Tumgik
#if i could do math my life would be so so so so different
lesenbyan · 3 months
Text
Tfw @composeregg showed me a bumper sticker last night and now we're both in the glorious hell of reading scientific articles about how time is fake and how scientists are testing that
2 notes · View notes
spaghett-onaplate · 4 months
Text
depression is really weird actually wdym i spent 2.5 years of my life in bed
#and wdym that lifestyle changed so quickly into being out and about and an active member of the world??#very proud of myself#and i mean it wasn't that quick of a change#it was like 1.5 years primarily depression bedrotting with occasional school -> primarily depression bedrotting ->#primarily depression bedrotting with 3-9 hours of work weekly -> straight into 31+ hours school+9-12 hours work weekly#so there was somewhat of a gradual progression#but still#also wowza i wake up 7-7:30am every morning now. 1pm was an early wake up for a not so insignificant amount of time#i mean of all fundamental growth years to miss out on the ages like what 12/13-15 aren't too bad? they would suck in a different way if i#had been socially involved#anyway it's just. yea i'm proud of myself but it is a crazy lifestyle change#and even when i was deeply depressed in a horrible routine i feel like i learned a lot. how to regulate my emotions and cope well and find#the joy in everything. bc if i stayed in bed all day then i would at least be happy about the sun or whatever#and for the while of being not at school at all i WANTED to be at school i just could not find one bc our school system is so cute like tha#(basically every school is at capacity and the local school that has a guaranteed place for me would have been an all boys or girls 😭)#but i miraculously found and got into this school and miraculously made it work so well for me socially and now academically#it's also a good time to get back into school for my education bc any later and it woulda been pretty bad for all my certifications and uni#ive missed out on so much maths that its not worth it to me to try and catch up but my teacher knows that#but ive always hated maths regardless i only ever understood it for the first half of yr 7 then my attendance dropped#and after my recent exam i decided to try harder at school. but i still got an A on the exam i didn't study for!! academic weapon fr#i'm just idk thinking back to myself in the past few years#and how hopeless it all felt. but i got out of it!! i beat the depression and social anxiety and found a good place and made the most of it#and during the peak of my depression i remember i went out someplace near my old school and panicked so so badly about seeing#kids from my old school. and the friends at the time didnt really check on me when i went to shake and cry in a side street lmao#i kept the best of that friendgroup and have better friends now. but anyway now i take a bus each morning with some kids from my old school#and you see these hands? they look like they're shaking to you?#anyway yeah it's just cool i got to this point :) i really had no hope for so long but now i have a life i'm living and a future i'm build#--ing towards#which is funny i just decided some random day last november after watching some better call saul 'huh actually lawyer would b pretty cool'#and will i get there? we'll see but i do have hope now
23 notes · View notes
astronomalyy · 1 month
Text
Tumblr media
Thinking about the lifespans of Dungeon Meshi elves... The fact that they're completely unnatural alters my brain chemistry, because you can tell just how haphazardly the demon implemented their wish. They live five times the length of tall-men, so they age at a fifth of their rate. It's simple maths and the implications are terrifying. No wonder their birth rate and population are declining - their early development is so slow that at the age of two, they're still unable to stand.
Tumblr media
They don't reach adulthood until their eighties. What does the infant mortality look like? How many elves succumb to illness or injury before they're fully mature? It only takes one accident to lose the child you've been raising for decades - and could you bring yourself to care for another? Add to that the implication elf culture has no idea how to process grief... just look at the way the Canaries treat Rin after the death of her parents. They're callous and insensitive and detached - part of that's racism, but there's also an element of pure cold ignorance. They don't even recognise the emotion on her face.
Tumblr media
And that's just scratching the surface... does elven memory accommodate their extended lifespan? Once you reach two hundred or so, do the years start blurring together? Kabru mentions that their temporal awareness is remarkably poor.
Tumblr media
Two years feel like a few months. Their lives are longer but not fuller. They're older but not wiser than the short-lived races, and most refuse to understand this. Those that do grasp it are interesting - namely Otta, who's ostracised for pursuing half-foot women.
Tumblr media
A 30-year old elf is a young child; a 30-year old half-foot has entered middle age. Otta is in the equivalent of her late twenties. She knows that her elven lifespan makes her no more mature than a half-foot - but she also acknowledges that it creates a rift between herself and her partners, and not just in the eyes of society. 'She dumps them as soon as they pass 30', but probably not for the reasons Lycion assumes. For this to be a pattern, decades must have passed - it's possible Otta doesn't want to watch them die as she herself barely ages. No doubt some of her previous lovers have already passed away. In the end, all living 400 years accomplishes is leaving them out of sync with the rest of humanity.
Tumblr media
Marcille's perhaps the best example. As a half-elf, she's got 95% of her life ahead and the thought terrifies her. She's going to lose everyone she loves, over and over and over again, and this cycle has barely even started. She runs at a different pace. This context adds so much to her dynamic with Falin in earlier chapters.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Marcille loves her! She's scared for her! Maybe even of her! She's grown attached to a short-lived girl who she met as a kid when Marcille was a teaching assistant! Biologically and developmentally, they're the same age, but chronologically she's twice as old as Falin! Considering what happened to her mother, is history repeating itself? Her feelings towards Falin are tangled and messy and fascinating. They're also more than a little homoerotic, which makes Marcille's infantilization of her friend all the more interesting. It feels like her way of resolving their power imbalance, of remaining a responsible (former!) authority figure... but it's also a coping mechanism. She's frightened by the ways Falin is maturing and changing - aging - and keeping her mental image of her friend as young as possible is her way of denying the march of time that's destined to sever their bond.
Marcille's dream of lifespan extension would remove the need for this obfuscation, render them equal... only, they already are! This desire is imposed onto Falin, but it's primarily for Marcille's benefit. Watching her fight for a world nobody wants, for reasons both selfish and altruistic... it's as tragic as it is understandable. I love this manga.
3K notes · View notes
Text
the way I have heard so many talented fanfic writers say they started writing because they read someone else's fanfics that are so good they inspired them into becoming writers too? just proved my point that your writing is never 'in vain', even if you dislike it and think it could've been better, it's still good enough for someone out there that it becomes their source of inspiration and perhaps happiness. you'll never know.
but don't ever, ever belittle your own works. just because you don't like them, doesn't mean other people dislike them too. again, you'll never know. there could be someone out there who reread your works every day because those fics you wrote helped them escape reality for a while, they could be reading your works as a way to help get them through a hard time in their life. you'll never know.
your writing may have saved someone's life.
your writing may have inspired someone into pursuing their career and changing their life for the better.
several best selling authors started as fanfic writers, and the majority of fanfic writers started writing because they were inspired by someone's fanfics. you do the math.
your "silly fics" have permanent impact on this world, even if you think they're not good (they actually are good, I promise you, don't let your mind lie to you).
I mean ***I*** personally started writing my first fanfic about 7 years ago, and have been writing ever since, because I was inspired by my favorite fanfic writers. I still remember all the lines I like from those fics I read 7-8 years ago, I still think about those fics I read from 7-8 years ago and still remember the stories very well in my heart. I started writing because of them.
this blog would never have been created at all, if it weren't because of those fanfic writers whose works I read 7-8 years ago.
I wouldn't have so far written about 130,000 words this year alone, if it weren't because of those fanfic writers whose works I read 7-8 years ago.
to all the fanfic writers out there; your works inspired someone, your writing made a difference to someone's life.
3K notes · View notes
snowsinterlude · 9 months
Text
🐇 - rich, stupid, dumb girl and her nerd boyfriend.
(coriolanus snow x bimbo reader)
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
summary: you loved your boyfriend just too much not to let him edge you in public
c.w: in public, reader is a bimbo, edging, fingering (f. recieving), oral (m. recieving), overstimulation, a bit of praising, dom coryo, at school sex, smut, nsfw, humiliation, explicit content, slightly degrading
Tumblr media
mascara running down your eyes, lipstick kisses on his hips, abdomen and neck, your boyfriend had his hand on your head as he frowned at the pleasure and the perfect sight of having you bobbing your head on his dick.
your boyfriend was such a cute nerd, always giving you the right answers to tests that you were too stupid to answer for yourself. always kissing your lips behind the books shelves. always putting you on your knees and letting his fingers open your mouth as you looked up at him, too whiny cause he tried to get you to understand something your stupid brain couldn't bare.
you were just another stupid brain dead girl who's head was good but not in the right ways- he loved the way you eagerly sucked on his dick, getting him coated in your saliva and kissing his tip as if it was the most precious thing of your life. it was just curious to see someone so dumb using it's inteligence to reproduction purposes. of course, both of you didn't mean to reproduct, but if you were to have a son or daughter, you had to pray that he/she would be just as pretty as you- but not as inteligent.
the soft grunts he let out of his mouth were the prettiest thing you could hear. no matter how many soap operas your father made you watch, the prettiest sounds were made by his throat.
you didn't have a gag reflex. every ex boyfriend you had usually would go nuts because of it. but coryo was different.
your sweet, precious, nerdy boyfriend, was bigger than your average-sized-dick exes. you didn't care- i mean, what is a bit of gagging when his dick is hitting the back of your throat? it was delicious having the chance to taste him.
that's why you were on your knees now, under the library desk as he read (or tried) to read the books in front of him. your mouth was too eager, you seemed hungry for him, pillow plump lips with smeared lipstick engulfing all you could of his inches, every single one could fit into your throat- fuck the gag reflex. you wanted him to the brim.
your thinking was delayed by his sweet words, the sweet tone of his voice cussing you for being so good at sucking a dick but being so horrible with mathematics.
"god, you're so pretty, doll. how can you be so hungry for dick?" he asked, and you moaned against his dick, incapable of giving him any proper answers. "keep going like that, okay? once i'll cum- fuck, we'll come back to studying."
"'don't wanna" you said, muffled by his cock.
"i didn't asked if you want, baby. you will." he said, pulling you by your hair to get you away from his dick. he kissed you, lips and tongue on yours. "now, sit by my side, okay?"
and you obeyed, pouting and trying to clean the lipstick stains off your lips.
his hand went to your thigh after he put his dick back inside his clothes. "c'mon, tell me. do you know the answer to that?" he pointed to a question on the book, something about maths. your worst grades were in this one class.
"i don't." you said, pouting. "c'mon, cory! let me make you cum." you begged, cleaning off the mascara stains now. "don't be such a meanie." you said, blinking your doe eyes.
"nope. answer at least one of those." and you tried, really. but then his fingers were on your damped panties going up and down your slick and you couldn't seem to think anymore. how mean of him.
"i-i don't know, coryo- stop that, if you keep on edgin' then i won't be capable of answerin'-" you slurred, almost crying from the way he was teasing you. he knew you couldn't answer things like that. not in that state.
"c'mon, doll. you know better than that." he said, and you melted almost right away.
"i don't. i swear!" you said, feeling him pull your panties to the side so he could have a better access to you.
"well, i guess you won't be cummin' today. what a shame." he said, thrusting his fingers slowly into you, curling them inside your tight cunt.
"please don't- coryoo, let me cum, please!" you begged, awkwardly bucking against his fingers only to end up mewling into his sudden kiss.
"i kissed you just because you're too loud. you know that the library doesn't permit such lewd actions of love as to kissing."
"you're f..fingering me."
"nuh-uh, i'm trying to teach you the basics of mathematics by pushing you to an edge." he said, kissing your cheek. "but if you're not answering, then maybe i should just stop."
he threatened to pull his fingers out of you, which didn’t happen due to your relentlessly bucking to his fingers. "n-no, i'll answer it! i will!-"
"then do it." he said, his thumb on your clit. "what is the second most read book in the world?"
"d...dom quixote?" you dared, mewling into his fingers, noticing how wet you were by the sounds your pussy was making on him. he gave you a proud smile, getting quicker with his fingers and promptly taking them off you when a teacher passed close by.
he sucked on those fingers, humming about how good you tasted. "such a sweet girl, it isn't even difficult to tell that you're the sweetest in taste too." he said, adjusting your pantiesnas you breathed heavily.
he's such a meanie. spent the whole day teasing you. fingering, grinding, humping, he didn’t got quiet until he accompanied you home, and now, your hands were on the wall as he pounded into you, making sure you felt every single inch of his dick inside you.
"c-cory, you'll let me cum, right? you spent the whole day- fuck! t-teasing me, edging me!" you slurred.
he nodded, kissing your neck. "promise i'll let you, doll. just keep yourself quiet. you don't want your parents to see what a slut you are, do you?"
"n-no, i don't!" you answered, holding all your moans by biting your bottom lip.
"princess," he called you "you don't need to stop moaning. just be good and less louder okay?" you nodded as an answer. the moans you let out after that, were soft grunts, hard to be held as he kept on pounding into you, even harder when his hand found your cunt again, his index on your clit.
"st-stop, coryo. it's gettin' harder to-" another moan, this time due to how he pinched your clit. "s-stop!"
"oh you want me to?"
"n-no, but-"
"no but's. you know you want it. tell me, doll. what do you want?"
"c-cum. want to cum." you begged. "please."
"hm,, i don't really want to end it right now." his pace became quicker; his lips on your shoulder and his words on your ear.
"please. just this once." you tried again, your cunt tightening around him as he pounded slowly inside you.
it was torturing. you could feel your core clenching, his dick throbbing inside you and still he didn’t want to make you cum. he was taking you over the edge.
with that in mind for the next reason you would fight with him, you trembledand squirmed when his dick kissed your uterus just the right way- when he hit the sweetest spots in your cunt that just him knew about.
you cried your eyes out, bucking against him and letting him bury himself into you- it was just too good not to let him do it. and then you were ready to cum all of your pent-up sexual teasing over his dick, and that's what you did, letting his cock be coated with your cum and moaning as you felt his cum going directly into you. rope after rope, spurt after spurt, you were filled up completely by his cum, and he quickly adjusted your panties in the right direction, kissing your temple.
"be a doll and sleep with those hm? full." he said, tapping your ass and kissing you goodbye.
being stupid with those thoughts of yours, you quickly forgot about what he said, and he knew, somehow- because on the next day he fucked you and stuffed his seed into you, he made sure to not let anything leak when he shoved your panties into you.
"don't forget about it this time." and he kissed you again, this time, you oveyed promptly and slept with his cum inside your cunt..
3K notes · View notes
naeverse · 10 months
Text
Lapdog
Tumblr media Tumblr media
🐩staring: NerdMiguel x QueenBee Reader
💗 preview: “Damn, sounds like you want a lapdog.” Peter chuckled, returning to your conversation as MJ followed suit in his laughter, which only made your smile broaden.
“It does…doesn't it?
🌸Summary: You, Queen Bee, have been desiring a little assistant for a while—someone who can fetch you things, do your work, assist you in any way possible, and just make life much easier. However, after witnessing a surprising occurrence with one of the lamest students on campus, Miguel O'Hara, you believe you've found just that, and maybe something even better...
💗rating. 18+ explicit I SMUT I
🐩tw/cw. Blackmail, Caught in the act, College AU,  Demeaning, Desperation, Dirty talk, Dominance, Handjob, Masturbation, Orgasm Denial, Overstimulation, Ownership, Public Masturbation, Power Differences, Praising, Public, Sex toys, Vibrator, etc…
🌸Word count: 9k
(*All rights reserved. DO NOT repost/translate/copy any of my work.*)
Tumblr media
Small, quiet whimpers escaped the lips of the burly man to your left. His head lowered in an attempt to hide as he diligently tackled your college work. His large, left hand trembled while he solved long math equations, expressions, logarithms, and whatever else the packet held. You shifted your gaze from the four-eyed male to two others seated at your booth.
Peter B. Parker, the captain of the football team and the golden boy of the school, sat across from you, alongside his girlfriend, Mary Jane Watson, or MJ, who was the editor of the college newspaper. They cuddled up against each other, with MJ on his chest and his arm wrapped around her.
The two were considered your "friends" at the university, forming the famous clique that instilled fear and envy in the entire student body. However, between the adored football jock and the news girl, you, on the other hand, were a much bigger deal.��
Everyone knew your name, and if they didn't, you were seen as an utter disgrace due to your cluelessness.
You were known as the university's queen bee.
Everyone loved or hated you; you didn't care. Any attention was welcome. You were the leader of the notorious sorority house of baddies, with a rich family that could drop and sue anyone with the drop of a hat. You could control the student body in masses with just a word, and had everyone, even the staff, wrapped around your pretty, manicured finger. 
Whatever you said went, and don't you fucking dare think otherwise; you'd be an idiot to challenge the queen. Having the ability to turn any person into a complete nobody, withering away in debts and charges, kept everyone in their place.
But you wouldn't exactly say Peter and MJ were your friends, just students at college who possessed a certain kind of power that was highly useful to have in your corner.
Peter and his kind, sweet persona solidified bonds with other universities and the dean themselves. He was the face of your campus and was hella popular.
MJ headed the media, and whatever she said or wrote in the newspaper or the college blog was believed by everyone on campus, even if it was false.
Not that anyone would know...
Peter, MJ, and you were at the top of the food chain at your university; no one else mattered and was worth the time.
So why the hell was this lowlife sitting at your booth?
Miguel O'Hara, known as the nerdiest of the nerds on your college campus, sat beside you at your usual booth in Mama's diner, your clique's hangout spot.
To be fair, you didn't classify Miguel as such; more of a loner because he didn't look like a nerd. His body was covered in bulging muscles that contrasted greatly with his quiet persona. He had a towering height that rose above most of the football team, and he got attention from girls.
Or, well...
Girls gave him attention, not like the guy minded them.
He kept to himself, always having his nose stuck in a book. To make him even more of a dork, he worked at the school library. Due to his elusive nature and  how hard he was to categorize, the loner had gained a distasteful reputation; many students on campus hated him as a result. 
Was he a jock due to his bulging muscles, a bad boy due to his mysteriousness and constant desire for solitude, or was he a nerd for always being found reading, and whenever he spoke, only intellectual things came out?
He was a tricky case.
And not one you cared about until today…
You never would have paid the introverted male any attention if it weren't for you, this morning, stumbling into the library in search of someone to do your homework. Instead of finding a lowlife in waiting, you found something much better…
You found Miguel in his office, located at the far back of the library, moaning and jerking off under his desk. To make matters worse, AirPods adorned his ears, blocking out any awareness of your presence. You even leaned over his shoulder to discover that he was clearly watching porn.
He was definitely an amateur...
But a needy little thing he was...
The sight before you was an honest gold mine, something that would be perfect for MJ to post on the school blog as you captured a video of the surprising occurrence.
It was hard to fathom how much his reputation, if he had one, would plummet once the entire school got a look at this. But then, being the cunning queen you were, you had a better idea for that video…
You decided to use it as a means to have an around-the-clock assistant that would come running at your every beck and call, at any given time. It was a great idea, especially with the lowlife not being unpleasant to the eyes. 
So now here he was, being a good little puppy for you and doing your homework, except...
It didn't seem like your associates were too pleased with your puppy’s presence.
You met Peter's gaze, his amber eyes furrowed in confusion as he glanced from you to the muscular loner and back again. "Okay, why the hell is he here?" he finally asked after a while of just staring at the two of you. A smirk spread across your lips at his question. "I believe you have eyes, Peter. He's doing my homework," you simply said with a sly grin, continuing your subtle movements under the table, which only made the geek clench his pencil even more.
Peter and MJ recognized that look on you, that sneaky smile you wore whenever you were up to no good. But this time, they couldn't quite put a finger on what it was and how it involved the four-eyed freak.
MJ looked between you and Miguel as well, her cherry lips pursing. "Why here, though?" she asked, her head still resting against Peter's chest. "Most of the time when we meet at Mama's diner, we gossip, we talk about deep stuff. We can't do that with him here," she acknowledged, motioning to Miguel in the corner, who seemed very focused on solving a long ass math problem.
You couldn't help but look over at him as well, taking in the sight of his heavy breathing and faintly red cheeks, before looking back at your associates, who still wore expressions of confusion and discomfort. You huffed, giving them a fake pout. “Come on, Miguel won't utter a single word to anyone...
Now, would you?”
You asked, turning to look at the large Latino, his amber orbs covered with a pair of black eyeglasses as he remained silent, adamantly trying to avoid eye contact. You scowled, giving him a tight squeeze, followed by a deep stroke making him jolt. His eyes briefly rolled, his mouth stammering, trying to find his words. “No… I won't.” He said so low and deep you had to lean in to hear him.
You could visibly see him struggling, beads of sweat trickling down his forehead as he tried painstakingly to control his breathing. You grinned, watching him return to work on your math packet like a good little puppy. “See? He can be trusted.” You explained with a smile, continuing your tantalizing play on the nerd, which only made the Latino male suck in a breath and grip his pencil tighter.
