#is she trying to send a message like 'i will warn everyone else except you bc i hope you bitches DO get covid' LMAO

[junkissed]

leaning on the everlasting arms

member — childhood best friend! pastor's son!joshua x f reader genre — angst, smut, some fluff, bible college au word count — 10.3k (my first fic over 10k wowie!!) synopsis — as kids growing up in the same church, you and joshua were inseperable, until you got to an age where it was considered immoral for girls and boys to be friends. when you find him again just before graduation, he's different than you remember; but so are you. content warnings — female reader, she/her, reader is implied to be smaller (i'm sorry), discussion of gender roles & religion, no religion is mentioned by name but it's heavily implied to be a form of christianity, reader & shua are both seniors in college, reader wears skirts/dresses but not really by choice, this whole thing is pretty blasphemous oops smut warnings — descriptions of female anatomy, virgin!joshua x virgin!reader, mutual masturbation, phone sex, unprotected sex, fingering, oral (reader receiving), hints of a voice kink, size kink, praise, begging, really vanilla missionary but it's hot, nicknames (sweetheart, baby, angel) notes — although i am no longer religious, this is partially based off of my own experiences with the extremely traditional christian church i was raised in. however, please keep in mind that this is fiction and does not reflect my beliefs nor joshua's beliefs so don't take the plot too seriously. this piece is not meant to discuss whether certain religions are "right" or "wrong" so please do not comment/send me asks trying to start a debate! we're all just here for a little sexy time with shua it's not that deep note #2 — for those who aren't familiar, the title is the name of a hymn and i thought it was funny bc joshua big sexy arms hehehe

as far back as you could remember, joshua was your closest friend.

his father was the pastor of the church your family went to, and as luck would have it you were both in the same grade, so it wasn’t long before you became inseparable. you saw him at minimum three times a week: sunday morning, sunday evening, wednesday evening.

you spent most of your childhood together. sitting next to each other at every service, sharing your bibles with each other whenever one of you left them at home, sneaking donuts away from the box at the table outside the sermon hall that was supposed to only be for the adults.

you did everything together, and told each other everything. that is, until you reached middle school. boys and girls weren’t allowed to sit in the same services anymore, and you had to stay in separate buildings for every church camp and conference. 

the worst part was you didn’t even understand why. what did they think you were gonna do with him? kiss him? no amount of money in the world could get you to do that! joshua was your best friend. who else were you supposed to climb trees and build forts and sneak donuts with? kissing was stupid.

when you asked your mom about it, she told you the same thing everyone else did: about how men of god had a different path and needed to hear different messages in order to grow up to lead their own churches one day. you thought it was stupid. what if a woman wanted to lead a church, why are men the ones that have to do it? but she would just shake her head and tell you it's just the way things work in the church, you'll understand when you're older.

you were allowed near him less and less until the only time you were able to see him was at the after-service brunch with his family, and even then that began to happen less and less as the years went on.

and of course it was church rules, so there was no arguing with them because that would mean arguing with god, and who were you to question his authority? there would be no special exception for you, no matter how much you protested to your mom that you would never, ever think about joshua like that. in a fit of anger one day you blew up at her, shouting that she had had friends of the opposite gender when she was in high school, so why couldn’t you? it wasn’t fair. but she had just sighed and stared out the window, clearly ending the conversation. many years passed before she finally told you about her life before she came to church, recalling all the times she had been hurt by men she had loved and trusted. you understood then why she had wanted to keep you sheltered and safe, but you still didn’t agree. but then again, if you had been allowed to do what you wanted then maybe things would never have ended up the way they did. perhaps you have her to thank.

back then, all you could do was hold on to the little time you had with him until eventually you stopped seeing him altogether. 

more summers passed and you started spending all of your time memorizing bible verses with your fellow “women of christ”, missing the way you used to spend your time with your best friend.

but then you went off to bible college like had always been planned for you, and everything changed. instead of continuing to follow the strict schedule that was laid out for you, you finally got a little taste of freedom, and you realized what you’d been missing all this time. everything that you’d been taught was sinful, evil, wicked, was what brought you more pleasure than you’d ever known was possible.

you still had to pretend to be a good girl for the people around you, who, for reasons you couldn’t comprehend, were still dedicated to their life of purity. or at least they acted like it. maybe everyone was secretly just like you, hiding their sins behind a friendly smile and a firm handshake every sunday morning.

you weren’t hurting anyone with the things you did in private, and the feeling of rebellion was a kind of satisfaction you didn’t know you were allowed to feel. you were an adult, making your own choices now and facing whatever consequences that came with them.

there was only one consequence. for some reason, all the impure thoughts you had always centered around joshua. no matter what dirty books you read or videos you watched, the man you always pictured giving it to you was joshua.

you hated that after all these years, everything still came back to him. you fought it, tried imagining actors or celebrities in his place instead; characters from your books and movies and shows, anyone but him. you wanted to save whatever memories you had left of him, think of him in a good light like you used to when you were younger, but the way he plagued your mind was worse than the ones in the book of exodus.

but now, in your final year of college, you thought you had finally gotten yourself under control.

that is, until you were leaving one of your bible lectures and all the control you’d convinced yourself that you had crumbled away in mere seconds when you saw a startlingly familiar face standing by the door. a face you hadn’t seen in far too long. 

“joshua?”

“hey,” he says with a smile, like no time has passed at all. like it’s been hours since you’ve seen each other, not years. 

there are so many things you want to say, so many things you want to ask him, but you’re frozen in place. why is he here? where has he been? how did he find you again?

“it’s been a while,” he says with an awkward laugh when you don’t say anything.

you nod, still in a daze. “yeah. quite a while.”

he smiles. “well, anyway, i’ve got a meeting to go to in a bit, but… i just wanted to see you.”

“oh,” you say. what else is there to say? what can you say to make up for the years lost that you’ll never get back?

he looks at his watch, the conversation clearly coming to an end.

“can i give you my phone number?” he says. a deep shade of pink creeps into his cheeks but he either doesn’t notice or purposely doesn’t acknowledge it. “maybe we can talk sometime, catch up.”

“i– yeah,” you manage. god, it’s so good seeing him again. “yeah, that would be really nice.”

you’ve given up on homework for the night, spending your entire afternoon in a daze since you ran into joshua.

so many years, yet you still can’t get his smile out of your head.

you close your eyes, hand dipping below the waistband of your pajama pants automatically. it’s frightening how easily you’re able to bring up a picture of him in your mind, so much clearer than before now that you’ve seen what he looks like all grown up.

and grown up, he has. you had been too stunned to get a good look at him while he was in front of you, but the way he’d changed was immediately apparent and the image in your brain now feels almost unreal. 

his hair was a little longer and a little darker, and he was much taller, with broad shoulders that looked way too perfect in a suit jacket. but his face hadn’t changed a bit. maybe his jaw was a little bit sharper and his smile lines were a little bit deeper, but his eyes were the same ones you had always known. 

your hand slips lower and lower until you’re gently running the tips of your fingers over the panel of your underwear covering your pussy, moaning quietly when you feel how wet you are already.

no wonder it’s been so hard for you to focus all day. you’ve been too busy pushing away thoughts of joshua burying his fingers in your tight, wet cunt, cooing about how good you’re being for him and how long he’s waited for you.

automatically you feel your other hand grabbing for your phone, desperate to hear his voice again. you hadn’t said more than a few sentences to him earlier, but you feel like you’ll go crazy if you don’t hear him while you’re in this state. so needy for him and only him, and he doesn’t even know it.

your fingers shake as you press the buttons, knowing you’re about to get yourself into a whole world of trouble but not being able to stop yourself.

“hey.” he answers on the second ring. his tone is deep and husky, and your breath catches in your throat for a second, not used to hearing him talk like that; the last time you heard his voice was long before puberty, and you’re still navigating how to talk to this older, sexier joshua.

your first thought is to wonder if his morning voice sounds equally as sexy, but you’re immediately pushing it out of your head when you hear what sounds like him stifling a yawn.

“sorry, did i wake you? it– it’s not important,” you start, ashamed of how needy you are that you’d call him in the middle of the damn night, unprovoked, like some kind of bible group booty call.

the regret is already starting to set in. he probably hasn’t changed as much as you've built him up in your mind, probably still the obedient gentleman he was before. he’s probably already well on his way to being the head of a church, so of course he wouldn’t be thinking about you like that—

“no. it’s fine,” he says, interrupting your thoughts. “always have time for you, sweetheart. what’s up?”

you shove down the butterflies that flutter up in your stomach at the name he calls you, a nickname he always called you when you were kids because he was taught it was always polite to talk sweet to a lady. 

except it feels so much different now. talking sweet to a lady as kids was easy, innocent. but one wrong word now would completely change the meaning behind those pretty words of his, and you aren’t sure how to feel about it.

