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malereadermaniac · 5 months ago

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Someone Older ~ Sukuna x Male Reader

Meeting a sexy, tatted up, older guy at a bar DISCLAIMER: I haven't watched JJK! I've written Sukuna using context clues I've gotten from reading other fics! I've written him as: cocky, mean, dominant, and not all lovey-dovey for the reader word count: 2.4k Top!Sukuna x Bottom!Reader Nsfw / MDNI ~ amab m!reader / FDNI

Your local club was your second home. You had gone to it many, many times with your friends, even though you weren't that much of a drinker; the atmosphere was just fun, it relaxed you after a week of college. Plus, the club was the perfect place to get the dick that you had been craving and thinking about since the last time you had been blessed with it's presence - that dick belonging to a certain pink-headed man.

You had first encountered Sukuna at the very same club you were in right now. You really fucking hated him to begin with, your first encounter being the muscular man literally shoving you out of his way to get past you; his massive hand jarring you as he grabbed your shoulder. After that, every time you caught the giant man in the corner of your eye, you would give him the smallest glare. What accelerated your 'relationship' was pure coincidence - the two of you ending up out-front of the club at the same time, alone. You innitially ignored him, breathing in the fresh air you came out for and taking a few hits on your vape, but a small scoff and deep chuckle from the pink-haired figure beside you caught your attention.

"What?" You say, looking up at the taller, clearly older man with small squint of your eye and raise of your eyebrow - you were quite ready to sass him if he made any out of pocket comments

"I just don't get why people your age insist on using those colorful, sweet sticks ha... Just smoke a cig ya pussies" The large man commented, barely even sparing you a side-glance

" 'cause they're better for you than whatever the fuck you're rolling right now" you respond, turning your body to face the dickhead which was now rolling his second cigarette

"oh yeah? ya' shure 'bout that?" Sukuna volleyed back, his speech ever so slightly muffled from holding a filter in his mouth

"Yeah.. um... studies have- oh fuck off" you mumble back, your body growing hot. For some reason, you could now understand the sex appeal of the man in front of you: the way his hair slightly fell on his forehead as he looked down to roll his cigarette, and fucking hell the way that Sukuna glanced up into your eyes as you talked, a small, smug smirk on his lips as the white filter parted them slightly. This man was sex on legs.

After that first night actually talking to the muscular dickhead, you didn't give him much thought. That was until the following weekend, when you bumped into him again, at the same club. He initially only acknowledged you briefly with a chuckle and a mumble of 'you stalking me or somethin'?', however as the night progressed and the alcohol hit you both a little more (you more so), Sukuna and yourself ended up alone once again. In a more quite area of the club, ordering yourself another drink, you recognised the veiny, tattooed arm on the bar next to you, and a sexy voice you could briefly recount ordering some sort of spirit or beer. You roll your eyes and chuckle to yourself when your eyes make contact with his, which resulted in the pink-haired man sitting down next to you; he was already drunk, pretty horny, and he couldn't deny that you piqued his interest just the smallest bit.

"So what's ya name, pretty boy" The older man asks after downing the shot he had just been handed

"As if I'd tell you" you say with a roll of your neck towards the taller man, your eyes looking up into his as Sukuna clearly checks you out with half-lidded eyes; darting between your exposed skin, back to your eyes, your curves, then back to your eyes again.

"Hah... You know you want to" The giant man chuckles out, briefly rubbing his neck and showing off his ginormous biceps and triceps, his arm covered in line-like tattoos

"(Y/n)... What about you, handsome?" you say with a small, horny smile; stretching in a nonchalant way, which showed off your body just perfectly in the club lighting

That's all you really remember about your first actual conversation with Sukuna, things got a bit blurry after that. Oh, and how at some point after that conversation, the two of you hastily made your way to the men's bathroom and started desperately making out. With you shoved against the bathroom wall, Sukuna's massive arms holding your waist and cheek as he dominated your mouth with his tongue and rubbed his knee against your crotch in a teasing manner. Briefly, the taller, stronger man breaks the kiss and sports a smug, horny smirk on his chiseled face; his hand still holding your cheek to look up at him as Sukuna lets out a small, breathy chuckle at your panting form.

"Y'know... you don't wanna get involved with me, squeak" Sukuna says in a playful tone, looking down at you and the way that your body looked so fucking sexy against his

"Oh yeah? And why's that, tough guy?" You volley back at teasing nickname, pressing a finger against his muscular chest, his shirt already pretty much unbuttoned

"Hah... 'Cause I've got tattoos older than you" The pink-haired man mumbles in your ear, alcohol and expensive cologne flooding your nose as well as heat pooling into your face and dick. Sukuna moved away from your ear and let go of your face, positioning his arm above you and not only showing off his buldging muscles, but also emphisising the very tattoos he was referencing; FOR FUCKS SAKE HE WAS SO HOT.

So... Against your better judgment, that night you decided to live a little. In the very same bathroom, after making out for another solid ten minuets, allowing the man you had only just learnt the name of to ravage your mouth and roam his hands around your body, you dragged the hunk into a stall. Luckily for you, this club was very well known for being a little more tolerant to people enjoying themselves in the bathroom, ergo you were on your knees in front of Sukuna within seconds; drunkenly roaming your hands across his thick thighs and rubbing your head against his inner thigh and crotch - your hands landing on the sexy man's zipper and belt buckle very quickly. From what you remember, and from what the smug man had recounted to you the morning after, you gave that man the sloppiest head in the world in that stall, his hands gripping your hair and forcing you to deepthroat kinda head; and you ended your night in his apartment, having fucked at least twice judging by the bite marks and hickeys on your body and Sukuna's. Having woke up in a strange apartment didn't faze you as much as it should have, what really shocked you was the amount of scratch marks you somehow left on the muscular man's enormous, muscular back! But anyway, you went on your merry way home after not being able to deal with the pink-headed man's cocky attitude about you putting out; but damn, this time, you really couldn't stop thinking about him!

Which takes us back to the present moment. Loud white-girl music was currently blasting through your eardrums, and after singing along and dancing with your friends, you found yourself trying to spot a certain someone; a tatted-up, muscular, older someone. With whatever substance was in your system at the moment, you make your way to the bar and order another drink, just waiting for Sukuna to turn up like he always did; the man could deny taking a liking to you all he wanted, but he was always the one who approached you on nights like this. Your plan goes accordingly, the muscular man had sneaked an arm around your waist and whispered some dirty talk in your ear already, and after some boring chat and minute flirting you both started to get riled up. After some dancing and making out on the dancefloor, Sukuna called you both a cab. You said 'bye' to your friends and made your way over to the pretty damn fancy car which the older man had called, and after a short journey to his apartment complex (which you two spent sloppily and desperately making out in the backseat) you both made your way inside.

The horny man immediately took control of the situation, Sukuna's muscular arms either wrapping around your body and holding you against the tall man, or roaming your hot, sexy body; it was no secret that the pink-haired man was a big fan of the way you looked, he'd never say it out-loud though, unless his walls had crumbled due to an oncoming orgasm. Dominating your mouth and body, the older man holds you in his arms, your legs around his sluttily small yet muscular waist and your arms around his thick, veiny neck. Eventually, the two of you end up on Sukuna's king-sized bed, the muscular man above you, showing off his ripped body, his sexy scars and tattoos; god damn he was so hot, just oozing confidence and dominance wordlessly. By the time you were both naked, Sukuna's thick, masculine fingers were already inside of you; spreading you out and curling into your prostate as the man hovers above you and watches you wiggle around and let out the smallest of grunts in pleasure. Sukuna fucking loves to finger you, watch and listen to you as your pleasure is fully in his control, his dick gets so hard at your actions; hell, Sukuna sometimes even gives your twitching, hard dick a couple of licks just to push you closer and closer to ecstasy. But of course, as cliche as one can be, Sukuna rarely lets you cum from his fingers and tongue alone, removing his fingers instantly if he catches you arch your back; something he's learned indicates your orgasm approaching quickly.

Without easing in at all, Sukuna likes to wrap his hands around your waist and shove his massive dick inside of you; bottoming out straight away, 'cause why would he need to be gentle after prepping you for so long? Such a cunt. The sigh which follows is always one that the two of you like to remember, just raw lust and desperation as the two of you fuck like rabbits; Sukuna thrusting his hips violently against your ass, ramming his dick against your gummy walls and prostate. The sounds which circle the older man's apartment are nothing less than erotic and vulgar - your whines and moans along with breathy gasps of Sukuna's name, skin slapping and panting, and Sukuna's rough grunts as he puts in all of his effort to fuck you ruthlessly; the man getting off on the way you look and sound from his rough pace. The muscular man fucking you can also last a solid while, which luckily for you means you get to experience plenty of different positions - yayyyy.... your poor fucking ass. From doggy, to missionary, to a full fucking nelson, Sukuna loves either to get his dick deeper inside of your tight, warm hole, or to be able to see you at different angles, struggling to keep up with the tattooed man. And by the time Sukuna is finally on the brink of shooting his thick cum inside of you, you've already came twice; your body twitching from every thrust of Sukuna's, and your eyes dripping tears down your cheeks and rolling back, which just turns the man on even further.

Just as he is normally, Sukuna is rough as fuck when he cums. His hands gripping your body tighter or his arms holdings you closer to his muscular body as the man moans your name ruggedly, biting and marking your body as his hips stutter as he keeps thrusting into you - coating your ass with his warm spunk. It's only during his orgasm or during the afterglow when Sukuna finally lets a few nice words slip past his lips, compliments of your body or face, or endearing nicknames contrasting his dirty talk from before - i.e. calling you a fucking slut and grunting in your ear how your body is begging for his huge dick. And it's as Sukuna recovers from the aftershocks of his violent orgasm that he admires you, kneeling on the bed above you and between your legs, his massive build on full display as the man pants and sweats just, simply, looking at you. His hands rub up and down your body, massaging your aching muscles as you lay on the soiled sheets, your body still twitching and your eyes still clearly hazy with lust. Your body covered in his cum and yours, Sukuna's cum leaking out of your asshole as you pant in a moanish tone, your body limp and sweaty; cockdrunk was the perfect word to describe you in this moment. The sight is enough to get Sukuna to crave a second round, but he holds back, for once thinking about you - however the small signs of empathy displayed by Sukuna couldn't hold back his sharp tongue no matter what.

"Looks like you got a thing for older guys or somethin', darl'"

You giggle, unable to respond from the pleasure still assaulting your body, but the cocky and smug comment from the man who just rearranged your guts was somewhat sweet in the moment. And that's why you keep coming back. Sure, the sex is killer and you don't stop thinking about Sukuna's dick. But you also enjoy the moments after, from the moment the man stops shooting his load, to the moment you have to leave the morning after - you feel comfortable, somehow. And on the flip-side, Sukuna can't deny that he's for some reason taken a liking to you. He is the one that keeps coming over to you in the club and the one that calls the cab, so he must like you a little, right? The man can't say that he doesn't enjoy waking up next to you in the morning, your body perfectly against his, your sharp wit when you two banter, and the sex is so fucking good! Guess you two will be stuck in a game of cat n mouse for a while, cause neither of you is leaving any time soon; it's up to one of you to take the next step for the other and at the very least put a label on the two of you, whether that be 'weirdly close friends with benefits' or 'lovers'

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ihrtsevyn · 10 months ago

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Can you please write something about Johnnie getting jealous🫶🏼

— JEALOUSY, JEALOUSY . . . 𖤐 | j.g x reader

moved to: @kiemiu

synopsis small scenario + headcanons of johnnie being jealous !

warnings slightly aggressive behavior?, cursing, lowercase intended, no specific race/gender/age specified. use of gender neutral terms. reader is intoxicated in the scenario. talks of insecurity.

wc 1.3k

masterlist | main page <3

. . .

SCENARIO:

johnnie would like to think that he isn't a jealous person, but undeniably he is. there's not a worse feeling than seeing the person you love fawn over another.

the feeling that grows in his stomach is unsettling, it makes him want to throw up. do you always scrunch your nose up when you laugh? is this guys jokes really that funny? the way you throw your head back and let out a loud cackle makes it seem so, but johnnie fully believes you're putting on a show. johnnie's funny too. you would know if you weren't so busy cuddled up under...brian? brad? whatever his name is, it doesn't matter. that should be him.

jake had been talking johnnie's ear off for the past 15 minutes about a small brawl that happened between two girls, or was it two guys? johnnie couldn't remember, his eyes had been laser focused on you the entire evening, his ears only picking up bits and pieces of jake's story. the sight hurt him, truthfully. it really shouldn't have because you two weren't dating but he did believe there was something going on between you two. an unspoken mutual attraction.

"dude, you haven't blinked once in the past twenty minutes i've been talking to you." jake worriedly mentioned with raised eyebrows.

jake's small comment easily caught johnnie off-guard. he rubbed his eyes with his free hand before rapidly blinking. his taller friend was joking but it was comical to see the emo get red in the face from embarrassment.

"just go talk to them." jake muttered, following his friends gaze. "they're busy, can't you tell?" johnnie mumbled bitterly before finally tearing his eyes away from your form for the first time that night.

he looked down at the solo cup that he maintained a loose grip on, woefully swirling the alcohol in choppy motions. he couldn't even remember what he was drinking at that point. ever since he laid eyes on that familiar face it's all he's been thinking about. you. you. you.

as well as the fact that all of your attention was on some other guy when it should be him.

jake scoffed before taking a quick sip of his drink, head shaking in disappointment. "just go talk to her, i can't stand to see you looking like a kicked puppy all night."

he tapped johnnie's shoulder a few times before escaping off into another conversation.

johnnie's gaze followed jake's form until he was fully out of sight, turning his full attention back to you. what he didn't expect was for your eyes to already be settled on him, making him freeze in the spot.

you offered him a kind smile before waving him over. he hesitated in his steps before taking quick strides over to you. what happened to that guy you were talking to?

"hey." he quietly muttered with a tight lipped smile. "hey, are you enjoying the party?" you asked. from that sentence alone, johnnie quickly came to the conclusion that you were fucked up. your smile was wide and blissful, eyes glossy and spaced out, not to mention the drunken drawl in your voice.

"sure, are..are you okay?" johnnie asked, a worried tilt in his voice. you nodded your head with closed eyes. the way your head lolled to the side and the cheshire grin on your face made johnnie think that you weren't fully aware of how drunk you had gotten.

"have you met my new friend brandon? he just went to go make us some more drinks. but he's so funny, i swear you'll love him." your pronunciation of words was all over the place and you could barely keep your eyes from closing.

oh, right. brandon was his name. johnnie rolled his eyes at the simple mention of the man before sighing and taking the seat next to you. even with your dazed state you could see the clear annoyance on his face. "i think it's time we get you home, hm?" johnnie muttered, eyes softening at your doe eyed stare.

"you don't like him, do you?" you asked quietly, completely ignoring johnnie's last statement. his eyebrows furrowed at your comment, slightly caught off guard by your question. "what? what do you mean? who don't i like?"

"brandon. you've been staring knives at us the whole time we've been talking."

shit. you saw him? "i-i dont even know the guy enough to hate him." johnnie nervously croaked out, his smile fell weak as he avoided your gaze.

"if i didn't know any better id say...you're jealous." you muttered, a sly smile growing on your lips. "what? no! come on, let's get you home, you're talking nonsense."

"don't you wanna wait for brandon?" you asked looking up at him as he grabbed your arm, pulling you up. "no." he immediately answered with slightly widened eyes.

you couldn't help the giggle that escaped your mouth as you leaned into him for support. "you're definitely jealous." you quietly stated another muted laugh following after.

. . .

HEADCANONS:

he gets quieter. johnnie himself isn't the loudest most out-spoken person but when shuffles to the side and stops inserting himself in certain conversations, you'll know something's wrong.

becomes passive aggressive. he doesn't really mean to, it just comes naturally. the person that you seem to take a liking to makes a joke at someones expense and johnnie will find a way to turn it back on them. adding in snippy comments whenever they talk open their mouth and scoffing in disbelief when you laugh at one of their corny jokes.

tries to act unbothered. he'll force a smile and shrug his shoulders if someone asks him if he's okay. his responses are curt and have a monotonous tone, his voice straining sometimes as he forces out an "i'm good." he thinks he looks cool and unbothered when in his jealous state but instead he looks spaced out and miserable. it's very noticeable how frigid his posture becomes, his jaw clenching in annoyance as he stares daggers at whoever is taking up too much of your time.

overthinks. johnnie has been hurt before and he doesn't want it to happen again. his mind starts to go to a dark place and insecurities start to rise to the surface. he hates feeling this way so once he realizes these harmful thoughts are starting to come back he won't hesitate to voice his thoughts to you. you mean a lot to him and he'd hate for your relationship to go off of the rails because of a lack of trust or because of an insecurity that's been uprooted.

will isolate himself. if he's feeling jealous to the point of anger then he'll outwardly avoid you until he cools down. he goes to the quietest place available and is just alone with his thoughts, which isn't the best idea when he's starting to lose confidence in the role of being your boyfriend.

seeks comfort. in all honesty johnnie doesn't get jealous that easily, it's a rare thing. but when it does happen it's kind of hard to pull him out of that self-deprecating headspace. he won't outright ask for your comfort but as you build your relationship and notice his habits, it's easy to realize when he's in need of some reassurance.

he'll become a fidgety and nervous mess. his thoughts becoming more clouded and loud as time went on. half of his thoughts are telling him to grow a pair and the other half are worriedly expressing their concerns about the state of your relationship. he really just needs to hear you say that he's all you want/need.

once he gets that reassurance that he's the love of your life accompanied with an unwavering confidence from you, he starts to feel all better. even a bit cocky when he hears how you fawn over him. his once congested thoughts become clear of any and all doubt and he's suddenly smiling from ear to ear. he realizes how stupid it was to feel any type of jealousy when it's clear that the love you share for each other is equal.

. . .

thank you sm for the request! i really enjoy writing for johnnie lol. hope you guys like it <3 :)

requests are still open if you guys have any ideas :)

#johnnie guilbert headcanons #johnnie guilbert fic #johnnie guilbert imagine #johnnie guilbert fluff #johnnie guilbert x reader #johnnie guilbert scenarios #johnnie guilbert

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starlightazriel · 5 months ago

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bad boy az part 5

warnings: 18+ , 16/18 age gap, angst, death, overdose, heartbreak, self loathing/sabotage, childhood trauma/abuse, drug addiction/abuse, dark rough az, degradation, smut

masterlist

wc: 4.4k

Visiting my grandparents with a broken heart was like torture. Forced smiles and laughs at dinner, which they insisted had to be an outing every single night, since it wasnt often that we came to visit. Christmas dinner had been the only exception. I checked my cellphone relentlessly but there was absolutely no sign of him, not on social media, no texts... No calls... As if none of it had ever even happened, my only reminder that it was all in fact very real were the text conversations which I was now re reading over and over.

There was one particular day that I had been sick, and he sent me a photo of himself a bored solemn expression on his face, I had saved that one, not even believing how incredibly sexy he was. That someone that sexy was even talking to me, let alone fucking me.

you could have told me you were ditching today butterfingers. horrible without you.

im sick, im not ditching. it can't be that bad, you haven't even spoke to me at school all week azriel

i know im not good at saying how i feel but everything is better with you

I remembered the way my heart had nearly jumped out of my chest reading that. How could he say things like that but not want anything to do with a relationship with me? How could we have sex like that and him not feel anything for me?

Maybe it wasn't that, maybe he was just afraid of what he felt. I knew that he had been different around me, I knew that I had gotten a version of him that no one else did. Maybe he had just created that for me, maybe he just really needed help with his classes.

It didnt matter the reason. He was gone anyway, he had offered to be friends but ignored me, granted I had only sent one text, using every ounce of self control that I had not to call him our keep texting him until he gave me something, even if it was just to let me know that he was okay.

Azriel was out of his mind. He was spiraling. Nothing helped, nothing worked to get her out of his head. Sure, he could dull his senses enough not to feel anything, but whenever the substance of choice wore off it was always just her there. Her crying and puffy face, her eyes that showed him pure heartbreak, her first heart break, and he knew all too well how that felt.

Though for him it hadn't been a girl, it had been his mom, leaving him alone with his monster of a father. Saving herself but not taking him with her, for all she knew she could have been leaving her little boy to die. He remembered how his first heart break had felt like darkness consuming him, like all the air had been sucked out of his lungs, like no matter how hard he tried to swim up there was something holding him under water. And he did that to y/n. It was haunting almost every one of his thoughts, it made him feel sick to his stomach with guilt. And there was the fact that he missed her, more than anything or anyone that he had ever missed, more than he had missed his mother even in those first few years after she left.

The first night, he had gone to a rave with Rhys and Cass. They raved until 4 am, rolling on Molly, a sea of bodies and heat. He had fucked someone that night, figuring that if anything got his mind off of her it would be some new pussy. Of course that hadn't worked, and really it only made things worse since he had woken up to a text from her. im sorry for anything i said when i was drunk. maybe we can talk when i get back. He hadn't responded, feeling too guilty that he had fucked someone the very night after he broke her heart. While she had been thinking about him, thinking that she had done something wrong, he had been high out of his mind fucking some random in a dirty bathroom. But this was the very reason that he knew breaking it off was the right choice in the first place. He was and always would be a shit bag.

He had been at Rhys and Cass' place every day, they knew something was wrong with him but they didnt pry. They let him cope how he always did, skated with him at the indoor skate park til they were all battered and sore, drunk with him, partied with him, got stoned and high with him.

"You sure you don't want to talk about it? You've been dipping into your stash a lot, starting to get a little concerning," Rhys raises a brow, scaling out some weed into eighth bags. He hadn't realized how quiet he had been. He also hadn't necessarily realized that they'd noticed he was dabbling in substance just a little bit more than usual.

"Yeah, no Im good," he shrugs, rising to his feet, dusting off ashes that had collected on his clothing from smoking. "I should go," he bid them both goodbye before exiting the apartment.