You swore you thought the wooden tool would snap in two any second now…
“Fine, but what made you want to bring him of all people?” Peter asked next, turning your gaze onto him. “He holds no power at our Uni. He’s useless to us.” He said with a chuckle, running his fingers through his girlfriend's red hair. You chuckled at his belief that the four-eyed male was ‘useless’; 
Currently, he was everything but…
“You know how much I wanted my own little assistant for some time.” You replied with a smirk, tracing Miguel under the table, feeling your fingers begin to become further coated in his essence. “As in someone who can fetch me things, do my work,
Satisfy my every need…”
You abruptly squeezed Miguel once more, a sudden audible groan passing his lips, gaining everyone's attention. Peter and MJ glanced over at Miguel with raised eyebrows before just brushing it off as the geek having one of his weird moments. 
Subtly, you shot the dweeb a glare, making his ears redden and clear his throat. He flicked his pencil around in his thick fingers, beginning to erase a mistake he made due to your harsh grip before you turned back to your associates with a nonchalant smile.
“Damn, sounds like you want a lapdog.” Peter chuckled, returning to your conversation as MJ followed suit in his laughter, which only made your smile broaden.
“It does…doesn't it?”
You whispered, glancing over at Miguel, who was trying not to acknowledge your gaze, seeming to be very interested in the ways of Calculus II. 
“Aww… Peter, you know me so well.” You thought with a small grin, continuing to stroke the trembling male. You could feel the dweeb strain underneath his black jeans, enjoying how greatly he was trying to hide his pleasure. With your thumb, you brushed over his sensitive tip, making him whimper loudly, despite his effort to suppress it by biting his lip.
You shot him another stern look, slightly relieved to hear a groan of annoyance from MJ at the same time. At her outburst, it drew your attention over to her to see she was looking over at the workers in Mama's diner who were diligently working in the kitchen area of the diner. “Gosh, we've been sitting here for 20 minutes, and our order still isn't here.” She whined, crossing her arms over her chest like a pouty child in the grocery store. 
“Come on, baby, it should be out in a little bit,” Peter whispered, trying to comfort her. You couldn’t help rolling your eyes at her dramatics. MJ always did this to get attention, Peter’s attention in particular, who you’ve noticed was staring at you a lot more than usual upon entering Mama’s diner today.
You met MJ’s blue eyes, giving her a tight-lipped smile. “Actually, why don't you two go check it out? See what's the hold-up?” You proposed, glancing over at Miguel to see his defined Adam's apple bob at your words, his nervousness only exciting you further.
Oblivious to your proposal and the fact that you, the queen, said it, Peter and MJ nodded and slid out of the booth. You watched in the corner of your eye as they walked away from your table and towards the front of the diner. 
‘Now the fun can begin…’
You thought, a wicked grin spreading across your glossy lips. With them gone, you wanted nothing more than to have some fun with your new puppy. You turned in your seat to finally make eye contact with the panting male, and you couldn’t help but snicker at the sight.
The dweeb’s coffee-brown curls were plastered to his sweaty forehead, his amber orbs hooded behind his glasses while his grip on his pencil was slowly loosening. Breathy moans escaped his parted lips as his hips thrust softly into your hand, his eyes rolling with each of his movements.
Upon the two leaving the table, it seemed the nerd had completely dropped his facade, showing just how needy he was.
You laughed, glancing down to see the mess he was making in his black jeans. A small wet patch gradually soaked the zipper and crotch of the denim. “I knew you didn't finish in the library.” You teased, continuing to stroke him. He grunted, shifting in the booth to better angle himself into your clenched palm. “I couldn't…You interrupted me.” He replied hoarsely, making you raise an eyebrow. You abruptly gripped his cock at his response, making him whine.
“I interrupted you?”
You scoffed, not believing the balls on this nerd. “You have more mouth than I thought, Miguel O'Hara.” You hissed, releasing him and drawing down his pants, exposing his huge member fully. His hooded eyes instantly snapped open, deep pants passing his lips. “What are you—what are you doing? Someone could see.” He exclaimed through stammers, his amber eyes blown in a mixture of lust and worry as they looked all around in fear of someone being near.
You rolled your eyes at the nerd’s empty concerns. Your clique's favorite booth was positioned in the back of the diner, completely secluded. Of course, you’ll take precautions; you wouldn’t want someone to capture the sight of you having fun with a loser like him, so the idiot was fine.
Not that you cared at the moment...
“I honestly don't know what you're so worried about. You didn't seem concerned about someone seeing you when you were jerking off this morning.” You taunted, earning an angry growl from him, his cock twitching a little at that recollection. “Mierda, I didn't know anyone was there. The library is always empty in the mornings.” He said in a low voice, his tone rough and holding so much spite in it.
You couldn't help but chuckle at his anger, as if he could do anything about it. His massive body was stuck on the inside of your booth, his well-endowed cock and balls out on display.
He was completely vulnerable to you…
Your eyes trailed him, taking him in slowly, and to your surprise, you found yourself licking your lips at the sight.
Even though the dork was a lowly peasant at your school, carrying his stupid little textbooks and allowing the jocks to beat on him when he had the muscles and height to beat their asses ten-fold.
He had an impressive cock…
It was fully erect, sticking straight up into the air with a small patch of dark brown, coarse hair sitting atop his dark shaft, trailing an irresistible line up under his beige sweater. His cock was long, girthy, and definitely above average, with a brown, angry tip dripping with precum, begging to be tasted and played with.
During your moment of ogling, his large, veiny hand hastily covered the oddly magnificent sight, snapping you from your trance. You glared up at him, taking in his flushed cheeks, coffee-brown curls that hung over his framed eyes, and his attempt to cover his enormity between his legs with his hand.
“Move.” You sternly said, your tone showing just how annoyed and furious you were. You crossed your arms over your white-clad chest, awaiting the loser to obey, but surprisingly, he did no such thing. Miguel simply clenched his jaw, averted his gaze from you, not at all listening to the order you’ve just given him.
Your glossy lips pulled into a snarl, not remembering the last time someone would dare be defiant towards you, but it seemed this nerd, loner, whatever the hell he classified as, was something different…
He knew who you were, yet he was disobeying you, talking back, and worst of all…
Not submitting.
You’ve met many infuriating individuals, but he had to take the cake.
Your jaw clenched, trying to keep your composure and remind yourself that you needed him around because you were a hair's breadth from reaching into your bag and grabbing your phone to do the unthinkable. You cleared your throat, sliding so close to him that you could feel the heat of his bare, thick thighs against yours under the short, expensive pink skirt you adorned.
You brushed a strand of his coffee-brown hair behind his ear, noticing how he flinched slightly before leaning in close.
 “Move your hand, or I'll make sure to send that little video of you jerking off to MJ. I think she’ll enjoy posting that onto her little blog for the whole college to see.”
You whispered into his ear, the threat striking the nerd greatly. A wave of satisfaction rushed through your being when he turned to face you, his amber eyes narrowed in rage, but a hint of fear evident in them as well. “You wouldn't,” he said, calling your bluff in a rough, breathless voice which only made you laugh.
“You must really be living under a rock on campus if you think I’m bluffing,” you chuckled darkly as the nerd gulped. “Now…” you began, glancing down at his shielded hand over what you desired. “Unless you want the entire college to know how much of a needy little puppy you are, you will move your damn hand and allow me to do whatever I please.” You sternly said, looking down at his trembling hand and then up at him.
You found it utterly adorable how he tried to keep your hardened gaze, but he would learn that when you want something, you’ll get it no matter what.
He cursed softly, running a frustrated hand through his messy coffee-brown curls. He captured his bottom lip in his teeth and reluctantly moved his hands, placing them on either side of him on the booth’s cushions. You smirked at his obedience. “Good boy,” you praised in a teasing voice, patting his head like the doggy he was; however, he yanked away. You scoffed at his defiance.
‘It seems my puppy needs more training. No worries; he’ll submit if he likes it or not.’
You thought, casting your eyes down to meet his painfully hard and erect cock. Biting your lip, you wrapped a hand around his base, feeling how brick and sticky it was in your palm.
But before granting your puppy the sweet release he desired, he had a lesson to learn…
You harshly gripped his shaft, earning a loud groan to escape his throat. “I'm very pissed at you. Want to know why?” You asked, squeezing his cock even more, making him hiss. He clutched the cushion of the booth in his large hands, clenching his jaw once more. “Why?” He said through gritted teeth.
"Why? You nearly got us caught with those outbursts, idiot," you spat, finding a rhythm and stroking him roughly under the table. His abundant precum allowed you to smoothly run your fist along him. He groaned, his head falling back against the booth.
"Maybe... you should f-fucking stop then," he said through pants, which only made you giggle. "Oh, I'm just finishing what you started in the library, puppy," you said with a fake pout.
"And here I thought you liked getting off in public places."
Miguel moaned softly at your words, his cock twitching in your hand in response. You raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Oh? Don't tell me that's the truth," you teased with a soft chuckle, knowing you'll surely have some fun with that hidden kink of his in the future.
However, no response was heard from him, defending nor agreeing with your proposal; only the occasional low moans and groans escaped his lips. You snarled, pressing your thumb into the crown of his tip, eliciting a rewarding jolt and a Spanish curse to fall from his lips.
"If you won't respond to that, then answer this," you hissed, nose scrunched up in disgust as you continued your stroking. "You act all big and tough when you're alone with me, yet you curl up into a little ball when others are around," you stated with a smirk. "Why is that?"
"Because you don't fucking scare me," he said angrily with a steady voice. You scoffed in amusement, your eyes roaming over his bulging muscles through the sleeves of his beige sweater—the fabric appearing strained. "And others do?" you retorted with a snicker, causing him to growl in annoyance and look away. "It's not like that."
"Oh yeah, then what is it?" you inquired, purposely quickening your pace on his shaft, stroking him faster and pressing your palm into his length, the desire to see him lose control driving you. He whined and whimpered uncontrollably, his large hand landing on your thigh, gripping it tightly through your skirt, urging you to slow down.
You sighed heavily; Miguel was so frustrating. The dweeb's mouth constantly spoke of defiance and disrespect, while his body contradicted him each time—his hips steadily moved in sync with your palm, and his member twitched in your hand. It seemed even he was confused about what he wanted, but being the sweet master you were, you'd assist him in discovering his true desires.
But first, he had to be taught to fix his attitude because he was really pissing you off.
You brushed the pad of your thumb over his tip, intensifying his pleasure with every jerk of your hand. "I don't like your attitude with me," you said angrily, smacking his hand off your thigh and grabbing his chin.
You roughly turned him to look at you, his eyes dazed behind his black glasses, and his lips parted. "I hold the power of your entire reputation in my hands. I can get your big ass kicked out of this damn college just by showing the dean that video of you," you warned, looking at his face in complete rage.
"Do you fucking understand me!?" you exclaimed, your nails piercing into the underside of his chin. Your eyes glared daggers at him as you continued to slide your hand up and down his trembling shaft.
He clenched his jaw, nostrils flaring as his hand landed on your wrist, deep groans continuing to pass his lips at your movement. "Y-yes, fuck," he moaned, biting his lip. "Yes to what?" you demanded, seeking clarity. With your thumb, you caressed in small circles around the crown of his tip, a smirk spreading across your glossy lips when his grip on your wrist tightened. "Yes, I-I... understand," he said, his deep voice sounding rather airy and breathless.
"Good boy," you whispered, tilting your head at him and glancing down to see more pre-cum sprouting from his tip, dripping down his shaft and coating your hand. Miguel growled. "What do you even want from me?" he asked through trembles of pleasure, his cock twitching in your fist. Your smirk broadened, turning your attention from his cock to the four-eyed male, his chin still resting between your manicured fingers.
"You heard that conversation between Peter, MJ, and me, did you not?" you inquired with a raised eyebrow, making him heave a trembling sigh. "Lapdog, right? That's what you want?" 
"Indeed," you chuckled, releasing him. He whimpered, his thighs quivering, as heavy pants passed his lips. He rubbed his chin, pressing his backside into the leather cushions and breathing heavily. You reached over him, grabbing a few napkins from its container to clean your hands, feeling Miguel's eyes on you all the while.
When you met his gaze, you weren't surprised to see the sight of anger and irritation, but what did surprise you was the hint of curiosity found in his intense gaze.
'Was the dork interested in being your puppy?'
"Why?" he finally asked after catching his breath. You laughed, turning to him with a wicked grin. "The better question is... 
Why not?"
You replied with a snicker. Miguel rolled his eyes and sighed once more. "And you want me to be your damn lapdog?" he asked, full of spite and rage, his amber eyes appeared redder than usual, but it didn't faze you. "Yes, or that video goes out to everyone," you said with a grin, your eyes lingering along his body. "And I think everyone would be rather shocked to see what you've been hiding under all that ugly clothing," you chuckled, motioning down at his massive and still very hard cock.
He snarled, looking away from you and out the window beside him. A silence fell upon the two of you as you simply took him in—his defined cheekbones, broad nose, thick neck, and massive body covered in a hideous beige sweater, black jeans, and white Converse.
'Goodness, this is going to be fun. The most fun I've probably had in years.'
You thought, faking a pout and leaning towards him to press your plush lips against his ear. He jumped slightly at your closeness, making you giggle as you ran a hand over his chest, tracing his defined pecs and abs through his sweater.
"Come on, puppy. Don't be so mad; you might even enjoy it."
You teased, and to your anticipation, his cock throbbed in response. He groaned lowly, your chest covered in a white crop top pressing into his arm. "It’s not like I have a damn choice," he retorted, his voice still resonating with fury. 
"Well… get used to it."
You uttered, licking a stripe across his sharp jawline and enjoying how he shuddered at the feeling. You then pulled away, his amber eyes following you like the needy puppy he was.
"Now, every doggy needs a collar," you uttered with a smile, causing him to scowl. "I’m not wearing a damn collar."
"So quick to assume, puppy," you laughed, only seeming to enrage the geek even more. "Stop calling me that," he growled, causing you to sigh, finding it rather annoying how he still believed he held some type of control here. 
He'll learn sooner or later.
"You’ll grow to love it, puppy," you emphasized, turning from his faltering glare to rummage in your $500 Prada bag, fishing out a toy you purchased just for your little doggy. When you acquired it, you turned to him, twirling the dark blue and red crystallized ring in your fingers. Miguel's eyes followed it, his chest heaving in confusion and disdain, but his cock pulsated in desire and curiosity.
He could scowl and glare at you all he wanted, but his body gave him away, every single time.
“What the fuck is that?” He snapped, once he regained his composure, his amber eyes looking from the ring to you through his black eyeglasses. You chuckled, running your fingers along the ring. “After our little run-in at the library this morning, I bought my new puppy something special.” You explained, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. The geek looked perplexed for the first time.
 It was a cute look on him…
“Oh, don’t worry, it’ll be fun. I promise...” You giggled, glancing down at his dark cock, still twitching in desire. You then held your hand out to him, the large ring resting in your palm.
“Now…show me how much of a good doggy you can be and put this on…”
Tumblr media
“Ugh, they are saying it's another 20 minutes.” MJ groaned, climbing into the booth right after Peter. You heaved a sigh in irritation; Mama's diner was never this backed up. It was rather annoying to think you all would have to wait just for three measly milkshakes.
“So, what’s the two of you been doing? He looks like he’s about to fucking faint.” Peter joked, glancing over at Miguel, whose bronze face was covered in beads of sweat. His amber eyes trained on the packet of math work once more. You chuckled, shrugging your shoulders. “I don’t know. The math problem must be stressing him out.” You said with a smile, subtly glancing over at your phone that rested beside you on the booth, the vibrator app pulled up on the screen that was already at level 2.
The ring that you had bought for your new puppy was nestled around the base of his cock, right over his balls, stimulating both of his sensitive areas. You gave him the benefit of the doubt to cover himself; you weren’t a total meanie.
You just needed him to know his place, as it seemed he kept forgetting.
So you decided to seat him in front of two of the most popular students at your college with a pulsating vibrator around his cock. 
What better way for him to learn...?
"Okay…" MJ trailed off, brushing off the situation as nothing. "Umm, what even is his name?" She asked, talking about Miguel as if he wasn't even there. At her inquiry, you turned to your puppy, giving him a soft pat on the head. "Tell her your name," you said sweetly, noticing the subtle glare from him. "Miguel," he responded in a gruff voice without looking up from the packet.
"Your full name," you added with a smirk, wishing to further annoy him. The dweeb’s jaw clenched at your persistence. "Miguel O’Hara," he growled, hastily returning to solving question 24 of your math packet. MJ looked between the two of you, taking in the interaction before leaning across the table, her blue eyes set on you.
“Seriously, what are you up to with him?” 
She asked in a hushed tone like no one at the table could hear her as her red eyebrows furrowed in concern. You scoffed, not believing that she would dare to ask you such a thing.
“Why the hell are you questioning anything that I do?” You spat angrily. “The fucking dweeb is just doing my damn homework,” you said, your eyes glaring into hers.
Perhaps, the load of hair upon MJ's head was the cause of her forgetfulness. Regardless of the culprit, the redhead better keep in mind how much you love fixing her mistakes and kicking her back into line if she oversteps.
You've done it to so many others, she'll be no different…
“Hey, hey, settle down,” Peter said, trying to calm the situation between the two of you. The tension in the air was so thick, it could be sliced with a spoon, let alone a knife.
“There's nothing wrong with what Y/N is doing,” Peter said, placing a hand on MJ’s shoulder and pulling her back towards his chest. MJ sighed, giving you an apologetic look. “Yeah, I’m sorry.” You rolled your eyes, dismissing her as you met Peter’s eyes that also looked between Miguel and you. “Although, I must say…” He began, and to your surprise, settled his amber eyes onto Miguel.
You smirked, loving to see how the aroused geek would handle this, your eyes trained on him. Miguel, noticing the lack of conversation, hesitantly looked up to be met with six eyes staring back at him.
“How the hell are you so…massive?” Peter asked with a chuckle. “You don’t do shit except read, play chess, or whatever else you nerds do.” Peter jested, causing everyone, except Miguel, to laugh. Your eyes were trained on Miguel as he glanced over at you and back at Peter before clearing his throat. “Genetics.” He mumbled, returning back to writing out the parametric formula to solve the equations he was on.
Peter’s eyebrows furrowed, the introverted male’s words not seeming to have reached his ears. “What did you say? Speak up, man.” He laughed, causing Miguel to clench his jaw once more. His pencil halted upon the paper as he casted his amber eyes up to the jock. “Genetics. That's all it is.” He repeated in a louder tone.
“So, you are telling me, you do not work out?” MJ asked in surprise and awe, her blue eyes roaming over his body. You were certain she was checking your new puppy out.
You growled, oddly, shooting a glare at her.
You didn’t know what was with her today, but MJ was working your last nerve.
MJ, thankfully, shut up after your look, but your puppy answered anyway. “A little,” he replied, twirling the pencil in his thick fingers nervously. You couldn’t help but gaze at him—his massive musculature snug under his beige sweater that seemed to hug him in all the right places.
His biceps bulging, his hardened pecs defined, and you could even sneak a peek at his abdominal muscles pressing against the warm fabric. You bit your lip, the desire to get him out of that ugly sweater filling your being until you shook off the thought.
The damn dweeb was making you forget your title and your reputation…
But you couldn’t lie. 
The geek was exceeding your expectations…
Not only was he impressive for being at the very bottom of the student hierarchy and having the ability to make you feel all hot and bothered, but despite his cock being heavily stimulated by the vibrating ring, his voice didn't waver or falter.
Your puppy was tougher than you thought…
‘We’ll see about that.’
With a click of your phone, you raised the vibrations from a mere 2 to a 5. Instantly at the change, Miguel jolted in his seat. You watched with a look of pure innocence on your face as Peter’s eyebrows furrowed.
He snickered, eyeing the glasses-wearing male across from him at the table. “Man, you are weird as heck, but I’ll let it slide,” he said with a smile, glancing over at you, his eyes full of admiration. “If the queen here can put up with your presence, which is rare,” Peter snickered, “I’ll be willing to open a spot on the team to see how you do,” he proposed, which shocked you.
It was hard to get on Peter’s football team, yet he was practically giving it to Miguel, the most disliked male at school, on a silver platter.
You couldn’t help but feel a little angry at that, slowly becoming a bit possessive over your new puppy.
But thankfully, Miguel said the words for you. “I-I’m not interested,” he uttered, clearing his throat and clenching the pencil tightly in his large hand. You smirked, watching Peter’s eyebrows rise in shock. He glanced over at MJ, who had become quiet after your glare.
“This dude is really turning down my offer, babe,” he said, nudging MJ, who snapped out of her trance to turn her blue eyes onto Miguel. “That’s unfortunate.”
“Actually…” you said, instantly drawing their eyes on you. “It’s better if he didn’t. I’ll lose my new lapdog, and we wouldn’t want that… Isn’t that right?” You asked, running your manicured fingers through Miguel’s coffee-brown hair. You watched his jaw clench and a subtle blush spread across his lips.