“i… just– it’s been so long, joshie,” you whisper, surprised at the sudden feeling of tears springing up behind your eyes. you didn’t mean for this to happen— you didn’t mean for any of it to happen. not back then, and certainly not now.

he lets the line go quiet, finally sighing into the phone after a long pause. “i missed you… so much.” he murmurs your name, and the way the rumble in his voice goes straight through you immediately reminds you why you called him in the first place.

your free hand toys with the hem of your underwear again, fighting to keep down the whimper that threatens to escape you. “missed you too,” you breathe out. god, you can’t believe you’re doing this. but for the first time in years, the man you’ve been picturing in your head is right here with you, fulfilling some of your fantasies that you never thought could ever come true.

somewhere deep in your stomach you feel guilty about it, getting off to the thought of him and he doesn’t even know it. would he want to know? would he be okay with it? would he hate you forever if he knew?

he clears his throat, snapping you back to attention and you realize you must’ve been silent for a while, thinking.

“um, so, what are you doing?” you ask, trying to seem casual, but it comes out as anything but. nobody calls anyone this late at night and asks what they’re doing without having a dirty reason for doing so. 

all you can do is hope he’s either too innocent to pick up on it, or that he doesn’t believe you’re the type of person who would call for something like that. you wonder if he still thinks of you as that perfect little obedient church girl he grew up with.

“nothing, just–working on… stuff,” he replies awkwardly. clearly he doesn’t want to go into detail about what he’s doing, and you’re already afraid you’ve interrupted his sleep; you’re mentally kicking yourself for all the blunders you’ve made, and you haven’t even been on the phone for five minutes.

“what are you doing?” he asks back, and you freeze, trying to come up with some excuse, anything. fuck, think of something!

“h-homework,” you sputter out, attempting to hide your unconfident answer with a cough.

apparently it works, because he hums in response, the line falling quiet. you hear the rustling of papers on his end, and you press your fingers harder against your cunt, heartbeat racing in your ears.

your fingers brush against your clit a little rougher than you intend, and a little whine escapes your lips, catching you off guard. you slap a hand over your mouth, hoping it had been too quiet for him to hear and he hadn’t been paying attention.

“are you…?” he asks suddenly, and your cheeks flush, caught red-handed in your sinful act.

you clear your throat, praying (both metaphorically and literally) that he doesn’t notice anything off about you. “am i what?”

his silence on the other end of the phone speaks volumes.

“joshua, oh my god, no, i–”

“what did you just say?”

you freeze. “what… did i say?”

when he speaks again, his tone is even. “don’t you know it’s a sin to take the lord’s name in vain, sweetheart?”

that nickname again, and now you know he’s doing it on purpose. innocent, pretty words, completely changed in a split second.

you let out a short laugh, scrambling to find a cover. “must’ve forgot then.”

he hums. “i remember you spent a whole month trying to memorize the ten commandments. we must’ve been what, eight or nine? you wouldn’t have forgotten. i may not have seen you since we were kids, but i’ve still known you most of my life.”

“it was an accident, you know how it is. just slips out. of course i remember them all.”

he tsks, and it feels like your heart stops. “did you forget that lying is a sin, too? you’re two for two now, wanna try for a third?”

damn him! damn his good memory and damn his stupid witty comebacks and damn the way he so quickly manages to unravel you.

you scowl and don’t respond to his question, your silence enough of an answer for joshua to know he’s right.

“why did you call me tonight?” he asks calmly.

you answer truthfully this time. “just wanted to hear your voice again. i really did miss you.”

the phone goes quiet again, and for a second you’re afraid he’s hung up, but then you hear him exhale. “it’s late. what are you doing?”

“i’m in bed, josh. don’t worry, father, i’m not staying up past my bedtime.”

he chooses to ignore your remark. “in bed doing what?”

you give him a half-suppressed laugh. “in bed laying down. what else would i be doing?”

“well, with the way you were trying to hide your moans earlier, i would’ve figured you were doing something more exciting. but if you’re just laying down, then i don't want to keep you long, might as well hang up…”

“no!” you squeak out, cutting him off. you swallow, trying to collect yourself as you repeat the word. “no. fine, whatever, you caught me. but– please, stay.” you can hear the plea in your voice and you know you should be embarrassed at how pathetic you sound, but you aren't. the only thing you can think about is joshua, joshua, joshua, and how good it feels to talk to him again.

“i’m here,” he says softly, and you let your eyes close with a sigh, relieved he’s not going to chastise you. but as much as you’ve both changed as you grew up, deep down you knew he wouldn’t. you figure you could do just about anything and he wouldn’t try to tell you what to do. he’d always been like that, and it’s what you’d loved about him; he never tried to control you or shame you for not acting like the perfect little angel everybody wanted you to be. 

you couldn’t say the same about others in the church. maybe that’s why you’d started to drift away from them and why joshua’s friendship coming to an end had left you so devastated. he had been the one and only person you could always count on, and they had not.

“are you still there?” he asks gently, and you realize you’ve been quiet for too long thinking.

“yeah,” you say finally.

“are you still touching yourself?”

you pause, stifling a gasp, taken aback by his forwardness. hearing him say it out loud made everything seem so real, the realization setting in about what you’re actually doing. “n– no.”

and it’s true. your hand has long since dropped away from your pajama pants, too nervous about being discovered to continue.

“well, why not?” he says. “don’t stop on my account.”

your mouth falls open. “i–”

“clearly you wanted something from me when you called. what is it, sweetheart? i can’t help you if i don’t know what it is you want.”

your brain practically short circuits at that, and it takes a very long minute for you to collect your thoughts into a coherent sentence. you want a lot of things, but you don’t know what’s okay to say or not or if he even wants to keep going. which is a silly thought, because he wouldn’t have asked if he didn’t want to know. it dawns on you that maybe… maybe he’s curious, maybe he’s thinking about you, too.

“what kind of help?” you ask, still testing the waters. you think you have an idea of what he means, but you ask anyway. you’ve never done anything like this with anyone else, only by yourself; not because you didn’t want to, but because you didn’t want it to be with someone who wasn’t joshua.

“you said you wanted to hear my voice,” he says, and you swear his tone has dropped an octave. “then let me talk to you.”

you whine a little, still holding back but not putting in as much effort to hide it. “m’kay.”

“would it make you feel better if i told you i’m hard right now?”

you suck in a breath. “yeah?”

“yeah,” he says. “just thinking about you.”

you feel a rush of emotion at his admittance. pride? satisfaction? whatever it is, it makes your cunt throb, knowing that just the thought of you can get him going.

finally you dare to slide your hand down your pants again, unsurprised when you find your underwear sticking to you with how wet you are. you’re soaking, and you haven’t even done anything yet.

“hold on,” you manage, putting the call on speaker as you set your phone on the table beside your bed, scrambling to shove your pants and ruined panties off and onto the floor.

once free, you pick up your phone and turn off the speaker, holding it to your ear with shaky hands.

“all ready now?” he asks softly, and it reminds you of what he used to say before you’d play pretend games together. always making sure you were ready. he was hot back then, too, and you mentally curse yourself for never realizing it sooner.

you hum. “mhm. comfortable.”

“good,” he says, and you can almost hear him smiling. “go ahead and do whatever you’d like. but i want you to tell me what you’re thinking about right now.”

you squirm a little on the bed as you start to circle your clit with your fingers. “thinking about you, joshua,” you sigh, finally beginning to feel relief.

“yeah?”

“yeah. you look even better than i thought you would,” you groan, picking up your pace a little as you slip your index finger inside your walls.

he chuckles. “oh, really?”

“mhm. god, i never thought i’d be doing this. especially not with you.”

“and why is that, baby?”

the name makes you shiver. you’d imagined him calling you it many times, but hearing him actually say it is completely different.

“because—” you whimper, losing your train of thought when your brain suddenly pictures his fingers inside you instead of your own. “i’m so close already, please—”

his tone is gentle but firm. “i want you to stop now.”

“but– ah, feels so good, shua,” you say, moans spilling out of you, finally letting him hear everything you’ve been holding back.

you hear him curse in that low voice through the phone, and your hand stills for a split second in shock, your eyes widening. as far as you knew, he never swore. but then again, there were a lot of things he never did that you're discovering about him now. looks like you weren’t the only one who changed over the years.