He didnt miss the look of concern they exchanged between each other.

Azriel stood in the door way to his living room, almost frozen in shock. The tv was distant background noise even though the volume was almost all the way up. If he didnt know any better he thought the days of rolling were getting to his head and that he was hallucinating it.

His father was face down in vomit and broken glass, he must have fallen into the coffee table and shattered it when he passed out. He didnt have to check, the silence, the white noise buzzing in his ears to the point he almost couldn't hear anything else at all told him that his father was dead. He had probably been dead for hours based on the dryness at the edges of the pool of vomit underneath him.

He didnt feel an ounce of sadness, he didnt know how to feel really, right now, he thought it had to be pure shock. Azriel reached down and picked up a cigarette from a pack that head been on the floor, he lit it, staring down at his fathers body, thinking about every horrible thing he had put him through. The scene before him reminded him about a night when he was fourteen years old, he had stolen his dad's bottle of Jameson and drank the entire thing out of boredom. Rhys and Cass had been away that summer, so he remembered how horribly bored and how much trouble he had gotten into that year. He remembered being so sick never having drank that much before, he remembered throwing up on his hands and knees, his dad kicking him down into his own pile of vomit beneath him. He had watched him struggle to get up, time and time again, he would just laugh kick him down again until Azriel was so weak and dehydrated and physically exhausted, with nothing left in his system to vomit he had just dry heaved, laying there in his own throw up. "Lay there and think about what you did," his dad had growled while tying a thin piece of plastic around his upper arm in preparation to shoot up.

"Goodnight dad," Azriel smirked, letting out a small chuckle at the irony of the situation. He threw the cigarette butt into the center of the pool of vomit, watching it sizzle out. "Lay there and think about what you did," he says and turns before retreating upstairs to his room. His fathers body would be a tomorrow issue.

Before the police had come, Azriel gathered every bit of paraphanelia and all of his drug money that was hidden under the floor boards and stuffed everything into a bag that went into his trunk. He knew he wasnt a suspect or anything, the town cops were well acquainted with his father and it was an easy open and shut overdose case. Still, he didnt want to risk getting bagged for something else when they were collecting evidence.

Azriel sat on the porch now, smoking a cigarette while he watched the paramedics haul his dad's black plastic wrapped body into the ambulance to be taken to the morgue, a bored expression on his face. He felt more empty than he had in a long time, he didnt know if it was the fact that he had been doing ecstasy for almost the entire week, the fact that he had found his father dead and overdosed the night before, or if it was the fact that he couldn't just pick up his phone and call y/n anymore.

He had been asked to do a news piece. Of course they were covering his deadbeat, nothing father's death on the local news. In a small town like this they had to cover everything for there to be anything to talk about. He had obviously declined, though he knew they would still use his fathers name, probably show his house... "Chief, I gotta get outta here," Azriel had tossed the cigarette off of his porch and was standing now, his hands shoved into the pocket of his hoodie.

"Youre good Azriel, just leave the door open for evidence and the hazmat team," the place chief nods and Azriel retreats to his room, packing his things to stay at Rhys and Cass' place for a few nights. Death was like a blanket that now covered his entire house, and he couldn't handle it.

Returning to school was just as miserable as being at my grandparents house. There was a buzz in the air about something, I didnt bother to try and figure out what it was. Nothing besides grades and Azriel really mattered anymore, even though the latter was only an empty hole in my chest at this point. I didnt expect to see him at school, I knew he would probably skip the first few days, and even if he didnt I knew I was the last person he wanted to see.

"Y/n," Maggie says a little breathlessly, jogging up to my locker at the end of the day. "Ive literally been looking for you all day, did you hear about Azriel?" she asks, my head snaps to the side, my eyes landing on hers. She knew about everything that happened with Azriel and her stance was that all boys are the same and he was just afraid to commit. No matter how many times I tried to tell her that Azriel wasn't like anyone else, she didn't listen.

"What happened?" I asked quickly, immediately assuming the worst, jail, car accident. I should have paid more attention to the gossip earlier.

"He found his dad... Like dead, in his house, drug overdose, you didnt hear?" she says, her brows furrowing slightly. "Literally like two or three days ago. It's so fucked, have you talked to him?" she asks, I just blink a few times, staring back at her. The thought of Azriel finding his dad like that made my gut twist, I wanted to cry.

"Um, no," I said quietly, hugging my text book to my chest. "He's still not speaking to me," I tack on quietly, now feeling guilty for not trying to reach out again. "I gotta go Maggie, thanks for letting me know," I close my locker, turning toward the door.

"Are you okay?" she asks, I could feel her watching after me, I turn my head back to give her a reassuring nod.

"I'm fine."

I knocked on Azriels door after school every day for three days straight. He didnt come to school, he didnt call, he didnt text, despite the number of texts I had now sent him. It was a new day now, Thursday and still he wasnt at school, so I took the familiar route to his house and knocked on his door three times. My heart leapt when the door swung open only a few moments later, my lips parted in surprise when it wasnt Azriel there, but a woman.

"Can I help you sweetie?" She was middle aged, wrinkles forming around her eyes and corners of her mouth. Tan skin and black hair like Azriels, and that wasnt the only thing they shared. She had Azriels eyes. Those beautiful, pooling, mysterious hazel eyes.

His mother?

"I-" I stuttered softly, staring up at her. "I was just looking for Azriel," I finally manage to get out.

"Well that makes two of us," she says and clicks her tongue. "Ive contacted the school, and he hasn't been there, police say I can't file a missing persons yet because he's eighteen-" she rambled before stopping herself. "Come in, it's freezing," she adds but I shake my head.

"Oh, no that's okay thank you. Ive got to get home," I swallow hard, turning away from her, I hear her bidding me goodbye and I only wave in response, not turning back around.

Azriels brows furrow in confusion at the silver, new looking car in his drive way when he returns later that night to grab fresh clothes and take a good shower. He planned to stay home that night, needing a bed instead of a couch, his back was aching. Not that he had been sleeping much, he was doing too much molly, he hadn't gotten a good nights sleep since the last night he had slept with y/n which had been weeks ago now, since he stupidly hadnt taken his chance to sleep next to her one last time after she declared her love. He had been too afraid.

He was sure though, that she didn't really love him, she loved the way that he fucked her, the way he ate her pussy, maybe even the way he looked. But he wasn't lovable, someone like her couldn't just love someone like him.

He pushes the door to his house open and cautiously walks in, stopping in his tracks when he sees his mother sitting at the counter. He turns around, looks back again, rubs his eyes once. Surely this was a hallucination. She was quiet, surveying him, after eleven years he had changed a lot, he wasn't the little boy that she had left. He was tall now, built, covered in tattoos.

"What are you doing here? What do you want? Cuz' there's sure as fuck no inheritance or will if that's what you're after," he practically spits, coldly, as he surveyed her as well. This was real, it was very real. He noted the wedding bands on her finger, and nearly laughed out loud. She winces at his tone and aggression, rising to her feet as she continues to stare at her son that she hadn't seen in so long.

"Ive been waiting for you all day. I came to see if you needed any help with the funeral or if you wanted to come stay with me and your sisters-"

"Just stop there, because they are not my sisters. You are not my family. I don't want to see you, I don't want you here," eleven years of anger was coursing through him. How dare she come here. How dare she show her face here like everything was just normal. Guilt flashes across her face and her throat bobs as she clutches her bag in her hand.

"I am sorry Azriel. I was young... I made a mistake-"

"It's too late for any of that. Im grown now," he scoffs, watching as tears threaten to fall from her eyes. He didnt feel the least bit guilty, he hoped that she suffered from her choices. "You left me here to die, you only cared about yourself. You promised a seven year old boy that you would come back for him and you never did. Do you know how many times he almost killed me?" the words were flowing from him and he wasnt sure if it was the lack of serotonin from too much x or if it was simply all the pent up anger and aggression that he had. She just stood in stunned silence, silent tears running down her face. "You come back now? Like that makes anything better? Thinking what? That I would run into your arms and away into the sunset with you and your new family?" He walked to the door, opening it for her and jerking his head toward it. "I don't know why you would come here, you're sick for even thinking that it was a good idea. And Im sick looking at you, get the fuck out of my house," he growls quietly, and she stares back at him opening her mouth to say something else but realizes there was nothing she could say that would ever make him forgive her.

He slammed the door shut behind him, his lungs felt like they were caving, his chest physically ached from the emotional turmoil. Seeing his mother was far more painful than his dads dead body days ago. He noticed though, that with the pain, there was some sort of closure he felt from screaming all those things at her.

He knew that he should go back to Rhys and Cass' place, he knew he shouldn't stay here, especially after that. He shouldn't be alone right now, but being alone was what he did best. It was easier than anything else.

The next day after school, I had been much more hesitant when I walked toward Azriels door. I noted his car in front though, which made my heart leap, my stomach churned with nerves.

Something had unsettled me about Azriels mother being there. Something felt wrong about seeing her there yesterday. There wasnt exactly much I knew about Azriels childhood. I knew it was abusive, I knew she left, I knew that he didnt deserve any of what he went through. I knew it tortured him more deeply than he let on, no one in the world was that strong. I hoped she wasnt there again today. I needed to talk to him, I needed to get him to myself, there was so much I wanted to say to him, though, I didnt know if I would really have the courage once we were face to face.

I knocked three times, just like I had yesterday, I waited a few minutes, knocked two more times. "Im fuckin coming, damn," his voice sends my heart soaring and my gut reeling. He swings open the door, and my eyes instantly meet his, he's surprised, I can tell that much. But his eyes are distant, besides the slight surprise he's not wearing any emotion besides maybe exhaustion, his normally tan skin is slightly pale, dark circles ringing the bottom of his eyes. "Y/n, I didnt realize it was you. Im- Im sorry," I wonder if he's as much at a loss for words as I am.

Worry gnawed at me as I stared up at him. I couldn't see any light there, he didnt look okay. He clears his throat expectantly and I realize that I haven't said a single word. "Im sorry you found your dad," I blurt out before swallowing the lump that was growing in my throat. I didnt exactly think that Im sorry for your loss was the right thing to say in this scenario, I knew Azriel better than that. I had seen the hatred burn behind his eyes when talking about his father.

Azriel softens only the tiniest bit, he lets out a small sigh, "did you want to come in?" He asks, stepping aside so that I could walk in. I found myself wondering where Azriel had found him, less than a week ago someone died in here. I tried not to think about it too much. "Sorry about the mess," he mutters, shutting the door before nodding toward the stairs, I walk the familiar path toward his room and the sight of his room makes my stomach turn as I recalled how clean it had been the first time I saw it.

Definitely not okay. There were clothes everywhere, random pills on random surfaces, some crushed up and some still whole, if it hadn't of been for the few random pizza boxes I would have thought he wasnt eating at all, there were empty liquor bottles, some paperwork strewn about that probably had to do with the funeral... It was bad, I felt sick. I swallowed a lump in my throat and turned, he seemed so distant, so unfazed. Was he on something?

"Azriel..." I whispered, he stared back at me, reading my expression before shaking his head.

"Don't say anything butterfingers," I take a step toward him, he visibly tenses which makes me hesitate. I just wanted to run to him. I wanted to take all of his pain away, I almost didnt even recognize myself anymore... When had I even started caring about things other than school? Of course I was still at the very top of my class, but I was so damn distracted these days... His eyes drift to my lips and my cheeks flush slightly, I was so damn nervous, the last time I saw him he had ripped my heart out of my chest. "Come here," his voice is husky, almost a whisper, his eyes are still jaded and dark. It almost scares me, the way he's looking at me. I advance slowly toward him my fingers shaking, breaths ragged.

"You want me to fuck you don't you?" he turns his chin up, looking down his nose at me, his words are rough now, a little louder and more forceful as he looks me up and down, my lips part in surprise, at a loss for words. "You just can't stay away can you?" he chuckles softly, and he grabs my face roughly, forcing me to look up and fully meet his gaze, I gasp in surprise, making him huff out another amused breath. Adrenaline courses through me and I can't tell if Im more afraid or more turned on, my heart pounds wildly against my chest as I stare up at him. "You just want my cock, stuffing you all night making you scream," he moves his fingers down, gripping my throat now, his long fingers lightly squeezing. I moaned quietly, gasping for breath.

"They do say it's always the quiet ones, the shy ones," he snickered softly, I felt so small underneath him. He squeezed a little tighter, the way he was looking at me. He was so cold, angry even. Did he really believe that's all I wanted from him? Did he really think I didnt mean it when I told him I loved him? "You like the way I fuck you don't you? You like the way I eat your pussy while you cum over and over again? My greedy little slut," his voice rattled through me, I couldn't speak, I only whimpered in response as he pushed me down roughly onto the couch. My body buzzed, my pussy aching with need for him, I didnt care how he was treating me. I didnt care about anything except the fact that I could have him again.

"Is this what you want?" he asks, shoving my face into the arm of the couch, I moaned softly as he ripped my shirt down, my nipples rubbing against the rough fabric of the sofa. My pants are next, and he rips them down with such force I have to hang on tightly to the couch to brace myself. He grips my hips tightly, not even bothering to get me fully undressed. I cry out as he slams his cock into me, filling me all the way up without so much as a warning. Yes, this was exactly what I wanted... What I had been needing. Him. Filling me, close to me, panting over me. "I fucking missed you," he admits, his fingers digging into my hip bones as he fucks me harder than he ever had. I cried out in pleasure, the feelings of pain and pleasure mixing in the best of ways.

"Azriel," I moaned, feeling closer and closer as he pounded into me so deliciously deep. Hes rough, hands needy and gripping me hard, I knew I would be covered in bruises. It felt too damn good to worry about anything. "Oh yes," I moaned again, my body going limp as I came all over him. He lets out a long low groan, continuing to fuck me with everything he had before he collapses on top of me. We lay like that in silence for a few long minutes as we catch our breath, my heart is still racing, nerves churning as I didnt even know how to feel or what to say.

"Are you okay?" I finally break the silence, I instantly regret it as the second I do he's off of me, pulling his pants back up and tucking himself away.

"Im fine, I'll give you a ride," he says coolly and a lump rises in my throat as I scramble to get dressed. It felt like the room was spinning.

"I thought maybe we could hang out or-"

"I told you y/n I can't have a relationship with you, you want to have sex with me, I gave you what you wanted. Im sorting shit out right now. I can't give you anything else," he shrugs, looking down at me now, I could see his mask. I could see he was putting on a face, no matter how well he could fool everyone else.. I could see the cracks.

I didnt hold back when I screamed at him.

"You're fucking scared Azriel!" I wanted to throw something at him, I wanted to hurt him, embarrass him like he had just done to me. No matter how much I had enjoyed it he had just degraded me and fucked me and was now trying to kick me out. "You do this to yourself! You're so fucking afraid of feeling something besides hate or anger that you just push it all away and look at you now I mean what the fuck are you doing? You're doing all kinds of pills and shit every day now? Now you're acting like your father. You are your own worst fucking enemy Azriel," I cry out watching him wince at my words, visibly flinch like they had dealt him a blow.

I knew I was cruel, I knew the things I said were horrible and hateful but I hadn't been able to help myself. Not after he treated me like that.

a/n ooooops lol thoughts????

#acotar #azriel fanfic #azriel spymaster #acotar smut #azriel fan fiction #azriel fic #acotar fic #azriel smut #acotar fanfiction #azriel fluff #azriel x reader #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel au #azriel acotar #azriel fanfiction

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baronessvonglitter · 2 months ago

Text

Cherry, Cherry 🍒 Chapter 18 🍒

"I Wanted It To Be You"

Joel Miller x f!Reader

Word count: 7,467

Summary: Moving on from Joel, your life takes many unexpected courses: college, marriage.. yet you keep wondering What If..?

(Warnings contain spoilers, so please check beneath the cut if you're curious)

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Mature and Explicit, age gap (the difference is 17 years, and there are a few time skips throughout this chapter), starts in late 2003 and ends in 2023, Angst Angst Angst, brief mention of jailtime, breakup, parental issues, heavy on the mom guilt, underage drinking, dry humping, anonymous drunk sex (never ever do this, folks), vomit, reader going through a slutty era after getting her heart broken (just like Joel in Chapter 14), allusions to smut, time skips (labeled), panic attack, mention of drugs and alcohol, rough sex, creampie, surprise pregnancy, infidelity, lil bit of a makeout sesh with Tommy, semi-public sex, pussy pronouns, light degradation, Ellie is Joel's daughter, mention of cyberstalking (not as serious as it sounds), mention of reader having a therapist, Joel and Tess are married. If I left anything out, please LMK!

Author's Note: this took forever to write because the more I edited the more I wanted to add. And I know this chapter has quite a few time skips, I just wanted to highlight the important parts as much as I could. ALSO: I apologize for the unrealistically speedy law process at the beginning. I have no idea how that situation would pan out, but it would almost definitely drag out for months if not years.

So much angst here, but now the reader is all grown up! I wanted to add the convo with Sarah but this chapter was already getting so long, and I think it'll fit better in the next installment anyway.

Series Masterlist

"I would've said yes."

You've lost count of how many voicemails you leave Joel, who's been ignoring your calls, but this is the only time you say it, that you admit your love could have gone a different way if you'd just gotten back to that hotel room together.

You replay that night over and over in your head, but with different endings. In a perfect world, your father would never have even been there in the first place. In a separate, less perfect world, you would not have called out to him, just ignored him the way he ignored you. Then you'd have some peace of mind, and you'd belong with the man you love.

Each time you call Joel, you expect to hear his gruff voice on the other end of the line. And soon enough the ringing stops and goes straight to voicemail, where you leave him the words of your bleeding, broken heart:

"I would've said yes."

You haven't taken the ring out of its box, worried you'll jinx whatever luck you have left. Joel is supposed to kneel, take your hand in his, and place the ring on your finger. You've never envisioned what getting engaged would look like, but it definitely bears some semblance to tradition.

When Chris refused to press charges, the law stepped in and did it for him. Thirty days in the Bexar County Jail is what they sentenced Joel. That was why you couldn't reach him, why you felt like you were hitting a brick wall. It's a relief when you're finally able to speak to him.

"I'm so sorry," you cry to him over the phone, his voice like a warm and soothing balm. You imagine yourself curling into his embrace, allowing his arms to enfold you, make you small and safe, hidden from the dangers and ugliness of the world.

"You ain't got nothin' to be sorry for," he grunts.

"I love you." You sound pitiful over the phone but you don't care. "Joel, let me come see you and we can work it out. Please."

He sighs. "I got somethin' I need to tell you. Might change your mind how ya feel about me."

"What?" you ask quickly, your young mind scrambling to imagine what he could say, as if to fortify your already shattered heart. Your stomach sinks, nausea threatening to make the bile rise in your throat. "Joel, what is it?"

He's quiet for awhile and when he speaks it's monotone. "I've been seein' someone else."

It sounds like he's speaking a foreign language. You shake your head, looking at your wall calendar. It's only December. You last saw him in late September. The biblical manger scene on the church calendar your mom put on the fridge is an evil harbinger of time now lost.

"Who?" you ask, dreading the answer.

"Doesn't matter," he says gruffly, sounding uncomfortable.

"Tell me who," you insist.

With a deep sigh he relents. "Hailey."

Again, it's like hearing a foreign language. "Hailey? The girl I worked with? The one who went to Sarah's party? That Hailey?"

"Yeah."

"How.. how did this happen?"

"Ran into her at a bar my first night out of jail. I was lonely and she was.. she was there for me."

"What do you mean? Did you-" you take a moment to breathe, try not to let your emotions take over.

"I slept with her. That's all it is between us, just fuckin'."

It's like a punch in the gut. No, worse. It's a blade plunging into your heart over and over.

In a blur of upset and disappointment, you utter the words of anyone who's ever had a broken heart: "How could you do this to me?"

There's no answer for it from his side. His refusal to go into detail feels like he's hiding his fling with Hailey on purpose, withholding part of his new life to you, but you never stop to think he might be saving you from the pain he knows is due.

You cry after hanging up on him. You cry more than you did when he left you in San Antonio. You cry until you can no longer see because your eyes are puffy, nearly tiny slits that still somehow shed tears when you think of Joel with your ex-friend.

Once the sadness has been cried out, there remains only rage, simmering and profound. With small, practiced movements, you take the engagement ring in its box and mail it to Joel's address. No note, and no explanation needed.

"You're not yourself," your mom mentions one night when you push your plate away, your dinner barely touched.

"Not hungry," you mumble.

She sighs in exasperation. "I don't know what to do with you. You won't talk to me." She pushes her own plate away and downs the rest of her cheap wine. "You come home from God-knows-where, with a damn bruise on your face."

You touch your cheek where your father had accidentally knocked you backwards, wishing it was the only physical pain you endured from that night.

"..you don't bother with the chores anymore, you lock yourself away in your room, probably not even studying. Do you even attend classes anymore? Do you even care about your future?" she continues.

"No," you say quite simply.

"No??"

You shake your head and shrug, as if answering something as easy as 'do you want to watch a movie later?'

"I don't. Give. A shit."

Anita scoffs, refilling her glass. "Great. That's just great. Maybe I'll drink this entire bottle and give myself alcohol poisoning. Then I wouldn't have to deal with your shitty attitude anymore."

The scrape of your chair as you push away from the table is as loud as nails on a chalkboard. "You want me to talk? I'll talk." You lean forward, relishing this moment where your mom looks scared as shit.

"I said I was in College Station, but I lied. I was fucking Joel every weekend I was away. We met up in hotel rooms and fucked each other's brains out. And the best part of it all was that he loved me," your voice breaks but you're wickedly delighted by the look of shock and disgust on your mother's face.

You're on a tirade now that can't be stopped. "Two months ago I found Dad in San Antonio. I did," you nod, a psychotic kind of laughter breaking from you when she gawks. "And do you know what? He's forgotten all about us. He has a new family, new kids, new young wife. And he doesn't give a shit about you or me. He never really has, has he?" You realize you're standing, towering over her as you spit out all the venom she's ever poured into you right back at her.

