him.

Jason, who’d always made sure he was okay, made sure he was managing, made sure he knew that Roy as a person was worth more than being wrecked by heroin and alcohol.

And Roy had believed it. Roy could believe anything Jason said about it, even when the other wasn’t there, because Jason was the one who said it. He’d believed it, even through that little…hiccup.

And when they had started working together, when it became apparent that this wasn’t a one-off, Jason had been scared. Scared of hurting Roy, but also scared of being hurt by Roy.

Roy had understood that, resoected that, and gone forward with all due caution, like when you approach a wild animal.

And then came Batman’s beatdown of the Red Hood, and it was only pure luck that he was in the area to save him, god knows the other bats probably hadn’t even noticed.

And that had been horrible, absolutely terrifying.

He had almost lost Jason.

They might never have had the chance to see what they could become, together.

But he survived, and they had their chance.

Unfortunately, Roy was the one with the issues this time.

He and Jason had finally (finally!) made real progress in their relationship, but this time it was Roy who was scared.

He’d gotten low again, the Titans had broken up again (after a rather disastrous attempt at getting together again), and every time he’d tried to talk it out with Ollie something else—not even something more important all of the time—always came up, and he’d left Roy hanging.

So he’d had a bit of a relapse, nothing major, just, y’know, way too many drinks at a bar, no biggie.

But he knew that tended to lead to something more.

That had scared him, badly.

Scared enough that even when he’d been feeling much better, even when he and Jason had come together againm even closer than before, he had gone to rehab.

He shouldn’t have. He should have remembered that recovery wasn’t linear. He’d had a dip, sure, but after, he knew he would have had a rise, he’d have just had to have waited.

But he hadn’t ever wanted Jason to see him that way.

He’d been told everything about Jason’s background by the man himself in an intimate moment, and he never wanted Jason to have to suffer through anything like that again.

So he’d left.

And so, he’d died.

Yeah, therapy sucked.

#Tw drug use #tw depression #unreliable narrator #dc #jason todd #roy harper #oliver queen #bruce wayne #red hood and the outlaws #Violence #Violence only mentioned #Jayroy #Royjay #Bad therapy practices #Swearing #Dependance #Inaccurate depiction of addiction #Probably

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