“that’s not my name.”

you sit up a little in confusion, pushing your phone closer to your ear to make sure you’re hearing him right. “huh?”

“my name is joshua. if you’re gonna moan like a sinner about how good it feels when i tell you how to touch yourself, you better use my name properly.” he sounds almost angry, but it only spurs you on even further.

you let his words sink for a second before responding. “yes, sir.”

“fuck,” he moans, he actually moans, and if you weren’t already so far gone you would’ve stopped to listen closer, to ingrain the noise in your brain so you never again forget how he sounds. “what did i just tell you?”

“what, you don’t like being called ‘sir’? thought you wanted to be a pastor, joshua,” you say with a smirk, and you know he hears the mischief in your voice, daring him to give you what you want.

it’s probably a good thing he’s not physically in the room with you, because there's no way you would have been able to muster up the courage to say something like that to his face. you wouldn’t have dared to even look him in the eyes, but being on the phone gives you a head rush. because with only his voice and not seeing his face, you can convince yourself that he still isn’t real, that this whole phone call and even your meeting earlier had just been an elaborate figment of your horny imagination, your denial being the only thing saving your last shred of dignity.

“didn’t realize you’d grow up to be even more of a brat than you were before,” he scoffs, and your cunt pulses. 

“what are you doing right now?” you say, a little desperately. the change of subject isn’t very subtle but you don’t care. you won’t lie, you’ve been curious since the start of what he’s doing but he’s been so focused on you he hasn’t said anything about himself. you want to know everything about him— how he’s moving his hands, where he puts pressure, what he thinks about to get himself closer and closer.

he grunts unceremoniously. “i’m fucking my hand and pretending it’s you.”

“me too,” you whimper, closing your eyes as you focus on the movement of your fingers.

after a while he stops responding, and you can hear his heavy breaths over the line matching with your own gasps for air as you curl your fingers inside of you. you figure he must be getting close, but you ask him anyway, because you want to hear him say it.

“yeah– fuck, so close,” he chokes out, and the way his voice gets higher as he lets out a whimper is what finally makes you come undone.

with a moan of his name—his full name—you cum, clenching around your fingers as you struggle to keep your hand moving. your wrist is starting to cramp up a little from the position you’ve been in, but the pleasure coursing through you is more than worth it. it’s almost dizzying, more powerful than any orgasm you’ve had before and when you finally remove your fingers from your aching cunt your head is spinning and your heart is pounding.

you can hear a muffled string of curses through the phone and you know he’s right behind you. thoughts of him sitting on his bed run rampant in your head, imagining his stomach covered in milky cum and his pretty, pretty lips parted as he catches his breath.

the silence is heavy as you feel yourself come back down from your high. you struggle to find something to say after… whatever that just was, so you say the only thing that’s on your mind.

“i really did miss you, joshua,” you say quietly. unlike before, there’s not a hint of teasing in the way you say his name now.

and he sighs contentedly, finally hearing his name on your lips like he always wanted to. “i know. i missed you too.”

you both say your goodbyes and good nights quickly, still basking in enough of the remnants of your orgasms to not be too awkward about it. but after you’re settled in bed (for real, this time) and about to fall asleep, you can’t help but wonder if things between you and joshua will ever be anything but awkward.

a memory surfaces: you and joshua running around at the park behind the church after a sunday evening service, no older than kindergarteners, laughing and playing until you collapse on the grass. your mom called for you both to get ready to go home, and no you’re not allowed to have a sleepover because it’s a school night but maybe this weekend if his mom is okay with it. before you ran off, he thrust his pinky out towards you and you shook on it, making a pact to always be best friends, even when you can’t have sleepovers. it didn’t ever occur to either of you that there might come a day where you wouldn’t be best friends.

you don’t remember what prompted him to make the pinky promise, but you know he’s never broken it. and you can only hope that he hasn’t forgotten it.

it’s a few days later at one of your bible study groups when you see him next, and yet again you’re caught off-guard like a deer in headlights.

you’re sitting with a group of other ladies, annotating material for a test you couldn’t care less about when you hear your name called out– a familiar deep voice you can only pray doesn’t belong to who you think it belongs to.

oh, but it does belong to him, alright. it feels like you’ve gotten the wind knocked out of you when you turn around and see joshua standing behind you, a warm smile on his face that makes you doubt anything ever happened. maybe it really was all just a delirious dream, too many years of yearning built up into one intense wet dream.

he puts a hand on your shoulder lightly, turning you away from the rest of the ladies. “hey, can we talk somewhere?”

and oh shit it was definitely not a dream.

your cheeks burn as you excuse yourself from the table, packing up your bible and pens and shoving everything in your bag as quickly as you can. you can almost hear the snickering already, the gossips whispering to each other that you must have done something unspeakable if the top-student, pastor’s son, joshua hong has to speak with you privately. ah, if only they knew.

you only wish you could go back there and wipe the smirks off of all their faces and tell them about what the perfect little gentlemen they all pretend they don’t have crushes on was doing on the phone with you last night. you wouldn’t do that, not in a million years, but just the thought of it is satisfaction enough. 

joshua leads you down the hall to a room that looks like an empty office. he opens the door for you, then closes it softly behind you.

“whose is this?” you ask, glancing around the room. 

“it’s… mine,” he says almost shyly, gesturing idly to a little engraved nameplate on the desk. joshua hong, pastor’s assistant. because of fucking course he would be.

“oh.”

he clears his throat, and in that moment you realize he’s just as nervous as you are. “listen…” he starts, taking a pause. “about the other night–”

“are you gonna kick me out?” you interrupt.

his brows knit together in confusion. “what?”

“are you gonna expel me?”

“no?” he says, still looking at you, baffled. “why would i do that? i don’t even think i have the power to, even if i wanted. which, for the record, i don’t.”

you don’t reply, focusing your gaze on the carpet instead.

he frowns. “is that really how you think of me? that i just go around tattling to my dad? from that… conversation, i thought it was clear i’m not like that anymore.”

the tips of your ears are burning at the memory of all the things you said to each other over the phone. but it never occurred to you that maybe he was just as sinful as you had been.

you stay quiet, the silence stretching on as shame and embarrassment and a hundred other emotions swirl in your mind and you struggle to figure out what to say.

luckily for you he fills the silence himself. he exhales, looking down at a stack of papers on the desk. “god, you… you don’t know how much i missed you. i thought about you all the time.”

“so did i,” you manage to whisper. “in more ways than you know.”

he gives you a teasing smile. “oh, i have a feeling i do know.”

you hold back a cough and look away, focusing your attention on a painting of flowers on the wall. “i don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“if that’s how you wanna play this, fine.”

your curiosity piques, and you look back at him. he motions to the seat in front of the desk, wordlessly asking you to sit. hesitantly you do, and he starts to sit down at the swivel chair behind the desk, but you clear your throat and he glances up.

“can– can you not sit over there?” you ask softly. “feels like i’m being scolded.”

his expression softens a little, and he rolls the chair back into place, opting to sit next to you instead. “of course.”

except maybe you shouldn’t have asked him to do that, because now he’s sitting toe to toe with you and the closeness is overwhelming. at least on the other side of the desk there was enough distance for you to shrink and hide behind, but here, sitting like this, he can see all of you. and you don’t particularly want to be seen right now.

the tension is palpable as he takes his seat, still watching you. you take the moment to study his features: the slope of his nose and the gentle curve of his lips, the way the light catches on his long eyelashes and the way his broad shoulders look in that perfectly tailored sunday morning service suit.

“i always liked you,” he starts, and your gaze shoots up to his eyes. you open your mouth to ask something, but he shakes his head and you immediately fall silent, letting him finish. “i was almost glad when they made us go to different sunday school classes, because i wouldn’t have to sit there and pretend i didn’t have the craziest crush on you.”

“joshua, i–” you trail off, not even knowing what to say.

he pauses, as if debating his next words. “and i know it’s wrong, but i couldn’t get you out of my head when i… y’know.” his cheeks are flushed but he doesn’t look away from you, eyes searching your own for any hesitance or any sign that you don’t want this.

it’s then that you realize that the boldness you had felt hiding behind your phone, he had felt it too. saying words alone in your room at night was easy. sitting in public, in the daylight, and saying those same words to his face was so much scarier. and knowing that you’re both feeling awkward and shy and a little uncertain of how to talk about it gives you the confidence to keep going.