"Now.. how does it feel to have the truth shoved in your face? To be deprived of the fantasy world you wanted so badly to live in, cushioned by your idiotic pretenses? Because I'll bet you could've gone your whole life not knowing, staying innocent. Well, Mother Dearest, fuck you."

Without a word you pack your things, your body moving way ahead of your brain, stuffing every necessary item into a couple of bags before you leave her house, with the intention to never return again.

Summer 2004 Louisiana

Staying with friends in a shitty apartment, you finish the rest of the semester before transferring to another school. Three schools in one year probably isn't a very good look on your transcript, but it's the first choice you make that is truly your own. Working two jobs over the summer you finally have the money you need to survive as you begin a new chapter in Louisiana.

You do everything in your power to get over Joel. The first step was deleting his number from your phone, even though you've already memorized it by heart. To be safe, you also delete Tommy's number, and Sarah's. It feels final, and a small part of you wishes they could get a notification informing them you no longer consider them important enough to keep, even as data.

It still stings when you think of Joel with Hailey. She's older, more experienced, and can probably do whatever he wants without being asked. After you've deleted the Millers from your contact list, you hover over Hailey's name, pressing it and, in a moment of antagonism, send her a text. I thought you were my friend, Turns out you're just a fucking slut Then you delete and block her number.

Dating other guys doesn't come very easy. It's as if they can smell the heartbreak on you, sense your loneliness and unease, the untempered anger simmering below the surface of your smile. You're a walking red flag and you know it, but that doesn't stop you.

You grind on a guy at a club after he buys you a few appletinis. Never mind that he's twenty five and trying to get you drunk so you'll fuck him. With your twenty-dollar Charlotte Russe dress hiked up as you drag your sopping panties over his clothed hardness, he sucks the apple flavor off your tongue, one hand gripping your hips while the other slips inside your underwear to rub your clit and you come for the first time in months. So loud, in fact, that you're caught and promptly kicked out of the club. When your partner (you never remember his name) asks to continue at his place, you decline, already walking to the next bar.

Once the high wears off, you are consumed with guilt as you think of Joel. What would he say if he found out? Would he even care? Maybe he's fucking Hailey right now.

And it hits you that it's already been a year since you first slept with him.

You pause in the middle of the street, coming back to earth when a car honks at you, cursing at you to hurry up and fucking move dumb bitch!

Walking on, you can't get the memory of the feel of Joel out of your head: the way his tongue licked into your mouth, fingers traveling down to play between your folds, telling you he needed you nice and wet before he fucked you, those thick fingers slipping in and playing you like a well tuned instrument, his lips gliding over your throat, resting just above your pulse point, then finding their way down the slope of your breasts, taking each nipple between his lips, his beard rasping against your skin.

You try to force the thought away, but it returns manifold. His mouth, the stiffened warmth of his tongue lapping at your cunt, drinking up every fucking drop and telling you you taste so sweet. He doesn't stop until you come more than once, finally fitting himself inside you, teasing you with the first few inches. Sure you can handle the rest, babygirl? before sliding in in one smooth thrust, joining you body and soul, moving against you just how you need.

You cover your face with your hands and wander into an alley, overcome with despair at the loss of your love, the loss of what innocence you thought you had. Both of those things given to someone who only saw fit to fuck you as he wished and discard when he couldn't handle the reality of your personal life.

"Are you okay?" a voice asks, approaching softly from behind. You turn and see a man, another college student like yourself, dressed in jeans and a striped button down. His features blur together until all you hear is his soft Southern accent and all you smell is his Curve cologne. The next thing you know you're kissing him, begging him to touch you, fuck you, and then he's spinning you to face the wall, dress hiked up, panties pulled down. Your arms support you against the wall as he pushes into you from behind and all you think about is him fucking the pain away, pumping into you hard and fast. He's nowhere near as big as Joel, but you've been so touch starved that the sounds coming out of your mouth are shameless.

Without warning you vomit, splashing your shoes and the wall in front of you with appletini puke, and the guy pulls out immediately, getting away from you as fast as he can, tucking himself back into his jeans.

You rest your forehead against the cool brick wall, spitting out the sour taste in your mouth as tears weep freely from your eyes.

September 2004

At the start of sophomore year you're the only one who doesn't have family come down to help move in, to visit with and take silly, memorable photos with. Nobody comes to your dorm and helps you decorate and put your belongings away. By the time your assigned roommate comes with her parents and little brother you're already set up, fresh sheets on your twin bed, your side already claimed.

You're reading when she comes in, a young girl, freshman, with hope in her eyes, excited to meet you, looking forward to her new life away from Montana or Missouri or wherever she says she's from. You're barely listening.

Who you do notice is her dad: mid-forties, slight beer belly, wearing a polo shirt and cargo pants with brand new New Balance shoes. You make eye contact immediately before he shifts his gaze away. His daughter, your new roommate Jessica, starts to unpack, asking you questions about the classes, what student groups to join. You offer what advice you can, stretching out on your bed in your tank top and running shorts. Her dad's eyes roam over your curves when his wife and kids aren't looking, and you unabashedly flirt back, making sure your shorts ride up, pulling down your tank just a little to expose more cleavage.

Once they leave for a quick tour around the campus you're back to your reading.

Jessica's dad comes back. Alone.

"I think I forgot my wallet in here," he says, giving a forced look of timidity as he checks his pockets.

"You didn't," you smirk, putting your book down and sitting up. "But you can stay if you want.."

He doesn't make an excuse about his family and you wouldn't care if they walked in anyway. Once the door is locked his hands are on your body, grabbing your ass while your hand goes down his pants. You tell him exactly what will make you come, and he does it so willingly it almost touches your heart.

Later as he's leaving and you're trying to get his cum off your bedsheets, he's asking you not to say anything to his daughter, as if you'd proudly exclaim that you fucked him, having barely remembered his name.

You're learning that a lot of men are the same at their very core.

You're a fantasy for the older ones, a college coed with daddy issues and an IUD. Having already been with an older man, you know just what they like, and when you give it you live for the way their eyes light up, and a little of their youth comes back to them for a moment.

It's almost pitiful how easy you figure out the opposite sex. Once you know what they want it's easy to become that, to dress how they want, to feign interest in the things they like, even to keep your thoughts to yourself. You learn to live inside your head, which until now has been the hardest thing to do.

But it's necessary when you're holding onto the headboard of some frat guy's bed while fake moaning as he's holding your hips, going as fast as he can because that's what they do in porn. Each and every guy has a Scarface poster above the bed, or Playboy centerfolds taped to the walls, neon lava lamps on the nightstand along with CDs by Kanye West, Franz Ferdinand, or Velvet Revolver. Your thoughts are elsewhere as you give halfhearted head.

You learn to feel nothing, not even pleasure, because they certainly can't tell that you fake every sigh and gasp.

But the older men, the professors, TA's, even men you meet off campus at the bars in town.. they are what interest you. It's not common for you to find yourself bent over a desk during your professor's office hours, or with your panties around your ankles when a one-on-one study session turns to something else.

You fuck men who remind you of Joel because you can't fuck Joel. It's his hands on you instead of theirs, his breath hot on your ear.. but no one else can fill the part of you that Joel hollowed out for himself when he made you his on a hot Texas summer night.

Though you think about him every day, soon enough, you start to wonder whether he was ever even real, or just someone you made up.

March 2006

Spring Break finds you at a beach house on the coast. The friends you came with are nowhere to be found, and you're pretty sure your drink is laced with something. The music is so loud that you hurry out into the night, seeking solace before the roaring waters of the gulf, black water topped with silver waves. Their rushing sound is soothing, yet you sink to your knees because your world is too heavy.

"I'm dying," you whisper to yourself, crying. Your chest feels tight. It's so hard to breathe, and it feels like your heart will explode.

Only one person on the entire planet comes to mind, and after all this time you still remember his number. You dial it, fingers savoring the press of each button on your phone. How many times have you called Joel and hung up before he could answer? There have been a couple of times when you dialed him while having sex, not sure if he ever picked up, hoping that he heard you moving on and moving away from him. That'll show him.

But you can't even breathe to talk to him. And what if he doesn't answer? What if he's changed his number?

You leave all his numbers entered on the screen but you don't hit the call button. Not yet. You have to think of something to say. Tell him you love him before your body rejects the air it's trying so desperately to claim into your lungs.

"Hey, are you all right?" a gentle voice asks behind you, and a hand is on your shoulder.

You flashback to that night in the alley, the guy who took advantage of you, but this time it doesn't go that way.

A man with soulful eyes and a kind smile kneels next to you, his hand remaining on your shoulder. "I think you're having a panic attack. Can I help you with that?" His voice is as kind and gentle as he looks, and you nod.

"Can you breathe for me? Like this." He inhales deeply and slowly, and when you try it it feels so foreign but you manage it.

"There you go," he says quietly. "Now breathe out.."

Soon he has your breathing back to normal, and you don't have to force your body to do what it naturally does.

"Tell me five things you can see," he continues.

A shaky breath in. Hey, at least it's a breath. "Um.. the water.. the sand.. the moon.. you.."

That's when you get your first good look at him, beyond the smile that works its warmth into your heart, and the eyes that search yours, exuding humanity that you haven't experienced in a long time. He's really cute. You can't deny that your heart skips a couple of beats.

"One more thing?" he says, his voice soft.

You snap back to reality. "Uh.. a ship.. out there in the distance?"

He glances behind him at the water, seeing the great big liner, possibly a cruise ship, on the inky horizon, and takes a seat next to you. "How are you feeling now?" he asks.

"Good.. I think. Better." You nod. "Thank you."

"May I?" he lifts your hand from your lap and turns the palm up, his fingers poised above your pulse point. You nod again.

He presses his touch to your wrist, and you watch his eyes calculating, his lips silently moving while counting. Despite everything you've been through the past two years, this is the most intimate thing you've felt.

"Your pulse is normal." He gently places your hand back on your lap. "Do you want to go back to the party or do you want to stay out here a little longer? If you want to go back," he adds, "I'll be with you, make sure you're okay."

You opt to stay on the beach, embracing the quiet for a little longer. This is the first time a man has had you alone and hasn't tried to fuck you. It's nice, for once.

Towards the end of the night he leads you back to the party house, guiding you through the throng of people there, the air rife with alcohol and the pungent aroma of weed. You're holding his hand, you realize as you walk together. He's your lifeline in this very moment. You grab your jacket and purse from one of the bedrooms, passing by couples making out, some slipping into rooms to do much more than kissing. To think you could have easily ended up there with a random guy makes your skin crawl.

"What was your name again?" you shout to him over the music.

"Justin!"

"Dustin?"

"Justin!"

You both laugh. You tell him your name and of course he mishears you.

He drives you to the small motel room you're sharing with your friends who are inevitably crashing at the beach house, too drugged or drunk or fucked to return for the night.

Justin smiles at you as the engine idles. "Is it okay if I ask you out?"

You exchange numbers, your heart thrumming with a pleasant nervousness. You haven't had a boyfriend since..

..not since Joel.

Don't think about him.

"You can reach out to me if you ever just feel like talking," he says. "I'm here."

So you do, and after a week of texting and a couple of late night calls and getting to know each other, you go for a date for the first time in three years.

Justin picks you up in a Honda Civic, and as you get comfy in the passenger seat you breathe in the scent of the black ice air freshener and his spearmint gum. The radio blasts Smashing Pumpkins at a level you know is too much but it only adds to the excitement of the evening.

He's a year older than you, native to Louisiana, and on leave from the Army.

Living just a half hour from your campus, you start to spend much of your time together. Movie dates, dinner dates, and dates where you just drive around, talking about nothing and everything.

You only sleep with him three months into your relationship, desiring to take things slow for once, to know him better than you have ever known anyone.

It's nice. It's like what you see in the movies, two people wrapped up in each other, soft, no words needed. For once your head isn't forced down into the pillow, or your pussy spit on. For once it's just normal, and normal feels so good.

June 2008 New Orleans, LA

Bourbon Street is alive, electric, no matter that it's a Sunday night. People will drift into work tomorrow still drunk on Zombies and Hurricanes. The entire street reeks of piss, but people either don't care or have been here long enough that it no longer harasses their senses. But more often than not, people are having too much of a good time to care.

You're behind the bar at little hole-in-the-wall place, slinging daiquiris and kamikaze shots when you hear a familiar voice and a tap on your shoulder. "Hey there, Cherry."

You turn and your eyes go wide. "Tommy!" You reach over the bar to hug him, nearly spilling a beer on him in the process. "It's been ages! How are you?

He looks older, more mature, even though it's only been five years since you last saw him: he's letting his facial hair grow, but his eyes still sparkle with mirth and kindness. "It's good to see you, girl." He's no longer with Sofia, their romance having ended a few years before, on friendly terms or so your cousin claimed. You always blamed yourself for the demise of their relationship, believing that your breakup with Joel cast a shadow over her own connection with Tommy.

"What are you doing here?" you ask.

"We're good, just here in town, expanding the business."

"We?" Your hands start to shake, and you put away the bottle of gin you have your grasp on. Your heart starts to pound before the next words even leave his mouth.

"Yeah, me and Joel are lettin' off a little steam, wanted to toss back a few before we go back to the hotel."

You feel his eyes on you before you're even aware that he's here. Looking up, at a small table near the entrance, is Joel Miller. Your heart stops, and you don't know how it is you're still alive. He looks you up and down, appraising every feature and detail about you, and you wonder if you've changed in five years or not. You wonder if he still loves or hates you.

"...and we thought this was that bar where girls dance and pour tequila down guys' throats, but this is just as good 'cause you're here."

Tommy manages to snap you out of your trance. "Oh.. you mean Coyote Ugly.."

"Yeah, they opened one in Austin a couple years back but this one ain't never wanna go nowhere," he motions back with his head to Joel.

You return your gaze to the older brother but he's no longer looking at you, his glance dotting along the crowd, following a younger woman as she saunters up to him, smiling, flirting. Your stomach turns and you force a smile at Tommy.

"Whatever you want is on me."

Tommy's smile and laughter is infectious. "You sure about that, Cherry?"

"I'm sure," you say, pouring out a shot for yourself. "You know, nobody's called me that in a long time."

"What's that?" he catches a bright sparkle on your left hand, and quickly takes it within his own. "Cherry, you didn't tell me you were engaged!"

Joel must have one ear straining to listen because Tommy's outburst got his attention right away and he swivels his head to look at you.

"Yeah.. he's a nice guy." That's how you describe Justin to everyone: he's a nice guy. He'd proposed last year after your one year dating anniversary. "He's in the Army, they're shipping him out a week after our wedding. And I'm going with him."

"He's a good guy if he's an Army man," Tommy approves, just as Joel approaches, the woman he was talking to now gone. "So? Are we invited to the weddin'?"

You can't tell if he's teasing or not, and Joel's poker face gives zero indication as well. "I already sent out save-the-dates, but if you'd like to come I won't object. The more the merrier." For the first time you see Joel up close and your heart stutters, an irregular beat that you'd gotten used to in the aftermath of your disastrous breakup.

He's still so fucking handsome: the dark brown of his hair fading to what you can already see as gray, with gray patches in his beard. There are more lines around his eyes. There's still that jolt of electricity when your gazes meet.

"You happy?" he asks, his countenance giving nothing away of his true feelings, so it's difficult to gage whether he's legitimately asking, or simply being nice.

"I'm happy." But it sounds forced, like taking the pliers to your own mouth to fix your own abscess.

Joel only nods as you pour a couple whiskeys for them. "To Cherry getting married!" Tommy beams his salute and the three of you down the shots quickly.

It's sometime after your shift, and you're in the parking lot with Tommy, his arms around you as he presses you to the side of his truck. Or maybe it's Joel's truck. You don't know and you don't care, all you want is to feel something again. The nearness of Joel all night has rewired your brain, and as Tommy deepens the kiss, you're disappointed that it's not Joel's taste, not Joel's scent that surrounds you. Luckily he's not a bad kisser, and his hands roam everywhere you want them to be.

Better the wrong Miller than no Miller at all, your whiskey-soaked brain tells you.

"Always thought you were pretty," he whispers, hands palming your breasts over your shirt. "But you were Joel's from the moment he set eyes on ya, told me so himself. Leave that one alone, she ain't for you.'"

"He didn't want me enough.." your voice cracks as tears spill effortlessly down your cheeks.

"Don't cry," he says gently. "I don't got any tissues with me." He uses his thumb to wipe away your tears. "Still want me to give you a ride home?"

You nod, telling him you need to make a quick trip to the ladies' room to fix your makeup, and in the narrow hallway where the restrooms are hidden from the rest of the bar, you run into Joel.

"Sorry," you mumble, trying to get around him, but he puts his large hand on your shoulder to stop you.

"You gonna take my brother home and fuck him? Then marry some Army jackass?" he says as in disbelief.

You put your guard up, tougher now than you were five years ago. "What I do is my business. By the way, how's Hailey?"

"Who?"

"Don't play dumb." You push past him and start for the women's room to fix your makeup when Joel stops you again.

"You ain't gonna fuck my brother tonight, or any other night, babygirl," he utters.

There's a fire lit under you now. "Oh? What are you, the Morality Police? Fuck off."

"Fuck me," he says. "You know you want to. You're probably wet from Tommy, and I appreciate his gettin' ya ready for me, but I notice the subtler signs: your eyes are glistenin', you've been lickin' your lips every time you look at me, and you probably haven't noticed, but your nipples are pokin' right through your shirt. I bet they're just beggin' for attention, huh?"

He says all this while just standing in front of you, not crowding you like any other guy would. And you realize he's not even trying to rile you up. He's giving you a choice.

"What makes you think I want you? I have a good man who loves me. He's all I need."

"Needs and wants are different, babygirl. Once you're married you're stuck with him til' death. Hope you realize that."

"I'm aware." But it's already hit you: you'll be with Nice Justin for the rest of your life. You'll be a Nice Wife and maintain a Nice Home for the inevitable Nice Kids you'll have. You hate Joel for putting this thought in your head.

"He fuck you like I did?" he asks in an intimate tone.

You shake your head, already pulling him into the restroom with you. "Joel, no one's ever fucked me like you did."

Your body delights in the quick, sweet reunion with him. It's as if time has never separated you, as if both your hearts are whole again. His mouth greedily devours your kisses. He tastes like whiskey and cigarettes, the latter a bad habit. You're shoved into one of the stalls, fumbling with the lock while Joel's hands find their way across your body, one under your shirt, palming your breast, the other going into your jeans, expertly finding your soaked panties, crooking his fingers into your cunt.

Your back is pressed against his broad chest, his cock already hard inside his jeans, rubbing furiously against your lower back until he bends you forward to press against your ass, finally pulling your jeans and panties down in one go.

Too much time has passed for you to be gentle or even careful. He presses you to the stall door, nothing but heat and raw need between you. Words not needed, your only communication grunts and whispered curses that echo against the tiles of the cramped space.

"You ain't takin' no slow and gentle with me, sugar. i ain't got the patience for that right now." He nudges against you and it's a wonder you don't burn up with all the fire that inflames you. After so long it's a labor of love to fit him again, but as his fingers add pressure to your clit you get wetter, opening for him as easily as you did years ago.

"There she is," he says. "Been waitin' for me, been needin' a real man to fill ya up, ain't ya, babygirl?" he huffs in your ear, breath warm against your skin. "Answer me, baby."

"Yes.." your voice comes out in a hiss, your brain only thinking about his cock, the way it stuffs you, the only thing that completes you.

"That's what I thought. These lil' college boys don't know what to do with such a tight, pretty pussy. And neither does your fiance." He hikes one of your legs up, tucking your knee under his arm, keeping you nice and open, watching himself slide in and out of your weeping slit, slamming himself against you as he sinks his thumb into your puckered asshole, eliciting an all-but muffled gasp from you. "I know you called me just so I could listen to them fuckin' ya.. I know you never came with them, not once. This pussy is mine, has been from the very start."

You're no longer a virginal high school grad, and he takes what he wants from you, giving you what he knows you need.

The door opens but he doesn't stop, just quiets his own noises and clamps his hand over your mouth to squelch your sounds. The stall door jiggles and you put your hand over it until the person grumbles and walks away, muttering about having to piss. When they're gone Joel pumps into you relentlessly, chasing his pleasure and yours. He knows by now what will make you come, which combination of touches and kisses make your knees weak and your clit stand at attention.

"Fucking come for me, you little slut," he whispers, his tone almost loving if you didn't know better, and when you let go the pleasure is almost painful. Years of need and pent-up longing are released as your cunt squeezes around his rigid cock, milking him, smiling when you feel the warm spurt of his come as he presses deep at your cervix.

"That's my girl," he says proudly, your come spilling out already, lining his dick with a mix of both of you. "She's wrecked, split wide open like she's meant to be.. gonna send you back to your man drippin' with my come, used up like a good lil' whore."

His words add a sweet sting to the pleasure that has yet to ebb, resounding through your veins like thunder that takes its time in rolling away from the storm. Whore.. well, he's not wrong.

When your heavy breathing has subsided, you feel him start to slip out of you and you put your hand back on his thigh, a silent gesture to hold off.

"Missed you.. needed you," you mutter, tears of joy and relief and heartache brim in your eyes, until you allow the pleasure of the moment to take over without thought or feeling.

"I know.." he says softly, slipping out of you, careful as you're still sensitive.

That could have been the end. You could have gone your separate ways, but you're drawn to each other, and that doesn't go away easily. When you emerge from the rear entrance of the bar, Tommy looks up, and you can tell he expected that you'd end up with Joel instead. He simply nods as you pass him, walking with Joel to the tiny apartment you share with Justin, who's out of town visiting family. And as you and Joel spend the rest of the night locked in each other's embrace, you realize you don't care if he walks in on you, kicks you out, breaks off the engagement. You're with Joel and nothing else matters.