Seems as if he's starting to like the name or you claiming him…
Indeed, Miguel was a naughty one…
Peter’s stunned expression instantly changed at your words. He cleared his throat, giving you a nod. “Of course, but the offer still stands,” he offered once more, looking over at you as he said it.
You gave him a small smile before MJ sat up in her chair with a grin, the color restoring back into her being after you rightfully snuffed it out. “Since the workers are taking so long, let’s play a game. Never Have I Ever, anyone?!” she exclaimed, a smile adorning her cherry lips.
You grinned, liking the idea, before a thought came to your head, causing you to heave a sigh. “Normally drinks are involved. We don’t have any,” you commented, instantly MJ reached into the pocket of Peter’s red and blue varsity jacket, pulling out his metal flask. His eyes widened in shock before he laughed, shaking his head. “Damn, I thought you didn’t know about that.”
“I know everything, baby.” MJ giggled, placing the metal flask in the center of the table. You smirked, glancing over at Miguel, who had his arms crossed upon the table, his head lowered over the math packet. He was panting, and his thighs were trembling next to your own. He wasn’t writing anything as he seemed like he was just sitting there.
But you knew what your needy puppy was up to…
He was enjoying himself, relishing in the sensation from the vibrator ring you had bought him. You couldn’t help but smile at the sight.
While Peter and MJ discussed the rules of the game, you leaned in close to Miguel, pressing your glossy lips against his ear. “Are you enjoying your little toy, puppy?” you inquired, causing him to suck in a breath. “Ay cono, turn it off,” he panted, whispering to you in desperation. He turned his hooded eyes onto you, and you met his gaze with a sly grin. “Why? You like it,” you whispered back with a small giggle, watching his ears redden and a vein bulge from his forehead as he tried to suppress his anger.
“So no, it’s not coming off anytime soon,” you told him. “Now, you'll play this game with us and finish my work later.”
“I don’t want to fucking play,” he growled, making your forced smile falter. You subtly reached over to your phone, turning the vibrations up from level 5 to 7. Miguel's voice caught in his throat, his hand landing on your thigh once more. You could even faintly hear the buzzing in his jeans that was slowly making the geek lose his composure.
His large palm covered your smooth skin as he gripped it tightly while he quivered. He cursed under his breath, beginning to softly pat your thigh to call a truce. You watched him with a smirk, loving how he was writhing and squirming in his seat, knowing you were the sole cause of it. “I-I’ll play,” he whined, lowering his head to hide, his amber eyes on you over his arm. You smiled, lowering it back to a mere 5.
‘Don’t piss me off,’ you mouthed, turning back to Peter and MJ to find they were, thankfully, still talking. 
You didn’t want to hear what any of them had to say when it came to Miguel and you, especially from MJ.
“The dweeb is going to play too,” you said, hastily gaining everyone’s attention. “Awesome, do you want to go around as ages? Whoever is the youngest goes first?” MJ suggested. “I think the oldest should go first,” you said with a wicked grin, knowing everyone would choose the latter since you, the queen bee, said so.
If your intuition was correct, which it always was, you sensed Miguel was older than the rest of you. His demeanor and rough look showed his maturity, and you couldn’t help but become a little aroused at the assumption.
“Fine. I’m 23,” MJ said, glancing over at Peter next. “25,” he replied, soon looking at you. “24,” you smiled before finally setting your eyes on the trembling male. His amber eyes shifted from all of your eager gazes. He cleared his throat, tanned cheeks a soft red. “26.” His voice, like usual, was deep and rather low, but you heard his answer loud and clear.
You were right...
The muscular geek was not only a disobedient lowlife, but he was older than you. ‘How fun?’ you thought, looking him up and down beside you. It made everything even sweeter.
“Well, you go first,” Peter said, motioning to Miguel with his head, his dark brown hair swaying with his slight movement. The dweeb gulped, merely sitting there for a while. It was for so long that you pondered if he had even played the common game before until he finally spoke.
“Never have I ever fallen asleep during a movie,” he muttered, keeping his gaze on the table.
'Of course, a boring one, like I thought.’ You groaned, nudging his arm. “Come on, that shit blows,” you said with an eye roll. “We want something steamy, hot…” You whispered, reaching over to caress his thigh under the table. He gulped, clenching his jaw and landing his large, calloused hand on yours to cease your movement. “Fine…” he said, turning to look at you in particular.
“Never have I ever walked in on someone without knocking.”
Miguel asked with a sly grin that surprised you greatly, and left you angry as hell. You growled, hearing Peter and MJ begin to discuss their answers. “Gosh, I walked in on one of the guys with their girlfriends in the locker room,” Peter sighed as MJ didn’t have an unfortunate occurrence happen to her, but not like you cared about either of them at the moment.
You glared at Miguel, his taunting smirk and stupid glasses adorning his face, the desire to slap them both off overwhelming your being.
You turned to see Peter already taking a swig of the metal flask, a grimace on his face after the drink. “Shit, I knew I shouldn’t have chosen the strong stuff,” he commented, glancing up at you. “Now, what about the Queen bee? Walked in on one of those baddies at your sorority house?” He inquired with a chuckle. You looked over at Miguel, his eyes narrowing as he watched you take the flask, gulping down a large mouthful of the liquor.
As Peter said, the shit was strong, and it took everything in you not to cough, suppressing the urge by clearing your throat. “No…” You replied, placing the flask back on the table and subtly looking over at Miguel before meeting your two associates' curious gazes. “Then what happened then?” MJ asked, deeply intrigued.
“Well, I walked in on someone jerking off.”
You noticed beside you, Miguel’s entire body became rigid on the booth; his hand squeezed yours under the table in a rather desperate way. He was begging you with the slight touch to cease any further words.
How cute…
You smirked at the feeling, loving how you had the dweeb filled with anxiety and nervousness about whether you'll spill his deep secret or not.
But you're only a bitch when you want to be…
“That’s all you get, though.” You laughed, causing cries of frustration to erupt, although you didn’t miss the sigh of relief that passed Miguel’s lips even though he was the one who called your bluff and dug his own grave.
“First round, and it seems Queen Bee and I are tied on who’s paying for our order.” Peter laughed, causing you to roll your eyes. “If it ever gets here,” MJ added with a groan.
“Even more of a reason to continue playing,” Peter said with a smirk. “But it seems as if it’s my turn, being 25 and all.” He said, sitting back against the cushions of the booth, humming in thought. “Ah, got one.” He commented with a grin.
“Never had I ever used a mirror during romantic intercourse.” He asked, his amber eyes looking around the table.
Of course, being the fun queen bee you were, you took the flask. “I mean, if you haven’t, you are missing out.” You grinned, taking another swig of the strong liquor, feeling the satisfying sting in the back of your throat when you placed the container back on the table. You could feel the heat radiating from Miguel’s body at the mention of you doing something so naughty.
You wouldn’t mind doing something like that with him only when he was ready…
A small blush spread across MJ’s cheeks at the erotic question. “I’ve always wanted to do it.” She said, bringing a smile to Peter's lips. He snaked an arm around her, caressing her arm as he spoke in a sultry and seductive voice. “Oh really? We can always try it after-
“Oh my gosh. Get a fucking room already.” You interrupted with a snicker, eyeing the two lovebirds. “Okay, okay,” MJ said with a giggle, eyes turning to Miguel who hastily dismissed it with a head shake.
Of course, the fucking dweeb doesn’t know how to have fun.
With you, he’ll know nothing else; you’ll make sure of it.
“Well, it’s your turn now,” MJ smiled. Finally, it was your turn, instantly thinking of a proposition that could really reveal some deep secrets about Miguel.
Something he's been hiding…
You sat back in your seat, pondering your answer when your eyes met Miguel. Just the sight of the massive male was making your brain sprout with ideas. Who knew how helpful he could be with just his mere presence?
Why not reward him for the assistance?
Subtly, you sat up, turning the vibrations up to a 7 while starting your round.
“Never have I ever had a sexual encounter in a public place and secretly liked it.”
You proposed, glancing over at Miguel, who was losing it. He gritted his teeth, lowering his head to try to hide his fluttering eyes and heavy pants, but your associates’ words surprised you. “Gosh, both of us,” you heard them say, drawing your attention from your puppy.
“Yeah, we did a vibrator challenge on each other, and we went to a mall,” Peter said with a smile and a head shake. “It wasn’t enjoyable with the many people around at the sudden bursts of pleasure, but overall…it was fun,” MJ added, snuggling into Peter’s chest.
You slowly nodded, retaining the idea for further use and glancing back at Miguel, who was shaking. You felt his hand on your thigh once more and soon his soft pats, as if he was a wrestler trying to tap out of the ring.
But you weren’t a merciful referee; he could endure it a little longer…
You leaned in close to him, pretending to reach down to pick up the pencil that had accidentally rolled off the table due to his squirming. “Lift your head and play the damn game,” you spat harshly into his ear as he frantically shook his head. “Fuck, I-I can’t,” he whined breathlessly. “Mierda, I’m close. I-I can’t,” he repeated, only making you smirk.
“Be a good puppy, hold it, and play the game, or I’ll raise it to the highest level,” you told him sternly, your fingers finding the pencil in the leather cushions. You soon rose, a smile on your lips as you placed the wooden tool onto the table. “Miguel, how about you?” you inquired in a sweet voice, the lovebirds finishing their swigs of the flask. “Done anything fun in public and secretly enjoyed it?” you asked, curious about how he'd answer and respond.
Like a good doggy, he lifted his head as you commanded. His dark, hazy eyes looked between the three of you before simply reaching over and taking a swig of the flask.
“Fucking hell!? The nerd knows fun!” Peter commented with a laugh, while the rest of you looked on in astonishment. Miguel placed the flask down, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Explain,” you urged, nudging him with a kick under the table. He jolted, shooting you a subtle glare, causing you to raise an eyebrow, reaching over for your phone when Miguel gave you a gentle squeeze of desperation. “Okay…” he began, exhaling and trying to regain his composure while holding back his release and being heavily stimulated.
“I was getting a-a handjob under the table…i-in a diner similar to this,” he said, making you smile, knowing exactly what he was referring to. “T-The girl was fucking rude and mean, but h-had skilled hands. Very skilled hands.” He gulped, avoiding your eyes while he spoke. “But t-that’s pretty much it. I liked it...Who wouldn't," Miguel said, looking down at his lap and leaving the table speechless.
You didn’t know whether to be flattered, angry at his description of you, or apathetic. A burning desire in your gut to simply drag him to the bathroom of Mama’s diner and see just how good his cock would feel inside of you.
But overall, the geek had surprised you with his answer, this being the only time he had spoken his mind and said his true thoughts since he sat down at this fucking booth.
“Damn, sounds hot,” MJ said, making you turn your attention from your loyal puppy to her. “Wish I had the guts like that rude girl you described. I could never.” She said lowly, bringing a wave of pride over you. Her compliment only fueled your already replete ego.
After the steamy encounter that Miguel explained to the group, it was now MJ’s turn. However, just when she was about to speak, her phone pinged with a message. She glanced down at the glowing screen, her eyebrows instantly furrowing. “Oh my gosh, babe, we have to go. I’m needed at the university.” She quaked, turning her blue eyes upon you. “I’m so sorry to pause the game and leave so early.” She apologized, hastily standing up from the booth alongside her ride, and boyfriend, Peter.
“I can only assume it's for the newspaper, so I’ll let it slide,” you told her as she thanked you, swiftly scurrying past and exiting Mama’s diner. Peter watched with a chuckle, tucking his hands into his red varsity jacket, standing beside you at the table.
“Well, I guess we’ll be seeing you around, Queen Bee,” he smirked, suddenly taking your hand and placing a kiss on your knuckles. You raised an eyebrow, a smile forming upon your glossy lips. Prior to pulling away, he held his soft lips upon your skin for a moment longer and gave your knuckles an affectionate caress with his thumb, meeting your eyes. “Call me anytime.” He whispered, giving you his signature charming smile and wink that made every person on campus faint and die on the spot before leaving behind his girlfriend.
You couldn’t lie; you were a little shocked at Peter’s forwardness.
You’ve noticed his interest in the great Queen Bee—who isn’t—but he had a girlfriend, and unfortunately for him…
You don’t like to share…
Many whiny groans and the sound of loud buzzing brought you from your thoughts as you turned to look at Miguel in the corner to see something even more astonishing than Peter’s previous advances.
Miguel was panting, breathing heavily with his head pressed against the back of the leather booth. His black denims were drawn down, revealing his strained cock and the beautiful red and blue vibrator ring around his base. His eyes rolled uncontrollably behind his glasses, his mouth agape while he rambled in a blend of Spanish and English.
You could only make out the English phrases and words he uttered, which mostly were pleas and begs, all desiring one thing and one thing only.
“Please—ay cono. Let me cum. Please, let me cum."
He implored incessantly, his words so full of need and desperation. You could tell he was slowly losing it; the pleasure was blinding him, and he was only at level 7. You were hoping to try the highest level on him, but maybe another time…
You didn’t want to completely ruin your new puppy…
You leaned towards him, running a finger over his sticky tip, tracing patterns across it. He whined and squirmed in his seat at your touch. “Aww, you want to stop playing already? I wanted to try level 10.” You told him with a fake pout. He frantically shook his head, gasps of air passing his parted lips. “Goodness, no. Please, I-I can’t take any more.” He begged so perfectly that you almost allowed him to.
Well,
Almost…
“I’ll let you cum on one condition,” you proposed, taking his chin in your fingers and turning him to meet your eyes. His eyes fluttered, his hands found your wrist, grabbing on tightly to stabilize himself. His face was flushed, his defined cheeks a rosy red, and his forehead covered with beads of sweat. He looked adorable, practically begging you with his hooded doe eyes to allow him to cum. You smirked, caressing his chin.
“Tell me you are my little puppy and sweeten the deal with a cute little bark.”
You giggled, eliciting a growl that came out more like a groan. “A-Are you serious?” he panted, making your smile only broaden. “Very, and I’ll only raise the level of the vibrator if you don’t,” you said with a grin, loving the look of defeat that covered his face. “Shit,” he cursed, looking away.
“No, eyes on me.”
You sternly said, hastily yanking his chin back towards you. He clenched his jaw, making eye contact with you once more. His amber orbs were full of anger, but his desire to be relieved of the vibrator and finally be granted his satisfying release led him to speak what you wanted.
“I-I’m your… l-little… 
Puppy.”
He uttered reluctantly through shaky moans as you waited patiently for the best part of his whole confession. He growled, shaking his head. “I’m not barking.”
You huffed, giving him a stern look. “Do I have to threaten you again about that video? How about I take that little vibrator and give it to the dean instead?” you said with an evil grin. “It has your… essence all over it. Wouldn’t be hard to discover it’s yours.” You cackled. He scowled, gazing up at you through breathy moans. “You are s-such a bitch.”
“Are you sure? You are looking more like a bitch than me right now,” you spat with a laugh, piercing your nails into his chin. “Now be my good little puppy and bark.” You demanded once more, eyes trained on his furious and flushed face.
You watched Miguel resist you as hard as he could. He put up such a fight, remaining silent to disobey for a good while, but just like any wild dog, they break, they snap...
They submit.
So, it didn’t take long before the most satisfying sounds filled your ears.
“Woof…Woof.”
A wave of satisfaction overcame you, akin to taking a refreshing sip of a chocolate milkshake on a hot day. Your glossy lips pulled into a smile, feeling completely overjoyed as you stared at your official new lapdog. “Gosh, I’m going to have so much fun with you,” you promised, caressing his chin affectionately. Miguel’s eyebrows rose in surprise, and his entire face turned red; even his cock frantically throbbed around the pulsating ring.
Like a dog wagging his tail, he seemed to like that idea very much...
You wrapped a hand around his shaft, stroking him at a fast pace while the ring continued to buzz against him. “Be a good boy and cum for me,” you whispered. “Make me proud, puppy,” you told him, kissing along his jawline and earning a loud groan to erupt from his throat. His hips left the seat, meeting your fist with each thrust upwards. “Oh yes. Fuck,” he cried through closed eyes.
The leather booth began to creak loudly at his frenzied movement, his cock sliding in and out of your palm, completely slick with his precum. You could feel how powerful the vibrations were on his sensitive shaft whilst he continued to fuck your fist.
“Shit, shit, I’m cumming,” he groaned, before a loud guttural, deep moan erupted from deep within his chest, his thick, muscular thighs quivering. Veins bulge along the underside of his abdomen upon his climax, and with one final thrust into your hand, he shot his white, creamy load.
And the four-eyed male just kept impressing you over and over again.
His release seemed to be endless. More and more of his seed dripped from his slit, coating your hand and the buzzing toy. The vibrating ring and your fisting only seemed to milk him completely, causing him to whimper and whine uncontrollably, continuing to paint his shaft, your hand, his beige sweater, and the leather seats in his essence.
When he was finished, you took in the huge mess he’d made with a grin. “Look at what you’ve done,” you purred, grabbing a few napkins to clean your hands. Miguel didn’t respond, only babbling softly, his words unintelligible.
You laughed at his thoroughly satisfied expression, finding it utterly adorable how fucked-out he looked. You relieved him of the vibrator, turning it off and removing it from his swollen shaft, the toy completely coated with his sticky fluids. 
You smirked, eyeing the white-coated ring; it was so enticing that you couldn't help but bring the toy to your mouth to give it a taste. Like savoring the sweetness of honey on a wand, you ran your tongue along the vobrator, humming in ecstasy.
Your eyes fluttered at the taste. His seed was different—something you couldn't quite put into words, but an essence you'd definitely want more of in the future, something you had to taste straight from the source.
After sucking the ring clean, you placed it into your bag and slid closer to Miguel. His eyes were still closed, his chest heaving up and down while his body spasmed—small tremors spreading through his massive being.
You turned his face towards you, a finger resting under his chin. His eyes fluttered open to meet your satisfied gaze. “I’m happy you enjoyed yourself, puppy,” you whispered, an airy chuckle passing his lips at your words. “I had no choice… 
So I might as well enjoy it,” 
He muttered breathlessly, his response made you even prouder. Your little puppy was understanding the game—the fun. You couldn’t help but love the dork even more.
You leaned closer to him, your nose brushing against his. 
“Finally… you are starting to get it,” you uttered, pressing a rough and searing kiss to his mouth. Miguel, completely exhausted and shocked, instantly lost the fight, giving you control.
You devoured his mouth hungrily, his plush lips feeling just right and tasting even better as your tongue entered his parted lips. He groaned, kissing you back, but not enough to dominate nor challenge you, which you adored so much.
You kissed him until you were satisfied, sucking his lips until they were pink and swollen, and tasting his mouth with your tongue. You then pulled away from his enticing lips, both of you panting heavily. You looked him over with a smirk, patting his head and running your manicured fingers through his coffee-brown hair, and to your satisfaction, he didn’t pull away—either from weariness or pure enjoyment, it seemed your puppy had accepted his role. 
But you couldn’t be so sure…
You smiled, sliding out of the booth and picking up your $500 Prada bag from the seat. His amber eyes were full of confusion as he looked you over. You met your adorable lapdog’s gaze, standing before him in your lavish clothes—a white crop top, pink Gucci jacket, skirt, and heels.
You gave him a sly grin, slinging your purse over your shoulder. “Clean yourself up and have my homework done by 10. 
I want you at my sorority house tonight,” 
You smirked, watching his tanned cheeks turn a deep red. Your eyes took him in one last time, taking in his little mess, his flustered and stunned expression, softened cock, massive body, and those dorky glasses.
 All of that and so much more was yours now.
All yours…
“See you then,” you giggled, blowing him a kiss, and turning on your pink high heels, leaving the dork flabbergasted.
You swung open the door of Mama’s diner, stepping out onto the sidewalk and into the bustling streets of Nueva York. You put on your pink heart-shaped shades, the evening sun beaming upon your face, as an unshakeable smile adorned your glossy lips.
You were excited, no, delighted. 
You had discovered something better than a measly assistant that you had desired before. 
You had a permanent peasant, a puppy who was none other than the outcast of your college—the student at the bottom of the student hierarchy and hated by all was officially yours. 
And you couldn’t wait to have so much more fun with your little bitch boy, Miguel O’Hara.
Your new lapdog...
Tumblr media
A/N: I enjoyed writing this soo much!! 😆
I hope u guys enjoyed it as well, I'm thinking of writing a Part 2 but...idk 🤔😏
But hope u guys liked!! 💗💗
P.S: Part 3 of 'A Fate Worse Than Death' would be up next week, my apologies, I just had to write this one. 😌
Tumblr media
<3 Taglist:
~@oscarissac2099
~@powerful-niya
(Let me know in the comments if you'll like to become a part of the taglist! ❤️)
(*All rights reserved. DO NOT repost/translate/copy any of my work.*)
1K notes · View notes
fanaticsnail · 4 months
Note
Snail important question;
Of any line-up of characters of your choice-
Who do you think is attracted to competency,
Who is attracted to stupidity,
Who can go either way,
And who is attracted to both at the same time (imagine;
Reader: sorry I'm late I had to fight off two different ships
Them: is that how you got that bruise on your face?