“when you would what?” you pry. you already know the answer but you want to hear it come out of his mouth anyway. you’ve already heard him say it, but something about sitting in his office, in a church, speaking such filth ignites a spark in you that’s completely different from the spark you felt a few nights ago.

he clears his throat and looks you in the eye, maybe gaining a little bit of that confidence, too. “when i would jerk off i would always wish it was your sweet little mouth instead of my own hand.”

you inhale sharply, and that’s when he finally breaks eye contact, his guilt-ridden gaze shifting to the wall behind you as his cheeks burn redder. “i didn’t feel good about it. felt like i was doing it without your permission, and i didn’t want that. i–”

“yes,” you say hurriedly.

he stops short at your interruption, instantly looking back at you. “yes…?”

“yes, you have my permission. whatever you want, joshua, always.”

his eyes narrow, almost imperceptibly, but you recognize it. even after all these years, after so much has changed, you still know his tells. you wonder if he still knows yours.

he murmurs your name in response, almost like a warning. “don’t say stuff like that,” he says, letting out a shaky breath.

“why not?” you ask, feigning innocence. but you know exactly what you’re doing, and you know exactly how you affect him: the same way he affects you.

he looks up at you. “you really are just as much of a brat as you were back then, aren’t you?” he says with just a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

“why don’t you find out?”

he groans, leaning back in his chair. “do you know how long i’ve wanted to kiss you?” he says finally.

“probably just as long as i’ve wanted to kiss you,” you counter, and he raises an eyebrow.

you both stand up at the same moment, closing the distance in less than a second. 

you stare at his chest in front of you to avoid his eyes, until he brings up a hand and gently tilts your chin, forcing you to look at him.

“are– you gonna get in trouble?” you breathe, heartbeat pounding in your ears as you stare at his perfect, perfect lips.

he hums, and it sends a shiver down your spine at the close proximity. “are you still giving me permission?” he asks, and you quickly shake your head yes. 

“always.”

he smooths his thumb across your cheek. “then i won’t be in any trouble at all."

and then his hand moves to hold the back of your neck and he's tilting his head and bringing his lips towards yours and then finally, after years of dreaming about it and even more years of denying it, you're finally kissing joshua and there's so many things happening at once that you can't seem to focus on anything because your mind is so full of everything and nothing and joshua and it all just feels so right.

you’re melting in his arms and falling into his touch and enjoying every fucking second of it. your heart speeds up when his hands slide behind your back, wrapping around your body to pull you closer to him, pressed chest to chest.

he pulls away to kiss you again, and again, and again, and you decide you’d be content to be like this forever, standing in his office in the church building making out like you’re the only two people on earth. 

but finally his lips leave yours, and he takes a tiny step backwards, heaving out a shaky breath as he looks you in the eyes. “what are we gonna do now?”

your heart plummets, doubts racing through your mind. did he not like it? does he not like you? did you really just ruin everything? why did he stop? why did he ask that—

but all your questions are answered in an instant when he coughs and you look down, finally noticing the prominent bulge in his dress pants. oh. that.

when you look back up at him his cheeks are flushed bright red, and he immediately begins to apologize.

“shua,” you call out to him, repeating his name the way you know he likes. “joshua. don’t worry about it. it’s fine.”

in fact, you find it incredibly flattering, that just a few kisses and gentle touches could get him this worked up. maybe it really has been you all along.

with a surge of confidence, you step back towards him, wrapping your arms around him and leaning to kiss him. “are you busy today?” you murmur, your cheek brushing against his.

he shudders, hands automatically finding your waist and pushing your hips against his own. “no. are you?”

you sigh, kissing the corner of his mouth. “not anymore.”

“fuck,” he curses, his grip on your body tightening “you really want to…?” he asks, almost shyly, as if he’s in denial this is really happening.

“absolutely,” you say, and you’ve never meant anything more in your life.

in a second he’s got you shoved against his desk, sending papers flying to the floor as he lifts you by your ass to sit you down on top of it. your kisses turn rougher and needier, your hands grabbing at anything you can reach to ground yourself: his hair, his shoulders, his back.

finally he breaks free, dropping to his knees in front of the desk. “please, let me eat you out.”

you moan out loud, probably too loudly for the thin walls of the office. but the visual of him on his knees to do anything other than pray drives you mad, and you need more of him, desperately. “joshua, please.”

he pushes your skirt up your thighs, moving it out of his way so he can stare eye to eye with your pussy. you whimper and instinctively try to hide your face in embarrassment, but something tells you he wouldn’t like that, so you resist, keeping your hands firmly planted on the edge of the desk.

“fuck, you’re soaking,” he says, his voice broken. “you’re so perfect.”

his hands reach up to tug at the hem of your underwear, and he looks up at you, silently asking for permission to continue. you nod eagerly, lifting your hips off the desk so he can slide them off of you, revealing your glistening entrance.

he whines at the sight, pretty lips parted in shock? awe? as if he can’t wait to taste you. he pushes his face into your pussy, gently at first, but when you moan and bring your hand up to his hair he dives deeper.

the moment he attaches his mouth to your clit, you jump, gasping as you try to shut your legs around his head but his large hands keep you held open. his tongue explores every inch of you, moving back and forth, up and down, mapping out your cunt with his mouth. 

“fuck, never dreamed you’d taste so good,” he sighs against your pussy, leaning away to take a breath after what feels like forever.

your legs are shaking and your cunt is throbbing as you also try to catch your breath. you’re not used to being touched like this and you’re definitely not used to being touched by joshua. so many thoughts running through your head and not a single one of them coherent enough to put into words. all you can do is weakly whine out joshua’s name and tug on his hair, pleading for him to keep going. you need release, and you don’t want it from anyone but him.

he stands up, his pants wrinkled from kneeling on the floor but still tented with a bulge so uncomfortably large you feel dizzy just thinking about it. you don’t even know if he’s going to fuck you or even if he wants to, but god you want to see his cock so bad. too many restless nights spent thinking about it, and now you might finally have the chance to see it in front of your face.

your mouth waters at the thought, and you start to slide off the desk, but joshua stops you. “what are you…?”

you look up at him, eyes blown wide with lust and you don’t even attempt to hide your eagerness. “please let me suck your dick. joshua, please.”

he whines, running a hand through his hair. “god, i want that so bad, but… i don’t think i can last if you do, and i was really hoping to fuck you.”

you close your eyes and roll your head back, moaning at his vulgar confession. but he sighs, and he sounds almost defeated, and you look back at him quickly, afraid he’s suddenly changed his mind.

“i’m not—prepared,” he admits, and you tilt your head in confusion before it sinks in what he means.

“ah. don’t suppose you would have any condoms lying around, would you, mr. pastor’s assistant?” you ask playfully, and he shoots you a glare.

“brat,” he mutters under his breath, but you hear it, and your walls clench in response. “no, i don’t have any. not interested in anybody else, so… no reason to.” he looks like he has more to say, more serious things to say, but he keeps his mouth shut, his eyes searching your face nervously.

your stomach flips at his words, feeling your cheeks heating up. you hadn’t thought you would ever get this far, and especially not with him. because of the kind of school you were at, it wasn’t like the people here were doing the kind of things you’ve been doing—at least not publicly. even if you’d wanted to hook up with somebody (which you didn’t), everyone in your vicinity would shame you for even bringing it up. you may have experience with yourself, but anything with anyone else is completely new territory for you.

you fall silent, not sure how to continue the conversation as all your newfound confidence begins to crumble. what were you thinking? caught up in the heat of the moment, saying things you weren’t sure you meant. you were in love with him: that much you were sure of. but everything that comes after that is too new, too scary, at least for right now. you can barely even comprehend that he just went down on you, but you know you enjoyed it and honestly, you’d give anything for him to do it again. but there’s too much going on inside your head for you to even begin to process that right now.

he calls your name and you blink, looking back at him anxiously. “we… don’t have to. right now, or even at all,” he says gently. the tips of his ears are burning red but his voice is calm and steady.

“joshua, i want to,” you start, clasping your hands tightly together in your lap to give you something to focus on other than the way he’s watching you so intently. “but i– don’t know how.”

“neither do i, baby,” he says. the nickname makes you shiver; even though it’s not the first time he’s called you that, especially after the other night, you’re still not used to it. but somehow it’s comforting, and it makes you relax knowing that he’s still the same person you grew up with, the same person that knows almost everything about you. you’ve both changed so much, but deep down you haven’t changed at all.

he pauses when you don’t say anything back. “we’ll wait, then,” he says and wraps his arms around you, lightly at first but then squeezing when you don’t try to pull away. “we have all the time in the world. no need to rush.”