By dawn you wake up to find that he's gone, leaving only the scent of him on the pillow next to you. No note, no explanation, no goodbye. And once again you're sure you only dreamed up Joel Miller, used him as a mental escape for the life you were tying yourself down to.

It's very atypical for you to forgo a period, even at your most stressed, you can count on seeing that bright red stain on the toilet paper around the middle of every month. And when, by mid-July, you haven't even spotted, the first thing you do is take a pregnancy test.

All the men before have been careful, or you've been fortunate enough not to have a scare. But when you finally force yourself to look at the the little blue plus sign developing on the test strip, you realize this is no scare.

You're pregnant with Joel's baby.

The wedding takes place as expected, and your heart sinks when you walk down the aisle, seeing the joy on Justin's face. You've told him the baby is his, and he doesn't doubt it for a moment, that's how much he loves you. But for a fleeting moment you want so bad for it to be Joel at the altar instead.

The ceremony goes by in a blur, as everyone warned you it would. Group pictures are taken, the videographer is capturing the moments that photos alone can't encapsulate.

"Over here, honey!" photographer gets your attention. You barely hear him as you watch a figure walking out, one of the last guests to leave the church. From behind he looks like Joel, but you can't quite tell, and when your eyes fully focus, he's gone, and your own vision can't be trusted.

Tommy gave his regrets that he couldn't attend, and Joel simply never RSVP'd. But in your heart you know it was him, you know he had to come and see for himself that you're moving on, growing up and growing away from him. The only tether you have to him is the baby growing in your belly.

"Front and center, Mrs. Williams," Justin smirks, giving your cheek a soft kiss. "One more picture then we're onto the reception."

March 2009

Your daughter is born in the springtime, a loud and howling child from the moment she leaves you. The only time she's quiet is when she's in your arms.

"We need to decide on a name," Justin says, a little miffed that his daughter cries when he holds her despite his best efforts to soothe her.

"I told you, I like Ophelia," you say, gathering her into your arms to feed her.

"It's such a prissy name. And I can already tell she's not gonna be prissy."

"Then what do you suggest?" you ask tiredly. He doesn't seem to understand you've gone through labor for twenty four hours, only thinking of himself.

"Eleanor, after my mother."

You groan. "I always hated that name."

"Please, babe. It'll make her so happy to have her granddaughter as her namesake."

"Fine. Fine. But her middle name is Ophelia."

"Deal." Justin smiles as he fills out the paperwork.

"Eleanor.." you tell your baby. "But I'm going to call you Ellie."

Your mother once told you that when you become a parent, your life is not your own anymore. She said it as a kind of warning, a prophecy yet to be fulfilled when you were just a pre-teen, rolling your eyes at her warning you away from all kinds of danger.

You never expected she'd be right. Every waking moment holds more weight than ever before. Ellie is completely dependent on you, even as she grows and becomes more independent. It's you she looks to for validation when she does something right, and you she looks to when she knows she's in trouble.

She's smart as a whip, quick with a comeback and well versed in anything she can get her hands on. She excels in sports too-- individually, at first. As she gets older you notice a little bit of a mean streak in her. While she craves friends and wants to be part of a team, she has trouble making connections sometimes.

You have to wonder if part of that comes from Joel, his stubbornness and his lone wolf tendencies. Has he unknowingly passed down the most insecure parts of himself to his daughter? Sorry, his secondborn daughter?

Now there's literal proof of Joel Miller as a person, in human form, and she's trudging upstairs with her field hockey equipment and slamming her bedroom door.

Between the years of 2004 and 2008 you could almost convince yourself that he didn't exist, that he was a figment of your runaway imagination, born of a father complex and attachment issues. You work on yourself in therapy, feeling small as you divulge the innermost secrets of your heart and the intrusive thoughts, even going so far as to reveal that you've looked for Joel on social media, now that everyone has a profile.

Born of an intrusive thought, you type his name into the search bar on Facebook. Getting quite a few findings of those with the same name, you narrow the search. Joel Miller, Austin Texas His company logo comes up as its own page, and you notice it's changed, probably Tommy's idea as Joel never liked change.

Searching further you find his picture. There it is: Joel Miller, Boston Massachusetts

Huh?

You click on his profile while your heart thumps strongly within your ribcage. You wish you could let it out, set it free.

There he is, looking older than the last time you saw him, the grey more prominent in his hair, looking serious in his selfie. Even though it's just a selfie, a random moment in time, you can't help blushing, as if he's looking at you through the screen, appraising your own measure of aging. You wonder what you were doing that exact moment he took the picture.

But your hunger for knowledge needs to be fed, and scrolling down you swear you misread it at first.

Relationship status: Married

There's a roaring in your ears as your mouse hovers over the name next to those words: Tess Servopoulos

From there you check out her profile, see that she's from Detroit, five years younger than Joel. While his profile pic is only of himself, hers shows them together, on a hiking trail somewhere, Joel's arms around her from behind.

You slam the laptop shut, your blood buzzing in your veins. You feel distractingly alive, the heartache spreading through every muscle and nerve ending. Your past is brought to full fucking focus.

Against your better judgment you open the screen again and search through Tess's photos, specifically the ones of Joel. Most of the comments are from a couple of guys named Bill and Frank, who after some digging you come to find are married, and friends with Joel and Tess. You hit the jackpot when you find a video she uploaded, a fifteen-second clip of Joel holding a baby. Your heart stops when you realize the baby isn't his but Sarah's, and he's now a grandfather.

It feels like you're spying on them. You know so much about them by now, and the one glaring omission is children. They don't seem to have any.

Going back to Joel's profile, you hover the mouse dangerously over the Add Friend button. When you click it, it's the strongest rush you've felt in ages.

Weeks later, he hasn't accepted it. The sparkle of your anticipation is dulled, and with a heavy heart you click to cancel the request.

A couple years down the road you get a notification from Facebook Messenger while you're watching Narcos.

Message Request. Sarah Miller Hey! It's been forever! How are you?

dividers by @saradika-graphics 👑

<- prev chapter

next chapter ->

#pedro pascal #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #ao3 fanfic #pedro pascal characters #joel miller smut #pedro boys #joel miller fanfic #joel miller tlou #joel miller x f!reader #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #pedro pascal character smut #pedro pascal cinematic universe #ppcu fandom #ppcu fanfiction #ppcu

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metalotaku-da · 1 year ago

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Dcxdp Danny phantom and klarion are friends.

Danny as the ghost king who loves to prank loves teaching a younger appearance klarion all kinds of fun gags and tricks of magical nature. It's like the younger sibling he always wanted. And is a nice break from some of his royal duties. But things have been a little busier than usual they haven't gotten to really get out and have fun. Danny is 30 looks 20. Klarion is looking 14. But in the thousands for age.

Klarion is bored and upset. He wants time with Danny to himself. No interruption from clockwork or the eternal. Other ghosts. No one. It's not fair. He needs a plan to sneak Danny out of the infinite realm, hide him and not be the fall guy when they get caught. Because it's clockwork they will be caught it's the when. He needs someone else to do the summoning work. But who and how.

He lands on John Constantine. Clockwork doesn't like him much. And Danny inherited all the old kings claims. So he be able use that if things got dicey. And klarion is not a fan either of the jerk. To buddy buddy with nabou. So he has a fall guy to blame for the summoning. Just needs to setup a prank so good that John thinks he has no choice but to summon someone who could destroy the world.

Takes him a week to land on act like I'm gonna do it so he has to first. Easy. And he can brag to a bunch of villains to really drive the urgency. Perfect.

Plan worked like a charm. Maybe to good though. John got a bunch of heroes to help. No good no good. John is lieing to his super jerk friends. Klarion can see the seal. It will make Danny weaker and lock him to the jerk like a dog on a leash. Not to the artifact he said they could lock him away with. He's gotta fix this quick. He drops in the pawns he recruited to distract. While discreetly changing the ruin on the summoning without mucking it up so it doesn't work. All while fighting zantana, and racing the circle lighting up.

The summoning is completed. But something obviously went very very wrong. Klarion has teakle distract zantana while he goes over the summoning again to see what he shifted. Oopsie. The ruin for shrinking power turned to shrinking age. But thats ok. It can be fixed later. Maybe. Probably. He didn't get the teather changed before it set. But that's an easy fix by killing Constantine. But his friend is here. And now they can really play. So it's all good. Klarion is ecstatic. So much so teakle runs to him as he shrinks causing one of the supers to over swing on an attack on his familiar.

But Danny needs a minute. As he blinks wearily on his feet. Rubbing at his face. Ugh summoning. He hates summoning. And this had to be a strong one. Because he couldn't resist like most of them. Whatever once the brain fog clears he'll be good and can really give the jerks who did a real stern talking to. Or maybe he'll scare them. That sounds better. Standing infront of him is a blonde man looking like a dirty drunk cop dective from TV. Who is gapping at him as a cigarette burns on the ground at his feet. This guy has to be like a gaint too cause Danny has to really crane his head back to look up at his face. There is a bunch of commotion going on but he's to focuses on this weird feeling he has towards this weirdo. Who seems like he's confused. Maybe it was an accident. Whatever. Danny still isn't happy. He puts his hands on his hips. "Hey jerk face! What do you think your doing?" Then Danny's eyes went wide. "Oh by the ancients is that my voice! What's wrong with my voice!" Danny now clutched his throat before waving his arms wildly at the creepy man. "What did you to me you weirdo! I sound like a baby!"

"It a bloody fucking child."

"It's bad to cuss infront of kids Constantine." Someone else says outside the circle.

Danny's head snaps their direction. Danny's eyes widen as he puts his hand into view looking at himself panic taking over and he looks around at all these tall people looking at him or fighting. He opens his mouth to scream in fear or frustration he doesn't know till he hears a voice he recognizes.

"Don't wail, don't wail!" Danny closes his mouth and looks around for the source.

"Klarion?"

"Sorry my bad. I messed up change the circle so it wouldn't weaken you. And well oopsie " klarion rushed into the circle hugging little Danny tight. "But you are here. So now we can play." Klarion gasped as he pulled back from Danny. "I can be the big brother now!"

"Noooooo, klarion I was already a little brother. I wanted to be a big brother more." Danny whined. His white hair flopping over as he rolled his head in complaint.

"To bad. I'm the big brother now. We are gonna have so much fun. You just have to get rid of this looser so we can go do our thing." Klarion gestured towards Constantine.

#fanfic #danny phantom #klarion #dcxdp #dc x dp #dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #de aging #john constantine

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askfriskandcompany · 27 days ago

Note

Waaaa we haven't gotten a response in 10 days... TQ must have retracted to her den... but maybe we're just going to get an update on Halloween. That would be amazing. In the meantime I'm gonna pick apart the latest update and reread ADC. Also is it just me or is Last Breath Sans phase 3 is just storyshift!drunk!sans

I guarantee I won't be updating on Halloween, because that's when Dragon Age: The Veilguard comes out. O:

-TQ

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dpr-stay · 1 year ago

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Cupid | LH44

Lewis Hamilton x Reader

Warnings: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, reader is a press officer, don't think gender is stated specifically, implied sexual content, second chance romance, she is not edited, zhou guanyu does not crash, and there are swears.

WC: ~7.7k (kill me now)

I literally hate this, im so sorry. I haven't edited it because it's late but I hope it's not bad. I'll edit it tomorrow. also how is it so longgg, it was supposed to be 5k at best. (why have i written two fics about exes having dinner?)

Being Valtteri Bottas’ PR Agent was a wild ride. From being hired by him in his early days at Williams, to his successful years at Mercedes, and now at Alfa Romeo, you’d gotten to know the man through all stages of his career. You’d been there to field off questions about his declining performance at Mercedes and had been the first one to slam open the door and start yelling at him after the ‘cheated-on-his-wife’ rumours started floating around.

However, the paycheck was good and, when he wasn’t causing you to spend many nights in meetings about his public image, you didn’t mind the guy, happy to have to follow him around the world for most of the year.

The whole Formula One thing was also a bonus, you having been hooked on the sport after your Dad introduced it to you at an early age. You’d spent countless hours watching your dad watch the car’s speed by on his tv set, finally deciding to pay attention to the race after a few years. And boy, did you love it.

You’d spent many an early birthday present forcing your parents to take you to the Grand Prix nearest to you, saving up for months to be able to afford the tickets and the travel. Something about the sport just intrigued pre-teen you, nothing to do with Michael Schumacher at all.

So, when the chance to be a F1 driver’s personal PR agent had landed on your advertisement agency’s desk, the place you had worked in the early days of your career, you had snatched it up quickly. The work started well before the start of the 2013 season, you having to meet the man himself and quickly getting adjusted to the many people you’d need to know to network for the guy.

You’d also met Maldonado’s PR agent, one from the Williams team, who quickly brought up the ideas of doing interviews and press releases between the two drivers. You were swept into the world of the sport, beginning to get into the swing of things.

Years passed, as did teammates, and Valtteri got signed to Mercedes alongside Lewis Hamilton. You didn’t know if your employment would carry over to Mercedes, but a team shirt and a letter letting you know about when Valtteri’s responsibilities started being mailed to your house confirmed it pretty quickly.

The atmosphere at Mercedes was more professional, though the team still treated each other as family. You’d often see engineers leaving together, going to go get drunk and celebrate Lewis’ common wins and Valtteri’s less common, but still happening, wins.

You’d often spend hours at a time bargaining for spots for Valtteri in interviews and in PR related spots, and it worked. He was a well-known man, your job was practically done. The bosses were (finally) appeased, Valtteri was happy, and you could finally relax after years straight of stressing about social media and whatever the hell a vine was and if that was still relevant.

And then you’d gone and got yourself trapped in an elevator with Lewis Hamilton.

Being a Mercedes employee, though only temporary, you’d met Lewis often during interviews and team meetings. However, you never really know a person until you spend five hours sitting opposite each other in a broken-down elevator, only being able to see each other by the light of your phone's flashlight, waiting for some sort of help as there was no signal.

Your conversation had started off hesitantly, you incredibly intimidated by the several-time world champion and him having a fleeting idea of who you were. The conversation had eventually fizzled out till the lift jolted, and a creaking sound echoed into the cavern of the contraption.

Your telling groan that you couldn’t hold back elicited a concerned “You alright?” from Lewis and then you eventually had to tell the professional F1 driver, who raced cars at over 200km/h every other weekend, about your fear of small spaces.

He hadn’t judged you for it, something which you thought was rather nice, and had even tried to adjust for you, moving to the very other side of the small box. Granted, your feet still touched, but you thought the sentiment was nice.

He was more down to earth than you expected, you knew he wasn’t a prick but you weren’t expecting him to be… kind. Soon enough, after a few more questions about why you were afraid of small spaces and other questions, you both had spiraled into boundless conversation.

You had talked about things you’d never talked about with someone, let alone a practical stranger, his soothing accent making it easier to open up to him. Things like the future and where it would take you, uncertainties about both your careers, even relationships, the type of conversations you only have trapped in a suspended metal box in the dark.

Lewis was a fantastic person to talk to. He’d listen when he needed to and returned your conversation with equal energy, as though he actually wanted to be part of the conversation. For some reason he had decided to trust you and had talked freely to you, showing you a side that you doubted many people had seen.

Maybe it was the fact he couldn’t see your face or maybe you just gave off a trustworthy vibe. You didn’t know. All you knew was that, all of a sudden, you were one of Lewis Hamilton’s most trusted confidants.

Even after someone had finally realised you were missing and exactly where you were, calling more firemen than necessary to bust open the lift though you supposed that’s what you were supposed to do when a ‘Sir’ was trapped in an elevator, Lewis had asked for your phone number and had continued to text you.

You’d met up a few times over the season, quickly becoming incredibly close friends who told each other everything. You’d had to deal with a few teases from Valtteri, who’d shut up when you reminded him who controlled the public’s opinion of him.

During the off-season Lewis had invited you to come to his house for dinner. You’d went, it was lovely, and then you’d unknowingly experienced the moment of truth in your weird friendship/developing relationship.

You’d been sitting at Lewis’s dinner table, eagerly chatting to the man about your family, leaning in closer and closer until the both of you were nearly leaning over the table. He’d cooked for you, an act you found incredibly sweet for the multi-millionaire who probably had ten private chefs on speed-dial, and you’d spent the evening wining and dining.

You had both finished your main courses, talking about everything and anything when a loud bang had come from the upstairs of the man’s house. He glossed right over it, ignoring the loud sound. You had been about to comment on it but, at his nonchalance, you deigned not to.

The conversation had continued, you both moving from his table to the couch he owned, which probably cost more than your salary earned you, when another loud sound, which sounded suspiciously like a bark, reverberated through his open-plan house.

He sighed loudly at your questioning look, deciding that he couldn’t ignore it this time. He opened his mouth to speak but, before he could utter a syllable, the tapping of claws sounded against the stairs located, conveniently, in view of his living room.

You looked up and there stood one of the largest Bulldogs you had ever seen. It was almost majestic, the way that he stood there on the steps, panting as though he’d just run a race. His brown coat was shining in the twilight glow, his muzzle a white colour in comparison to the rest of his body.

He took a few steps down the stairs, tripping on one before regaining his posture. You could only watch in wonder, mouth agape, as the beautiful beast padded down the steps and took a turn, approaching you head on.

The dog was a thing of beauty, his droopy face conveying no discernable emotion except from being tired. He slowly made his way to the couch, you doing nothing but watching as he trotted along the hardwood floors. You didn’t catch Lewis staring at you warily as you were only focused on the thing that younger you would’ve fought a clan of savage chipmunks in order to have.

The dog eventually made his way in front of you, plopping his behind down on the carpet and staring up at you questioningly. You didn’t know what emotion your face was conveying, you only knew it was very silent.

You cautiously reached a hand down to rub between his ears. After a second of your rubbing he made a gruff ‘woof’ sound and you couldn’t help it, an entranced whine releasing from your throat. Collapsing onto the floor beside the dog, you forgot about Lewis, focusing completely on the magnificent specimen of a dog.

Roscoe, as you’d soon come to know via a fond Lewis, took to you as soon as you took to him. Within a minute the dog was letting you handle him as much as you’d like, rolling over on his back to let you get his stomach and vigorously licking your arm as you pet him. Praises spilled from your lips abound, making sure to let the bulldog know just how much of a good boy he was.

At a cough you turned from your spot on the floor to face Lewis, the radiant grin he had on his face making you feel as though you’d passed a test of sorts. Roscoe also turned to look at Lewis before turning back to you and huffing.

He moved forward, stepping on your legs, trying to sit on you, before falling off the slope onto the carpet. You then picked him up and cuddled him, trying to keep eye-contact with Lewis as you did so. Lewis’ eyes had turned into half moons as he watched you love on his dog, his smile consuming his face.

“I’m glad he likes you, I don’t know what I would’ve done if he didn’t.” He admitted, placing his drink on a wooden table that stood beside the couch. He then slowly slid from the couch onto the floor beside you, leaning his body down till he was face-to-face with Roscoe and gave the dog a kiss.

“He’s got good taste.” You commented and Lewis released a laugh, glancing up at you.

“Me or the dog?” He asked after a second and you paused, overdramatically placing a finger on your chin and tilting your head as though you were thinking. You then shrugged and he laughed again, you not missing the incredibly familiar twinkle in his eye as he looked at you.

After that, you’d found that Lewis was a lot more eager to meet at his house. Roscoe, accompanied by the sheepish man, was bowling you over nearly every time the door was opened to you. Lewis had also made the trip to your house, though you doubted he’d seen a house as small as yours within the last ten years. He seemed to like it though, settling in quickly and even staying there when you were at work. The off-season had continued like that, casually building your relationship between his training and your many meetings with Alfa Romeo, trying to settle the discussions about your contract after Valtteri’s move.

You’d finally gotten somewhere just before the season started after having to plead to not be replaced by an inside hire, Valtteri backing you up and stating he wouldn’t race without you. Alfa Romeo had accepted and then you finally had the contract you’d wanted.

You’d left the meeting, Valtteri in tow, before turning around and hugging the man for having your back before you both said goodbye and made your way home and to the gym respectively.

The uber ride you’d hired was peaceful, the man staring straight ahead as you looked out the window, your small apartment building coming into your view. You smiled as you saw it, thinking of the Lewis you’d left in bed that morning, having to pull yourself out before him to go to your meeting.

The climb up the steps (the elevator didn’t work which Lewis hadn’t complained about when you’d explained it in embarrassment) had seemed to take forever no matter how fast you climbed. When you’d finally made it to your floor, you had to practically drag yourself across the hallway to your door, unlocking it with force after the lock had gotten stuck.

Immediately you could tell something was off, the place seemed colder than that morning and it didn;t have to do with the fact the thermostat had broken a few months ago. All the lights were off and there was no noise coming from within, a telltale sign that Lewis was somewhere within whether he was listening to music or talking to someone.

That was ok, though, he might’ve been at a meeting like the one you’d had, though you doubted there would be less than 7 zero’s on his contract. But that’s the difference between a big team and Alfa Romeo, you work with what you get.

You looked to the side table, placing your keys in the bowl, noticing the absence of Lewis’ keys. But that made sense if he was at a training session or a meeting, so you continued into the apartment, losing components of your outerwear as you went.

You’d lost your scarf and blazer as you’d made your way to your bedroom, prepared to change from your business outfit into one of Lewis’ many shirts when you opened your closet. A quick rummage and you couldn’t find any. Weird.

You checked again before moving to another part of your closet and noting the lack of his hoodies or jumpers, which was even weirder as you’d stolen a few of them last week. You turned and moved to your dresser, an old antique wooden piece you’d picked up from an op-shop a few years ago after seeing it and falling in love.

You’d opened your drawer specifically for pajamas and found everything you’d acquired through your time of living independently but Lewis’ shirts. Moving to the many drawers Lewis used specifically when he’d stay over, a small inkling of panic settled in your stomach however you ignored it and opened the drawer.