Reader: oh... Actually, I wasn't looking and pulled a push door off its' hinges into my face
Them, kicking off their pants: god you're so fucking stupid, sit on my face
)
Also, I feel like there are different versions of competency and stupidity. Street smarts vs social obliviousness. Book smarts vs functionally illiterate. Strategic/battle smarts vs what-do-you-mean-flashing-the-enemy-isn't-a-valid-distraction?
(Zoro is completely math smart and dumb in every other way)
I could imagine Luffy would be attracted to hyper specific competency. If you're really into a specific thing and good at it and it's your dream he would absolutely love it even if it sounds like you're speaking gibberish to him. He wouldn't even think of it as weird - I mean, no more weird than any other dream he doesn't personally understand - he's certainly not the type to judge based on societal norms. You could talk his ear off about the reproductive habits of different animals and he wouldn't get why everyone else doesn't like to hear it when they're eating but hey more food for him.
Snail. Your asks always know how to get the better of me. Have a series of little drabbles, dear.
Competency, Stupidity, Duality
Masterlist here
Word Count: 410+, 510+, 580+
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Synopsis: They can't help what attracted them to you. No matter what you did, they simply couldn't get enough of you. Their emotions finally catch up with them, and they confess their adoration for you.
Themes: variety x gn!reader, feelings, injury, mentions of battles, finally giving in, all different 'reader' inserts, confessions of love, kid x reader, zoro x reader, killer x reader, angst, fluff, sweetness.
Notes: I wasn't expecting to write this today, but I've been thinking about the big boys lately and I needed to give them some love. Something about trios lately.
Tag List: @sordidmusings @nerium-lil @feral-artistry @since-im-already-here @writingmysanity @indydonuts @gingernut1314 @i-am-vita @carrotsunshine @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training
Tumblr media
Competency: Eustass Kid
When Eustass Kid noticed how quick and sharp you were to react in life or death circumstances, he was immediately smitten with you. Being a Straw-Hat, your ambitions and dreams were fostered by your playful captain as you sailed aboard the Thousand Sunny. Your ability to interact flawlessly by balancing the combined efforts of the three crews had him intrigued by your charisma. 
Fighting by your side was something he didn’t expect to affect him so much. The way you researched the strengths and weaknesses of all three crews sailing and fighting together was admirable. Asserting yourself by asking Law to push and pull you closer to the fight with the Ope-Ope no Mi ability, while fighting side-by-side with Massacre Soldier Killer in close quarters, had him left wordless.
After the battle finishes, he watched as you hastily aided your crew of their injuries while disregarding your own; putting others first while adding pressure to your hand-gash, hovering it over your head to slow the bleeding. He couldn’t get enough of you. 
He needed you to know how he felt about you, but being in the presence of Luffy and Law always seemed to bring out the more juvenile side of attitude. His simple attraction and infatuation with you had to be revealed to you in due time, but he couldn’t risk sounding like an idiot in front of you. He would have to simply wait until you were alone and unoccupied before he made his move to take care of you after taking care of others. 
Slowly approaching you as you sat down against the tangerine grove aboard the Thousand Sunny, his shadow shrouded your form and prompted you to gaze up into his scarred, sheepish face. Your smile caused his heart to beat harder and his head to swirl with a variety of "what-ifs". Gulping back his insecurities, he knelt down in front of you.
“Let me take care of that for you,” he offered with a soft smirk, “You’ve done so much for others, and I think your hand needs some seeing to.” 
“If you say so, Captain Kid,” you shrug, offering your injured hand delicately to him and listening to his every instruction as he treats you, “I wasn’t aware you had any medical training.” He straps your hand in a bandage, placing down the final ties before holding your injured hand in his.
“I don’t,” he shrugged with a smile atop his painted lips, “But I’ve lost an arm before, and I don’t want to see that happen to you.” 
“You’re-...” he stuttered over his words, gazing at your hand before softly drifting his tired eyes up, “...-You amaze me. Truly, amaze me.” You place your other hand on his, never once removing your eyes from his face as he offers you such kindness. 
“Thank you, sir,” you nod to him with a soft smile, “You amaze me, too.”
Tumblr media
Stupidity: Roronoa Zoro
“Why would you do that?” Zoro roared at you, hovering his body over yours and caging your face-down body within a shield of his own. The gashes on your back were deep, your body weeping out the red essence and staining your clothes with it.
“C-Couldn’t risk yours,” you stuttered out with a soft smile, “H’was gonna g-get yours. Didn’t want you to wear the shame.” His eyes widened, filling with a steam of glossy tears that threatened to spill over the moment you stuttered out your confession. “That’s what you said, wasn’t it? Mark on the back is a swordsman’s greatest shame?” 
Drip. 
Drip.
Drip.
One after one, soft tears spilt down his cheeks and mixed with the fluids pooling at your back. He leaned down towards you, the heat of battle dying down with the swift, flaming kick of the blonde cook and giggling chuckles of your captain, Luffy. 
“You’re a fucking idiot,” he sniffed his sobs back as he leaned down to cage you, “Can’t you see? None of that fucking matters without you here.” He softly, tenderly moved you from your position on the floor to not disturb your wounds. He sat you up, cradling you against his broad chest and openly sobbed for you. 
“When you get better,” he growled into your shoulder, “I will repay you for this. I will pay my debt to you.” His sobs got more desperate, not halting in the slightest when Trafalgar D Water-Law approached the two of you in your embrace. 
“Let me get ‘em to the infirmary,” Law offered, gesturing for Bepo to ready the aid kit, “I’ll treat the wounds there-.” 
“-I won’t leave them,” Zoro barked over your shoulder, your soft smile tugging at your cheeks in your hazy daze. “Let me go with you, Traffy. I won’t say a damn word to distract you, on my honor.” Law nods, raising his hand and spreading his fingers and offers the two words to switch positions within the infirmary: “Room, Shambles.” 
As you drifted in and out of consciousness, you laughed each time Zoro chastised you for your stupidity. Echos of: “There were so many other things you could’ve done instead,” and “You stumbled into that blade like a moron and took that hit for me, idiot.” You giggled through the pain, barely feeling it as Law worked to stitch you together again. 
Upon regaining consciousness, you looked to your moss-haired crewmate and offered out your hand to his bicep. His head was bowed, arms crossed over his chest, and was assumed to be napping by your bedside. Feeling your touch, he was roused from his sleep and immediately leaned forward to bring his face beside yours. 
“You’re a fucking moron,” he huffed, smiling in a melancholy grin. You laughed at his insult, squeezing his muscle before retracting your hand. As you nearly drew it away to your side, he caught your hand and brought your palm up to his lips. 
“My fucking moron,” he confirmed, placing a soft kiss to your palm before using it to cup his face. “I love you.”
Tumblr media
Duality: Massacre Soldier Killer
Staring up into your face while remaining silent, resting his masked face on the heel of his palm, he listened to your recount of a very specific childhood injury that left you with an interesting scar on your thigh. Killer’s eyes never left your face, his cheeks beginning to glow warm and vibrant beneath the shroud of his mask.
“So, let me get this straight,” Captain Eustass Kid held his hand in front of his face and gave it a gentle wave to halt your words, “That sick-looking scar wasn’t from any time you served with Luffy, but because you set off a fucking harpoon and speared yourself in the leg with it?” 
Killer felt himself swoon at the melody your laugh thrust into the atmosphere. He was ever thankful his blue and white mask disguised how much he was smiling beneath the shroud. 
“Yep,” you popped the ‘P’ afterwards, nodding in confirmation as you sat beside Usopp and drew your tankard up to your lips, “But I learnt from it, and it hasn’t happened since.” Killer sighed, his voice almost coming out in a soft moan to reveal his growing infatuation for you. Kid barked out a harsh gaggle of laughter, clapping you on the shoulder with his right hand and gestured for you to reveal it to them.
“Let me see it again, go on,” he chuckled, removing his hand and sitting back on his seat, “Use Killer’s thigh as a prop so we can see it properly. You don’t mind do you, big guy?” Killer absentmindedly and slowly shook his head, tapping his thigh twice with his hand for you to reveal your injury to the captain of the Victoria Punk, himself and your crewmate beside you. 
“Alright,” you shrugged, standing beside Usopp and Killer and gently placed your foot atop Killer’s thigh and began hiking up your shorts to your hip, “Feast your eyes, Captain.” Sure enough, an interesting looking scar was revealed on your inner thigh, clear as day and sure as the sea is salty. 
“Oh, fucking hells!” Kid gave you a hearty laugh, “You seeing this, big guy?” Kid turned his attention to his first mate, his smile only growing as he noticed the angle of Killer’s mask never left your face. Surprise was immediately thrust into Kid’s eyes, noticing the unwavering resolve in Killer’s posture. 
You turned your attention down to the silent and broody first-mate, your face puzzled and eyes searching his mask for any further thought or action. He slowly drew his hands up to clasp around your ankle and calf, holding it firmly as he leaned forward. 
“You’re perfect,” he offered in a breathy whisper, stroking your leg and gazing lovingly into your face, “Don’t let anyone ever tell you otherwise.” 
Your face flushed with a warmth at his words, eyes widening and looking down at his large hands as they held you so tenderly and delicately within his grasp. Smiling, you leaned forwards and placed your hand over his scarred left forearm with mischief in your eyes, asking him a simple question with a suggestive tone. 
“Like what you see then, big guy?” At your question, Usopp nearly choked on his drink. You had never been this bold before, and this came as a shock to your crew’s skilled sniper. He covered his choking with a soft cough, turning away with a downturned smile and stifling his growing laugh. 
“So much,” Killer confirmed, gently caressing your calf and looking up at you through half-hooded blonde lashes beneath his mask, “So, so much.”
451 notes · View notes
thesunisatangerine · 5 months
Text
playing for keeps – chapter three
alexia putellas x barçakeeper!childhoodfriend!reader
warnings: coarse language, light angst
(a/n in the tags) [chapters: one, two, three]
word count: 8.8k
[1]
Just before you turned thirteen your body, finally, began to change. 
While Alexia’d gone ahead of you a year prior—with her limbs now lanky and sinewy, and her muscles stretched close to the newly grown bones—you were left behind. She’d grown taller, yes; not by much but the two-inch difference (two and a half, as Alexia was always inclined to remind you) felt like a foot to you. So the change was welcome when it finally started, and more importantly, it happened to coincide with something that completely altered the trajectory of your life.
During the spring after your birthday, your father got a promotion at work. To celebrate this milestone, he took you and your mother for a trip around Europe. And as a gift for your hard work and for getting into La Masia with Alexia just a few months before, your parents surprised you with tickets to at least one game in the country, or area, you were visiting. 
In Gelsenkirchen, Germany, you found your destiny. 
Or at least that was how you liked to look at it. 
Before seeing the match between Schalke 04 against Stuttgart, the idea of keeping never entered your mind; you’d played forward your whole life, and you thought that would be the position you’d play in professionally. But as you saw Manuel Neuer controlling the outcome of the game with his hands, a spark ignited within you—this overwhelming surge—and right there and then, you were enlightened to the art of keeping. That spark returned home with you and, playing into the hands of fate, your journey to keeping began.
[2]
The crescendo of the cicadas’ song was this close to lulling you to sleep. It didn’t help that Alexia’d curled herself up beside you in your bed, her head on your lap while her math notebook laid forgotten at the foot of the bed, and her eyes already closed. It was a rare occurrence for the both of you and even more so for Alexia to ‘slack off’—if you were to put it as Alexia had—but this afternoon was a particularly hot one. Summer had practically bled into spring, and even someone like Alexia clearly wasn’t immune to its soporific effect. 
The numbers from the homework you were working on began to blur when you heard a knock downstairs. Out of curiosity or just surprise, you snapped awake. And so did Alexia, apparently.
“You expecting someone?” Alexia yawned, stretching out her long limbs before settling over to her other side. The movement made a lock of hair fall to her cheek which you brushed away with the back of your finger.
“No, it’s probably Mamá’s.” You hummed in answer, relaxing down on your pillow to finally chase that nap that continued to tempt you.
But then came your mother’s voice, “Guille! Hello, my boy! How are you?”
Alexia let out a startled yelp when you jumped out of the bed, now fully awake, tripping on the rug as you rushed into the closet. 
“What the hell? What are you doing?!” Alexia hissed with annoyance but you were too busy trying to get changed to address it. 
You snatched the closest pair of shorts and jersey shirt, and began to shed the ones you had on before you slipped the fresh ones on in quick succession. 
As you did, you began to explain, “I completely forgot! I was supposed to meet up with Guille today!”
When your head popped out of your shirt, you found a deep crease between Alexia’s brows. She was sitting in the middle of your bed, cross-legged, looking very much like a disgruntled cat woken from a nap with the way her hair stuck out in odd places. 
She looked adorable. 
You bit your tongue before you could say it.
Crossing her arms, Alexia retorted, “Why? It’s Saturday.” 
The tone she used made it seem that today being a Saturday was a valid enough reason for you to not go. 
“And it is because it’s Saturday—and no training, Alexia—that I can go with him.” 
At that, her frown only seemed to deepen. You had half a mind to tease her but you knew that’d probably just piss her off even more, although if you were being honest, you didn’t understand just why this seemed to bother Alexia so much.  So instead of teasing, you tried a placating tone, “You could come with if you want?”
Alexia opened her mouth, “I—”
Your mother’s shout cut through the air. 
“Honey? Guille is here for you!” 
You sent Alexia one last apologetic glance. 
“I’m really sorry! Please stay for dinner! I’ll be quick!” 
And with a quick hug goodbye, you rushed out of your room and practically flew down the stairs. At the bottom, you found Guille leaning against the bannister, hands in his short pockets, with a small rucksack on his back who, upon seeing you, gave you a bright smile.
“Hey! You look—” He began but then suddenly, his eyes darkened and the quirk of his lips turned upside down, his tone flattening, “Oh. You’re here.”
In the same second you noticed Alexia beside you, Alexia’d slung an arm over your shoulders.
“Lovely to see you as always, Guille. And I could say the same about you.” Alexia deadpanned, flashing Guille a smile full of teeth, her eyes void of any warmth as she stared at him down her nose. Then she turned to you, her face lighting up as she asked with a little too much excitement, “So, are we going or not?”
“Wait, she’s coming with us?” Guille blurted out, but before you could even answer, Alexia left your side and ran down the steps. 
“Of course, Guille! Come on, keep up!” Alexia exclaimed on her way out of the door, tapping Guille’s stomach as she did—not without force apparently with the way Guille expelled air out harshly. 
When you got to him, you placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. 
“Are you okay?”
He let out a strained, “Yes.”
You gave Guille an apologetic look, grabbing your ball bag. 
“I’m really sorry for the last minute change. I’ll make it up to you.”
Still clutching his stomach, he said, “Don’t worry about it.”
The three of you got to the field near your place—which you were glad to find empty—without any more incidents. You were faced with another problem as it was only after you’d begun warming up that you realized that in your haste to leave, you forgot to bring water with you. When you told Alexia, she offered to go to the nearest corner store to buy some.
You stretched as you waited for Alexia’s return when Guille suddenly said behind you.
“Here.”
Turning, you found him holding a paper parcel bag. You considered his outstretched hand with curiosity before you met his eyes, taking the bag from him slowly. “What’s this?”
“Just a little something to get you started,” he answered, scratching the back of his head. “You said you wanted to keep, so I thought you’d need them.”
Peering into the bag, you gasped at what you found inside. 
A new pair of keeper gloves.
“Guille, you didn’t have to!”
He shrugged, smiling, “Yeah, but I wanted to anyway.”
“Thank you! Come here, you big baby!” You laughed, throwing your arms around him. Unlike Alexia, Guille was only taller than you by mere centimeters so it was relatively easy to ruffle his hair as you pulled away. 
“Mess up my hair again and I won’t teach you anything,” He threatened with a faux glare as he swept his fingers through his curling locks in an attempt to tame them. 
You rolled your eyes, grinning at him. “Okay, Antonio Banderas. So, what are the basics?”
He imitated you, rolling his eyes before he shook his head slightly, his smile never leaving his lips. Then he pointed to a spot by the goal line. “Put your gloves on and stand right there.”
You did, noting the way your new gloves fit perfectly over your hands and fingers. It felt different—stuffy—and you could already feel your palms beginning to sweat from the trapped heat. When you stood where Guille pointed, he walked around you all the while he instructed you to correct your posture: he told you keep your feet shoulder-width apart, to bend your legs slightly so that your chest was just past your knees, and to hold your palms facing out. 
“The main thing to worry about starting out is your stance. It will take time to get the balance right but once you get it down, you’re set.”
“Is this alright?” 
Guille took a step back and he gripped his chin as he hummed. After a moment of scrutiny, he nudged you back suddenly. It wasn’t quite forceful but it made you tumble down on your rear all the same. 
You smiled at him sheepishly, getting up. “I guess that’s a no?”
“Yep. It looks like you keep your weight on your heels too much.” He crouched down at your feet, drawing a square over the front half of your foot. “Keep your weight spread out around here and you should—”
Guille scrambled back suddenly, yelping as a football went flying past where he was just a second ago and into the net. Turning to the direction where the ball came from with your mouth agape, you found Alexia there with water bottles clasped to her chest, an eyebrow raised, while one corner of her mouth was set in a bemused droop, another ball rolling beneath her left foot.
“What the hell was that for, asshole?!” Guille shouted as he stormed his way over to Alexia. He was in front of her now, looking up at her with flame in his eyes but Alexia remained unfazed. She put the water bottles down before she settled her hands on her hips, cocking her head slightly to the side. 
“I’m sorry, Guille. I didn’t see you.” Alexia said flatly, “And aren’t you supposed to be playing keeper?”
“Really. You didn’t see me? Besides—”
“Ale, I asked Guille to teach me.” You huffed, running in between them and separating them with your arms before things got out of hand—again. 
This wasn’t the first time this… row between them happened. In fact, you noticed it’s been occurring more frequently lately. For all their similarities—the main one being their short tempers—the two never got on well together for reasons you never really understood and the only thread that tied them together was you. 
They weren’t always like this though; they were nice with each other the first time they’d met. Guille transferred to your school not long after you’d joined Sabadell, and if you and Alexia were inseparable there, it was always you and Guille at school. And when an opportunity arose for your two favorite persons to meet, you took it. It went well; they were friendly with each other. You only noticed things had changed after you and Guille’s school team started playing against Alexia’s so you were never sure when this all started, and by that point, the friction between them was too great to smoothen out which both saddened and disappointed you.
And it wasn’t like you never tried to get to the bottom of it. You’d asked them what happened, they both gave similar answers. By that, you meant completely avoiding answering. 
Guille’d assured you, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, we’re friends? Don’t worry.” 
While Alexia’d said with a confused frown, “What do you mean? Nothing happened.” 
And when you pestered her, asked her if the reason was because she liked Guille as a joke, she looked at you without reply, and when next practice came, she made a nuisance of herself enough to let you know the answer to your question and more. 
And here you were again, with them acting like this–always at each other’s throats. 
At your answer, Alexia looked at you, confused. “Why would you ask him to teach you how to keep?”
Your gaze lanced away as you bit your lip.
Maybe you should’ve told her after all… 
Mustering up the courage to meet her eye again, you replied, low and serious. “I want to start playing keeper, Alexia.” 
Alexia blinked, and then she crossed her arms before she eyed Guille who was scowling at her in return. She looked at you again. 
“Have you told Alejandro about this?”
“Yes.” 
“Oh.” A pause. “What did he say?”
“I’ll still start as a forward. But he said he’ll put in some extra technical sessions for me starting next week which was why I asked Guille to help me get started. Alejandro said if I get good enough, he’ll see if I can start as keeper for the team.”
An uncomfortable silence settled over you three. 
You caught Guille’s eyes darting from you to Alexia and back again from the corner of your eyes but you remained focused on Alexia’s face. At a glance, Alexia might seem calm—impassive with the way all of her features remained flat. But her eyelids drooped just so they hid more than half of her pupils, how her lower lip was slightly concealed beneath the upper one; she was pissed and even worse, she was hurt. And knowing that you’d hurt her was enough to compel you to reach out and touch her arm, apologetic.
Alexia regarded you for a moment longer. Another word of apology was on the tip of your tongue when she finally sighed, the corner of her lips tilting up to a half-smile as she spoke softly. “Okay. How can I help?”
You couldn’t help yourself. You threw your arms around her and it felt like a weight was lifted from your chest upon hearing the chuckle she let out.
The next couple of hours were spent with the three of you working together: Guille by the goal who continuously gave you notes and instructions, while Alexia—upon Guille’s signal—would send some shots to the net so you could try and stop them. The first… fifty or so shots went right past you—going easy was never exactly Alexia’s strong suit—but the more you focused on getting the timing right and reading the language of Alexia’s body to anticipate the direction of the ball, you ended the session with a few decent saves. 