“we… do?” your voice is laced with uncertainty.

he smiles. “of course. i let you go once already, i’m not letting it happen again. never again.”

you turn your head away from him and hide your face, flustered by how sincere he sounds. he hums, and you can hear the pout in his tone so you fight your embarrassment and turn back towards him to ask the question that’s been weighing on your mind since you first saw him days ago. “this is gonna sound so stupid, but… shua, what are we?”

first you were childhood friends, you were best friends, and then you were nothing. right place, wrong time? and then you were… doing something on the phone together, whatever you could call that. and now you were just sitting on top of his desk, sweating from having almost had sex. how do you even begin to put a label on this?

“well, i’d like to be yours,” he says shyly, and just like that all your questions are answered with six small words. you realize it doesn’t matter what label you have; as long as you have him, that’s all that matters.

“yes,” you breathe, lifting your eyes to finally meet his and you see all the love in his eyes threatening to spill over.

he reaches up to brush a piece of your hair out of your face. “i’m just glad i finally have you back,” he says with a soft smile as he watches you. “we’ll go slow, we’ll wait— whatever you want. whatever it takes not to lose you again.”

you bury your face in his chest with a whine. you’re hiding again, but even the uncomfortable scratchiness of his dress shirt can’t pull you away from him.

“besides, i don’t want our first time together to be in my stupid little office,” he chuckles and holds you tighter against him, pressing a kiss to the top of your head that makes your heart flutter. “you deserve better than that.”

you stay there for a long moment, hugging him like it's the last time you'll ever see him. but this time you know it won't be the last. it's the first, the first of hopefully many, many more.

when you feel like you've been standing there too long, you clear your throat and lean your head back to look at him. "so, um… now what?"

he pauses, those pretty lips turned up in a smile. "do you have plans for lunch?"

"no, i just had that study group you pulled me from. i'm free for the rest of the day."

his smile widens. "perfect. you still like grilled cheese, or did you grow out of that, too?"

you laugh, putting your chin on his shoulder as you hug him. "i haven't changed that much, shua."

after taking a while to collect yourselves (waiting for his erection to go back down so you can leave together without looking suspicious), you walk out of joshua’s office the happiest you've felt in years.

he'd wanted to hold your hand, too, but you were still anxious about anyone seeing you together that you'd refused him until you made it to his car. you were probably just being paranoid and no one would care about two responsible adults talking to each other, but all the time you'd spent hiding from your peers had put you on edge.

so, it wasn't until you were safely out of the church parking lot and in the driveway of his apartment complex that you let him touch you, kissing you over the cupholders with his hands gently holding your neck.

it took everything in you not to climb over the center console and sit on his lap in the driver's seat and kiss him as hard and as deeply as you really wanted, but you knew once you started you wouldn't be able to stop. and besides, he still didn't have any condoms. it didn't bother you either way, since you'd been taking birth control since high school to help with your periods, but if it was what he wanted you'd be more than fine with it.

you don't know what you'd been expecting the inside his apartment to look like; probably some tacky cross-stitch bible verses or a wooden cross hanging on the wall, but his apartment just looked like… a normal apartment. a very clean apartment, actually, though you weren't surprised. he'd always been a neat, organized kid, and it looked like that was one thing he hadn't grow out of.

you watch as he puts his keys on a hook by the door, following him into the kitchen and sitting at one of the chairs.

he grins at you as he opens his refrigerator, pulling out the ingredients for your lunch before taking out a pan.

"shua…" you interrupt him, standing up and walking towards him slowly. "you're not— really thinking about grilled cheese sandwiches right now, are you?"

he hums, eyes following your every movement as the pan sits cold and abandoned on the stove. "there are… other things on my mind, yeah."

"so why are you still trying to make grilled cheese sandwiches?"

by now you're close enough to stand toe to toe with him, and you're sure he can feel the heat radiating off your body when he wraps his hands around your waist, backing you against the kitchen counter. "because i wanna make you lunch. maybe i just wanna spoil my girl a little bit."

a shiver runs down your spine at the new name he calls you. never in a million years did you think this is where you'd end up.

"i think you have all the time in the world to spoil me later, joshua," you mumble, leaning in closer and closer until your lips touch.

in a flash he's hoisting you up and sitting you on the counter. his mouth never leaves yours as you slide your legs around his hips to drag him closer, kisses growing deeper and more desperate now that you can finally be alone together.

his hands slide down your body, tugging at the hem of your shirt and only breaking apart for a second to slide it over your head before his lips are crashing against yours again. 

your hands find his hips, experimentally tugging on his belt to see his reaction. immediately he pulls away from you, 

cheeks flushed and breathing heavily. "sweetheart, i still don't have any condoms. if you really want to now, then we gotta run to the store first."

“i’m on the pill,” you burst out, hoping he gets the message. maybe he has some other reason for wanting to, but you're too impatient to wait for who knows how long it'll take to go to the store, and you don't think you'll be able to keep your hands off him for that long. you don't think you'll be able to keep your hands off of him for even a few seconds.

his face goes blank as he processes your words, struggling to understand if you’re saying what he thinks you’re saying. “you’d let me…?”

you grab onto his arms, a desperate attempt to pull him closer, to feel more of him. “raw, yes, joshua. just—please, i need you,” you beg him, cunt throbbing with neglect as you wait for him to answer. 

he buries his face in your shoulder with a groan, gripping his hands underneath your thighs and sliding you off the counter.

with a shriek you wrap your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck, holding on tightly as he starts to walk out of the kitchen carrying you. "joshua! what the hell are you doing?"

his face is still pressed against your shoulder, and you can feel his lips tickling your bare skin as he speaks. "i'll fuck you on my kitchen counter any day of the week, baby, but i want to have you for the first time in my bed, please?"

his voice is low and whiny, just as desperate for you as you are for him and it makes you moan with excitement. 

he finds his way into his room, stumbling a little when he accidentally runs you into the wall instead of through the doorway, but you just giggle and kiss him harder until he finally drops you on his bed, immediately unbuttoning his shirt.

you run your hands along his chest as he leans over you, feeling the toned muscle that feels almost wrong to be seeing. his physical changes are much more obvious to you now that he's like this, and you know the image will fuel your fantasies for weeks.

your hands move to his belt again and this time he allows it, letting you unbuckle it and toss it away before slowly lowering the zipper. he's already hard again, and your heart races when you put a little bit of pressure on the seam and he lets out a guttural groan in response.

his arms flex as he reaches down to slide your skirt off, and you help him and kick the fabric away, leaving both of you in nothing but your underwear.

joshua pauses, letting his gaze wander your body as you look away shyly. he hums and you look back at him in confusion. "don't hide from me, sweetheart, please," he says, but it comes out more like a whine; not like he's asking, but like he's begging. it's honestly the hottest thing you've ever heard, and even with your nerves he makes it hard to resist.

"dreamt about this for fucking years. years," he moans as he leans over to kiss your chest, reaching behind your body to undo your bra and let it fall away. you whimper when he brings his hands up to cup your breasts, wrapping his mouth around one of your nipples as he starts to slowly grind against your clothed pussy. you can already feel yourself soaking through your panties, and you're sure he can feel it, too.

his hands are like nothing you've ever felt, and you roll your head back against his pillows, arching into him as he massages your breasts with his large hands. you'd noticed them before, but you hadn't realized just how big they were until they were on top of you and made your body seem almost tiny beneath his massive palms.

"shua…" you breathe, tentative hands reaching up to touch his shoulders.

he looks up at you, mouth covered in spit. "yes, angel?"

you whimper at the nickname. no angel you'd ever learned about in sunday school had acted like you are right now, begging a man to fuck you. and on top of that it was before marriage, too; surely if there was a god they would be extremely disappointed in you. but right now you didn't care if the entire universe was disappointed in you, as long as joshua hong wasn't.

it takes you a few more seconds to build up your courage, but finally you open your mouth and tell him, "joshua, please— fuck me."

he slides forward to kiss you again, before sitting back and repositioning himself between your legs. "anything you want, sweetheart."

he lines his cock up at your entrance, and just before you think he's about to push into you, he looks up at you instead. 