Nothing. There was nothing left in the drawer. You quickly opened all his other drawers, almost pulling them out of the dresser with the force you were applying. All of them were empty. This caused the inkling to grow to an uneasy pool. Maybe he’d taken them to wash them at his place?

You stepped back from the dressers, incredibly confused and vehemently denying the growing panic in you. You walked, not ran, into your bathroom. The lonely toothbrush sitting on the counter sent a strange feeling, almost like adrenaline, rushing through you. Opening the cupboards under the counter you noted the loss of his extra face wipes and the moisturizers he insisted on using.

You ran to your kitchen, not seeing anything off, before slamming into the back of the couch in your open plan apartment in your haste to get into the living room. The action caused pain to ring through your shins but you barely registered it, the missing cd’s that normally sat on the table your tv was balancing on that he had insisted were better than Spotify the only thing you were focused on.

A quick look down the hallway to the door of your apartment only furthered your dread, noticing details you hadn’t seen before. The missing stack of shoes that he normally toed-off at the door and the missing extra wallet he left on the side table in case someone broke in almost confirmed your fears.

But what really set in the fact that he’d packed up and left was the missing leash that normally hung from a hook you’d installed specifically on the back of your front door. The inscribed ‘Roscoe’ on the hook seemed almost mocking from your place on the couch, but you couldn’t really acknowledge it, the tears filling your eyes blurring your vision.

You stood up from the couch and stormed back into the bedroom, slamming the open drawers shut, not hearing the splintering of the vintage wood. You picked up your phone from your bed that you’d tossed earlier in your haste to become relaxed, and opened your messages.

He hadn’t sent anything to you explaining his leaving and when you went to send a text (‘??? Where are you’) the message that you’d been blocked popped up at the bottom of the screen. You could only stare at the screen for a second, the implications of what he’d done sending emotional shockwaves through you.

You barked out a sardonic laugh, your hand flopping from its position in front of you to be held uselessly at your side, your phone slipping from your grasp onto the floor. The world went still for a moment before you lifted a hand to cover your vision, the tears slipping from your eyes wetting your hand.

You sat alone on your bed that had, not even 24 hours ago, contained what you had thought was your future. You couldn’t find it in yourself to be angry at this point, the grief for something that was evidently never meant to be controlling your thoughts. A long deep sigh left you before it was interrupted by a sob. And then another sob.

You ended up falling asleep alone that night, still dressed in the smart pants and white shirt you’d worn to your meeting. Your only lullaby was your sobbing, not the sound of his gentle humming, something which you kept reminding yourself of.

Valtteri had commented that you’d seemed sad the next time he’d seen you but neither of you had addressed it past that, him knowing when to keep his mouth shut. He especially knew to shut up after the intense glare you had fixed him.

The season had started again and, while you were prepared for your duties as a PR agent, Valtteri’s full calendar being proof enough for that, you weren’t sure you were prepared to see Lewis again. Especially after the news that he was already seeing someone else had come out a week before the first race.

You’d returned Valtteri’s knowing glance with as much strength as you could muster and promptly ignored his further pitying look, choosing to feel sorry for yourself at home that night. You’d also ignored his attempts to try to get you to talk to Tiffany, you liked the woman but you didn’t think you should burden her with your ridiculous, because that’s what it was looking back, delusions that you could’ve been something more than just a summer fling to Lewis Hamilton.

You’d successfully managed to avoid Lewis the whole first couple of races, eventually beginning to see fleeting glances of him throughout the paddock. Seeing him for the first time with his partner had hurt but, looking at her, you couldn’t exactly blame him.

She was gorgeous and, after you’d done a bit of searching, was exactly his previous type. She was wealthy and had a respectable job, someone worthy of being with him. You’d made sure to avoid him after that.

You kept on at work though, determined to be the best goddamn PR Agent Alfa Romeo had ever seen. And you were succeeding. Valtteri was getting brand deals and after more positive press around him and his dedication to the sport regardless of his company, you were finally able to relax.

And by relaxing, you meant getting wasted at a bar. In fairness, last time you’d relaxed you’d ended up more broken hearted than you’d ever been, so releasing some steam at a bar had seemed an appropriate route.

And it was, being able to drink away your sorrows and spill your guts out to a bartender in a small rundown pub in the middle of Canada was the perfect way to unwind. You hadn’t told the whole story of course, you resented the guy for what he did to you but you didn’t want to tarnish his reputation, but it was nice to tell it to some random person who probably didn’t even understand the way you were switching between Swedish, English, and Finnish.

You’d woken up the next morning with a heavy weight off your shoulders and a nice Canadian man in your hotel bed, sending him off with a promise to call before promptly adding his phone number to your phone. Valtteri could tell something had changed when you’d walked into his driver’s room the next day, prepared to tell him about his schedule. You greeted his questioning look with a smirk and he shook his head, a disbelieving look on his face.

You’d found that you hadn’t thought about Lewis the whole day, when you’d settled into your hotel bed the night after the race. A warm feeling had spread through you at that, the knowledge that the man no longer consumed your thoughts making you feel good inside.

The next race weekend you were ready to go, the British GP making you pumped. You weren’t so pumped when Valtteri DNF’ed and were mentally preparing answers for the Finn as the race continued, briefing him on every response you could think of in relation to the gearbox issue. Zhou Guanyu did well in his race though, so the garage was quite excited for him, even though Valtteri hadn’t finished.

When the interviews had rolled around after all of the celebrations, you were following Valtteri on the walk to his first interview, eventually stopping to the side of him as a mic was held in front of him and the cameras had started rolling.

Typical questions such as if he was happy for his teammate and if he was happy with the car were asked, some weirder questions such as if he thought the car’s not-working had to do with some obscure political issue before eventually the interview was wrapped up and the Finn moved on to his next interview, you following him.

You could see other drivers beginning to arrive in the area, being interviewed before you quickly looked away, not wanting to see if he was close. You’d managed to avoid him thus far today, how hard could a few more hours be?

You’d thought that before you heard the faint but tell-tale bark of Roscoe and you had to force yourself not to turn around and run to the dog. Lewis had mentioned bringing the dog to his home race at some point while you were together, so you weren’t exactly surprised at Roscoe’s presence.

Valtteri’s interview was continuing in the background of your mind as you thought over the nights you’d spent cuddled with Roscoe and Lewis. Did you miss him or Lewis more? Did Lewis even miss you?

Valtteri nudged you in the side, his eyes wide and you snapped back to reality, staring at the interviewer.

“Pardon?” You asked, politely trying to make it seem as though you just hadn’t heard them and were paying attention.

“I just asked if Valtteri preferred Mercedes or Alfa Romeo.” The interviewer filled in and you turned to Valtteri, a questioning look on your face. Surely he could handle that question? He vehemently shook his head. Alrighty then.

You brought out both your hands in front of you, prepared to gesture out an answer for Valtteri to say. But before you could a large force had pounded into your back, knocking you to the floor and landing on top of you. The weight was heavy but it was warm and… was it licking you? “Roscoe! Oh my god, I am so sorry!” A voice came from behind you.

Oh no.

While you had been mentally preparing an answer for Valtteri, Lewis had been walking around the media area, Roscoe in tow on a leash. The dog had been restless ever since he’d entered the pen, Lewis echoing that sentiment as he saw a brief glimpse of you. He wanted nothing more than to run to you but he couldn’t with media responsibilities weighing him down.

Eventually the interviewer’s fill of Roscoe was full and he was able to do a little bit of wandering around the area. Lewis had handed the leash of the now-agitated Roscoe to Angela as he went to go answer some more questions, the press incredibly curious about the dynamics of the car.

Angela, bless her soul, had tried her best to wrangle the dog, but his continuous pulling and barking was beginning to annoy some of the media. Seeing this, Angela had decided to just let the dog pull her away, Roscoe almost dragging her as he went.

He had pulled her almost completely across the room before he got too violent and managed to rip the leash from her hands, leaving Angela stumbling in the dust as he began to run. Lewis had watched this happen, and continued to watch in horror as Roscoe ran up behind you.

One gigantic leap and you were pushed to the floor, the big bulldog nuzzling into your neck. The world seemed to almost go quiet before Angela ran over, trying to grab the collar of the rabid dog, asking if you were ok.

Lewis had started to move over, dismissing the reporter who he was talking to as he made his way to his dog and his ex-lover. He saw you roll over on the floor, a small sad smile on your face as the dog began slobbering over you. A few more steps and he was in front of you, scolding Roscoe and apologising as he effortlessly grabbed the dog’s collar and pulled him back.

You tried not to look in his eyes, knowing all your effort of trying to get over him would be null if you saw his face. You ignored the hand he extended, instead smoothing down your clothes as you sat on the floor, only pulling yourself up when he awkwardly lowered his hand, framing it as if you just didn’t see.

He knew though, he’d developed the unfortunate skill of reading you.

You didn’t look at him as you assured him you were fine and that he should continue with his interviews, only sparing a glance at Angela who looked at you with a regretful hint in her eyes. You didn’t want to think about that more than you had to, waving them off to more interviews.

You turned around before you could see Lewis leave, thankfully not seeing the longing he had displayed over his face as he turned away, back to his interviews.

Would you have been able to hold it together if you’d seen the look he’d shot you? No. Were you when you watched it back after the weekend? Also no.

You turned back to Valtteri, cracking a quick joke, before he got back to his interviews. You spent the rest of that day picking gravel out of your palms, trying to forget about the whole interaction. You wouldn’t let this break your progress, the handsome Canadian man in your contacts getting a ring that night as you tried to distract yourself.

After a few days of you cursing Roscoe for trying to see you while also feeling as though you should arrange some sort of custody agreement so you could see the beautiful beast, a notification had popped up on your phone. It was a recommended tweet, a news article about how Lewis had apparently split from his “new fling”.

That sent you spiraling, questioning why on earth the algorithm had thought to show you this and wondering what you’d done wrong in your past life in order for this to be what was happening to you.

You’d only become more confused a day later, when Angela had sent you an email, saying that Lewis would like to meet up and apologise because of the media backlash. The thing was you’d seen no media backlash, people just finding the dog's enthusiasm funny.

If there was any sort of trouble, you’d have seen it, it was your job after all, so you were left sitting on your couch, pondering what was the point of the meeting she was trying to set up.

You’d aired the email for a few days, wondering what you should do. You wanted to say yes, to talk to Lewis again and ask him what had happened, but you didn’t want to get hurt again. And you knew you’d be hurt when you saw him doing perfectly fine without you.

The fact that Angela was waiting for you to respond didn’t cross your mind till you received a text from an unknown number, politely asking you to respond. The older woman had waited till she knew you’d read the text, about five minutes, before sending a more desperate text. That had your eyebrows raising unwillingly, confused about why she had sent three “please”’s in one paragraph.

Regardless you fell victim to knowing how hard it was to try and manage a driver's personal and professional commitments and said yes. Only because you felt bad for Angela was what you kept telling yourself.

Eventually the day had come and you were dreading it, lying on your couch until the last second possible. The thought of canceling had popped through your head multiple times but it was too late now. The only way you could back out is if an emergency happened or you died on the way to the private restaurant Angela had insisted on booking, saying that even though the meeting was supposed to be platonic, it shouldn’t be aired to the public.

A deep sigh left you as you pulled yourself up and walked to your bedroom, dressing yourself in business clothes. You wanted to put effort in, but knowing that you’d definitely be embarrassed if you showed up glammed out and he showed up in a shirt and jeans, you decided against it. It was a business dinner anyway, simply to smooth over a wrong that had been committed against you.

But it wasn’t a wrong, it was Roscoe pushing you over, which could hardly be considered a wrong and was more the dog testing the things he could get away with.

The real wrong was what Lewis had done to you. You hoped that you could get through the ordeal without talking about it, showing up and then posting a picture to Lewis’s instagram or something about how it was all good to appease the critics.

Except there were no critics, it was just Lewis wanting to have dinner with you. Or maybe it was just Angela trying to meddle. Maybe he was going to try to apologise for him ghosting you? You didn’t know if you would accept it.

You might’ve been able to accept it if he’d been honest from the start, telling you that he wouldn’t want you past the end of the break so you could quickly shut down the relationship before it started and move on with your life.

A thought that’d you always try to flush from your mind sprung to the front of it as you wondered. Maybe you were being too harsh. You’d never explicitly expressed what you were, maybe you had just been overthinking it the whole time you were together. Or rather, not together.

But that would’ve been unfair to you anyways, you reassured yourself. Him letting you get a taste of his future before exempting you from it was a cruel thing to do to anyone.

A ring from your phone let you know that you should’ve been out the door at this point. You quickly cursed before grabbing your essentials and running to your entryway, pulling your shoes on, before grabbing your keys from the side table.

After locking your door, you ran down the stairs to your apartment building and hailed a taxi. Luckily traffic wasn’t too bad, so you were able to arrive at the restaurant on time, quickly hurrying inside and getting led to your table.

You never had to worry about being late though, as Lewis wasn’t there when you got to the private booth. It was fine, he came from the other side of town so he’d probably only be a few minutes late.

It was about twenty minutes later you’d sighed and decided to ring Angela. Ironically, she didn’t pick up. You couldn’t help the bark of a laugh that left your throat, shaking your head at the sad reality of your situation.

Ghosted by two members of Mercedes. Maybe it was a good idea for Valtteri to move when he had, otherwise they may have just stopped picking up the phone. You gave him ten more minutes before trying Angela again. The same response.

At this point you were sick of being made the fool of. Perhaps it was your fault for believing your dispute could be resolved, your fault for believing you were worth showing up for. You stood up with a pressure at the back of your eyes and began the walk from the private booth all the way at the back of the swanky restaurant to the exit.

Before you got even five meters from your table, the door to the restaurant slammed open. Everyone turned to stare at the heavily breathing world champion as he took a second to recoup himself. He didn’t let himself look at anyone in the restaurant as he straightened his suit and turned to the host, who looked a little shell shocked. A quick exchange later and the host stepped back from the little podium he was stood behind.

You quickly scampered back to your seat, making it just in time and plastering an unimpressed look over your face. Looking back up, you could see Lewis scanning all the patrons of the premises before his eyes paused and locked onto you.

The simple action of making eye-contact, a luxury which you had refused yourself during your bump with Roscoe, sent a lick of emotion down your spine. You couldn’t exactly read his face, you didn’t know what he was choosing to display or doing unwittingly after being played by him for months, but you believed he was relieved.

When he arrived at the table he waved off the host with a small ‘thanks’ before sitting down in the seat opposite to you. It was silent for a few seconds, you both continuing eye contact. You were trying to find anything you could recognise in his eyes while he was just looking at you, at your face.

“I’m sorry for being so late.” He spoke finally, a slight tilt growing at the corners of his lips. You didn’t respond and the awkwardness won him over after a few more seconds, something that was quite uncharacteristic of him. He coughed.

“The lift wouldn’t work, I’d left my keys, then no one would pull over. I tried to call you but my phone died, so I just ran trying to get here.” He said and averted his eyes, a mannerism you’d recognised as a nervous tick the couple of times you’d seen it. You didn’t know how to reply so you let your emotions take hold.

“Your call wouldn’t have gone through.” You said blankly and he looked back to you, before chuckling awkwardly. You didn’t find it funny.

“You would’ve had to unblock me first.” You needlessly elaborated, getting some sadistic enjoyment out of the way the man squirmed. He continued his awkward laughing, you joining in to laugh sardonically.

You didn’t know where this feeling, of needing him to a sliver of the uncomfortableness he’d caused you, had come from. The feeling you got from his discomfort wasn’t pleasure though, it felt empty as though it was pointless in the long run. You supposed it was, he wouldn’t remember you in a few years and your small petty actions wouldn’t even matter when he married the princess of some country.

He cleared his throat, drawing your attention from your musings to his face.

“I wanted to apologise.” He stated bluntly and you raised an eyebrow. Yeah, no shit. He caught your expression and winced.

“I should’ve had Roscoe on a tighter leash and not have given him to Angela. It was my fault-” You tuned him out as he continued, shaking your head in disbelief. Yeah sure, it was why the meeting had been arranged, but you’d genuinely thought he might’ve talked about the elephant in the room at some point. Maybe you were judging harshly though. Maybe after a few minutes he’d start talking about the model he’d piped the other day or the Albanian billionaire who wanted to be his sugar mommy.

You’d forgotten that he could read you like a book and had stopped when he realised you were no longer paying attention. He reached over the table to wave a hand in front of your eyes, an action that was very rude, and you reacted accordingly. You turned to face him, affronted, and he smiled at your expression before his face turned serious and he breathed a deep breath.

“I didn’t know if you’d want to talk about what had happened.” He said finally, staring down at the table, and you scoffed, crossing your arms in front of your buttons. You started to talk, the words leaving your mouth before you could properly think about them, hurt blurring your thoughts.

“Of course I would love to recount the time I came home and I found my place ransacked.” You said, the fakeness of your enthusiasm leaking into your words causing him to flinch.

“I’d love to talk about the messages I sent you before I realised I’d been blocked. Sure, let’s talk about how, not even two weeks after telling me you thought we’d have a future together, you’d completely left me, without a word of discussion.” You finally let out, almost strangling your throat closed so as to not let more of the hurt out. This was a work-related dinner after all and you didn’t want to draw more attention than Lewis already had.

His face had fallen, an incredibly unfamiliar look coating his face and you tried to stop yourself before you spoke, trying to tame the biting uncertainties in your head.

“Was it because I’d moved companies?” You questioned and he looked up. “Should I not have followed Valtteri?” Your question floated in the air and he shook his head, a sorrowful expression taking over his face.

“Then why?” You asked after a second and he paused, not responding. You, tired of his silence, thought about all the reasons you’d gone over in your head, and settled on the one that made the most sense to you. Looking back, it was probably the most unrealistic, but it made sense to the angry and sad mindset you had.

“Was it because I couldn’t afford everything?” His head snapped up, shock colouring his features. “I could’ve moved to a new apartment if it bothered you, having to stay over at my place. I knew you didn’t do a lot of things that break because I couldn’t pay, but you could’ve told me if you wanted to. I do have a savings account I could’ve dipped into.” You said quietly, looking down at the table, all the fight having been sapped from your body.

You were tired. You didn’t know what the time difference was between you and Canada, but you were sure that you could set an alarm and wake up to spill your guts to the stranger, it was better than telling anyone you knew.

Lewis called your name but you didn’t look up from the table, hoping to not see any form of confirmation in his eyes. He reached a hand over the table, this time to not be rude but to lift your chin up and look in your eyes. He contemplated for a second before speaking softly.

“I thought it was what you wanted.” He said and you reared back, completely shocked before he continued.

“You kept going to meetings with Alfa Romeo and I thought it was your subtle way of telling me to fuck off. You know, that you had more important things to worry about than a driver from your old company. We’d never talked about what we were and I just thought…” He paused for a second here, furrowing his eyebrows as he looked at the wall before looking back into your eyes.

“I thought I could bite the bullet, leave before you could tell me to go. And it worked in the end, you’ve been doing exceptionally well. I haven’t seen a bad story about Valtteri in months.” He said and withdrew his hand as he leaned back against the chair behind him. You processed his words for a moment before he cleared his throat, drawing you back to look at him.

“I would never, by the way.” He disclosed quietly and you tilted your head. He continued. “I don’t mind if you have the money or not, for that break your apartment was the best place for me.”

The use of the present tense threw you off for a second, leaving you to rearrange yourself in your seat and clear your throat as you thought of a response. You couldn’t, opening your mouth but no words coming out. He’d stunned you into silence. You finally found your voice after steeling yourself for a second. “W-what about umm… what was her name?” You asked, a stutter permeating your words. He just sighed, letting his head fall slack to stare at the table.

“It was a mistake.” He said quietly, and guilt for the poor girl rushed through you. “I thought that after I’d let you go I should at least try to find something as a replacement.” He looked up at you.

“I couldn’t though, no one could match to you. But I couldn’t leave her without a reason.”

He leaned further back in his seat, his voice terse as he spoke. “She gave me plenty of reason after I caught her in bed with her ex.” You winced at the tone of his voice and gave him a second to collect his thoughts. Even if he was trying to break it off, it’s never a good feeling to be cheated on.

You spoke up after a second, trying to clear the silence between you and deciding he should know about your fling after you’d ended if this dinner was going to way you thought it was.

“I met a man in Canada.” You said hesitantly and you saw his shoulders drop.

“Oh.” He said quietly, before shaking himself out as if he was a cat and plastering a smile on his face. Lewis made eye-contact and asked you a question.

“What’s his name?” Fake-enthusiasm permeated his question, as though he was trying to hide his disappointment.

You didn’t want to address that, though you knew you had to. Could you take him back? You didn’t know for sure if he would leave you again, which scared you. The whole idea of taking him back scared you, though the thought of more time with him that wasn’t spent trying to avoid looking his way made you hopeful. You tried not to feel that way, knowing that you shouldn’t base your happiness on the man.

But he had apologised and explained his reasoning. As much as you wanted to curse him out for not talking with you, it did make sense. Feelings of inadequacy were present in every person, no matter how remarkable they were.

Look at you, already being hypocritical over your own words. You’d said you didn’t know if you’d take him back, but now you were already planning it. Was that pathetic? You didn’t like to think it was, but maybe you were wrong, ignoring your dignity in favour of the man.

God, if only the world was more simple and less complicated. If only you hadn’t gotten locked in an elevator, if only Roscoe hadn’t been as adorable as he was, if only you’d said no to this dinner. If only you’d just talked about your feelings from the start instead, maybe this wouldn’t have happened.

Too late now though, you supposed, snapping back to the present and leveling eye-contact with Lewis. You contemplated your words, knowing they’d probably either be the start or the end of your time with him.

“I don’t remember.” You said finally, staring at Lewis’ face as a smile that he tried to contain spread over it.