It was a rough start but you were satisfied with it.
You’d left to use the restroom but upon coming back, the two of them were bickering once more.
Oh, no. What was it now?
You heard more of their words the closer you got, but you didn’t have to move too close with the way they were shouting.
“Come on, dude! Please, don’t tell me you’re still pissed off about that? It was a fair match!”
“How was that fair, Alexia? The two of you playing together is never fair! You’re both in La Masia for crying out loud! And even more importantly, she was supposed to be on my team! That was the original plan, but you went ahead and took her away!”
“What made you think I took her away?” Alexia crossed her arms, scoffing. “Let’s face it. She likes to play with me more than you.”
“You don’t know that!”
That was the moment Alexia spotted you and before you could even get a word in, she said, “Why don’t we just ask her who she’d rather play with?”
Two sets of intense eyes looked your way and without meaning to, you gulped, taking a step back.
“So? Who would you rather play with: me or her?” Guille asked, eyes wide and pleading. 
Suddenly feeling like you were backed into a corner, you stammered in your panic, “Umm, I—”
[3]
Alexia stayed over for dinner that night. That was normal; what was unusual was she left you alone to do the dishes. You had a feeling where she might be, especially since she’d been mostly quiet throughout the whole evening.
After you put away the last dish in the cupboard, and when your arms were finally free from suds, you took a peek into the living room. She wasn’t there—a confirmation of her whereabouts.
Putting on your flip flops, you headed out of the back door. 
The light from the living room casted a faint glow that dissipated the darkness around the garden when you opened the door that led out to it, aiding you just enough to see Alexia on the swing, sitting still with her back hunched forward. Once you were just a few paces behind her, you saw the contours of her headset, but even with them on, there was no way she didn’t know you were there—the fact that your shadow stretched to reach her before you did was a dead give away. Yet still, she made no move to acknowledge your presence.
Okay. That was fair.
“Ale,” you said softly. 
She gave you a glance before she went back to looking down at her clasped hands. 
“Alexia, come on.” 
Still no response. You fiddled with your thumbs as the moment dragged on. 
You sighed, sitting down on your heels next to her.
“I should’ve told you about the keeper thing,” you muttered. “I wanted to get a feel for it first, to get a bit better at it before I told you. But I didn’t consider how that would make you feel… and I’m sorry. I’m sorry for making you feel that I didn’t want or need you by my side, Alexia. I wanted you to think I was good enough for this.” 
Finally, Alexia turned to you, taking her headset off, the movement barely above a whisper. And softly, she spoke, “What made you think that I’ll think you’re not good enough for anything?”
“I don’t know.” You admitted, pulling at the grass in front of you. Your mother would probably see the hole you’d made on the lawn and berate you for it in the morning but you needed something to keep your hands busy. “I just wanted to go through this without too many expectations. And it’s not like I don’t want to keep our dynamic going. I love playing forward with you, Alexia, but I think keeping is my calling, just like midfield is to you.”
“You don’t have to apologize. I completely understand. You didn’t want any added pressure. I’m not going to hold that against you.” 
“Thank you,” you smiled at her. Then, “So, tell me why are you sulking?”
“I’m not sulking!” Alexia huffed with indignation. Then she looked away again, working her lower lip between her teeth.
You put a hand on her knee. “Alexia, what is it?”
“I…” Alexia sighed, brushing the bridge of her nose with her thumb. You gave her another moment. She heaved another breath before she began.
“That thing you said… Did you really mean it when you said you’d rather play with him than me?”
Oh. So that was what this was about.
“Of course not. We both know it’s always going to be you, Alexia.”
“Then why did you tell him that?”
“I feel like if I didn’t, I’d lose him as a friend.”
“And you’re not worried about losing me?” Alexia cried out, her tone inflected while her eyes reflected her hurt.
You blinked at her. 
There were moments—just like now—where you’d feel a sudden urge to shake Alexia. For all her sharpness and unmatched awareness, she sometimes failed to see even the most obvious of things. Couldn’t she see that you loved her and that you’d follow her to the edge of the earth if she asked you to?
At the absurdity of her question, you really couldn’t help but laugh. You stood up and shuffled behind her before you threw your arms around Alexia’s neck, draping yourself over her broad back, which made the swing move forward. The dampness of her hair felt cool against your cheek, the scent of your shampoo that clung to them filled your senses as you chuckled into her ear. 
“Why are you laughing? I’m serious!”
“Because, Alexia, do you hear yourself? I love you, you idiot!” You giggled again. “I know our friendship isn’t that shallow that I’d lose you over this. Or am I wrong?”
Alexia turned her head and you saw a hint of a smile on her lips. “No, I suppose not.”
A pleasant silence blanketed you both. And then Alexia hummed.
“But if there was something that could break us, what do you think it would be?”
You stopped to ponder, twirling a lock of Alexia’s hair with your finger, noting her hair was nearly dry now. When your mind drew blank, you replied nonchalantly, “Honestly, I have no idea.”
“Good.” Alexia leaned away so she could give you a lopsided smile—an earnest one. “Because me neither.”
[4]
“—you okay?”
You blinked and turned to Alexia. “Hmm?”
She glanced at you for a moment before she turned back to what she was doing, sleeves rolled up as she scrubbed a plate in the soapy water in the sink.
“I said, are you okay? Is there something wrong? You’ve been out of it since practice.” When a moment of silence lapsed, Alexia added, “And don’t think I didn’t notice you on your swing the past few days, too, because I did.”
You looked out the window and watched how the rain sluiced down the glass pane. In the darkness behind the window, you saw glimpses of soaked, curly locks and heard the hasty confession all over again.
You sighed, blinking the memory away.
“Guille asked me out.”
The sound of glass shattering and metal clanging made you jump, and you watched as a casserole pot twirled like a top on the hard, kitchen floor, while fragments of a broken plate skittered out to different directions. 
“Oh, shit!” Alexia cursed, looking down at the mess, while a voice called out from the living room. 
“Alexia, is everything alright in there?'' Came Eli’s voice. A few seconds later, Jaume’s head popped into the kitchen. He glanced at you then his eyes settled on Alexia who was crouched down, looking up guiltily at her father.
“Are you okay, girls?”
“Yes, Papá. I just… dropped some stuff.” Alexia said. You crouched down, too, about to pick up a fragment when Jaume spoke.
“Don’t pick that up, love, you might cut yourself. I’ll do it.” 
Jaume shooed the two of you to a corner he deemed safe and the both of you watched as he picked up the pieces, throwing them in the bin by the back door. Afterwards, he gave Alexia a kiss on her temple, and you a hug and a ruffle to your hair, as he retired for the evening, leaving the two of you again in your own company. Alexia went back to the sink to finish up whatever was left, and you returned to your place on the counter beside her. 
The silence that intruded was cut short by Alexia when she cleared her throat, “So… what did you say?” 
“I haven’t said anything, yet,” you sighed again, looking back out the window, the questions coming back full force. In the eight years you’d known Guille, how long had he harbored those feelings for you? When did it happen? What did you do to make him feel that way?
“Do you like him?” Alexia’s question brought you back to the present.
“I don’t know.”
“Do you want him?”
“Isn’t that the same thing?” You laughed slightly, glancing back at Alexia who shrugged her shoulders in answer.
“No, I don’t think so. Desire is a drive, like it makes you want to act. Attraction is just… I don’t know how to explain it, but it’s a weaker feeling. And they complement each other but they’re not the same.”
“And you know this how exactly?” You asked her teasingly, a brow raised.
Alexia averted her eyes, and shrugged your question off with a laugh.
In the moment of silence that followed, you traced Alexia’s profile, and your gaze ended at the elegant curve of the bow of her lips. She looked so pretty casted in the candescent glow of the kitchen light that it made your chest ache just by looking at her. You dropped your eyes to your feet as your mind ran faster than before this entire conversation happened.
Clutching your arms tightly across your chest, you muttered, “I don’t know what I want.” 
[5]
Maybe hoping it would all turn out fine was a bit naive because naturally, Guille didn’t take your rejection well. It was your fault really for expecting otherwise but nevertheless, the inevitable discomfort of disappointment settled like lead in your gut. 
The thing was, you were ready to give Guille the space he needed to accept your boundaries—friends, or nothing at all—and to heal. But accusing Alexia of making you turn against him? Now, that was something you couldn’t let pass. 
He knew he’d crossed a line, too, with the way he kept avoiding you. At first, the silence didn’t bother you; he was hurt, after all. But when the apology never came, you understood that you’d be going through your last year of high school without your closest friend there by your side.
A fortnight passed without any word from him so it surprised you when he showed up at the local meetup that the three of you used to go to. He refused to meet your eyes but he had no problem leveling with the glares Alexia kept giving him. And when you ended up in Alexia’s team, the only sign of his distaste about it was the way his lips flattened to a line. He looked like he was about to say something, but with a slight shake of his head, he turned around and made his way to his teammates.
With one last look at Guille’s retreating back, you tuned back in your team’s conversation.
“—doesn’t need to play keeper. We need her more in the offensive.” Alexia said evenly but when you met her eyes, there was a clear question in them. 
You gave her a slight nod to let her know you were okay. 
She nodded back.
“How will that work? She’s the better keeper.” And then Marco added, “No offense, Julia.” 
Julia only shrugged carelessly, a gesture of nonchalance.
“Julia is perfectly fine and besides, with you, Benji, and Carmen, our backline is already strong. The four of you together lessens our chance of conceding.” Alexia paused, looking over her shoulder to the other team before she faced you all again, continuing, “Our priority is the offensive. What good is a strong backline if we can’t counterattack? That’s why I’m suggesting she play as forward in the meantime, while Martina and I will play as interiors. Does that make sense?”
A collective nodding occurred.
“So just to clarify, we’re playing three–two–one?” Benji asked.
Alexia hummed, nodding her head. “Mostly. If we find the space and some opportunities, we can easily do three–one–two.”
“No pressure on us defenders, right?” Carmen said with a laugh, if not with a hint of nerve. 
Everyone laughed but at the end of it, Alexia placed a hand on Carmen’s shoulder. “No pressure because you guys, as I said, are very strong. You got this.”
Carmen smiled at Alexia at that, nodding before she finally moved to her spot. As you and Alexia moved towards the middle of the pitch, Guille was introduced to your line of sight, and a weight pressed in your gut. Disappointment? Perhaps. Or maybe you just actually missed talking and hanging out with him.
Alexia’s teasing tone pulled away your attention from Guille.  “I hope you haven’t forgotten how to play forward from all the keeping you’ve been doing.”
“Four years of keeping against the five years of playing forward? You need to brush up on your math ‘cause I think you’ve forgotten how to count.” You said dryly, giving her a look so dirty that had her throwing her head back in laughter.
Alexia leveled you with an unimpressed look but her tone remained playful. “You are such a bitch sometimes. You know that, right?”
“Thank you. I do try, you know. It’s my only defense against your smart-mouth.”
“Stop denying you don’t like my teasing.” Alexia waggled her brows as she smirked. The way she looked just then—with both hands on her hips, the ball beneath her left boot—your throat dried, heart racing; a sensation that’d familiarized itself to you during its recurrent visits over the past few weeks. Your mind blanked out, clear as the white of Alexia’s shirt, and when no words came to you to retort back, you shook your head and just laughed. By the time the game started—or maybe it was because it started—the feeling finally went away, replaced by the adrenaline that shot through your veins the moment Alexia kicked the ball to you.
It proved to be a tight game. The main strategy of the opposition seemed to be to mark and shut you and Alexia down whenever the ball so much turned your way. Alexia was right to trust your backline: any counterattack from the other team was dealt with immediately, and Julia only needed to save a handful of shots that passed through your defense, which she handled well.
At last, your team finally made a breakthrough.
Alexia cut a diagonal through the box, taking two of the defenders as she did, freeing up the space just behind her. You knew what she was doing so you faked a sidestep, turning quickly to lose your marker, before you sprinted in towards the middle of the box. And as you anticipated, Alexia sent the ball back to you with a flick of her heel. Now, if you could just—
The ground tilted, and there was a moment where the whole world suspended. It lasted for less than a breath before everything—the sensations and sounds—came rushing back in.
You slammed to the ground. 
Air was squeezed out of your lungs from the impact, while your skull and teeth rattled within the confines of your skin; the taste of green, earth, and copper spread on your tongue. Muffled shouts and grunts filtered past the ringing in your ear but when you cupped a hand over your tender ribs, your resulting groan was all you could hear.
When you finally came to, Alexia’s face was over you, the doubled image of her finally merging into one. Her wide, hazel eyes looked on you with worry and you felt the warmth of her fingers as they grazed over your face: from your temples down to your cheeks which she took in a gentle cradle.
“Alexia?” You let out another groan as you turned on your back while Alexia helped you.
“Tell me where it hurts.”
There was a tension that constricted around the front part of your head, but you could feel the blood pulsing most on the side that collided with the ground. “My head… it hurts.”
“Okay, okay. Just lay down for now, I’ll get you…”
You seemed to have passed out after that because one moment you were lying on the fields, and the next you were beside Alexia on her living room couch. You had a vague recollection of being carried on Alexia’s back, but the feel of the strong plane of her shoulder against your cheek remained there, warm and comforting. 
And only then, after Eli gave you ice for your head, did you see the bruise that bloomed deep in the skin of Alexia’s jaw, just below her left cheek, and the scuffed knuckles of her right hand which were splotched with deep reds and purples.
You took her hand onto your lap, gently running over the ice for your head over her knuckles, while you looked at Eli sitting on the opposite couch with Jaume beside her. Eli’s face burnt redder than you’d ever seen before, while Jaume held onto her hand, circling his thumb over the top of it in an attempt to calm her down.
Alexia remained quiet the whole time, eyes casted down as she took her mother’s reprimanding words. There was the unmistakable shine of shame in them, her guilt, but also an unwavering quality that stood for what she did. At the end of it, Eli and Jaume hugged the both of you before letting you retreat into Alexia’s room as you waited for your parents to arrive.
Instead of getting on her bed with you, Alexia plopped down on the floor just by the foot of the bed, her back against the wooden bedframe. You regarded the back of her head, her neck curved downwards, and you suddenly felt the need to be close to her so you shuffled off her sheets, and got down beside her. 
“Thank you, but your mother was right, you know? You shouldn’t have done it, Alexia.” You mumbled, unfurling her fingers to rest on your knee so you could access more of her knuckles that way. Gently, you placed ice over it, but she still hissed in pain. “You shouldn’t have punched him.”
“Why not? He deserved it.” Alexia said evenly as she stared at the far corner of the room. “And before you start defending him, you didn’t see what I saw—what the rest of us saw. He didn’t even touch the ball—it was all feet. He meant to trip you up.” 
Warmth bloomed in your chest at her words—at how her action showed just how much you meant to her—but the discomfort in your gut marred the surge of your affection for her. 
You took a deep breath, sighed it out, and it tasted like disappointment. 
“Alexia, I appreciate the gesture, I do. But you can’t just hurt people just because they did something to me.” 
Alexia puffed her chest and proclaimed, “I can.”
“Stop that nonsense, Alexia. I mean it.” Firmer now, you said, and there was a hint of desperation in the intonation of your words. There was an urgent need to make Alexia understand the gravity of what she did, what future implications it held if what Eli and you told her didn’t sink in now. “Actions like this can jeopardize you, Alexia, and all the things you worked hard for. Do you understand that? What will Alejandro say when he sees you all bruised up next practice? And if I get tackled dirty during a game and I get hurt, would you risk a red card, or suspension, for behaving like this?”
Alexia became silent, the muscle in her jaw working, and when she turned to you with her mouth open and you spotted a defiant crease in her brows, you were quick to stop her.
“If the answer to that question isn’t no, Ale, I don’t want to hear it.” The sound of teeth clattering filled the air. She casted her gaze aside again, her cheeks growing a shade deeper. “Look at me, Alexia.”
When she kept her eyes glued to the floor, you dropped the ice pack to take her face in your hands. She flinched from the coldness of your fingers but as you looked into her eyes, rimmed with redness and framed by drooping eyelids, you found exhaustion and the shine of apology. You brushed away a matted lock of hair from the tail end of her brow.
“You have a good heart, Alexia, but you have to promise me. Please don’t do something like this again. Ever.” 
Alexia looked into your eyes, deeply as if in contemplation, and then she closed them. A moment later, she sighed, sagging into your touch as if a weight had left her shoulders, before she opened them again. 
“I promise.” 
This time, you believed her.
Smiling softly at her, you whispered, while you placed a light kiss on her cheek. “Thank you.”
Settling into the moment, you rested your head against Alexia’s shoulder, her bruised hand in yours. In the brief silence before your father arrived to pick you up, Alexia spoke in an earnest tone that made your stomach flutter.
“I know you can handle yourself, but that won’t stop me from having your back.”
At her words, your heart felt like it would burst your chest open. And you should’ve known that this was where you’d end up—with her, it seemed inevitable anyway—because the years of you’d known Alexia flashed quickly before your eyes, and the memory stopped to this person beside you, haloed golden by the warm glow of her bedside lamp, and you were hit with a realization that took what little breath you had away.
You liked Alexia.
And, even more importantly, you want her.
[6]
When you got on the field in a Barça jersey for the first time after your return, you didn’t expect to be welcomed like you did. Jona subbed you on after the first half and as you left the tunnel, you heard the crowd chanting your name. The cheers made you feel excited, accepted and seen, but you’d be lying if you said that it didn’t pressure you at all.
It was originally intended for you to come on during the last twenty minutes, but seeing as Caro, Patri, and Alexia gave the team a comfortable enough lead, Jona decided to sub you on ahead of schedule. You didn’t see much action on your end though, something that you didn’t mind at all—a quiet defensive-third was the best kind. The midfielders kept the midline high to sustain pressure in the offensive-third, while the defenders maintained such a tight backline that any loose through-balls sent to the opposing runners were called offside. Of course, there were a handful of times when you needed to get out of your box to ping the ball back into the offensive, but other than that, it was quiet. When the match ended, you were satisfied that Barça had another clean sheet and four goals to add to the season tally.
For the celebration, you moved with your teammates around Estadi Johan Cruyff, and during the procession, you spied your parents, Eli, and Alba who was talking to a raven-haired woman you’d never seen before, clapping and cheering. Warmth filled you upon seeing your family in the stands again—such a scene was a luxury when you were in the States because plane tickets weren’t exactly cheap—and when you felt the familiar weight of Alexia’s arm slung over your shoulders, the fabric of her captain armband against the skin of your neck, it felt like a perfect homecoming.
Well, almost.
After you’d showered and changed to your casuals, most of the crowd had gone while some lounged about, one of which was the raven-haired woman Alba was talking to. When Alexia took her hand, you knew instantly, and your heart—damn your heart—dropped.
“This is Diana,” Alexia said after the both of them made their way to you. And if it wasn’t their intertwined hands that revealed what they were to each other, their gaze—saccharine when they met—made it all the more clear the nature of their relationship long before Alexia said the words, “my girlfriend.”
Diana beamed up at Alexia, her cheeks deepening in color before she regarded you again, sticking her hand out towards you to shake. Preceding the intention, you took her hand and when you did, Diana placed her other hand over yours, clasping your hand between her warm palms.
“It’s so nice to finally meet you. Alexia’s talked so much about you.” 
She did? Your eyes flitted to Alexia but when she shied away from that, you focused back on Diana’s face. She was stunning: with her high cheekbones carved to elegance, her brows following the perfect line of her temple, her full lips painted with a terracotta shade made deeper by the bronze of her skin, while her loose, straight, raven hair framed her face in such a way that accentuated the sharpness of her jaws. Her eyes were dark but still light enough to see the outline of her pupils, and they had an amiable shape that reflected her warm nature. And for some reason, her light brown eyes looked really familiar—
“Ah! My favorite cousin made it, after all! Although I’m not sure it was me you went to the game for!” Tori’s playful voice resonated in the near-barren corridor. Diana’s eyes flicked somewhere behind you—to Tori, you supposed.
“Don’t be like that, Tori, of course I came to see you, too!”
“Lies!”
Diana shook her head, laughing, as she took Tori in her arms. “Come here, you!”
In response, Tori said something in Portuguese that made Diana laugh. When they broke apart, Diana said, “Forget you? Never. Especially when I owe you one.”
“Owe her what?” Alexia asked with her brows creased with curiosity.
Diana took Alexia’s hand and squeezed it, looking up at Alexia with a gentle expression. “For giving us the chance to meet.”
“Damn right!” Tori exclaimed, putting both hands on her hips, as she grinned so wide that her dimple showed. Tori must’ve seen your confusion because she leaned in to whisper, “I brought Diana as my plus one for last year’s Ballon D’Or ceremony.”
You allowed your mouth to drop open before you smiled, letting out a small laugh that made your chest ache. “Ah, I see.”