"i love you, so much," he says, and you have to fight the urge to hide your face as you grin and giggle like a fucking schoolgirl; like the past version of you would have, if she'd had any sense and figured everything out sooner.

and, like always, he asks, "ready?", and you nod, and it's better than you could've ever imagined.

the whines that leave his mouth drive you close to the edge already as he begins to thrust into you, slowly, gently, just a little bit at a time but it still leaves you gasping from his size.

he keeps moving at a snail's pace until you reach up, fumbling to grab at his bicep as tears nearly spill out of your eyes and beg him, "joshua, more, please."

he leans over you, pressing his body flat against yours as he starts to rock his hips faster, and you cry out from so much pleasure and so much emotion hitting all at once.

"wanted you so fucking bad, for so long, and now you're finally here," he whispers, his thrusts never faltering despite how close in proximity he is to your face.

you whine as your hands claw at his back, digging in as you struggle to hold on and he curses again, pushing into you harder.

"you said i was better than you imagined," he groans, one hand coming up to caress your cheek. "but you're even better than i imagined. you're a fucking angel, so fucking beautiful."

you gasp his name, falling into your orgasm from his words alone as you clench impossibly tight around him. you always thought of him as the nice kid, the rule follower, but here he is, fucking you through the hardest orgasm of your life and saying such filthy things in between praises and compliments.

"jo-oshua, please!" is all you can manage, still struggling to recover before he crests into his own high with a whimper. his eyes scrunch up as he releases inside you, eyelashes fluttering and sweat dripping down his temples, and you think it's the most beautiful sight you've ever seen. 

a constant stream of curses fall from his lips and you swallow them with yours, kissing him as if you're afraid he might disappear into thin air if you don't hold onto him tight enough.

his breaths are shallow when his mouth falls away from you, resting his forehead on your shoulder with a long exhale.

"god…" he starts, then stops and laughs, and you have to tug on his hair to make him face you again.

"what are you laughing at?" you say, cheeks growing hot when he looks at you with droopy, hooded eyes and a lopsided smile.

"nothing," he laughs. "just god. what a funny word."

"and why is that, baby?" you say as you try to hold back a smile, testing out the nickname.

he grins. "because it gave me you. or maybe it didn't. who knows?"

you finally laugh along with him, remembering what he'd said to you on the phone that feels like years ago. "don’t you know it’s a sin to take the lord’s name in vain, sweetheart?”

the church is humming with activity as you make your way to the front pew, carrying two donuts in your hand. people greet you as they mingle about the hall, talking and laughing. some wave excitedly when they see you, others simply smile and offer their hand for you to shake with a friendly “good morning and god bless!”

being a pastor’s wife isn’t something you ever imagined yourself doing, but then again, a lot of things in your life you never imagined doing. you never imagined seeing joshua again, and you never imagined marrying him, either. you certainly didn’t imagine taking over your father-in-law’s church when he retired and decided it was time for joshua to take his place as head of the church. you always knew he would someday, whether he wanted to or not, but you’d be happy to spend the rest of your life by his side no matter where he was or what job he had.

you’d been almost nervous when you decided it was finally time to tell your parents you had been seeing each other, but to your surprise they had been overjoyed at the news. both his family and yours were “just so glad when it happened to be you!”, saying things like “we’d always known it would happen, back since you were children!”, and “so when are we going to get some beautiful little grandchildren to take to sunday school!”

it had been five long and happy years since that very first phone call, and every minute you spend with joshua has been the best of your life.

you walk up the steps to the stage where your husband is waiting, flipping through his notes for the morning’s sermon. you hand him his donut with a grin, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek. he smirks at you, imperceptible to everyone else but you can tell what it truly means.

everybody in the congregation always talks you’re the perfect example of a happy, god-loving couple. such nice looking people, so well put together. but behind closed doors, they’d be horrified by the things you say and do together. wolf in sheep’s clothing, as is your husband’s favorite parable to preach.

it’s not the life you imagined, but it’s perfect to you and him.

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[apopcornkernel]

we had our 8am class online instead of onsite so i got to do some more work

jorts garden is happening

[leclercsluvs]

LN4 | Our Forever Moment

an: i still don't really know how much i like to make written fics, but i have ideas for them so i'm going to continue to try and write them, i think. my first language is NOT english, so sorry if there's any mistakes <3 pairing: lando norris x fem!reader, vasseur!reader (this is gonna be fun, lowkey not important, gets mentioned like a few times because i forgot) warnings: swearing (like twice) inspired by: mine - taylor swift word count: 6.2k

As she’s being dragged to another race, she wonders when her dad is going to realize she's always running off and never in the garage of his own team, she doesn’t know that he’s fully aware she’s never there. She’s been welcomed by everyone she’s visited though, which does make him happy. She mostly goes to Mercedes and Red Bull, but lately Mclaren has been looking quite interesting. 

“Are you going to stay in the Ferrari garage today? Or am I gonna have to send someone over to Red Bull or Mercedes to find you?" Fred looks at yn with a playful smile.

“I didn’t think you noticed.” She's quite shocked. He always seemed to switch off being a dad whenever they stepped into the garage, so it never even occurred to her that he even wanted her there.

“Who do you think sends someone after you at the end of the day?” He turns back around as they get closer, “I think you, Charles and Carlos would be great friends if you gave them a chance,” they turn and walk into the Ferrari hospitality. “Oh speaking of boys, have you found a boyfriend I need to approve of?” He quickly looks back to see her surprised face before he turns back to see where he’s going, even though he could probably navigate it blindfolded.

“Well first of all, you wouldn’t need to approve of him, this isn’t the middle age,” yn lets out a small laugh, “and second, all of my relationships have failed, you’re partly to blame for pulling me to almost every race, and then I guess I’m just not girlfriend material.” She follows her dad around, because even if she does get pulled to all races, she usually doesn't hang out here for more than 5 minutes before she’s off to find Max or George. 

“Chérie, anyone not willing to spend the short time you're home isn’t worth your time,” he stops in his track turns around and puts a hand on her shoulder, “and I’m not sure if I ever said it, but if you truly would prefer to stay home and only travel to a few, that is fine. I would understand.”

She gives him a reassuring smile, “I know. You wouldn’t have been able to drag me out of the house if I didn't truly want to be here.”

He gives one quick smile before continuing walking, and before she knows it, she’s left to herself because he’s needed for something important.

~~~

It doesn’t take long for Charles to spot yn, sitting by herself, because apparently everyone else is busy today. “Yn? what are you doing here? I thought you’d be off doing something with Max?” Charles looks around to see if Max is around and he just hadn't seen him, but it’s a lost cause, which he should have realized, Max wouldn’t be seen anywhere near anything related to Ferrari. Except for Charles of course.

“No he’s busy. Everyone suddenly got busy.” She looks back down at her phone and the messages between her and her friend, however it would be rude to text back while Charles is in front of her, so she turns it off and stuffs it in her pocket. “I don't really remember the last time everyone, well except for you I guess, was busy at the same time.” 

“Well, I’m meeting Lando and Oscar for lunch, do you want to join us?” Charles asks with a smile, flashing some cute dimples. Not that anything could ever happen between the two. As attractive as Charles may be, her dad was his boss, and nothing good was going to come out of that. 

“I think I’d like that,” she smiles back as she picks up her bag with her essentials, “it’s nothing fancy right? I didn’t really get dressed for something over the top.” She looks down at the ripped jeans and the oversized t-shirt that she’s wearing. Not exactly the cutest outfit.

~~~

“So you still live with your dad?” Oscar asks curiously, they all seemed fairly happy she was invited by Charles. And Oscar, who she hadn’t really spent any time with, has been asking a lot of questions. 

“I do. I may be 21, but living at home is just a little easier. And I like spending time with my dad, even if I run off to other teams at the first chance I get.” She answers as she takes another bite of her food. Lando has been awfully quiet and it didn’t go over yn’s head. She was fully aware of how glued his eyes were to his food. 

“Is it weird? That your dad is responsible for a Formula 1 team?” Oscar almost forgets to eat, because of all the questions he’s asking.

“It was in the beginning, but I've gotten used to it by now,” she takes a sip of water. “Is he always this quiet?” yn looks at the way Lando is poking his food “and is he always just poking his food?” She questions, making Lando's eyes move up for just a split second and then back down to his food.

“No. He’s usually pretty chatty, maybe he’s just nervous for tomorrow," Oscar says, finally eating some of his food. “He doesn’t usually get like this before a race though,” Oscar leans his head a little to the side as if thinking about it, before poking a finger in Lando’s side making him jump a little. “What’s going on in that head of yours?” Oscar asks.