“You don’t remember his name?” He asked, almost trying to confirm his words and you shook your head. He couldn’t control his smile, trying to mask it behind a cough. You only started to grin in response, looking into his eyes as they slowly turned back into half-moons.

A cleared-throat startled you both out of your bubble and you turned to the waiter, who looked as if he had just watched a soap opera play out in front of him. He awkwardly held out menus to the both of you and you quickly accepted them, apologising for making him stand awkwardly for so long.

When he’d left you both had looked at each other and exchanged smiles. The dinner had continued and it was as lovely as Lewis himself. That is to say, very lovely.

After paying and making the walk to Lewis’ house, you both stumbled into Lewis’ abode, not able to keep your hands off of each other. However a large obstacle had stopped you from taking it further, namely the heavy weight of the british bulldog that decided to settle himself on top of you the second you’d walked through the door.

You could barely hear Lewis’s laughter over the sound of Roscoe licking the side of your face, you muffling your own laughter into the carpet.

When you’d next seen Valtteri, he’d only taken one glance at your neck before shooting you a smirk, the knowing glance he had on his face making you roll your eyes as you pushed him to his interviews.

i got stuck halfway through but i just wanted it overrrr. Hopefully it's not too bad, let me know in the comments.

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somelazyassartist · 10 months ago

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To go with my last post about Thistle acting capital-W Weird™ around Laios, it really does make perfect sense when you think about their history from Thistle's perspective instead of through Laios' like we actually see.

Imagine being Thistle, and you're like, I don't know, 14, and you're the royal court jester and adoptive son of your King. And you just got a baby brother and you're so excited about it. It is, without doubt, the happiest day of your life so far. While you're celebrating a few of your family's servants and guards come in to help. One seems somewhat confused about the situation but you probably assume he's just a new hire, it makes sense to bring in added security when there's a new prince around. You don't see this knight again anytime afterwards, but you're not exactly in charge of hiring or firing guards, so it's not really any of your business where he wandered off to.

You are Thistle, and you're now probably around 40 or so, still rather young for an Elf but a fine young man nonetheless. You're all dressed up to the nines and eager to perform your newest flute composition in honor of your little brother's wedding, and you're so, so proud of how far he's come. You helped your father raise him well. And just as the ceremony's about to kick up, and the people are starting to get drunk and make merry and dance, the King, your father, collapses. Poison, assassination, you hear people cry out. But as you run towards him you slam right into one of your guards- and have the extremely fleeting thought of "WAS that one of our guards? I haven't seen them around but they seem so familiar somehow"- but as soon as the thought occurs you're snapped right back into the present, and the fact that your father was murdered right in front of your eyes, and that you couldn't do a thing to stop it.

It's been a small time now, enough that you've had time to lay your King to rest, and to prepare your brother for the throne. It's his coronation day. You should be happy- you are PROUD, of course, of how far your little brother has come- but it is not the joyous day that you would have hoped for, and instead one of mourning for you. And looking around the room as the Kingdom's crown changes bearers, you see a guard, rather out of place. And this time, you have time to process why he feels so strange here. You've seen this man before. You KNOW you've seen this man before. This is the man who you have seen exclusively on the best day of your life and the worst, with no trace of him elsewhere in your life, and he is here, now, again. And for one who is clearly a Tallman, he hasn't aged a single day. There is something wrong with him, and with you, and you feel that if you keep crossing paths it will only end in disaster for you. So you try to kill him. And he disappears, right in front of your eyes. You don't see him around after this. You pray you never will again.

You are now The Mad Sorcerer- no longer, even, the false name given to you by your King. Only the title used by those who want to kill you remains in people's minds. It's been so long now. You can't even count how many years it's been, but you know your life has reached centuries upon centuries past what you were meant to live. And so has everyone you've ever cared about. In these years you have done everything you can to preserve the last bit of what you can call home, trapping yourself and your entire kingdom in an oasis of immortality. So what if the people may grow to resent you? You're protecting them. It's not your fault people may mistake your kindness for cruelty. Though many adventuring parties have tried, none have gotten through your defenses, so as long as you keep focused on your goal things will be fine. Except for this last week or so, where one particularly troublesome party has been making their way further than most would dare venture. And you swear on your Kingdom's throne, if this party includes who you think it includes, you are going to have a fucking aneurysm.

You are the Lord of this Dungeon, and unfortunately for you, your house has just been broken into. Even more unfortunately for you, you know exactly who did it. When you step through your front door, everything is unsettlingly clean. You wonder why in the world the man following you for your entire life would take the time to tidy your house if he's here to psychologically torture you. And then a thought hits you like a punch to the gut, and you rush upstairs, and you see all of your diaries taken out of their hiding spots. And you know that if they took a look through them they would find roughly 200 pages of glittery pink gel pen writing out repeatedly,

✨ This motherfucker again ✨

#i know i said in the tags of my last post that i didn't necessarily think Thistle and Laios had a gay thing #BUT i have decided exactly now that i am going to rarepair ship them exclusively because their dynamic is very fucked up and extremely funn #dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon #laios touden #laios dungeon meshi #thistle dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon spoilers #dungeon meshi spoilers #death tw #death trigger warning

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prettypinkporkchop · 4 months ago

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Seth Clearwater x Fem Reader

Party Time

Prompt: You are Nessie's bestie. She invites you to a party the pack is having. Seth looks like the pic above. He is now 20.

"C'mon y/n! Chug it!" Embry encourages you. You are three shots of vodka in and one 4 loko. The dizziness is hitting you, but you feel so euphoric! Nessie never drinks anything which is okay with you. Jacob is drinking a coors. This is the first time you've met any of Jacob's friends. So far, you've spoken to Jared, Kim, and Embry. Embry and you are having a blast. There's a few more people here but you haven't gotten around to them.

"Okay, Embry, she's definitely had enough." You hear Jacob's voice behind you. You laugh and pat Embry's shoulder. "Jake, I've only just started." You retort. Embry cheers. Jake rolls his eyes and drags you away. You groan and follow him towards the bonfire. He sits you next to Renesmee. She smiles and puts a hand on your knee. "Y/n, chill here for a few minutes." She said softly. You nod your head and look around.

You lock eyes with a young man close to your age. The spinning stopped. You had a glimpse of sober. His eyes are burning through you. You've never felt this before. You needed him. He was beautiful.

He blinks and smiles to himself. You look over to Jacob who is smirking at him. "Who's that?" You ask. Jacob looks at you with wide eyes. "Oh, no ma'am. You are not meeting him like this." He shakes his head sternly at you. You don't listen and stand up, stumbling a bit. You walk over to him. He looks up at you like the pic 👆. He stands up and hovers over you. He is so tall and handsome. "Who are you, mister beauty?" You slur. The drunkeness is coming back to you. He chuckles and looks down at his feet. "I'm Seth. You?" He reaches his hand out. You are so out of it that you ignore his hand and stare into his eyes. He watches you carefully. "I'm y/n. And I am drunk. Also, I want you to know that I literally just experienced love at first sight." You ramble on while holding a finger up. He puts his lips in a thin line staring at you before looking over to Jacob. Jacob puts his hands up in defense. "All yours now, buddy." He laughs. You laugh too and he looks back at you. "I think I need to drink more. Where's Embry?" You look around. He lightly grabs your chin which sent electricity down your body. He pulls your face to his so you're looking at him. "Maybe I should take you home?" He asks with concern. "Oh? We're doing that?" You snort. He shakes his head and chuckles. "No, I mean you need sleep." You frown when he responds with that.

"Jake, I'm gonna take her home and make sure she is safe in bed." He lightly takes a hold of your arm pulling you to his truck. You grumble and he gets you seated and buckled up. He gets in the drivers sear and begins the drive. "Where do you live?" He questions. "Leave the rez. Go to Forks. I'll tell you turns and... stuff." You hiccup. You can barely keep your eyes open. But you manage to keep him going in the right direction.

Eventually, he pulls up to your house. He picks you up bridal style. He opens the door and sighs at the fact that your door is unlocked. He lays you on the couch and takes your shoes off. He puts a blanket over you. You just lay there not moving.

----4 p.m next day----

You recovered from your hangover after lunch. You remembered Seth. You needed to get to him asap. You phone Jacob, and he tells you to come over. You leave your house and go to Jacob's. Him and Seth are sitting outside on some logs.

"Hey." You look at Jake. He nods with a smile. Seth stands up and looks at you with a big ol smile. "Nice to see you recovered!" He beams. "I just really wanted to thank you for last night. And I need to apologize. I was so inappropriate and I was just acting crazy. I am so sorry." You keep your eyes on his. He leaves his smile on his face. "No, don't apologize. There's a lot to tell you. Would today be a good day?"

"Absolutely!"

He grabs your hand and leads you to the woods.

"Seth, why are you leading me here?" You get nervous. "I need to show you something." He rubs his thumb over your knuckles to calm your nerves, which does work. He sighs and steps back from you. He begins to remove his shirt.

"Woah there, partner?!" You yell and cover your eyes. He doesn't say anything but you hear zippers and rustling. "What the fuck are you doing?" You finally move your hands and see his body contort and in seconds, a wolf is standing in front of you.

Your heart beats fast. The wolf stands there just staring at you. You're at a loss for words. You're not screaming since you know it's just seth. But how?! He changes back and you quickly turn around as he gets dressed. "Y/n, I'm a shapeshifter. The legends about my tribe are true." He grabs your shoulders to turn you around. "You... won't hurt me?" You ask. "No, I never will. Nobody in my tribe will. We are the good guys. We protect the people here."

"Who do you protect us from?" You ask.

"Vampires."

You put your hand on your forehead, taking in this information. "There's more." He adds. He backs away from you. You stare, really hoping the dude doesn't turn into a tiger or some shit.

"There's this spiritual connection we have with one specific person. The universe chooses. It's called imprinting. We have to protect them, love them, and be there for them."

You gulp knowing that what you felt is this: imprinting. "When you were drunk, I saw you and me. We had a house. We got married. We even had a baby. We grew old together. It was everything I could ever want."

You hold your breath, thinking deeply. You step forward and move your hand to his cheek. You hold his face softly. He leans into your hand and holds your wrist. "I'm willing to do anything for you, y/n. You don't have to be with me if you don't want to. If you do, we go at your pace." He says softly. You knew how you felt.

"Take me on a date tonight." You smile. His fave brightens up. "Where do you want to go?" He asks. "Surprise me."

----months later. Maybe like 4 months haha---

You feel strong and warm arms wrap around you as you wash the dishes. You turn off the sink and turn to face him. He crashes his lips onto yours. You kiss back and wrap your arms around his neck. He has one hand on the bottom of your back and the other on the back of your head, tangled in your hair.

The kiss gets sloppy and heated. You walk forward, pushing him against the wall on the other side of the kitchen. He grunts, making you bite his lip. In a swift move, you are pinned against the wall. His lips attack your neck. You close your eyes and lean your head back.

REST IS UP TO YOU SORRY BABY PORK CHOPS!

#twilight wolfpack #twilight #seth clearwater #seth clearwater x reader #jacob black #sam uley #jared cameron #paul lahote #embry call #renesmee cullen

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thoseboysinblue · 1 year ago

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I Kissed Someone New Last Night

Christian Pulisic x reader

You visit your best friend, Christian, in Milan after a break up.

Word count: 4150+

Warnings: Fluff, swearing, mentions of weight loss, mentions of death of parents

Song Inspo: Kelsea Ballerini's Penthouse (Healed Version)

Requested: No

"Come to Milan" he pleads with you through the phone, "I'm worried about you, y/n."

"Christian, you know I can't do that," you frown at him.

"Please," he says quietly, "you've lost too much weight, you're not taking care of yourself, and no offense but you kind of look like shit," he tries to lighten the mood just a bit.

The truth is, there is nothing stopping you from hopping on the next flight to see your best friend and both of you know it. You broke off your engagement a few months ago, after finding out your fiancé was cheating on you. You also recently quit your job because no matter how hard you tried you always were bumping into him and you desperately needed a fresh start.

You had considered moving to Florida to be closer to Christian's family, the only real support system you had left. And even though he was far away, Christian never failed to be there for you through every heartbreak you had endured in your short life.

The night your mom died when the two of you were in high school, he dropped everything to be by your side, staying with you through all of it, holding you when you cried, staying strong for you when you completely fell apart.

He flew home as soon as he heard the news of your father's passing a few years later, and again, he was your rock. As everything in your life seemed to crash down, he was the constant, steady presence.

His family had welcomed you with open arms, including you in their holidays, family vacations, and trips to visit Christian and watch him play. They always made sure you felt like you had a place to call home. In recent years, you had opted to go to Christian for holidays so that he wouldn't have to spend them alone, the two of you setting about creating your own traditions. That was until your ex came along and you felt like you should spend holidays with him, but it broke your heart knowing Christian was spending them alone again.

Christian never really liked your ex, he couldn't put his finger on exactly why, but something about him made his guard go up. And it broke his heart when he found out he was right all along, maybe if he had said something he could have spared you the heartbreak, but you seemed happy and he wasn't going to interfere if that was truly the case.

"Come see me, I'll take care of you, I'll feed you pasta and let you get drunk on Italian wine. We can see the city together, I haven't gotten to do much exploring yet. It will be good for you to get away, take a break, get some fresh air, come on y/n, please?" he continues to plead with you.

"Ok" you whisper and you see his face light up, immediately grabbing his laptop and searching for flights before you have a chance to change your mind.

"How soon can you leave, looks like I can get you on a flight tonight, or tomorrow," he grins into the phone.

"Christian, you don't have to do that, I'll book something," you roll your eyes at him. He never failed to be generous and take care of you, whatever you needed, you didn't even have to ask most of the time.

"Nope. Not happening. Tonight or tomorrow, y/n? You better give me an answer or I'm closing h my eyes and clicking on whatever I land on," he chuckles.

"Fuck it, tonight," you grin at him, the first genuine smile he's seen from you in as long as he can remember.

You have to admit that the thought of landing in Italy tomorrow morning to spend however long you wanted with Christian makes you a little dizzy.

"Ok, pack your bags sweetheart, I'm sending you your boarding pass now," he smiles at you, "fuck I'm so excited to see you, it's been ages since we've gotten to spend time together."

"Christian, I just saw you this summer in Florida," you chuckle at him.

"Yeah, but that was less than 24 hours and you had the dickhead with you so it doesn't really count," he huffs at you.

"Christian this boarding pass says seat 4C, you did not just book me a first class ticket did you, you jackass."

"I sure did, because I can, and because I wanted to, and because there wasn't much left on the flight anyways. Now, get off the phone and start packing. Call me when you leave for the airport. Love you, y/n."

"Love you too, Chris." you shake your head at him before you hang up.

A few hours later, you have taken care of anything that might need your attention in the next few weeks since you were unsure of exactly when you would be back. You had packed and showered, and were set to leave for the airport. Making one final check that you had everything you needed, you call Christian, who answers sleepily, "I'm headed to the airport," you smile, even though he can't see you. "Ok, I'll see you in the morning," he says through a yawn, "safe travels."

"Thank you for this" you whisper but you can hear him snoring through the phone so you quietly end the call, after whispering another "love you."

You phone dings when you turn it off of airplane mode and you look down to see a message from Christian.

Christian: ciao bella 🤌🏻 there will be a car waiting for you to take you to my apartment. I'll be in training when you land, but should be home when you get there. Can't wait to see you 🫶🏻 Love you.

Y/N: oh god, am I going to be subjected to your attempts at learning Italian?

Y/N: thank you for the flight and arranging the car. I'll meet you at home. I can't wait to see you either. Love you, Chris 🫶🏻

Christian: do not insult my Italian, y/n. On my way home now, see you there 😍

When you arrive, he is waiting outside for you, pulling you into a warm embrace. It feels like he might crush you, but being in his arms heals your soul just a tiny bit.

"You've bulked up," you chuckle, your head resting against his chest. "You're skin and bones" he whispers leaning down to kiss the top of your head.

"Come on" he says retrieving your bags from the car and thanking the driver, waving off your attempts to help carry your things.

He leads you inside his new apartment, sitting your bags just inside the door before intertwining his fingers with yours, "let me show you around," he smiles at you adoringly.

He leads you from room to room, letting you know his plans for each of the ones that aren't quiet fully furnished yet. He grabs your bags as you follow him up the stairs opening the door to what you presume is his bedroom.

"Christian, this is gorgeous," you say taking in the room, the view out of his window to die for.

"It is," he smiles, never taking his eyes off of you.

You and Christian always share a bed when you are together so you aren't sure why it makes you slightly nervous to think about staying with him now, but it does. Your stomach flips as he moves your bag into the walk in closet, sitting your toiletry bag on the bathroom counter.

"Are you tired?" he whispers tucking a loose strand of hair around your ear and settling his hand on you jaw, smiling a the way you lean into him and shake your head, your eyes already a little brighter.

"Hungry?" he grins when you nod.

"You feel up to going somewhere, or do you want me to cook here, or we can order in?"

"We can go out, but can I have a few minutes to freshen up? You know I always feel gross after a long flight."

"Of course," he smiles, leading you into the bathroom, grabbing a towel for you and turning on the shower.

"Thank you," you whisper, wrapping your arms around his waist, "for everything," a couple of tears slip from your eyes which you try to hide from him but he definitely notices.

"Always, y/n" he breathes out, kissing you on the forehead.

After your shower, you wrap yourself in a towel, walking into Christian's room so that you can grab some clothes out of your suitcase. Christian is sitting on the bed when you walk out of the bathroom and his heart sinks when he realizes just how thin you've gotten. He knows it's just from the stress, and that you tend to lose weight when you are dealing with heavy emotions, and that you always return to your normal with a little TLC, usually from him.

He doesn't say anything, he knows he doesn't have to, you can read perfectly well the look of concern on his face.

"I'll be fine, Christian," you whisper as he nods.

"I know you will be now," he offers you a weak smile, but the look of concern is still evident.

You quickly get dressed, noticing that Christian has already unpacked your things and placed them on the empty shelves in his closet, your heart fluttering at the kind gesture.

"Come here" he gestures, patting the empty space on the bed beside him.

You waste no time in climbing over him and tucking yourself into his side, your head resting on his chest as he scratches your back.

"You know I'm here for anything you need, right? Forever." he speaks quietly.

You nod, allowing the familiar sound of his heart and his scent to wash over you. You never feel more cared for than you do when you are wrapped in Christian's arms, his warm embrace always soothing you, no matter what is going on in your life.

"You sure you don't want a nap," he asks quietly, a small yawn escaping his lips.

"We can nap if you are tired, Chris," you whisper.

"That's not what I asked," he chuckles.

Your stomach rumbles loudly and he kisses you on the top of the head, "food first, then naps."

He takes you to a small restaurant close to his apartment, filling you with as much pasta as you can hold before you make the short walk back to his place.

Once you arrive back at Christian's, he closes the room darkening shades in his living room and the two of you settle down on the couch to watch a movie.

Before long, you fall asleep wrapped up in Christian's arms and he does the same. You aren't sure how long you've slept when you stir slightly, waking Christian up.

"You ok?" he whispers into the dark, a sigh escaping his lips when you nod and nuzzle your face into his chest. You let out a giggle when his stomach rumbles, "you can't be hungry again, Chris."

"I'm starving, actually" he chuckles when you move slightly allowing him to stand up and pull you to your feet. He makes the two of you a sandwich, both of you eating before heading up to get changed for bed.

You wander out of the en-suite bathroom in Christian's room after finishing your skincare to find Christian sitting in the bed, already under the covers.

You give him a hesitant look, chewing on your bottom lip, "you sure you want me to stay in here, I could stay in the guest room or..." you trail off as he stands up and makes his way over to you wrapping you in a hug.

"Why wouldn't you stay in here, we've been sharing a bed since we were kids, y/n," he says quietly his hand stroking your back.

"I don't know," you whisper, "I just wasn't sure you wanted me in here."

"Of course I do," he says taking your hand and guiding you towards the bed, "but only if you want to be in here. I can definitely get you set up in the guest room if you would feel more comfortable."

"No, this is fine," you offer him a smile, your moment of anxiety passing.

"You know, I think my parents always thought we were up to something when we kept sharing a bed when we got older," he chuckles, "led to me getting the talk from my dad on more than one occasion."

"No, really?" you groan, your cheeks painted with embarrassment as you try to hide your face with your hands.

"Mmmhmmm" he laughs pulling your hands from your face, "I think they were worried that we might figure out that one of us is a boy and the other is a girl when we were younger, but as we got older, I think there were secretly rooting for it."

"I figured they would eventually put a stop to it, but I guess they trusted you far more than the trusted me," he grins.

"Guess we've disappointed them then," you chuckle tucking yourself into his side as he kisses the top of your head.

"Sleep well, y/n, wake me if you need anything," he whispers as he turns off the lights leaving the two of you wrapped up in nothing but the darkness and each other's arms.

The next several days in Milan Christian works to improve your mood as much as he can, enjoying when he catches flickers of you returning to your normal self.

You wake up early with him, enjoying quiet mornings before he has to leave for training. He even asks if he can bring you along for a few sessions giving you a chance to catch up with his old Chelsea teammates. You spend afternoons wandering the city and learning Italian with him. Evenings, which he knows you typically dread, are spent, snuggled up together watching movies or binge watching some of your favorite series.

Being constantly surrounded by Christian's presence is working wonders for you, you can feel yourself healing from everything you've been through the past few months. During a face time with Christian's mom she mentions that she can tell both of you are in a better place mentally and physically and that she's glad you are getting to spend some time together.

You cannot deny how much you enjoy being with him, here in a safe bubble, seemingly protected from the outside world. And Christian, he's enjoying your company more and more each day. Things are seamless and comfortable between the two of you, conversations are easy, and the silences are never awkward.

He has been thrilled to have you with him as he embarks on a new season with Milan. You've been able to travel to away games with him and we're blown away on your first trip to the San Siro.