“She kept complaining about going but now, aren’t you grateful I took you away from your precinct, Detective Beauregard?” Tori teased.
“She’s never going to let us live this down, will she?” Diana muttered dryly to Alexia but it was deliberately loud enough for all of you to hear. In response, Alexia threw her head back laughing. 
“You’re a detective? That’s amazing!” You said, impressed.
“Please, Tori’s exaggerating. I work in forensics. DNA analyst is the correct title.” Diana threw Tori a dirty look to which the other woman raised her shoulders in response. “It’s a whole different world compared to yours so—and please don’t let this get to your head, Tori—I am grateful I was able to step into it.”
Her eyes, still locked with Alexia’s, grew all the more soft.
“Get a room, you guys,” Tori said with a mock sound of disgust, and then she continued to mutter, “And to think that you’ve only been going out for four months… I don’t even want to think about how it will be like in another three months.”
At that, Alexia raised a brow and then, “Want to do some extra laps tomorrow?”
You and Tori knew Alexia was joking, but Tori being Tori, she spluttered, “That would be a hard no, Captain. I’ll just—Have a great night!” 
With that, she ran away, arms flailing behind her in an exaggerated manner as she hastily made her exit. The sight drew laughter from the three of you.
“We’re having dinner at Mamá’s, want to come over?” Alexia asked.
You shook your head, flashing a look at Diana, before you told Alexia,“Not tonight. I’m just about to head over to my parents’ as well.”
“Alright. But Alba’s going to ask about you, you know? I think she wants to hang  out with you.”
You laughed. “Tell her to text me. She’ll know what that means.”
“Is that something I should know about?” Alexia smirked.
Flatly, you retorted, “If it’s something that concerns you, I’d be telling you by now, right?” 
“You see what I have to deal with?” Alexia told Diana, almost whining.
Inching backwards, you said as dry as you could manage, “I’ll take that as my queue to leave, Alexia might start crying. She’s a crybaby, you know?” 
“Hey! I’m not—”
“No need to be embarrassed about it, Alexia. Be proud!”
Diana only laughed, saying, “Alright, kids, I think that’s enough for tonight.”
Nodding, you grinned at Alexia while she mouthed the word ‘bitch’ to you. In kind, you mouthed ‘smartmouth’ back. With a shake of her head and a smile, she gave you one last hug, and after a pleasant goodnight from Diana, the three of you parted ways.
You sent them a look over your shoulder, catching a glimpse of the watch around Alexia’s left wrist. It glinted as they walked together down the corridor, hand in hand, looking as in love as any new couple would. 
The sight made you smile, but it felt heavy, and as if the universe wanted to rub salt to the wound, you found Patri outside the locker room when you turned around with a look akin to pity in her eyes.
[7]
The next day, Guille stopped by at your place. He’d given you notice a few days prior but even still, the moment you saw him behind the door, you squealed like you were ten again from your excitement. After you hugged him tight—he made a choking noise when you did to tease you—you held him at arm’s length to see what changes the last few months had done to him.
He looked different. Gone were the long, dark curls; now sheared close to his scalp that left only about an inch of length, his hair retained their luscious shine, their color still as dark as night. 
His scar—the one just by the tail end of his left brow—that used to see little light from the obstruction of his hair, now stood apparent and without meaning to, the day he got it came back to you: the bruised knuckles, ice-cold fingers, and the warm blush of a lamplight.
 And your chest ached a little.
Leading the conversation to the living room, the two of you ended up ordering takeaways—mostly for Guille’s benefit because you weren’t about to subject him to your football diet—and as you ate, the two of you caught up.
Guille was close to finishing his dissertation—the biomechanics of concussion in sport and its neurocognitive implications—and he was both excited and fearful about what would come next. He then talked about his girlfriend, Iris, smittenly if you might add. She was actually with him in the city, but his mother insisted she steal Iris for the day for some quality bonding, and you laughed at the repertoire of stories he’d relayed in great detail about his mother’s teasing of their relationship.
“When am I going to meet Iris?” You asked with a teasing tone.
He rolled his eyes, “Well, since you’re actually staying in Barcelona this time, we can arrange that.”
A pause, and then, “Is Alexia staying here, too, or are you here by yourself?”
“No, it’s just me here.”
“Oh. I thought the two of you’d be rooming again like—” Probably seeing your change in demeanor, Guille cleared his throat as he ate his pasta a bit too eagerly. “Speaking of, how is she?”
The question was casual but you knew it was anything but.
“She’s doing good, if not a little stressed. Our first Champions League game is just around the corner after all and it’s against Chelsea, so.” You shrugged to complete your thought. You knew what he was asking but you’d rather not talk about that.
His eyes could burn a hole on the side of your head by the way he stared at you in the silence that followed. Then he sighed deeply.
“She still doesn’t know.”
Tension filled every inch of your body and you shrank tight as a coiled spring. You stood up as you felt a sudden urge to get away from him, taking the used plates on the coffee table as a pretense to move from the couch to the sink.
“What’s it to you if she doesn’t know, Guille?” You asked flatly, rolling up your sleeves after you turned the tap on.
“I just want you to be happy. Is that so wrong?”
“And who says I’m not?” Your tone was flat and when you glanced at him over your shoulder, Guille only gave you a pointed look.
Then he said softly, “She could make you happier and you know it.”
And there it was again, that look in his eyes that you just couldn’t stand. Gritting your teeth, you gripped the edge of the sink and your voice quaked when you spoke. “Please stop talking like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like,” you tried to find the words but when they evaded you, you huffed and threw your hands up in the air. “Why are you making it sound like I have a chance?”
“Because you do! You’re the one who’s not giving Alexia a chance by not telling her.”
“Give me one good reason why I should.”
“She loves you.”
A pause.
“That’s bullshit.” You shook your head, letting out a small, disbelieving laugh. As much as your heart wanted that to be true, you knew otherwise.
“It’s really fucking not.” Guille countered.
“If she did, she wouldn’t have said what she did.” 
“People say stupid shit when they’re drunk.”
“That can go the other way, too. Alcohol has a way of loosening what’s been bottled.”
“Oh, come on!” Guille scoffed. “You’ve known her since you were eight. You’ve been through thick and thin together! Do you really think she wanted you to leave?”
With the reminder, the memory sprung up on you and you could hear Alexia’s voice, grating and wrenching your heart raw again when you heard the words from her lips. You whirled around to face him, eyes burning.
“You weren’t there when she told me, Guille!” You breathed out sharply and then you continued, in a lower tone filled with resignation, you whispered as you buried your face in your palms. “You didn’t hear the way she said it. You didn’t—”
You choked on your words. 
After all this time, it was still too painful.
Darkness filled your vision but the tears escaped nonetheless, branding tracks down your cheeks. You heard the rustling of clothes followed by soft footsteps. Before you knew it, Guille’s arms wrapped around your shoulders and his familiar, comforting scent made you sink into the embrace.
“You’re right. I wasn’t there. But if you could forgive me for being an asshole and what I did to you, why can’t you do the same with her?”
You didn’t say anything after that, only clutched at his shirt a little tighter.
Guille kept quiet, too.
The both of you knew just the reason why.
[8]
“Did you see the news?” Jona asked as he kept the door open for you to an empty meeting room, closing it as soon as you’d gone in. 
Sitting down on one of the cushioned chairs, you said, “I did.”
You saw it this morning and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t faze you. 
Jona nodded, taking the chair across the table from you. He put his clasped hands on the wooden surface and the way he tapped an erratic rhythm with his thumbs didn’t help your nerves.
“Lyon paid a hefty transfer fee for her and that makes me worried. I don’t know what Bompastor is planning to do with her but her transfer to the European league will be a concern for the club.” With a pensive crease appearing between his brows, he continued. “You probably know why I asked you to come in.”
“You want me to tell you what I know about her.”
He nodded, leaning forward as if to emphasize his point. “She’s a lethal forward and you’re the only one in the club who’s ever played with her. In fact, you two seemed very close during your time in Angel City.”
You crossed your arms, leaning back into your chair, frowning slightly. “I don’t know what you’re trying to say.”
Jona blinked at you.
Then slowly, “Surely you must’ve trained closely together considering she’s a forward and you’re a keeper? Unless training was vastly different in Angel City, then I’m sorry for the assumption.”
“O–Oh, I thought you were implying—” You shook your head, uncrossing your arms as you waved the rest of your sentence away. “Never mind. But yes, that’s right.”
Jona gave you another questioning look before speaking again. 
“She’s going to be a big problem. And that’s why I’m going to change things up a bit. I want to put you in the starting lineup as soon as possible—put as many games with our current team under your belt. We’ll most likely face Lyon in the Quarters and that’s unfortunate but what is great is that you’re here: the best counter to what Lyon acquired. If we could eliminate Lyon early, we have a higher chance of winning this year’s Champions League. The question is, are you ready for it?”
“That’s what I’m here for, Jona.” You said seriously, ignoring the pressure that pressed in the periphery of your mind.
“Use me.”
404 notes · View notes
42spideys · 1 year
Text
TEDDY BEAR — e-42!miles morales x m!reader
Tumblr media Tumblr media
synopsis: some miles hc’s about him dating a cute chubby boy and how he is with him!
pairing: earth 42 miles morales x male reader, earth 42 miles morales x black male reader
tags: m.reader, fluff, slightly suggestive, possessive miles, really intense love from miles
notes: IM GOING THROUGH BRAINROT OUGHHHH I LOVE U MILES
Tumblr media
when you and miles got together it was a shock to everyone, especially you. you weren’t the most talkative person, ridiculously shy, but he still found himself drawn to you.
you were the cute chubby boy that he sat next to, he liked to sneak glances at you. enjoying who your cheeks puffed out when you were confused on a question, his favorite is when you give his arm a small tap and try to ask for help. he always teases you when this happens, he can’t help himself, you’re just to cute :((
you pouted at the math equation in front of you, you tried 16 different ways to solve it until you finally gave up. you glanced over to your seat partner, miles, he always made your face heat up. you chewed on your bottom lip, trying to hype yourself up to ask him for help in a way that was comfortable for you. you tapped his arm with a shaky hand, he tilted his head towards you with hooded eyes filled with boredom.
you almost forgot what you wanted to ask him, the way the sun bounced off his body, making him glow almost like an angel. everything about him was perfect to you, his eyes, his nose, his lips…you felt yourself get lost.
“focus, guapo, what did you tap me for,hm?” you felt your face burn in embarrassment, you slid the piece of paper towards miles with a pout, pointing at the question you were fighting for you life for.
cute. you were always really, really cute.
he follows you around the school, kinda like a bodyguard. you were happy to have him for company, he knew that you didn’t talk unless you either wanted to or had to, so when you guys were together he would do all the talking for you.
he is so protective over you even before you guys get together, glaring at people when they look at you funny, outright pulling you away from situations he finds weird.
and he’s so so jealous…
you could be in a one sided conversation with another student, giving small “mhms!” once and awhile, miles literally wrapped an arm around your shoulders and just walked away with you.
when you whine at him he’ll just give you a “she was talkin to you funny, don’t fall for that, rey.” you groaned a fake annoyance at him before giggling at his small pout.
and when you guys finally get together
he is going CRAZY
spoiling you with art of you, buying you your favorite snacks, little stuffed animals, cute collectibles, and so much more.
you’re his prince and he has to treat you like so! he won’t have it any other way >:(
“miles!? what the hell, you shouldn’t have gotten me this stuff! how much was-“ miles silenced you with a soft kiss to your lips, you whined at the contact. miles pulled away from your wet puffy lips with a smirk, “i’ll buy you whatever i want, you deserve it and so much more, so take it before i tackle yo ass.” you took the large bear and roses from miles arms, your face practically burning off.
miles was all giddy inside, he loved seeing you squirm and get flustered whenever he bought you practically anything. you weren’t used to getting gifts in the slightest, you barley got anything for your birthday and christmas, not that your parent didn’t care about you. money was just really really tight, miles knew that, that’s why he made it his mission to spoil you like you deserved to be spoiled!!
don’t let him catch you being insecure about yourself or saying anything mean about yourself, he will fr go off in disbelief
you’ll mutter something about, “i hate my tummy…i really gotta stop eating.” think miles wouldn’t hear that, but erm…
he absolutely did and damn near broke his neck trying to turn towards you, his face twisted in confusion
what do you mean by that?? who said you could say that about yourself??? do you want your ass beat or something?? (lovingly of course)
“the fuck did you just say?” miles glared at you, making you instantly shrink into yourself. you picked at your fingers, looking away from miles burning glare, “i said,” you heard him get up from his desk and walk over to you. he took your chubby face in his hand and made you look up at him, you instantly melted in his touch. “what did you say, hm? you talkin’ bad about my favorite boy?” “…i said i don’t like my tummy.” you mumbled, you heard miles give a laugh he only did when he was either about to fight or say something absolutely outrageous.
he sucked his teeth before pushing your back on the bed, he lifted your hoodie to expose your tummy, this made you shiver and pout at him. “miles! what are you-“
kiss.
huh?
kiss kiss kiss!
you start giggling as miles continues to kiss and bite your tummy, you tried to pull him away by his braids but he just bit you even harder leaving teeth marks. after he was done with his tummy attack he hovered above you, his gold chain you gifted him for his birthday dangling perfectly above you. “don’t let me catch you saying some dumb shit like that ever again, or i’ll find other ways to keep that pretty lil head of yours straight.” he cooed.
“miles, technically i cant do that because-“
“i will kick you out of my house.”
at first he really didn’t like physical affection, but after you guys made it official he would go crazy if he didn’t get to touch you at least 10 times a day
constantly having his hands or body on your or near you
coming behind you in the halls to wrap his arms around your midsection while getting his head in a nice and comfy position in the crook of your neck, holding your hands and locking pinkies with you, biting your cheeks when he got bored
always kneading your cute chubby tummy like a cat whenever he got the chance
he also loves your neck, like that’s top three on his list of favorite body parts on you. perfect place to leave hickeys and bites :3
“hold still, i’m not done.” miles has been sucking and biting your neck for what seems like hours, your neck was throbbing with pain, you still didn’t even know why he was so intense about giving you these marks. “miles, what the hell are you even doing?” you whimpered into miles ear, he grunted in accomplishment and had a huge smirk on his face. “give me my phone, let me show you my masterpiece.”
you handed him his phone in pure confusion, you rubbed at your sore neck with a pout. “jeez, my neck hurts.” miles chuckled at your complaining, “you could’ve told me to stop at any time, rey.” he unlocked his phone to go to his camera, he placed his hand under your jaw, lifting it upwards to the left. he made sure his hand was in the shot, the whole time he was taking pictures he had a smirk on his face.
“let me see what you’ve been torturing my neck for the past ten minutes for, please.” miles rolled over next to you and handed you his phone, “only because you asked so nicely.” as soon as you saw the pictures you thought you were gonna pass out, miles had somehow sucked his initials in your neck with a bite mark under it. you covered your face in embarrassment, quickly shoving your face in miles chest. “i cant stand you, how am i supposed to walk around with this?” you peaked up at miles who was still just smirking “that’s the point, i want everyone to know that you’re mine and mine alone.”
2K notes · View notes
avalordream · 4 months
Text
Prompt: Imagine you get isekaied in Our Life. Only thing is that you wake up as a child and remember everything. You can only save at this point but you can still access the save and load menu and see your previous runs.
Meanwhile your precious neighbor is slowly becoming self aware, getting deja vu with every passing second- as if this has all happened before...
A/N: A few days after I posted this- a few other thoughts came to mind- SO HERE IS MY ATTEMPT AT VOCALIZING THEM
You’re keenly aware of how small and tiny you are the moment you wake up. 
For the first few days, you started to acclimate to…the family home. 
It wasn’t YOUR family though. It never was. It was MC’s. Not your’s.
You could project all you wanted onto MC but it was never your family or your life to experience. It was theirs.
Even so, you quickly found yourself missing the life you were used to. More specifically:
The cuisine.
It was hard not to draw suspicion to the fact that you were craving different food genres aside from Mom’s Pamela’s mac and cheese and cheeseburgers. 
Ma’s Noelani’s Hawaiian food helped quite a bit to hold you over as you started to ponder over how to approach it.
Kind of hard to bring it up to your MC’s parents that you wanted Asian/Middle eastern/Indian/Pakistani/Mexican/etc food when there was none of that for miles around
For the time being, you had to quietly hint and nudge their thoughts into that direction but not enough to make them suspicious. Noelani obviously had her suspicions about Cove getting into the house from Step 2-3 but never brought it up once. From what you could tell, she was scary observant
Another issue was how clumsy your new body was.
Your mind might be able to remember how to do everyday tasks like writing and such but this tiny body didn’t have the muscle memory to match it
Much to Liz’s dismay, you spent quite a bit of your time forcing your hands and legs to train to do things your adult body could do in a snap
Time wise- technology was a huge sucker punch. It made you feel bad for taking your own devices for granted. 
That being said, self learning everything was going to be hard without a phone or computer on hand, especially knowing that you’d have to go through the cursed education system all over again- but most likely much harder
There had to be a reason older folk complained about it, right?...
Your MC’s birthday was the same as your own, just that the birth year is 1997. That being said, the current year was 2006… Funny. You were only two in 2006…
Back to self learning, you tried to practice what you considered basic math long after everyone had fallen asleep
Usually, your day was filled with entertaining Shiloh and Liz, playing in the park or going along with whatever Liz said. Judging by the giant for sale sign across the street and the date, you figured out that you got isekaied roughly at least a month or two before Cove and Mr. Holden would move in. 
Who knew how that would go now that you weren’t subjected to just three choices?
Even after playing around, your body was exhausted and your baby mind was just as pooped out.
The first few days you would wake up early as children do and tried doing your math and remembering as much as you could at that time
Yeah, Liz nearly gave you a heart attack after she barged in and you had to play it off as you scribbling absolute nonsense cause you were bored
After that near collision, you changed your prep time to being at night. Sure, you woke up to Liz shaking you and not getting enough sleep in the morning, but you needed to refresh your memory the best you could
You couldn’t do it every night though and did your best to keep some sort of schedule so you wouldn’t forget - and worry your MC’s moms
They noticed the first few times of how sleepy you’d be when you’d wake up later than usual - granted if Liz didn’t wake you up - and a few nights after, you nearly got caught right in the middle of your review.
Pam was more sneaky than Noelani, so you should’ve seen this coming- but even so, you had everything spread out on your rug when you just barely heard her footsteps come to your MC’s door
You had enough time to shove everything underneath your bed - your room was messy enough but better safe than sorry - and quickly dive under the covers before you heard your door open with the softest of clicks
She was around for a good while before you heard the door close again but you didn’t relax until you were sure her footsteps went back to the master bedroom
After that, you were much more careful about how long you spent studying and when. You haven’t been caught since.
Occasionally, you’d have to sneak in your MC’s parent’s room to grab any books that you needed. Good thing Noelani was a book nerd.
You did have to be careful about your self learning- you didn’t want them getting any suspicions that their kid was suddenly…different out of nowhere.
You had no idea what MC was like as a kid before the events of Our Life so you tried your best to piece together what you could 
Speaking of, there were a bunch of things you quickly realized about Our Life, one of which is that game didn’t go over nearly everything that MC went through, let alone before Cove came or others that it only touched on briefly
For example, the tourists that came and went every year happened to be close friends of Pamela’s from her time in university, hence why they were so friendly to you and Liz in particular. 
It was also why they knew how to… handle your ever changing moods. At least-
That’s what it looked like to them.
To you- it was because you had to battle MC’s initial responses to these scenarios.
Go figure, this body still had its fair share of emotions inside of it, leaving you to figure out if this sharp pang of fear or worry was your own or not.
It left you second guessing everything you did, especially when you’d be up at night, studying and practicing your writing
It seriously irked you, knowing your writing was sloppy even though you knew this body couldn’t help it. It didn’t make seeing your scrappy writing less frustrating though
Despite how much you tried to hide how YOU felt, not MC, Noelani still picked up on the small shifts in your behavior. 
One of these being the irritation you harbored for your writing. 
Speaking of emotions, you found your body easily overwhelmed by any stronger ones- your own irritation making you cry- an alien feeling and one that took even you by surprise.
Worse part? The first time happened was in front of Noelani when she tried to help you practice your penmanship
Naturally, she tried to comfort you MC by trying to console you, saying it’d be better with practice and wiping away your tears but no matter how YOU tried, the tears wouldn’t stop flowing
It wasn’t until much later that you realized that MC’s tiny self had their own limits and by pushing those adult feelings and expectations that YOU had onto it sent it into a messy overdrive.
After that, you had learned to slow down- the world wasn’t ending…even if it felt like it.
The nail in the coffin for you that made YOU cry. Not MC’s body: Your dreams started to resemble parts of your life. 
You’d dream that you were back at your desk job or filling out mundane paperwork but no matter how boring it’d be, it was YOUR life.