“Maybe he’s got a new crush,” Charles jokes, taking a bite of food just as Lando suddenly coughs and gulps down water.

“Are you okay?” Yn asks as Lando suddenly gets up from his chair avoiding any and all eye contact.

“No, I’m actually not feeling so great. I think I’ll have to cut this short if I want to be good to go by tomorrow.” He quickly gathers his things as everyone looks confused. “Bye!” And then he’s out of there.

“Well that was weird.” Oscar says as he goes back to eating

“Do you think it was me?” Yn looks at the rest of the men sitting around the table, a little sad that she may have ruined their lunch.

Charles smiles. “Yes,” he says, looking at yn, “but in a good way. I think I might be right, even if it was just a joke.” He lets out a laugh. “I’m sure there’s some truth to it.” He goes back to eating, and so does yn, deciding that maybe she’ll talk to Lando in private.

~~~

On his way back to the hotel, Lando struggles to figure out his emotions. Of course yn is absolutely gorgeous. But considering she’s Fred's daughter he wouldn’t dare to think of her as anything but a friend. He may not race for Ferrari, but he still has a lot of respect for the man. And Lando knows about his reputation of not being able to keep his relationships going for long. Hopefully he can just subtly ignore her. Because the feelings, and thoughts he had during that lunch were not friendly. And before he even considers anything, he needs to make sure his feelings for her are romantic, and not just him finding her pretty.

~~~

Lando spent close to 4 months avoiding yn to the best of his abilities, and when he wasn’t ready and she caught him off guard he made up some weird excuse about needing to look at data, test the car, try some new Mclaren merch for photoshoots. Yn usually knew they were lies, and wondered why Lando was so set on avoiding her. To be quite honest, it brought down her mood, and she spent more and more time in the Ferrari garage and hospitality. Her dad sensed something was wrong. She was rarely there and suddenly she never left? Something was going on and he was going to get the bottom of it. 

“I see you’re spending time here today,” Fred sat across from yn. She was eating lunch. Alone. That was how she spent most of her time lately. All alone. Lando had unknowingly made her really anti-social.

“I guess.” She poked a little at the salad she had bought. She didn’t really want it anymore. 

“Did the others have plans?” Fred asks, looking around.

“I’m not sure.”

“Is something bothering you?” Fred asked, concerned for her daughter who used to have a lot to talk about. A lot of people to talk to, and who never spent time at lunch alone in Ferrari.

“Nope.” Fred sighed. He wasn’t going to get any answers. If it was because she genuinely just didn’t feel like talking today or if there was something wrong, he wasn’t sure. But he was gonna ask Max, or maybe Lewis to talk to her. He didn’t want her to be lonely. He got up from his chair. He had to get this started immediately. 

Fred’s quest to find Lewis was surprisingly easy. He found the soon-to-be Ferrari driver hanging out with Charles and Carlos near their own garage. “Lewis! Can we talk?” Fred called out before he reached them. Lewis just nodded and started walking towards Fred.

“Is it about my contract?” Lewis asked cautiously. He knew he hadn’t been performing that great in the Mercedes this year and was afraid Fred was going to only make it a year so he could be finished with him.

“No. I need you to talk to yn. She's suddenly spending a lot of time with Ferrari, but alone. Which, as you may know, isn’t where, or how, she usually spends her time.'' Fred looks really concerned, and it’s like it’s transferred to Lewis immediately. He’s known yn ever since her dad started dragging her along. She would usually spend time with George when she went to Mercedes, but sometimes when George wasn’t there and she just wanted to be somewhere else, Lewis and yn would play some games. Usually chess. Lewis was definitely better than yn but she still loved it. They could often lose track of time and suddenly one from the Mercedes team would come and get Lewis to either do some media related stuff or because it was time to get ready for a race.

“Of course! Now that you mention it, I haven't seen her around Mercedes for quite some time now. I’ll see what I can do, if I can't figure it out, I'll have Max ask her. They’ve always had quite a special bond I don't understand” Lewis gives the man a reassuring smile and a clap on the shoulder “Don’t worry, we’ll get her back to her talkative self very soon.”

“Thanks Lewis,” Fred looks relieved, but only for a second when his eyes widen. “Do you think Max did something to her? To make her feel this way?” He looks around as if he's scanning the surroundings for Max. And good thing he isn’t around. It wouldn’t have been a good outcome.

“I doubt it. He’s always been nice. Especially to her,” when he realizes how that may sound to the man in front of him and the way his eyes narrow, he quickly adds “as a friend. Not romantically. I’m pretty sure he’s actually in a relationship.” Fred seems to almost relax at those words and gives Lewis a quick pat on the shoulder

“Hurry up and get my daughter back. I miss her.” and with that he walks off. Hopefully not to find Max. And if so, Lewis sure is glad he isn’t Max right now.

~~~

When Lewis finally finds yn sitting just on the outside of the track he’s surprised she was allowed. But then again she probably just mentioned being Fred's daughter and she was allowed. “Hey there. Looking cozy. Mind if I join you?” He doesn’t wait for a response, just sits down next to her on the grass.

“What do you want?” She asks. Not really feeling the company right now.

“You haven’t been spending much time with George lately. Have you been spending more time with Max?”

“No.” Straight to the point. But not really the point Lewis was looking for.

“Have you been spending time with Charles and Carlos? Since you’re spending so much time with Ferrari at the moment?”

“Would that be a crime?” She looks at Lewis, and he sees something different. Her eyes don't look as alive as they usually do. They’re missing the glow that makes yn herself.

“Yn, is something wrong? You know you can talk to me. Or Max,” he waits for a second, not sure if he should continue, but as she starts plucking at the grass without answering he decides she needs to know. “Your dad is worried about you.”

“Oh.” She answers, plucking a few more grass straws

“Did something happen?” Lewis asks, trying a different approach.

“I don't know. Maybe you should ask Lando.” Lewis is unsure what Lando has to do with this entire situation, but he promised Fred to get to the bottom of it, so he will.

“Did he do anything?” Lewis is ready to fight Lando. “If so, I’ll gladly talk to him”

“Well, maybe he’ll talk to you,” yn shrugs and gets up from the grass. “I have no idea what I did to him. He seemed happy enough about me being invited to join him, Oscar, and Charles for lunch a couple months ago, and then during lunch he was so quiet, barely looking up from his food and then he suddenly said he wasn’t feeling great and needed to leave.” Yn turns around and looks at Lewis, tears starting to form in her eyes. “He has ignored me ever since. Every time I’ve tried to talk to him he either runs away or makes up some dumb excuse to get away from me,” she wraps her arms around herself as if to protect herself. “I’m sorry,” she says, shakes her head and turns around again and starts walking away. “I shouldn't have put all of this on you. I'm probably just overthinking it anyway.”

"Wait!" Lewis is quick to get up from the grass and gets a hold of yn’s arm, ”I’m glad you told me. Let me talk to Lando. See if I can figure out why he’s avoiding you. Maybe there’s a reason,” yn smiles a small smile, but it’s better than the empty expressions she's had lately. “Nice to see you’re still capable of smiling.” Lewis returns it with a smile of his own and guides her towards the Mclaren hospitality. “Now let’s get to the bottom of this.”

“Thank you. Not just for this, but also for always putting up with my bullshit.” Yn looks straight ahead. She wasn’t exactly planning on saying any of that, but oh well. It won’t hurt anyone. 

Lewis just laughs and pushes her lightly. “You should be grateful. It's impossible to keep putting up with it.” If he wasn’t laughing while saying it, she would have been hurt, but she just laughs with him and follows him, to hopefully get some answers from Lando.

~~~

Lando was not expecting to see Lewis, so he wasn’t able to run off as quickly as he usually does, and when he spots yn behind Lewis, he tries to make up some excuse about having to talk to an engineer about a possible car problem but Lewis stops him. “Lando. That’s enough.” He puts a hand on Lando's shoulder before he gets a chance to run off. “Why do you keep running away from yn?”

Lando sighs, he can’t run away from it anymore. “I kinda would prefer for this conversation to happen between just me and yn.” He runs a hand through his hair and down the back of his neck. 

Lewis looks back at yn, then at Lando, then back at yn, “are you fine with that?” He asks, while she nods and follows Lando into his drivers room

“So.” Lando starts, not really sure how to get the conversation going.

“Why have you been ignoring me for the past 4 months?” Yn asks, wanting to get this solved as soon as possible. “Did I say something that upset you so much during lunch that day?” Yn can feel the tears threatening to spill over, but she would like to get through this conversation without crying.