One particularly warm evening after a match, you walk out of the bathroom in a pair of pajamas that show far more skin than any others you've worn around him. You pretend not to notice the way his breath hitches in his throat when he sees you and the way his eyes follow you as you slip into bed next to him.

"You ok?" you whisper, resting your head on his chest noticing the way his heart is hammering away.

"Couldn't be better," he sighs, trailing his hands over the exposed skin on your back and shoulders noticing when your skin erupts in goosebumps, a reaction he's not used to from you.

"I've got the next couple of days off, I thought we might take a little trip to Lake Como tomorrow, have some lunch, see the area," he says quietly, a hint of nervousness in his voice.

"That sounds nice," you whisper, turning to place a kiss to his chest.

"And I have a surprise for you tomorrow night," he smiles as you turn to look him in the eyes, resting your chin on his chest.

"You know I hate surprises," you grin, a glint of playfulness in your eyes.

"I know, but this is a good one, and you're not getting it out of me," he grins back at you, tickling your sides and making you squeal.

"Now, let's get some sleep, we have an early morning tomorrow," he says, reaching to turn off the light and gesturing for you to turn on your side so that he can be the big spoon.

"Good night y/n," he whispers, "love you," as he places a feather light kiss on your shoulder, so light you almost don't notice it.

"Good night, Chris, love you too." You whisper back to him, intertwining your fingers with his.

The next morning, you both wake up early and have a quick breakfast before leaving for the day's adventure. Lake Como is more beautiful than you could imagine and you share a lunch that borderlines on romantic at a small cafe that overlooks the lake.

"I can't believe we are here," you nudge him with your shoulder as you walk down a small path towards the waters edge.

"I'm sure you could sweep some lucky girl off of her feet here," you chuckle at him noticing the way his cheeks turn a light shade of pink.

"Probably, but that's not what today is about is it," he rolls his eyes at you, "today is about me and you spending time together, not me scoping out potential date spots."

"I know, but what better place to fall in love than Italy, Christian," you say, twirling yourself around in front of him, missing the absolutely smitten look on his face.

"Maybe," he shrugs his shoulders, his eyes never leaving you.

"Are you going to tell me what this surprise is?" you ask him, looping your arm through his and resting your head on his shoulder. Noticing the way his skin reacts to your fingers tracing over his skin.

You like Kelsea Ballerini right?" he asks, as he rests his head on the top of yours as you both of you stare out over the water at the colorful houses dotting the horizon.

"I do, her new album is practically an anthem for my life right now, why?" you breathe out, shuddering as his arm wraps around your waist and pulls you closer to him.

"She's playing at the stadium tonight, and I might have gotten tickets for us," he says lowly, tilting his head up so that he can look you in the eyes and see your reaction.

"Playing at the stadium, as in your stadium? In Milan?" you nearly squeal, turning to fully face him as he nods.

"Thank you," your voice comes out low, barely above a whisper as tears well in your eyes, "for this, and for everything, you've always been the one person I could count on no matter what, and I honestly don't know what I would do without you."

You press a gentle kiss to his cheek, lingering a bit longer than normal as you notice him swallow dryly.

Leaning back slightly, you take in his features, suddenly mesmerized by his beauty. You've always known Christian was attractive, that much was obvious to you, but Italy has done him a world of good. His summer tan has lingered a bit longer, freckles dancing over his skin, and his eyes seem a bit brighter and more full of hope than you've seen them in a while. You catch your gaze lingering over his lips, noticing how soft and plump they are and wondering what they might feel like pressed against your own.

Christian has been your best friend for as long as you can remember, there isn't a single core memory of yours that doesn't involve him, being here with him the past couple of weeks, his patience, support and attentiveness have healed parts of you you didn't know needed healing.

Part of you never thought it was possible to develop feelings for him beyond friendship, and yet, when he's looking at you the way he is at this very moment, it makes you wonder if there couldn't be something more there.

"You're staring," he whispers, enjoying the flood of color that rushes to your cheeks.

"Am I not allowed to stare at my best friend? You're kind of beautiful you know?" you say, your eyes never leaving his.

"You're the beautiful one," he whispers, leaning down and glancing at your lips, almost as if he's thinking of kissing them before kissing the tip of your nose.

You turn, facing the horizon again as his arms squeeze your waist. "I love it here," you breathe out, feeling him nod as he rests his chin on your shoulder, but you aren't quite sure if by "here" you mean your actual location, or if you mean in Christian's arms.

"We should go," he gives you a gentle squeeze and slides his hand into yours.

The car ride home is quiet, he can tell you're lost in your own thoughts and he'd give anything to know what you are thinking about as you stare out of the window. Truthfully, he's a bit lost in his on thoughts as well, trying to come to terms with everything he's been feeling over the last few days.

Back at his apartment, you start getting ready for the concert, Christian ordering dinner for the two of you to eat as you get ready. You pick out a flowy dress, something that accentuates your best features, wanting to look pretty for yourself, and you catch yourself thinking that you also want to look pretty for him. You want him to be proud to have you with him, not that he's ever made you feel otherwise.

Once you are finally ready to go, you walk out of his bathroom about the same time as he walks out of his closet, also dressed and ready to go. You both silently stare at each other, soaking one another in before his lips curl slightly at the edges as he makes his way over to you.

"You look beautiful as always," he smiles, pressing a kiss to your cheek, dangerously close to the corner of your mouth.

"So do you," you blush slightly at his compliment as he takes your hand and leads you to the car waiting to pick you up.

The concert is amazing, Christian never leaves your side, and most of the night he has one or both arms wrapped around your waist.

As the first notes of "Penthouse" ring out around the stadium he moves so that he is standing behind you, both arms around your waist and his chin resting on your shoulder as he gently sways with you to the music.

Tears well in your eyes at the words that seem so very personal to you, a few spill over as Christian grips onto your hips turns you around. He brings his hands up to cup your face as he brushes the tears from your cheeks with his thumbs as the music fades out.

You're staring at each other, both of you knowing exactly what is coming next, as she belts out the healed version of "I kissed someone new last night, and now I don't care where your sleeping baby," Christian presses his lips to yours.

The kiss is soft and slow, and without a moment's hesitation you grip your fingertips into his t-shirt as you melt into the kiss; his lips slotting perfectly against yours, just as you had imagined they would. Suddenly, it feels like all of the pieces have fallen into place.

He pulls back and rests his forehead against yours, "I love you, y/n" he says quietly, only loud enough for you to hear. A couple of tears fall from your eyes, as you nod and say "I love you too, Christian."

"No, baby, I need you to understand what I'm saying. I'm in love with you, I am desperately in love with you," he says as he bumps his nose against yours.

"I know, and I'm in love with you too," you grin, a squeal escaping your lips as he picks you up and spins you around.

"Stay in Italy with me, I can't bare for you to leave me," he says as he pulls you closer to him, burying his face into your neck, "we can both start over here, and we can start building a life together," he says hesitantly, searching your features for an answer he is hoping will be yes.

You nod and he crashes his lips back to yours in a much heavier yet still reserved kiss considering you are in public.

"So you're staying," he mumbles against your lips.

"I'm staying" you grin, "until you're sick of me."

"That's never going to happen sweetheart," he smiles sweetly, "never."

Tag list:

@chelseagirl98 @neverinadream @masonspulisic @pulisicsgirl @swimmingismywholelife @lovelynikol16 @nyctophilic0vitnir @lunamelona @tall-tanned-tattoo @lizzypotter14

#christian pulisic #christian pulisic x reader #christian pulisic fic #christian pulisic fluff

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rubylovessharks · 3 months ago

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drinking hc with third years

not a romance thing but ya know :3

again im not the greatest with some of these characters..i tried my best

if you guys wanna see me write this but with the school staff cast lemme know

Trey Clover

doesn't drink

but if he did try to drink something it'll probably be a cocktail.

idk seems right to me that he'd probs try to make one (maybe for cater?) and then try a sip.

telling you the truth, he might not be a big fan alcohol

Cater Diamond

i believe that he has tried wine at like 17-

he just seems like he got to try a sip or two at that age-

i might be totally wrong cuz i haven't gotten too much on him :(

i believe that in a few years he'd actually have more experience with drinks, but not in an addictive way.

probably asked trey to (try) make him a cocktail

and he might like cocktails, idk he seems like that type of guy-

Leona Kingscholar

this guy is in a royal family

he has to have tried AT LEAST wine

probs from an even younger age like 14????? 15???

(not encouraging under aged drinking)

he seems like the type of guy who actually tries to understand the deeper taste of the wine but has never actually said his thoughts out loud

UNLESS he's drunk.

only then he talks on and on about what he thinks might be in the wine he's drinking at the moment

won't matter if there are people with him or not

Vil Schoenheit

will probably take him a few years until he actually drinks alcohol as an enjoyment, mostly was for aesthetics.

not THAT many though-

idk how beer works- but if there's different levels to how strong it is i want to believe that uncharacteristically Vil likes the strongest type of beer.

will probably be into any type of good wine, champagne (ig that's also wine?) and to tell you the truth i believe that he actually likes beer.

like chugs down beer

I don't know why i like to believe this- but i just think that he just keeps this as a secret.

Rook Hunt

has tried whisky before and probably drinks it from time to time

Rook's the type of guy who'd like wine, likes both red and white equally.

also seems like he'd enjoy beer as well

same as Leona, has tried wine.

Idia Shroud

doesn't.

literally doesn't. like he never ever laid lips or tongue on any alcohol

definitely got a whif of idk something- and decided that it smells too much

Malleus Draconia

i feel like he'd like both red wine and white wine, but would prefer red wine.

also probably enjoys liquors and

will probably enjoy a conversation about all the different alcoholic drinks he has tried in his life.

Lilia Vanrouge

this guy drinks all types of alcohol

has tried sooo many types of drinks it's not even real-

i mean he's 700 years old- how can he not??

but what would be his fav drink? I'd say proooobably a cocktail or whisky

okok think for a moment- Lilia drinking red wine

and what colour is red wine? what kinda question is that 💀

what colour is blood? ok you getting where I'm going with this-

Lilia drinking a glass of red wine but telling you it's blood- idk sounds pretty real

#disney twisted wonderland #twst #twst wonderland #vil schoenheit #trey clover #cater diamond #leona kingscholar #malleus draconia #idia shroud #lilia vanrouge #rook hunt

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zaradress · 8 months ago

Text

Driver

pairing: George Russel x Toto Wolffs daughter warnings: age gap, sexual themes, fingering, pain kink, forbidden trope. prompt: Cami Wolff is the daughter of the mercedes team principle. She goes out of her way to not meet George Russel just because she finds him so attractive. One night she goes to a party and it turns out that the party on the yacht is hosted by none other than George Russel.

I had noticed him from the day I first saw him. It wasn't a crush or some infatuation. Instead it was some kind of admiring from a far type of thing. Dad tried to introduce me a couple of times but I refused.

The young driver was the only driver I had not talked to out of all the mercedes drivers I had ever met. Which weren't a lot but still. I didn't know back then why I refused to talk to him but I know now. Like I said it wasn't some kind of crush or infatuation. No, it was an attraction that I did not want to feed into with being introduced to him.

I just knew he must be good in bed and every time I caught his eyes I thought about that fact. Which is why I decided it was for the better to just not meet him.

xxx

In Monaco, after Lewis had won the race, everyone decided to go celebrate on someones yacht. I didn't know who's yacht nor did I care. If there is a party I will be there. So I got ready with my friend, Chelsea, and as soon as we were done we left.

From what I had gathered it would mostly just consist of only workers for mercedes, with some exceptions. My dad, thank god, wasn't going to be there. He'd honestly kill me if he knew that I even attended.

We walked on to the yacht and went to the bar immediately. "What you getting?" I ask Chelsea. Whilst thinking about my own order.

"Something that I can get hammered on, this week has been rough", Chelsea works as a PR manager for McLaren so her statement makes sense.

"Let's just get eight shots, divid them by two and then down them all, one after the other", I tell her. She couldn't have agreed faster. What the hell are those McLaren drivers doing to my poor friend? I laugh whilst she orders the drinks.

Whilst our drinks are getting prepared Lewis walks up to us and says hey. "Didn't think you'd show up", he comments.

"Why do you say that?" I laugh confused.

He looks around. "Well this is Georges yacht after all, didn't think you'd show up with how you are clearly going out of your way to not talk to George", I stopped smiling, shocked.

I knew that George was going to be here but not that this was his yacht.

"I'm not! Just haven't got to talk to him yet", I tell him, lying through my teeth.

"So you could just walk over to him and talk to him right now, right?" he asks me smirking.

I laugh nervously. "Of course I could", I say to him. "Don't be silly Lewis".

"If that's so, go talk to him right now", he challenges. "Or even better come play a game with us in like an hour or two, bring Chelsea with you".

What have I gotten myself into. "Alright, we'll be there", with that he says goodbye for now and leaves. I had 1-2 hours to get as wasted as possible.

I turn back to Chelsea. "Order another eight shots", I tell her as I start to down shot after shot.

"Slow down Cami", she laughs.

I chose to not listen to her and drank the remaining four from the second round. At first I din't feel anything but after 30 minutes I knew it was over. So was Chelsea but not nearly as much as me. She was perfectly drunk. Enough to think clearly but also enough to have fun.

Me on the other hand was more than ready to start playing. If it was going to be truth or dare I was going to be up for anything.

Chelsea and I danced away on the dance floor. She turned to some guy, dancing with him, and I decided to do the same. Not thinking about who it was. The guy put one of his hands on my hips as I was swaying them against him.

Maneater playing in the back ground whilst my eyes were closed. I turn around just to be face to face with George. Out of all people, George. Thankfully I was so drunk that I didn't care and just put my hands around his neck.

I doubted that he at that moment knew that I was the daughter of his team principal or he simply did not care. He took a hold of my hand and spun me around. Dancing with me until my friend dragged me to the toilet.

Chelsea has always had a fear of bathrooms. She was scared that someone might hide in them. So whenever we had a night out it was not uncommon for me or someone else to go with her.

By the time she was done. George was gone from the dance floor and Chelsea and I just continued to dance with one another.

After the two hours had passed the party had died down. It was more or less a gathering now. Which was the whole point. A few other drivers arrived and we were maybe 15 or 20 people sitting on the four couches. That's probably why Lewis said one to two hours, so there'd be a little peace and quiet for us to play.

I was still drunk off my ass and was going to be for another few hours. The others were pretty much sober. I'm ashamed to be even saying that I even kept on drinking just a lot less.

"Let's play then, everyone know how it goes?" Lewis asked. We were going to play truth or dare. A very simple yet exciting game. No one said anything so Hamilton bent over to the table to spin the bottle. "Oh and if you decide to not do it or answer it you have to take a piece of your clothing off", by the time he said that the bottle landed on me.

The only problem: I have a dress and underwear on. Nothing else. "Truth", with that information in the back of my mind I chose to play it safe. I could feel a pair of eyes staring at me. George. Which made me push my thighs together. It was like he was undressing me with his eyes even though he sat two meters away from me.

"What's your body count", Lewis asks, genuinely interested.

"Don't have one, virgin", I answer which was the truth. Sure I had had boyfriends and situation-ships but never had I ever gone the whole way. Only close to it. Somehow I just never felt the desperation for it, so until I found someone I couldn't keep my hands off I wasn't going to do it.

Everyone looked at me in disbelief. Georges eyes turned a darker shade of blue, looking at me even more intensely. "She's telling the truth and I have known her for a couple of years", Chelsea confirms. She leans into me whispering something in my ear. "George is practically staring at you", she tells me which I ignore. I spin the bottle and so we continued to play.

As time went on more and more people left only the six of us remaining. Lewis, Chelsea, George, Alex, Lily and me. Three guys against three girls. All of us still had cloths on. But at this point I probably was so drunk I wouldn't have cared if I did.

The bottle lands on Lily. Chelsea had spun it so she had to choose. "Dare, of course because I'm not boring", she laughs.

Lily just smirks to that. "Remove a piece of clothing of off the guy closest to you but without using you hands", she giggles knowing it was Lewis and how she is going to enjoy this show.

"Okay easy", she sits down beside Lewis and starts to take off Lewis's shirt but he helps her a little because he saw that she was finding it difficult. The rest of us were chanting her name.

When she was done we all started clapping, to which she just turns red and returns to her seat. She spins the bottle and it lands on me. After seeing how tame her dare was I felt like I could choose dare as well. "Dare, why not?" I say unknowing of what was about to come.

"Show us one of your kinks with another player", well fuck Lewis is taken by Chelsea right now and Alex and Lily are both in a relationship with one another. That only leaves Chelsea as an option. As I was about to say her name, she adds on something. "The player has to be male", she smirks.

I knew what she was doing and she knew too because that only leaves George as an option. It was noticeable how he was waiting me to pick anyone but him.

So when I walked drunkenly over to him and tried to sit beside him, it came to him as a shock. He even had to help me sit down because of how drunk I was. Throughout the game we hadn't talked and now I was supposed to show him one of my kinks.

"So, what's your kink?", he says putting a hair behind my ear.

I bite my lip which he sees. "Wait if I take off a piece of clothing I can skip this dare, right?" I turn around and ask.

"Sure but then you wouldn't have anything on you, would you now? So what's worse?", George says looking me up and down.

"Come on Cami, we've all done worse than whatever your kinks are", Chelsea says to which everyone laughs.

I turn back to George and get closer to him. So close that if I whisper only he could hear. "I have a pain kink. So if you chock me and than slap me hard I will get turned on immediately, especially if it's from you", I whisper.

"Little Virgin Mary not so pure in actuality, huh?", he laughs. Everyone was confused about what I could have said.

His eyes didn't leave mine as he put one hand on my thigh and the other one started going up from my chest. He just had to take full advantage of this situation didn't he. His hand finally comes to my neck and he starts applying pressure.

The pressure felt so fucking good and it made me close my eyes. His hand leaves my neck and I open my eyes again just to look him in the eyes. That's when his hand slapped me, hard enough for a little moan to escape my lips that only he could hear.

I return to my seat, drunk and now horney as well. "Fuck me that was hot", Chelsea was the first to say anything and everyone else just started giggling. George on the other hand didn't leave my eyes.

"Didn't think you had that in you, Cami", Lewis says shocked. I just ignore the fact that I just showed everyone here that I like pain.

As I spin the bottle I reach for the vodka bottle and take two more shots. George shakes his head in disbelief.

The bottle landed on George and he chose truth. "What sexual acts arouse you most?" I asked him downing another shot. Not expecting anything interesting.

"Chocking and slapping", everyone was in disbelief. He had not just said that. "Giving not receiving, of course".

My mouth hung a gap not able to utter a single word. "You two should get a room", Alex laughed.

The round kept on going and the alcohol was starting to hit again. I had taken off my shoes and left just to go to the speaker and sync my phone to it. I put some music on and started dancing a little. George looked over to what I was doing too which I gestured for him to come to me.

"What is it?" he asks with a smile on his lips.

I had gone over my drinking limit a while ago. "Dance with me", I tell him. He smiles and looks away.

"How much have you had to drink?" he asked concerned.

"Only like half a bottle of vodka", I say oblivious to how much that actually was.

"Fuck Cami, this is going to hit you hard when you wake up", he tells me.

"Why don't you hit me hard instead?" I said to him. Looking into his blue eyes.

He clears his voice. "Let's get back to the game", he leads me to the couch and sits beside me. There was no way I was walking to the couch on my own.

I rested my head on Georges shoulder as Lewis spun the bottle and of course the bottle had to have landed on me. "Truth", honestly I couldn't move even if I wanted to so it was the obvious choice.

"I can't come up with a good question, can someone take over for me?" Lewis said to which George takes over.

"Have you ever fantasised about an F1 driver?" he asks.

"That's a good one", Lewis said and everyone agrees.

I don't even have to think about it. "Of course", by the looks of it they weren't expecting me to answer it.

"Who?" George asked.

There was no way I was admitting to who I fantasised about. "That's another question and there is no way I'm saying it", I laugh and go to spin the bottle.

It lands on Alex and he chooses dare. To which I told him to seduce Lily. "I am going to find out eventually who it is", George whispers into my ear. As I was about to respond everyone starts to clap and shout.

George and I joined in. Alex than spun the bottle and it landed on George. "Truth".

"How long was your longest session, if you know what I mean?" if you know what I mean.

He thinks about it for a little. "I think it was an hour long", he laughs embarrassed.

George spins the bottle. "You lasted for an hour? No fucking way", Lewis laughs.

The bottle yet again lands on me and before I can even think I chose truth immediately regretting it. "Who Cami?", he said seductively.

"Well I guess I will have to strip then", I stand up looking him directly in the eyes a teasing smile on my lips. My hands go to my straps and pull one after the other off.

It was almost as if he didn't believe I would do it. Only when I was about to pull my dress off he stood up and stopped me. Pulling my straps up for me. "I think that's enough for tonight, let's get you sobered up, wouldn't want Toto to get mad at me now would we", he says as he starts leading me inside the yacht. "I'm going to let her sleep here and call Toto probably, is that alright with you Chelsea?", he asks.

"Yeah that's fine by me, with how much she has consumed I don't think I would be able to get her home anyway", she says.

"Perfect than, Cami stays here and I'll take Chelsea home", Lewis says.

They start to pick all their stuff up and George carefully holds me leading me inside the yacht.

He brings me to the bed and lays me down. He takes a shirt out of his closet and when he turns to give it to me he looks away just as quick. Because he saw how I was starting to take my dress off.

"George?" I said.

"Yeah what's up?" he still didn't look at me.

I struggled with my bra and couldn't get it off. "I need you to help me take my bra off", I tell him.

"Fuck", he said very quietly as he turned around.

I still had my dress on but only from the waist down. So my chest was very much on display. He went to my back and slowly unclasped my bra and immediately looked away.

"Thanks", I said and put the shirt on, shimmying the dress of and fold it with my bra on the bed side table.