The one YOU were used to and familiar with
You’d always feel so relieved to be back where you were supposed to, whether you were happy with that life or not
It was that feeling of having all your choices in your hand and being in control of where you wanted to go, if that made sense.
Nobody made those choices for you except well…you.
Only to have that feeling of familiarity ripped away once you registered Liz waking you up to play while “Ma and Mom snooze the day away!”
You just want to go home…
To YOUR home…
-> Part 1.5 <- ⊹ ‧₊˚ Isekai Self Aware Taglist: @lilqi @annoying-mary ˚₊‧ ⊹
326 notes · View notes
delulu-baddie · 1 month
Text
Between Sister and Heart
Tumblr media
Summary: You begin to question your morals after getting into a relationship with your sisters ex Caitlin.
Pairing: Caitlin Clark x Reader
Warnings: Cheating and a few curse words
A/N:  I’m getting ready to go back to school so lifes been kind of hectic, but this is going to be a multi part series. As always thank you guys so much for reading and all of the love on my past projects. Lastly, make sure to send in some requests so that I can give you guys stories that you want to read. <3
_________________________________________________
You knew it was wrong and you should've stopped this a while ago. You two are going to cause so much hurt to someone that you love, but something about Caitlin made all of your morals go out the window. 
Caitlin and your sister Audrey had been together for the past two years and while you weren’t exactly fond of her in the beginning, you grew to like her, which turned into a great friendship, and you should have stopped there but didn’t. As time went on your feelings for the girl began to grow and for a while you were able to keep them to yourself, until you werent. 
9 Months Ago
Tonight one of Caitlins teammates was planning on throwing a party to commemorate the beginning of the new school year. Your sister is a STEM major, and has always taken her academics seriously, putting school work before anything else. You on the other hand were the opposite. You had a pretty easy major, probably one of the easiest your school has to offer. You liked going out to drink with friends, and going on random adventures, even when you knew you should be at home finishing assignments. Caitlin had always liked that about you. Typically when Audrey would tend to flake on certain events whenever she had a big assignment or a test coming up which ultimately was the reason she decided to start hanging out with you more, and tonight was no different.
Caitlin had let your sister know about Kate's party weeks ago, and while she didn’t give a definite ‘yes’, it still surprised Caitlin when she got a text saying she wasn’t going to be able to go because one of Audreys professors had already scheduled a test coming up in a week. Audrey knew her girlfriend hated going places alone when she planned on drinking so she urged Caitlin to ask you to go to her place. But what she didn’t know was that her girlfriend was happy that she had told her to ask you to go in her place. 
You had just finished up an assignment for your math class and heard a notification from your phone, quickly checking it and seeing a text from Caitlin.
                                            CC <3
CC <3
hey, ik this is totally last minute but your sister bailed on 
me and i need someone to come with me to my friends
party tn. so could you be the most perfect friend ever
and come with me. I’ll buy you crumbl cookie!
Y/N                                                                    
wow… glad to know im a
scapegoat. :’(
CC <3
omg you're right that sounds so insensitive, im sorry!
you don’t have to go, im sure you already have plans
for the night, i just figured id ask.
                                        Y/N
          chill clark, you had me at crumbl
what time do i need to be ready??
CC <3
in like two hours, you can come over to mines
to get ready if you want
Y/N
okay, ill be there in like 30. im
going to shower rq
CC <3
tysm! you're an angel!!!
You quickly take a shower and start getting your stuff together running back and forth between yours and your sister's closets trying to piece together an outfit. Once you come up with an outfit you deemed appropriate for a house party you say goodbye to your sister before making your way to Catlins. 
The drive is short since she only lives about ten minutes away, but you still rush out seeing as you have a little over an hour to get your hair and makeup done. You make your way to her front door and knock before its swiftly opened by a smiling Caitlin.
“Well if it isn't the life saver herself” She says bringing you into a hug.
You giggle at the comment before responding “Life saver or scapegoat?”
“Okay you know I love you and that I hate making plans with people at the last minute. It's not personal.” she says, rolling her eyes playfully and walking back towards her room to finish getting ready.
You follow the tall girl deeper into the apartment before making your way into the bathroom next to her and laying out all of your hair tools. After about half an hour you finally finish your hair and quickly do your makeup and get dressed so you two can pregame a bit before calling the uber and heading to Kate’s. 
About an hour into the party, it's pretty safe to say the two of you were plastered, however, even with the level of drunkenness you were at, you could tell Caitlin was being a lot clingier than usual. She was constantly wanting to be near you, holding your hand, even going as far to have you sit on her lap when all of the seats got taken during a group game sesh. At first you thought that she was so drunk that she was confusing you with your sister. That was until she pulled you out onto the balcony when she wanted some fresh air. 
The two of you just sat in silence, focusing on the trees blowing in the wind and the occasional late drivers passing by. After about ten minutes you felt her place her hand on your thigh. You hated to admit that you felt butterflies in your stomach at all of the little touches of affection she was showing you tonight, but you knew it was wrong and decided to correct her on it before things got too far. 
“Caitlin, this isn’t right, and maybe i'm reading into this too much and you're just too drunk to realize that i'm not Audrey, but this can't happen” you say, sliding her hand off your thigh, breaking the silence.
“I know exactly who you are,” she says, grabbing your hand from off your lap. “You’re the girl who will drop anything to come help me out with something,even when you know you have other things you should be focusing on. The girl who comes to all of my games so that I know I have someone personal there for me because her sister who i'm with refuses to put her disliking for the sport aside to come support me. You’re the girl I'm in love with, and I can't, no I refuse to go another day without telling you.” She rants. “And don't tell me that you don't feel the same because I know you do. I feel the way your heart starts to race every time i hug you. I see how you look away every time your sister and I share some sort of affection. I need you to tell me so that I don’t feel stupid for telling you this right now” she finishes now facing you completely, staring at your eyes desperately waiting for an answer.
You were quiet for a minute, however that felt like hours for the girl standing in front of you. She had just poured her heart out confessing her love to the sister of the girl she was dating. While you sat trying to process what was just said to you, Caitlin was freaking out internally hoping that she didn’t just fuck up her chances of ever speaking to you again. You finally decide to respond to the girl, but it wasn’t what she was expecting to hear as a response. 
“I think we should leave, it’s getting late and my sister is probably waiting for me to get back home.” you say, before walking back into the house to say your goodbyes to everyone and calling an uber back to Caitlins so that you can retrieve your stuff and head back to your place. 
Caitlin stood there in shock, she couldn’t believe that that was all you had to say. She had just let her guard down to tell you how she truly felt about you, and your only concern was the time and your sister sitting at home. She soon walks back into the party to say her goodbyes as well before following you out the door to get into the uber you had ordered a few minutes ago. Her teammates had noticed the change in demeanor between the two of you from when you went outside to when you came back in, but everyone decided it was best not to bring it up at the moment. The ride back to her place was quiet. Caitlin was hoping that you would say something, occasionally looking over at you, but you didn’t. You just stayed quiet, fiddling with your fingers and staring out the window for the whole 15 minute drive.
Once you guys had finally arrived back at her place, you begin getting all of your stuff together, mentally scolding yourself for not telling your true feelings to the girl. You could tell that she was angry at you for it, and it broke your heart, but she's your sister's girlfriend and you would never want to hurt Audrey even if that meant causing hurt to yourself. You finish grabbing all of your stuff and tell Caitlin you're going to head out before she stops you. 
“Look, I know you don't want to be around me right now, but Audrey would never forgive me if I let you drive home knowing that you had been drinking. Just stay the night here and you can leave in the morning, I'll just sleep on the couch.” She says looking everywhere but at you. 
“I’m fine, I promise. I can drive back home, I don't want to intrude.” you say looking down at the floor. 
“You could never intrude, if anything your absence would annoy me more.” she says, grabbing your chin to make you look at her.
Staring into her brown eyes made your heart melt. You were so in love with her and you didn’t want to fight it anymore. Before you could think twice you grab her face, pulling her into a kiss. It caught the girl off guard, but she quickly melted into it, placing her hands onto your waist pulling you in closer. The kiss was what you had been wanting to do for the past five months.  What you didn’t know was that she had been wanting to do it since the first time she laid eyes on you. The two of you eventually pull apart just looking at one another smiling. This felt right.
“Does that mean what I think it means?” she asks with a slight smirk on her lips.
“Yes Clark, that was my way of saying I love you too” you respond rolling your eyes but failing to hide the smile creeping up on your face. “But we have to do this the right way. If you want to be with me, you have to end things with my sister, I don't want to be the other woman.” you say sternly.
She swiftly brings you into a hug and whispers “For you, i'd do anything.”
220 notes · View notes
sweetsreverie · 1 year
Note
could you write a drabble where darry’s girlfriend is totally adored by the rest of the boys and she’s almost motherly to them?
bro... thank you for planting this idea in my head ♡︎
pairing: darry curtis x f!reader wc: 972 warnings/notes: none
You met Darry six months ago while you were at the grocery store. You were clearly having trouble trying to reach something on the top shelf and he offered to help you, retrieving the item and handing it to you with a charming, kind smile. The two of you ended up talking in the spice aisle for nearly ten minutes before you both realized that you had places to be. Darry had scribbled his home phone number on your grocery list before leaving. Since then, you mostly saw him on the weekends when he wasn’t working, or on the rare occasion that he wasn’t totally exhausted after work, you would see him for dinner.
It took a while for him to introduce you to his brothers, and eventually the rest of their little gang. But when he did, he came to notice that the boys treated you differently than anyone else. They seemed to respect you, and they didn’t really pick on you or mess with you like they did other people. That was also partially because you seemed to take care of them, and honestly you didn’t even think much of it. You just found yourself doing little things for them here and there. It started with you cleaning up Darry’s work boots one night, and then you ironed Sodapop’s work shirt one day while he was running late for work, and you’ve helped Ponyboy with his homework on multiple occasions when he was struggling through his math homework. 
It made Darry’s heart swell, especially when you took care of Ponyboy and Soda. Ever since their mom died, they haven’t had a female, or even somewhat of a motherly figure in their life. Darry could be tough on them, so having your gentle nature around was almost comforting for them.
Today you had the day off of work so you spent some time at the Curtis’ house. Darry was working so you tried to clean up the place to take it off of his shoulders. Besides, you sometimes spent the night with Darry and ate dinner with them, so you figure you might as well pull your own weight and treat the place as your own. 
“You know Y/N, this ain’t even your house. You don’t have to clean up after us.” Pony says while he sits on the couch and Johnny sits on the floor near the coffee table, and the two of them were playing ‘go fish’.
“Well- I stay here enough and eat enough of yall’s food, I might as well. And I don’t want Darry to have to worry about it when he gets back from work.” You explain as you wipe down the kitchen table with a damp cloth.
Ponyboy smiles softly at that before he looks down at the cards in his hand. “Well… I know that Darry really appreciates it. He probably don’t show it or say it, but… I know he does.” Pony tells you with a little nod.
“I just know he’s got a lot on his plate, and I don’t see you boys helping him clean up much.” You say, the teasing tone clear in your voice while you grin over at Pony. Pony’s expression turns sheepish immediately, and Johnny even chuckles at your playful scolding.
Later that evening when Darry comes home, you stand in the kitchen with him while you two wait for dinner to finish cooking. After a few moments, Darry turns to you as you’re leaning against the counter.
“You know, Ponyboy told me you scolded him like a mother today.” Darry says, and you groan and shake your head.
“I did not! I was just messing with him-” You insist, and Darry laughs.
“He knows that, doll face. I just… think it’s funny. You really do take care of us.” Darry says with a little smile while he reaches for your hand.
You think about it for a second, and you realize that you really do take care of these boys.
“Well… you’re my boys. And someone’s gotta keep some order around here.” You tell Darry with a grin. You hear the front door open, and you poke your head out from around the doorway to see Sodapop and Steve.
“Aht aht, don’t bring them dirty boots in the house. Leave ‘em on the porch.” You tell the two of them, and Ponyboy laughs as they turn back around and begin to take their boots off on the porch.
When you turn back to Darry in the kitchen, the man is just grinning from ear to ear.
“What were you saying about keeping order around here?” He asks jokingly and you can’t help but laugh.
“Hell, even Dally listens to you. You must have instilled some kinda fear in him or something.”
You laugh at that and shake your head, and you move closer to Darry so you’re tucked in his side.
“But… really. Ever since our folks passed, Pony and Soda haven’t really had… a woman to care for them, or like.. A mother figure. If you know what I mean.” Darry tries to explain, and you nod while giving him a little smile.
“I understand, Darry. Really- and… I’m happy to be that for them. I know I can never replace your mom, and I don’t want to- but… I’m happy to look after them. I know it's hard for you to do on your own.” You explain to Darry, and he lets out a quiet sigh while he looks down at you with an expression of admiration.
“Have I ever told you that I love you?” Darry asks, and you laugh softly.
“Yeah. Once or twice I think.” You tease him lightly before the two of you carry on with making dinner before the boys in the living room start getting too rowdy.
2K notes · View notes
bitterkarella · 7 months
Text
Midnight Pals: Dogs
Clive Barker: now everyone i want you all to welcome a real scary story by dodie smith Poe: um clive Poe: is this really appropriate Barker: oh yeah trust me this is gonna be REAL scary Barker: for dean Poe: are you doing this to torment dean Barker: whaaaat Barker: i would never
Dodie Smith: submitted for the approval of the midnight society, i call this the tale of the woman who kidnaps dogs Dean Koontz: what?! Koontz: you guys Koontz: you know I like scary stories Koontz: but you didn't tell me it was gonna be THIS scary
Barker: ahh poor dean, is this too much for you? Barker: i guess you could just go to bed and leave this one for the big kids Koontz: n-no Koontz: no i can take it King: that's the spirit dean King: you can do it
Dodie Smith: so there's this woman who kidnaps dogs Koontz: that's fine, i can handle this Smith: because she wants to skin them for a coat Koontz: guysssss Koontz: guyssss i hate thisss Barker: ah ha ha Poe: oh really clive this is too much
Smith: so the important thing is there's this guy mr dearly Smith: now the government lets him live tax free for life cuz he solved a really hard math problem King: King: uh King: i don't think that's the way that works
Smith: no no that's legit i checked Smith: that's how we do it in the UK King: King: clive? Barker: That doesn't sound right, but I don't know enough about math to dispute it
Smith: so anyway mr dearly marries this woman Smith: and his dog marries her dog Smith: also they both have nannies Koontz: do the nannies also get married? Smith: haha of course not dean they're both ladies Smith: nanny butch and nanny femme are just really good platonic friends
Smith: but there's a problem Smith: the dearlys adopt ANOTHER dalmatian, perdita Smith: and this dog Smith: is NOT married Barker: and that's a problem huh? Smith: OF COURSE IT'S A PROBLEM Smith: you can't just have this dog slutting it up around town!
Smith: so the married dogs, pongo and missus, go on a merry adventure to save their puppies from the insane woman who wants to skin them for a coat Smith: and when the adventure is over Smith: they need to buy a bigger house to home all their 97 puppies
Smith: luckily mr dearly solved another problem to help the government pay its taxes Poe: wait why does the government have to pay taxes Smith: oh we do things differently in the UK Poe: yeah, evidently
Smith: perdita's original owners come back Smith: and the dearlys are afraid that they'll want perdita back Smith: but they're all "oh we didn't actually like her all that much, you can keep her" Koontz: wait someone doesn't like a dog? Koontz: this is breaking my immersion
Smith: but then some other people come by and they have a dog too Smith: and it turns out that this is perdita's dog husband! Smith: and these people are all "oh, i guess you can have this dog" Smith: "you know, since they're already dog married"
Smith: oh also the dearlys get a cat Smith: the cat also gets married Barker: christ why are all these animals getting married Smith: what, you want them living in sin? Koontz: yeah clive you want them living in sin?? Barker: i just Koontz: that would be immoral clive!!! Barker:
Smith: anyway then everyone is matched up in a nice monogamous, hetero-sex pair Smith: just the way it should be! Piers Anthony: yeah yeah now THAT'S the way you end a story!
454 notes · View notes
aakeysmash · 7 months
Text
Roommate or boss?
part 2, part 3, part 4
Pairing: f!reader x Katsuki Bakugou.
Warnings: none, really. AND THEY WERE POSSIBLE ROOMMATES, MAYBE?
Context: 3k words. Reader is a barista and she only meets Bakugo at the end of this </3. He’s her boss but she doesn’t know. I don’t delve into this tho, just so you know. They’re both 22.
A/N: never thought I’d write a slow burn but I HATE not giving context. This is just me yapping with zero grammar context whatsoever. The reader is super oc in this one, but all the girl names I thought about were UGLY. Let me know what you think about it!
Tumblr media
“No.”
“Come onnnn it’s gonna be just this one time” pleads your best friend from the other end of the phone.
“Ochaco, you know I hate when you pull this shit” you reply, while putting your jacket on.
“I knowww, but listen, me and the cute guy have had NO time for ourselves lately and-“
“And you’re leaving me doing this assignment with who knows who? We’re always partners for physics, you know I can’t do it all alone and you can’t phrase your deductions to save your life. We complete each other. You’re my soulmate. Why are you leaving me for a guy?” you whine, while closing the door of your apartment and walking towards your car.
“It’s gonna be just this one time, I promise! It’s not like we’re gonna fail. I think. I hope…” she mumbles.
You sigh. “If we do fail, you’re getting your ass beaten, I am so for real” you concede after thinking about it. You start your car and put your phone on speaker.
“BABEEE I love youuuu! You know you’re the only one for me! I promise to finally tell you all the details on Saturday” she squeals.
You wince. “Nah, I can’t this Saturday. I have to work, manager is on vacay. Maybe Sunday?” you said, knowing she will start rambling.
“Y/N just leave that place, they don’t even value you as a person, let alone as a worker. Plus, your manager is a bitch” Ochaco says sternly. “I still haven’t got over the fact she makes you work double shifts just because she wants to be in Bali with her new stupid tomboy. Who, by the way, cheats on her. You said so yourself, and I heard him and your colleague going at it that one time I came to visit you last week -not Momo, bless her heart, how is she by the way?- oh and he steals her money. And-“
“I need the money, and I do love to make coffees for the nice old ladies that tip me” you interrupt your more-than-protective best friend, knowing that she could go on complaining for hours if you didn’t stop her. “Also, I just got to the cafe and I’m already running late. I’ll text you when I get off, okay? Love you”.
“Yeah yeah. Don’t overwork yourself too much, love you” and you hang up.
You and Ochaco have been friends since you were babies. Your parents were neighbours back in your hometown, and your moms coincidentally got pregnant in a span of 2 months apart from each other. You have been attached to the hip all of your school years, and fortunately you have been accepted at the same campus at university. You moved to different apartments because you wanted to be independent, but you are still living pretty near each other. You are enrolled in literature, while Ochaco has a passion for astronomy; you had chosen physics as a bonus class for some extra credits since Ochaco said it would be easy and you trusted her, but she didn’t take into consideration that you failed math throughout all of high school, and she had to save your ass multiple times in the past. You’ll never forget her face when she got an 86% on one of the graded tests she did for you: she was so disappointed she made you ask the professor to redo the test, which you barely knew the basics of. She got 100%, and the professor congratulated you (her) for being such an overachiever. You never felt more ashamed of yourself and proud of your best friend at the same time. On the other hand, she made you do her English essays on a monthly basis, so she really wasn’t in the place to complain about doing all the dirty work for you.
You had partnered up with her since she was a genius, but she met this “cute guy” a month ago and was head over heels for him. She still hasn’t said his name to you, all you know is that he is a part of the physics course and he apparently just stole your assignment partner.
You sigh inwardly. Sometimes you wished love could come to you as easily as it comes to Ochaco. She is a lover girl at heart, nicer than anybody could ever hope to be, but she sure could bite if she had to. She has been there for some of the worst moments of your life, and you have done the same for her. You really didn’t know what you would do without her. Maybe you should get her an apology pastry from the cafe’s leftovers to make up for the last two missed Saturdays (“they’re for the girls!” she said, and you meticulously met up every week up until you had gotten a job).
You’re a bit distracted by thinking about her when you get into the place you work at. It’s a cute cafe, a little bit too orange for your taste, but it’s cozy enough to make work pleasurable. Plus, it’s 5 minutes from your apartment (15 if you walk, but you are lazy). They pay on time, the coffee is good and the clientele isn’t too bad. If it wasn’t for-
“You’re 32 seconds late. You’re getting a formal complaint this time” says your manager, waiting for you with her arms crossed.
“Put that on the note that says I worked 8 extra hours a week for the last 5 months. Hello to you too, weren’t you supposed to be in the Philippines or whatever by now?” you say sickening sweet, with the fakest smile you can muster, while you pass next to her to get to the room behind the register.
“Shut your smart mouth up before I get you fired!” she almost screams. Some of the people at the table near her look at her like she’s crazy before going back to their cappuccino.