George disappears into the kitchen probably getting some water. He returns with some water. Which I downed in a matter of minutes. He just stood across the bed with his arms crossed looking at me.

"You just going to stare at me from over there?" I ask him slightly sobering up.

He smiled at that comment. "Yes", he said. "Well, until you tell me who you fantasis about at least", he smirked.

"Come here and I'll tell you", I said to which he walked to the bed and sat beside me whilst I was sitting on my knees.

"So tell me", he was so eager to know.

I thought about it for a second. Should I tell the truth or lie? "Let's talk about something else", I giggle.

"Like I said earlier I will get the answer sooner or later but fine let me ask something else than", he starts saying. "What's the reason behind you going out of your way just to not meet me?".

My smile vanished a little. "Its the same reason I don't want to tell you who I fantasise about", I boldly say.

He looks me in the eye leaning one hand on the mattress whilst being a bit turned to me. "So you are attracted to me and fantasise about me?" he said almost cocky and not even a bit shocked.

"Can't fall for one of my dads workers now can I?" I said.

"I guess not", his other hand is on my naked thigh, caressing it. "What do you think your dad would say about how you danced with me at the beginning of the party?" his hand traveled further up.

"Not much. What do you think my dad would say about you chocking and slapping me earlier?" I asked him teasingly, acting as though his hand didn't do things to me.

"Don't think he'd be so happy with me. What do you think he would say about me fingering his pure virgin daughter?" My heart was in my feet. Did he just really say that.

I gulped slightly. "Well he'd definitely not be too happy about that, but that hasn't happened so we don't need to think about that", his hand traveled even further.

"Yet".

With that our lips met. He put me down on the bed and I put my thighs around his waist. My crotch meeting his, a moan escaping from my lips. One of his hands held my thigh whilst the other one was aggressively traveling over my body until it got to my neck and chocked me.

I didn't think it was possible for me to become even wetter. His crotch was hard against me and I could feel how he started getting hard. He was actively pushing against me hard. Only making me more horny.

His hand travled to my sex painfully slow. "Your so fucking wet, so fucking perfect", he pushed my underwear to the side going straight inside me with two fingers.

"George", I moan overwhelmed by the feeling I was experiencing. His thumb went over my clit.

"Your taking my fingers so well, like a good virgin", he tells me.

George started going faster bringing me close to finishing. "George I'm going to cum", I told him.

All the built up tension from all the weeks I had been refusing to meet him were finally going to be released.

"Go on than", he tells me. "Be a good girl for me and cum", he says which takes me over the edge and I hit my climax . He gets a towel and cleans me up a bit.

I have never been fingered better. Even though I didn't do anything I still was more than exhausted. I didn't want to leave him hanging but he assured me that he was happier over having made me cum than anything else. "Come here", he said to me making room for me to snuggle into him.

We than fell asleep and sometime around six AM we woke up again and continued on talking until we fell asleep again.

This was going to be the beginning of something good.

#george russell #f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #toto wolff #mercedes #smut #daughter #george russell smut #age g4p #toto wolff daughter

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underacalicosky · 2 months ago

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"marriage of convenience au"?? 👀👀

(Also Harpy AU!!!! I've been thinking about it lately for some reason, and wanted to re-read it, I'm very excited to know there might be a sequel!)

Hiii! 👋 Thanks so much for this ask! ❤️❤️❤️ (From this ask about my WIPs)

So, I don't have anything written yet except for a few notes, but this is a modern same-age AU.

Obikin have been friends since they met in college. They've dated other people, even though they have secretly been pining for each other since they first met, but have never gotten together for... reasons. After a particularly messy break up (haven't decided who, but probably Obi-Wan), they get drunk and make a pact that if both of them are unattached by the time they turn 30, then they'll get married.

But it's a joke, right? RIGHT? Because when Anakin turns 30 and they're both single...

Well, they should start by just moving in as roommates for a while. Like a month is plenty of time, right? And obviously the next step is... well, to get married for practical reasons, like tax benefits. Duh, that's why everyone gets married, not because they're horny or in love.

I'm so tickled by this idea, but as with everything, I just need time to sit down and write it. I'm trying to tell myself that it could as easy as a 5-8k one shot. Please please please convince me that I can make this a one shot lol!

Thank you for this ask! ❤️

#thanks for the ask!#wip game

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canirove · 11 months ago

Text

In The Name of Love | Chapter 1

Summary: The plan that night was just to have fun and try to forget. And Valeria (or Val as everyone calls her) did forget. But what she didn't expect, was to do it with someone younger than her. Someone who also happened to be a football player, and from her team's sworn enemy: Pedri González.

Little warning: there is an age gap in this story. Throughout it I don't mention any exact number, but in my head she was like 28/29.

Author’s note: Me, a Real Madrid supporter, writing for a Barça player? Yep, it's happening 😅 It all started as a joke with a friend who is currenlty obsessed with him and other Barça players, then I got carried away... and here we are. Hope you like it, and thank you for reading! 💜

Next chapter

Masterlist

"Stop checking that photo, Val."

"I wasn't checking it" I say, quickly putting my phone down.

"Of course you weren't" Silvia says, rolling her eyes. "We are here to forget about all that, remember? Let's focus on it."

"Ok..." I sigh, taking a sip of my beer.

"Great. What do you think about them?" Silvia says, nodding towards the group of men to my left.

"Eww, no."

"And what about… them? The ones ordering a drink. They look quite decent."

"And posh."

"They do, don't they? And we are trying to forget about a posh guy, so they aren't an option. What about… Oh! Them!" she says, nodding towards someone to my right. "I thought the cute one had left, but looks like he only went to the bathroom or something."

"Who?"

"That guy over there, the one with the Adidas t-shirt. He hasn't been able to keep his eyes from you since we arrived."

"Yeah, sure" I snort.

"He is looking at you again."

"Silvia!"

"What?"

"Why did you wave at him?"

"Why not? He is really cute. His friend too."

"I don't trust you and what you find… fuck" I say as I turn around.

"He's a hottie, uh?" she smirks.

"I know who that is."

"You do? Is that why he has been looking at you?"

"I don't know him in person, but I know who he is."

"What?" Silvia asks with a confused look.

"That's…"

"Hello" a male voice says next to us.

"Hi" she replies with a big smile.

"I hope we aren't bothering you. I saw you waving and I just…"

"No, it's fine. It's fine. My friend here was actually telling me that she knows you!"

"Silvia!" I hiss.

"What? You do know him, don't you? Though she said something weird about not doing it in person. Do you follow each other on Instagram or something?"

"I wish" he chuckles.

"Ok, now I am completely lost."

"Silvia, you are talking to Pedri."

"Who?"

"The Barça player" I sigh.

"Pedri? I don't remember hearing you talk about a Pedri."

"Because when I've done it, I haven't said nice things about him."

"Ouch!" he laughs, reminding us that he is standing next to us.

"I'm a Real Madrid supporter. Sorry" I shrug, finally daring to look at him. But he doesn't look like the Pedri I remembered from our last game against Barça. He seems to have gotten rid of the stupid haircut, and looks like he is trying to grow a beard. He looks less like the kid he actually is, and more like a man, kind of… attractive? And the way he is looking at me, the smirk on his face… Fuck. He is attractive.

"Bro, she is gonna be a tough one" his friend laughs.

"You are gonna have to let me buy you a drink. I won't see the end of it if you say no" Pedri says, trying to give me puppy eyes.

"Are you allowed to buy alcohol?" I ask.

"Why wouldn't he? I see football players getting drunk all the time" Silvia says.

"It's not because of his job. It's because of his age."

"What?" she laughs.

"How old do you think he is?"

"I don't know… Twenty something?"

"Without the something" I say, crossing my arms over my chest. "He is a kid."

"Really?"

"I am not a kid" he replies, also crossing his arms and trying to look offended.

"Yes, you are. And I don't accept alcohol from kids."

"Oh, c'mon. As if you were an old lady or something" he laughs. "You can't be older than 25."

"Oh my God" I laugh, Silvia joining me.

"What? What is so funny?" he asks.

"You" I say, trying to contain my giggles. "You are so innocent."

"Now that is something funny" his friend chuckles.

"Ok, fine. You aren't 25" Pedri says. "26 then?"

"I'm too old for you. Let's just leave it there."

"Well, I don't care about how old you are" he shrugs.

"But I do."

"Oh, c'mon, it's just a drink and a chat. There is nothing illegal about that."

"But I support Real Madrid and you play for Barça. I'm pretty sure that is illegal."

"Another excuse" he says, rolling his eyes.

"It isn't an excuse, it's a fact."

"It is an excuse" he repeats, moving closer. "You are just afraid you may end up fancying someone younger and from the enemy."

"Afraid? Please" I snort.

"Then let me buy you that drink."

"If I say yes, will you leave me alone once I've finished it?"

"If that's what you want… But you'll probably want more" he smirks.

"Yeah, sure" I reply, trying to ignore the way my stomach has reacted to that smile. Again. "Silvia, do you… Wait, where is she? And your friend?"

"Looks like they left us alone."

"I'm killing her the moment I find her."

"Or thanking her."

"Why do you keep insisting? Why are you flirting with me instead of those teenagers over there?"

"Because they don't interest me. You do."

"Me? Why?"

"I don't know" Pedri shrugs. "But the moment you walked in, I couldn't keep my eyes from you. You are different from the others."

"Has that pickup line ever worked before?" I chuckle.

"I'm telling you the truth."

"And I'm 25" I laugh.

"You do look 25. And they look so good" he says, looking at me from head to toe, making my cheeks get warm.

"Are you buying me that drink or not?" I say, trying to stop whatever he is doing to me.

"Yes, sure" he smirks. "Another beer?"

"Please" I reply, taking a big breath when he turns his back to me to go order, trying to compose myself. Why is a kid making me feel… things?

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

"So, how did you end up here tonight?" Pedri asks me once he is back with our drinks.

"Silvia wanted to go out to help me forget about something."

"Have you?"

"Have I what?"

"Forgotten about that something."

"I… I actually have, yes. Having a kid trying to flirt with me has helped. Cheers to that" I say before drinking.

"Cheers" he chuckles. "But I am not a kid."

"That's what you keep saying, but I don't believe you."

"I'm drinking alcohol and have a driving license."

"Not enough."

"Do you want me to show you that I'm not a kid, then?" he asks, arching a perfect eyebrow.

"Yeah, why not" I shrug.

"You asked for it" he says, quickly moving around the small table where we were standing and showing up by my side, his hands cupping my face before kissing me.

He is kissing me. Fucking Pedri González is kissing me. And for some reason, I am not slapping his face. For some really odd reason, I am kissing him back, getting completely lost on what is happening.

"Is this enough to prove to you that I am not a kid or do I have to keep going?" he asks, resting his forehead on mine and trying really hard not to smile.

"Not enough" I hear myself saying.

"Ok" he replies, this time fully smiling before kissing me. And, again, I feel myself getting lost on the way his lips and his tongue feel on mine, on his hands on my face, mine resting on his chest. It feels like something completely new and exciting, but also familiar and somehow peaceful. As if we had known each other our whole lives and hadn't met just a minute ago.

"And now?" Pedri whispers against my lips when we finally manage to stop.

"Now what?"

"Do you still think I am a kid?"

"A teenager."

"What?" he laughs.

"You've gone from kid to teenager, congratulations."

"I am not a teenager either."

"You actually are. Scientists say that the teenage years end in your twenties, so" I shrug.

"Ok, fine" he laughs again, moving one of his thumbs over my cheek. "You are hot."

"Thank you?"

"I didn't mean it like that" he chuckles. "You are hot, but you also feel hot."

"Oh. I… I actually do feel a bit hot, yes."

"Do you want to go outside and have some fresh air? I know a place where no one will bother us."

"Ok" I say, letting him take my hand and guide me outside.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

"I had never seen the city like this. It's beautiful" I say as I look at Barcelona's skyline. "How did you find this place?"

"A security guy from the club brought me here after someone recognized me and things got a bit crazy."

"He brought you to the rooftop?"

"Yep" Pedri says. "Weird, but it was exactly what I needed to calm down."

"Was it too bad? What happened that day, I mean."

"I'm pretty sure I had a panic attack. I suddenly found myself surrounded by too many people with phones flashing everywhere, arms and hands all over me. It was too much."

"I'm sorry" I say, giving his hand a little squeeze. We hadn't let go yet. I hadn't.

"Thank you… Wait, I don't know your name."

"What?"

"I just realized I haven't asked you your name."

"I guess you were so busy putting your tongue down my throat that you forgot to ask."

"I didn't hear you complaining" he smiles.

"Yeah, whatever."

"And?"

"And what?" I ask.

"Your name. Are you going to tell me or not?"

"You'll have to earn it."

"Earn it? How?"

"I don't know" I shrug. "But I'm sure you can think of something."

"I… I actually can, yes. And it is something that will also show you that I am not a teenager even if scientists say so."

"Enlighten me" I say, my words turning into a whisper when I notice the way he is looking at me.

"My pleasure" he replies, guiding me towards a picnic table. Why is there a picnic table on the rooftop of a club? I don't know.

"What… what are you doing?" I ask when he lifts me up and sits me on the table.

"What do you think?" he smirks, sitting between my legs and caressing the inside of my knee, the feeling making me shudder.

"We are on a rooftop."

"And?"

"What if someone comes in? Or sees us? Or… fuck" I gasp when he kisses my inner thigh.

"No one will bother us."

"How do you know? Have you done this before? Is this where you take all the girls you pick up downstairs?"

"You are the first person I've brought here" he says, meeting my eyes before kissing my thigh again.

"Am I?"

"You are" he says, slowly lifting my dress.

"Should I feel flattered?"

"Definitely. I told you you aren't like the others."

"Yeah, because I'm way older" I chuckle.

"Tonight you are 25. And when I'm done with this, so will I."

"Yeah, well. We'll see" I say, biting my lower lip and trying to stay calm despite the way my skin is burning under his touch or what I am feeling… there.

"May I, then?" Pedri asks, his fingers playing with the hem of my underwear.

"Yes" I nod, my eyes focused on his as he pulls it down.

"Try not to forget about your name" he smirks.

"Why would I… Fuck" I gasp when I feel his tongue, everything that he does after making me forget about my name, but not his.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

"Morning."

"Good morning" Silvia yawns. "What is all this?"

"Breakfast" I smile.

"You made breakfast?"

"Yep."

"Why?"

"I don't know. I was in the mood for it" I shrug.

"You were in the mood for it, uh?" she chuckles. "You should fuck a teenager more often if this is what I get in return. It looks amazing."

"I didn't fuck a teenager" I say, rolling my eyes.

"Ok, fine. He did it all while you just had the best orgasm of your life."

"It wasn't the best."

"Top 3?" Silvia smirks.

"Whatever" I say, pouring myself some coffee.

"Are you seeing him again?"

"No way. One mistake is enough."

"Mistake?" she laughs. "Girl, look at you. You are glowing and haven't been able to stop smiling since you said goodbye to him. That doesn't look like a mistake to me."

"He is a kid, Silvia. And a football player. He is like a walking red flag."

"But I'm not asking you to marry him or anything. I'm just telling you to have fun for once in your life."

"Are you calling me boring?"

"When it comes to your relationships, yes, you are boring. This is the most interesting thing you've done since you became single, and he managed to make you forget about you know what, didn't he?"

"He did, yes" I sigh. "But it probably is because I was too busy freaking out about the fact that I had made out with a teen who happens to be a football star and I didn't have time to think about anything else."

"You were too busy thinking about the way he was making you feel, not his age or his job. That's good, you know?"

"That's crazy, Silvia. And dangerous."

"That's good. If he has managed to make you feel like this just with what he did last night, imagine what he can do when he actually fucks you."

"That isn't going to happen, tho."

"Why not?"

"Because he is Pedri! The Pedri! And he plays for Barça!"

"And?" she shrugs.

"Urgh."

"I think you should meet again. He definitely fancies you."

"He doesn't. He just sees me as a challenge because I'm older and support Real Madrid, and if he gets to fuck me he'll be able to brag about it with his friends."

"Did he tell you that?"

"No."

"Then you don't know if that's what he feels" Silvia shrugs again. "And what if that's the case, uh? I'm sure it'll be worth it."

"Oh, yes. Being treated like I'm just a piece of meat by a bunch of teenagers is so worth it" I reply, rolling my eyes.

"But you will also be using him, Val. He gets to brag, you get to be railed. I think it is worth it."

"It is madness, that's what it is. Now can we please eat our breakfast and change the topic of conversation?"

"Yeah, sure" Silvia says when my phone starts ringing. "Oh my God, is that him? Did we manifest it?"

"It's my mum. He probably is still sleeping like the baby he is. Hello, mum" I say, picking up.

"Valeria! Why hadn't you told me that Marc got engaged!"

"I forgot" I shrug.

"You forgot? He is your ex boyfriend!"

"Maybe that's why I forgot?"

"I thought you had remained as friends."

"And we have."

"Then?"

"Then what, mum?"

"Then why didn't you tell me!"

"Because I forgot, I already told you!"

"There is no need to yell, Valeria."

"I'm sorry, mum. I'm not in the best mood right now" I sigh.

"Oh, my poor thing. Knowing that you are the only one in your group of friends who isn't married or in a serious relationship can't be easy."

"I don't care about that, mum" I say.

"Well, you should! I want grandchildren, Valeria!"

"I have to go, mum."

"Where?"

"Silvia is calling me, she needs my help with something. Bye."

"But…"

"Bye" I say before hanging up.

"That was rude, Val."

"I'm sorry, ok? But she can be so annoying. Who cares if… Fuck."

"Uh?"

"He just texted me" I say, my eyes fixed on the notification on my phone, my heart suddenly beating way too fast.

"Who did?"

"Pedri just texted me."

"No way!" Silvia says, quickly moving to stand next to me. "What does he say?"

"If I'm free later today."

"Well, you are."

"Weren't we going to…"

"No, that's been canceled. You are going out with him and hopefully get railed so you can forget about your mum and everything she just said."

"Silvia..."

"You are going, Val. End of the story."

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

"I thought you wouldn't come."

"Why not?"

"Because I am a teenager who plays for Barça and that's illegal?" Pedri laughs.

"Yeah, well. I needed to get out of the house and stop thinking, and you somehow manage to help me with that."

"And is that something good or bad?"

"Silvia says it's good. I don't know yet."

"Then I'll guess we'll have to keep hanging out until you make up your mind" he smiles.

"Maybe... We'll see. I had never been here before."

"That's because this is my secret place."

"Another one?" I chuckle.

"Another one. When you become so famous you can't step outside without being recognized, you somehow manage to find spots where no one can find you, places that are just for yourself."

"It must suck. Not being able to do normal things anymore, I mean. I don't know if I could be able to handle it."

"It sucks, yeah" he sighs. "But then I come here and I forget about everything. It's just me and the sea."

"Look at us, both looking for something that helps us forget" I laugh. "We are so sad."

"But now we have something in common" Pedri winks.

"I guess" I giggle. I giggled? Why did I giggle? "Anyway" I say, clearing my throat. "Can we go down to the beach?"

"Of course. There is a path over there."

"Then let's go" I say, taking his hand on mine and starting to walk.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

"You are going to end up falling into the water if you keep playing like that" Pedri says with a cheeky smile.

"Lucky me, there is a young man next to me that will come to my rescue" I smirk, jumping when another wave threatens to touch me.

"Oh, now I am a young man?"

"You've earned it for bringing me here. This beach is perfect."

"I still feel like a kid when you talk about all these rewards, tho."

"That's my inner teacher speaking" I shrug.

"Is that what you do for a living?"

"Yep. This year I will be teaching 6-years-old."

"And I can tell you love it."

"Uh?"

"Your smile. It says it all" he says, looking at me in a way that makes me feel all fuzzy inside.

"Yeah, umm… Should we go for a swim?" I blurt out.

"Now?" Pedri chuckles.

"Yes, now."

"But we don't have swimsuits."

"But we do have underwear, don't we?" I say, taking off my t-shirt. "We do, right?"

"Yes, we do" he laughs.

"Then c'mon" I smile. "You are an island boy, you must be aching to go into the sea and just swim."

"You know what… you are right" he says, taking off his t-shirt too and making me stare at him. I just can't help it. Because a kid should not have those arms and that torso and those things on his hips that go all the way down to…

"Liking what you see?"

"What?"

"You are staring" he says with a teasing smile.

"I was just thinking and not looking anywhere in particular."

"Yeah, sure."

"I was" I insist, getting rid of my skirt. "And now you are the one staring" I say when I look up at him again.

"Yes, I am. I really like what I'm seeing."

"Great, cool. Shall we?"

"After you" Pedri smiles, making me feel his eyes on me as I turn around. He is checking me out. He definitely is. Why did I think this was a good idea? Swimming in the sea in my underwear. What the hell?

"Oh, shit" I hiss, the water feeling colder than I expected.

"You are going too slow!"

"What?"

"Too slow!" he says behind me, lifting me in the air and throwing me over his shoulder.

"Pedri!"

"This is how you do it!" he laughs before jumping with me into the water.

"It is so fucking cold" I laugh when I make it back to the surface, his head popping next to me.

"It isn't that cold, stop complaining" he says while splashing me.

"It is" I reply, splashing him back.

"Maybe this will help" he smirks, grabbing me by the waist and pulling me closer to him.

"Still cold" I reply, putting my arms around his neck.

"What about this" he says before kissing me. It is a short kiss, but it is enough to make me feel my cheeks getting warm.

"That is definitely working" I giggle. Again. Why am I behaving like the teenager here?

"Should I keep going, then?" he asks, trying to hide a smile.

"You should. You definitely should" I say before his lips are on mine once again.

#pedri #pedri gonzalez #pedri fanfic #pedri gonzalez fanfic #pedri imagine #pedri gonzalez imagine #football fanfic #football imagine

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