“My oh my miss Utsushimi, it’s not nice to use that tone before the rush hour” you reply, giving an apologetic look at your regulars next to her.
“Mpfh, whatever. Close up this place when you’re done, the boss will probably be in to ask you for the keys at the end of your shift. I’ll be MIA for the next two weeks, bye” she says to you. Then she turns around and smiles sweetly at the clients who previously looked at her with distaste and lies “pregnancy hormones I hope, me and my man are trying for a baby, I’m sorry for scaring you!”. You know damn well she had an IUD appointment last week, because she made you work instead of working herself. Fake bitch.
Without saying anything else, she leaves the place.
“I hate her ass so much”, says someone next to you.
You snicker. “Who doesn’t, Momo?” you face her with a genuine smile.
“Never leave me alone with her ever again, you know I can’t survive this place without you, work wifey” she kisses your cheek fast, before going back to making coffee for a client at the register.
“Ochaco will be hearing about this and she’ll slap you” you laugh heartily.
“I love her too, she’s my work wifey’s wifey, so she’s basically my wifey” she winks at you.
After a few more laughs here and there, you both go back to work like usual.
Tumblr media
A couple of hours pass and it’s closing time. Momo waves you goodbye, clocking out. “I’m so tired I could sleep on the floor right now” she whines.
“Yeah, how about no. Let’s go, babe. We don’t want to drag Y/N’s time” says her boyfriend, Shoto, who shoots you a nod of acknowledgement before placing a hand on her lower back and escorting her out of the cafe. “I remember suffering at closing times, let’s leave her be and go home” he nudges your colleague, smiling down at her. He has been inside the cafe a lot in the years you’ve worked here, sometimes picking Momo up. Momo says he was one of the best bartenders the cafe ever had, but he found a job that payed him more and he decided to leave. You couldn’t blame him.
“See you soon, you two lovebirds!” you reply, waving a hand of your own.
Now all alone since even the waiters have gone home, you clean up the counter before packing up the pastry for Ochaco.
“Damn, I have to wait for the boss to give him the keys” you remember, rubbing your face.
You wait 45 minutes before a redhead makes his way into the cafe. He seems busy on the phone with someone.
“I’m here, let me just get- fuck no I don’t wanna talk to Camie about it, Baku- no, wait- fire? Are you going to take her place and finally come down here like the boss you are? Yes, I know- what? And where would we- what do I have to do with all of this? No, I’m going home- fuck, he hung up” the man sighs, before turning his body towards you.
“Sorry to have kept you waiting, not really manly from me” he smiles, looking sorry.
“Oh don’t worry about it!” your smile was really stretched, and you think he notices, because he says “sorry” again. “The manager said to give you the keys. So you’re the boss?” you say politely, stretching your hand with the keys towards him.
You’ve seen him multiple times, he’s a regular. He always gets the same order (one black coffee and one hot chocolate with extra cinnamon), and he always tips you and Momo well. Today he seems distressed.
“I wouldn’t wish to be the boss, to be fair. You could say I’m his right hand. Where’s Camie? Boss needs to talk to her in private before next week comes” he sighs.
“She said she’ll be gone for two weeks” you reply, confused.
“And who said she could do that?” Kirishima, you think that’s his name since you’ve written it on his order just yesterday, looks at you in disbelief. You shrug. “I don’t ask. The less I know about her, the better I feel about working here”. You start to pack your things up, before going towards the door with the man following behind you closely.
“This is nuts. I hate doing job interviews” he mumbles fast, turning the key in the lock. You raise an eyebrow, what is he even talking about?
“Do you live near? If not, I could give you a ride. I’d hate losing the only barista who makes boss man’s drink good enough to not make him pissy” he says, while pointing to his car.
You laugh. “It’s just a hot chocolate. Tell him he should try it with a few drops of hot sauce in it. Sounds disgusting but it’s actually pretty good. Also don’t worry, I live just down the street”. He nods and you wave each other goodbye.
“It does sound horrible. Thanks again for waiting, see you tomorrow for the same exact order I always make” he grins, then gets in his car and drives away, not after seeing you get in your car as well.
Once at home you call Ochaco, who’s “been worried sick, you never get home this late”.
“Y/N you seriously need a roommate. Did you even eat?” she reprimands.
You sigh. “I have to meet someone tomorrow. But you know, girls tend to look at you weirdly when you say you need them to know how to cook. They feel like you’re looking for a maid. Like, I can’t eat sandwiches every day like I did with the last roommate I had” you explain while opening your fridge. Sausages and smashed potatoes from yesterday will do the job for today.
“The psycho who thought vegetables made her look weak? Freak” you hear your best friend snicker. “At what time are they coming over?”
You groan and say “8 am. It’s a guy this time. Who wakes up before 8 am at uni? He’s already lost 2 points for this” while gulping down your food.
Ochaco’s snicker is now a full laugh. “People who have their lives together, maybe? But pay attention, males scare me” she replies quieting down.
“Yeah yeah. I’m gonna sleep now, text me the deets for Sunday, okay?” you clean your plate and go to the bathroom to wash your teeth.
“Will doooo. Good night, babe” she smooches on the mic before hanging up.
After making sure you locked your apartment door, you go to your bed, where you manage to fall asleep in thirty seconds.
Tumblr media
The next morning you’re brutally awakened by the sound of your doorbell. You look at your phone screen: 7:42 am.
“Who the fuck is it now?” you grumble, before going down the stairs and looking through your peephole.
“Shitty hair I swear if this takes me more than 10 minutes… she hasn’t even opened the door. Yeah, she said 8 am, who cares if I’m early? I AM NOT the only one awake on a Saturday morning. Y’all are just lazy fucks” a blonde rudely says into his phone. You can hear him talking loudly from behind the door. You widen your eyes, before screaming “coming! Give me 5 minutes!” and rushing towards your bathroom to make yourself presentable. “Fuck, I forgot about the roommate appointment” you whine, while putting on a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie. At least they are clean.
You open the door to find a broad man staring at you menacingly. He’s kinda tall, kinda (really) fit, kinda underdressed for the winter. Kinda hot, too.
“Hi, how can I help you?” you offer him the nicest smile your still sleepy mind can muster.
He looks you up and down, before focusing on your face and levelling you with an indifferent look.
“You must be Y/N. I’m Katsuki Bakugo, we had to meet at 8 am for the spare room offer. I've been here for 15 minutes” he gruffly declares.
You add “rude” to your list of “kinda”. You don’t like his tone. -1 point.
“Yeah, and it’s 7:48” you bite back, your smile faltering while shaking his outstretched hand. He’s definitely going to the gym with the callouses he has.
“Come in, I’ll let you see what you’re getting yourself into”, you say, opening your door more.
You live in a nice apartment, you think. There’s a nice kitchen with a nice island that also serves as a table in front of it, a blueish couch in front of the tv, and a couple of steps that bring you to a corridor with three doors: your room, the spare one and the bathroom.
You describe everything while he stays in absolute silence next to you. It makes you feel uneasy. -1 point.
You just finished showing him the bathroom and are ready to tell him you don’t think he’s a good suitor when he finally speaks up.
“And how much do you pay for this shit?” he asks. Nice voice, you think. Gravelly and rough enough to not sound annoyingly forced. +1 point.
“500 a month” you reply, while returning to the kitchen.
“Your shower needs some work done, it leaks. Also, mold is starting to show on the bathroom ceiling, might wanna check on that. Your oven looks unusable in the condition it’s in. Small tv. At least you’re clean from what I've seen” he begins to say.
You frown and turn to look at him. Did this bitch talk for the first time in 15 minutes only to complain?
“Do you even know how to cook with said oven?” you say, ignoring everything else he just said, and giving him a nasty look.
He tsks. “Yes. Is this your way of asking me to cook you fucking breakfast? I don’t eat with lazy people who get out of bed at 11 am” he makes sure to say.
You scoff. Men really do find the audacity to say stuff like this nowadays? It seems like you've been out of the loop for too much.
“You showed up early. It’s a sign of disrespect, you know? Also no, I know how to fix myself something. I just don’t want you to burn my kitchen down to a crisp and smell takeout whenever I get home” you say in the rudest way you find possible.
He smirks before saying “might wanna check on that fucking attitude of yours too before I poison your food”, tapping your shoulder to get you out of the way and take out some pans. You showed him where to find them earlier on.
“What the fuck are you doing?” you say in disbelief. “This is still my kitchen. Get out”.
He rolls his eyes. “I’m making you fucking breakfast to say sorry for interrupting your princess sleep. Just make coffee while I come up with something. If you know how to make it, that is” he doesn’t even look at you while getting eggs, milk and bread out of the fridge.
You’re baffled. He’s making himself at home when you didn’t even say he was accepted.
“Wait, you’re still not-“
“I'll give you the money at the start of every month. I’ll paint the walls of the room, I hate that fucking green, but painters are scammers so I’m doing it myself. I’m clean, I’ll just need a spare key in a matter of days to take my shit here. I’ll keep myself in my room if you keep yourself in yours. Any further requests?” he interrupts you, assembling his french toasts on the pan.
You’re even more stunned. But you’ve always been quick with your thoughts, so you come up with something.
“I’ll say yes if those french toasts are good. If they’re not, your ass is out” you say, still not looking at him, while making coffee.
“Might say yes if you know how to make a hot chocolate from scratch instead of the poor coffee that machine will make” he watches you from the corner of his eye. You scoff, you’re a barista nonetheless: who does he think he’s talking to? Meanwhile, he could swear he knew you from somewhere.
“Deal”.
“Deal”.
Neither to say, the french toasts were “not that bad” and your hot chocolate was “barely fucking acceptable”.
409 notes · View notes
jeonggukieverse · 19 days
Text
Number One Fan
Tumblr media
Pairing: Writer Y/N x Yandere Jungkook 
Genre: Yandere/Horror Fic 
Warnings: This is gonna be a pretty dark one, so I’m going to put content warnings and disclaimers each chapter. There aren’t any in this one :)
Word count: 1.5k
Synopsis - After a serious car crash, novelist Y/N is rescued by former nurse Jeon Jungkook, who claims to be her biggest fan. Jungkook brings her to his remote cabin to recover, where his obsession takes a dark turn when he discovers Y/N is killing off his favourite character from her novels. As Y/N devises plans for escape, Jungkook grows increasingly controlling.
- Ryeon <3
Tumblr media
Teaser
Your feet were aching. The torn-up flesh on the souls of your bare feet pound on the mossy patches of the forest floor. The foul mixture of half melted snow and mud seeped into your wounds. It hurts. But you don’t care. 
Your lungs feel as though they would shrivel up at any moment. Each inhale feels like fie and acid pooling in your chest. Your poor heart is doing all that it can to keep going. As are you. 
Your skin was damp with sweat. The once warm perspiration that seeped out of you now clung to your clothes, making you cold. You felt as though you had been running for hours.
But you couldn’t stop. You mustn’t stop running. You had to get away from him. 
You only had one chance to escape and this was it. 
You knew that if he caught you, that would be the end of the game. And you will have lost.  
A game. 
That’s what this was. 
That’s what everything in your life was and always had been. 
And you’d always lost. Cause you never paid attention. 
Even now, as your life is in peril, you couldn’t help but think back to a moment in your past. Where distraction had gotten you in trouble. 
You couldn’t have been any older than thirteen. 
You must have been. Because your teacher was Mr. Kim. The teacher whose breath smelled like coffee and Newport cigarettes. A vile combination. 
You remembered so distinctly because in this particular instance, this breath blew into your face as his was about 10 centimeters away from yours.
He was scolding you, pretty severely, because you had been caught jotting down stories while in his math class. 
You were always doing that. Always doing the wrong thing at the wrong times. Always going left when everyone else was going right. And it almost always got you in trouble, but this time was different. This time was worse. 
Mr. Kim was adamant that you had done this one too many times. You remember he had said: 
“Y/N get your nose out of your book. Writing these silly little stories is going to get you nowhere. You need to learn to pay attention, young lady. Since you aren’t taking my warnings seriously, it may be time to escalate the matter”.
Your palms began to clam up, as you knew what this meant.
“I’ll need to contact your mother” 
At that moment everything seemed to move in slow motion. Panic began to set in as you knew a phone call to mother would be a step beyond a death sentence. 
“Take this note to the principal’s office, I shall be in shortly so we can organize a discussion with your mother” 
Your mother was not a nice woman. Not nice at all.
Nothing good would come of this and you knew what fate awaited you in the grim future. 
So, you did the only thing you knew how to do. You ran. You ran as fast as your little legs could carry you. 
Mr. Kim handed you the note and as soon as the door closed, you were off. 
You ran to the only place you knew solace. A woodland area behind your school. 
Your school was built in 1898. The old girl had seen some things. Horrific things. 
Back in the 1900s these woods were used as a hunting grounds. The older students would come out here and hunt deer and rabbits. Now, it was just a place where the older girls would come out here and smoke cigarettes at lunchtimes. The ones that were brave enough, that is. 
There was something dark about these woods. There was nothing about the woodlands that looked outwardly abnormal, there was just too much of it. Like a smile with too many teeth. Not to you though, to you it was freedom. Solace. Peace. 
Maybe you were just drawn to dark things. 
You ran deep into the coppices. Past the brook and beyond the abandoned mill. You perched yourself under the large oak tree. Inhaling and exhaling hard as the running mixed with the panic had your heartrate going a million miles per hour. But now you could rest at lease for a while. 
It’s funny really. Even when your life was in danger your mind wondered away. You guess Mr. Kim had every right to be concerned. 
“Y/N! Why Are you running, baby?!” 
Fuck. His voice sounded so close. Too close. 
His footsteps hammering on the same crushed, now blood-soaked, snow, leaves and moss-covered ground. 
“You know I’m going to catch up with you. Why are you doing this?! I thought you were happy with me!”
Christ. Why was he doing this?
“Look Y/N. I’m sorry if you weren’t comfortable, we can make changes baby just please come back.”
Through the trees you can make out a light ahead of you. Not much further to go. 
“Baby, we don’t have to tie you to the bed anymore! Please, Y/N, you’re still injured! It’s not safe for you to be running when your feet haven’t healed properly”
‘Because of you, you sick fuck’ you screamed inside your head. You wanted to scream at him but all your focus needed to be on running. 
“Just stop now and your punishment won’t be too bad” 
Oh god. He sounded just like her.
The earth and muck beneath your feet had changed to concrete. A road! You’ve don’t it, you reached the road. 
You try to take another step onto the cold wet asphalt but your feet fail you. True to his word, your feet hadn’t heeled yet and the adrenaline keeping your pain at bay had worn off. 
You collapsed on the floor, the dull pain in your ankles paralyzing you. 
You hear his footsteps and his heavy panting behind. In horror, you drag yourself further onto the road. You can’t give up; this can’t be the end. 
“I will say Y/N, I admire your spirit” his slightly exasperated voice still sounded sickly sweet. 
“I’ve always admired that about you. You never give up on anything. But yet you gave up on us. I don’t think that’s very fair, do you, my love?” he walks towards you, at a petrifyingly slow pace.  
This is it. You’ve lost. Certain this was your last moments; you close your eyes. A tear, you hadn’t released had been at bay rolled down your cheek. 
You listed to the birds in the distance and the soft patter of rain and you couldn’t help but think back again. You couldn’t help but think back to how you got here. How it came to be that you would die like this. 
At the hands of Jeon Jungkook. Your number one fan. 
Tumblr media
This is gonna be a wild ride! Im so happy to be back writing again~ Hope you all enjoy!
This fic is loosely based on one of my favourite movies: ‘Misery’
Let me know if you want to be added to a tag list 🤍
247 notes · View notes
erinwantstowrite · 12 days
Note
opinions on ai?
This is the perfect time to share something I wrote a few months ago when I was upset about it:
AI is the bane of my existence and I hate it so much. Not only because of the environmental impact that it has, but because of how it gives us absolutely nothing of value in creative spaces and is actually a detriment to our future, rather than being "innovative" like companies want us to believe.
If you're using AI to write notes for you, or to answer questions, to write your essays and your discussion posts, you are hurting yourself. But eventually you will hurt others with your willing ignorance. You are not learning, you are not taking the time to push yourself to new bounds. You are not absorbing the information you need, and for why? Because it's hard? Life is hard. Learning is hard. If learning was easy, you wouldn't be learning anything at all. And one day when you need to use these tools you put down and gave to a program in order to do your job, you are going to get someone hurt in some way. If you're going into teaching and you didn't bother to learn about childhood development because you let an AI take your notes because you couldn't be half-assed to sit through an hour long lecture, you will fail every student that comes your way. If you're an engineer and you had AI do the math for you, something that you make will break and it could kill someone. Because the AI can not even count how many times the letter 'r' is in strawberry, but you're trusting it to make bridges or design buildings?
And in a creative sense, you are not an artist if you use AI. I will scream it from the rooftops if I have to.
You are not an artist if you use AI.
Because to be an artist is to put your very soul into what you create. And an AI has no soul. To be an artist is to lay yourself bare for people to witness and interpret, and it's scary but it's freeing. To be an artist is to make a message with your art, to have people a thousand years from now sit in a museum and feel connected to who you were so far in the past. To think that humanity may be different but we are also inherently the same. To be an artist is to despair over the process of creating your art because it's difficult, and time consuming, and damn does it drive you crazy. But then you get that end result and you realize you learned something about yourself, you got better at something that brings you joy, you created and now you see what you are capable of, and what you will be capable of in the future. To be an artist is to connect with someone because of what you made, and that someone includes yourself.
We keep telling young artists that they need to be better now, they need to quit if they aren't good at it on the first try. We keep acting like we didn't start from somewhere ourselves, like we were born with the fine motor skills and the talent needed to create. It's because our attention spans can't handle over 20 seconds and we need multiple videos playing to drown out our own thoughts. We have to look at comment sections to see the court of public opinion before we make a judgement ourselves. If anything is out of the ordinary or doesn't look the way we expect or want, it must be shamed. And this existence is exhausting because at the end of the day, we have done nothing of value. When coming across a video of a young artist who took the time out of their day to create, we need to encourage them to continue going, tell them that their work is worthy. Because it is. It is worthy because they made it. If we shoot them down before they can go anywhere, we've just killed an artist that could have painted the next Starry Night, or created a sculpture that millions of people would try to visit. We've shot down someone who could teach others how to create one day in their future. We shot them down and killed their inspiration and motivation, and they might turn to someone else to do it for them because they will believe they are not worthy enough or talented enough to make it.
When I was still in school, my favorite part of the year was seeing the projects put up on the wall. The silly displays our teachers put up to show a holiday with slightly wonky paper snowflakes, the posters that the art students made with "too many lightning bolts around the guitar", the signs for school dances, the yearbooks that students spent all year making, the English class posters that depicted scenes from what they were reading and they were made with stick figures or they had someone draw out butterflies. I loved seeing the decorations for Homecoming Week, loved looking ta the booths that everyone made for our career and science fairs. I liked when we put on talent shows still, when we did pep rallies and fashion shows and we saw everyone get together to have fun and not care if it was "perfect." No one there was a professional artist, not yet, but that didn't make it any less entertaining or creative.
We dance because we want to feel how our bodies move and express ourselves in ways words cannot. We paint and we draw and make pottery and quilts and pictures because at one point, all we had were cave paintings of our hands, and we still look at them with reverence for where we started. We sing and we drum and we laugh because music is a universal language that anyone can understand, and isn't that breathtaking? We write so that people in the future can pour themselves over our words and learn from us, so that kids can hide their books underneath their covers with a little flashlight when their parents put them to bed hours ago but they just can't put our story down they have to know what comes next! We cook for our loved ones and have family recipes that mean we've been tasting the same food that our family we never got to meet were eating too.
We create because humans are meant to create. We put our love into the process, we put our dreams and our hopes and our hard earned lessons into these creations.
AI will never have that. AI has none of the process, and therefore, it is not art. We can gripe about how art has different meanings all we want, we can shout that art is only art if it invokes an opinion or a thought, but that is not what makes art. Because there is still effort put into placing a shoe on a pedestal, or painting a yellow square, or painting a mural on a wall, or writing poetry in a tiny notebook at school, or melting crayons together, or anything that requires you putting it together. If AI is doing all the work for you, then you've accomplished nothing. And you stole from the people that actually did accomplish something. You stole not only their effort, but you stole their process, their feelings, their hope and their dreams and their ideas of the future.
AI is nothing and will ultimately become obsolete. Because humans will not stop creating just because companies are pushing for us to stop and hand it over to them. They want us to stop creating, they want us to pay them for it, they want us to put blind trust into what they're doing, they want us to forget that they are stealing from us. I will not forget. I will never forget. Because I was born to sing and dance and write and draw and cook, and when I die, my body will go right back to the Earth and perhaps flowers will grow around my grave. I will still be creating even then. And even if AI is still around and still trying to steal from us, I will die knowing that it could never do the same.
160 notes · View notes