“No! Oh my god. Not at all!” He turns around because he’s not sure he can look at her while telling her this. “I think I might, sort of, have feelings for you.” The room is filled with silence. Lando is almost afraid she ran out of the room, If it wasn't for the fact he could hear her breathing. 

“So you decided the best action was to avoid me?” Yn asks, with a playful grin. If she had known this was all it was she would have had someone talk to him earlier. 

Her playful tone makes Lando turn around with a sheepish smile. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have ignored you or run off every time you tried talking to me. I was just afraid I would end up spilling a full love confession, and I’m not sure your dad would be too happy with that.”

“Well he doesn’t get a say in my love life.” Yn closes the distance between her and Lando. 

“I suppose you’re right.” Lando takes a step forward, making the distance between them smaller.

“So are you going to be doing anything about it?” Yn tilts her head slightly.

“When I have planned it,” Lando smiles and takes a step back as he feels a vibration in his pocket. “Damn, I actually do have to go now,” a text from his engineer asking him to come back for a meeting. Lando grins and walks towards the door, “but you're totally free to stay here until I’m back. And trust me, I’ll be spending the entire meeting planning the perfect way to ask you out.” He flashes a quick smile before he's out of the door and yn is left alone in the room. But this time being all alone is different. She doesn't feel all alone. She’s the happiest she’s been in four months.

~~~

“I have the perfect plan.” Lando and Oscar are doing a track walk just to have something to do and make sure the track is fresh in their memory for the practice the next day. 

“Yeah?” Oscar isn’t really sure it’s going to be as perfect as Lando thinks it is. “Are you totally sure about that?” He questions, raising an eyebrow, while taking in the surroundings of Monaco.

“I’m 100% sure.” Lando nods. He knows exactly what he’s going to do. He’s in fact not going to ask directly. He’s made a fun little game, and got a few drivers in on it. “Just promise me to not ruin it when she comes to you.” Oscar sighs. He obviously isn’t going to spoil it.

“How are you going to ask her? If you aren’t doing it directly.”

“That’s a surprise.” And no matter how much Oscar pushes, Lando doesn't tell. Just smiles and shakes his head.

The next day when yn arrives at the paddock Alex greets her as soon as she’s arrived. “For you.” He says and hands her a letter.

“For me?” Her face is full of confusion as she opens the letter. 

“Dear yn, I’ve made a little scavenger hunt for you. I hope you’re going to have fun. At the end you’ll find a surprise. Here’s the first clue.”

That’s the end of the letter. “So what's the clue?” If anything she's even more confused now, it doesn’t even say who it's from. It could be from George. But she doubts it. He’s never done anything like this before.

“Oh right, I almost forgot,” Alex rushes and pulls a small lego car from his backpack. more specifically a Mclaren lego car.

“So I'm guessing I have to go to Mclaren?” She questions and looks at Alex who just shrugs. So that’s where she heads to next. Who knows how long this is going to last. She does think it’s going to be fun though. She’s always loved clues.

As she gets closer to the Mclaren garage she finds Oscar standing looking around holding a letter in his hand. As he notices her, he walks towards her. “Here. From a mystery man.” He says, hands her the letter and walks off trying to look mysterious.

Yn laughs and opens the letter. This time, there’s no text. Just a card. “Happy fathers day.” She reads out loud. That’s all the card says. “I guess that means i’ll have to go to my dad?” She wonders out loud. Would this person involve her dad? Would her dad want to be involved? “Hm, probably just ferrari.” She says as she notices the card is mostly red.

She walks over to the Ferrari garage but can't find anything and decides it might be at the hospitality. As she enters the building she notices Carlos standing with a smile on his face and a whistle in his hands. “Here you go.” He hands her the whistle as she reaches him. 

“That's it? Not a letter? Anything to guide me more than-'' she looks down at the whistle now in her hand, “a whistle?” She looks back up at Carlos who looks around.

“Consider the first letter of the whistle.” He whispers and quickly walks off, whistling. 

“The first letter of whistle is w. So..” she thinks for a second. “Williams?” She laughs and quickly walks over to the Williams hospitality, but to her surprise finds no one, and decides it must be their garage then.

Here she finds Logan happily holding a small boat toy. “For you.” He says and hands it to her. Happy to be included. She smiles and wonders if this is the last one.

“Thank you, Logan.” She sends him a smile and walks to the dock to find a boat. Not really sure which type of boat, big or small. But she’s determined to find it. 

When she gets to the dock, she fears it’s going to take a long time, until she spots Charles casually sitting on a yacht. As she approaches she notices a full basket of red bulls sitting beside him. “I guess I’m going back to the track. To Red Bull. Their garage?” She is sure to get those 10k steps she’s supposed to get every day. 

“Yeah, if you want something to drink on your walk, I have plenty,” he pushes the basked towards yn and gestures for her to bring it, “in fact, let me join you on the way back, I was only sent here to give you the clue, and I don't drink Red Bull, so I can return it.” He smiles and gets up, taking the basket full of cans. “Are you having fun so far?” Charles starts walking back towards the track with yn following.

“Yeah. It’s a lot of fun,” she answers as she opens a can of the regular Red Bull, "I'm excited to see who set all of this up though” she looks ahead and takes a sip of the can.

“I can’t wait for you to see who arranged it,” he says. And that’s all he says. Yn tries to get more clues about who it is, but Charles’ mouth is shut. He’s not letting anything slip. And they arrive at Red Bull way earlier than yn was expecting so she doesn't get nearly enough time to interrogate Charles about who it is. 

“I see you’ve come to terms with the fact Red Bull is the best.” Max teases as Charles and yn are within hearing range of a normal voice. While holding a bouquet of flowers?

“Ha ha ha,” Charles smiles, as he hands Max the basket full of red bull cans, “I’m just keeping yn company, and decided to return these as I won’t be able to drink them.” Charles laughs and gets into a conversation with Max until yn clears her throat, reminding them she’s still there.

“I’m looking for a clue,” she says, begging that it's close to being over because she’s tired of walking from one side of the track to another over and over.

“Oh right,” Max hands her the bouquet of flowers he was holding. She takes them in her hand and her eyebrows furrow.

“What kind of clue is this?” She looks at Max whose eyes go wide.

“I forgot this.” He pulls a letter out from his pocket and hands it to her.

“Another letter. Is this the last one? I don't know how much more walking I can do.” She looks so defeated but reads the note.

“If you received this letter, that means you figured out all the clues. I know you were just there, but you can find me on Charles’ yacht. Where the big surprise is waiting.”

She looks up as she finishes reading. “He’s got to be kidding. I swear to fucking god, if this is George and he just made me walk from that yacht, back to the track and then back to that stupid yacht i’m going to go insane.” You look back at the letter. 

“My yacht isn’t stupid.” Charles pouts as Max hits him on the arm. “Ow?”

Yn sighs, “I guess I’ll get going. Thanks for the flowers I suppose.” 

“Oh they were not from me. They were from him. Just hurry up,” Max looks down at his phone, “practice starts kinda soon, and he can’t be late.” Yn starts walking back towards the yacht. She can't wait to kill the man that made her walk this much.

Lando however has been setting everything up ever since yn and Charles left. Strawberries covered in chocolate, and since he doesn't like chocolate, strawberries without chocolate, candles on a small table on the sun deck. As yn gets closer, Lando walks down to greet her. “I swear to fucking god George if this is yo-” her sentence gets cut short as soon as she sees Lando. “You set all of this up?”

“Yeah. You didn’t seem to like it that much?” Lando rubs the back of his neck. He wasn’t the best planner of a scavenger hunt.

“I kinda wasn’t the biggest fan of walking all the way out here, back to the track and then back here again.” She crosses her arms, but seeing the concerned look on Lando’s face she relaxes her arms and walks onto the yacht with a huge smile. “It was still kinda fun.” 

They spend a little while on the boat, sitting with their feet almost touching the ocean. Lando is not really sure if he should put an arm around her or not. He decides not to move too quickly and they just sit next to each other. “Oh I almost forgot,” she turns and looks at Lando. “I was supposed to tell you to hurry up, practice starts soon and you can’t be late,” she looks down at the strawberries, “but you distracted me.”

“Oh shit!” He gets up quickly and puts his shoes on, “meet me at the track! I would love to spend some time with you between practice 1 and 2!” He hurries up and practically runs all the way to the track.

~~~

For the next couple of weeks Lando spends a lot of time wondering how quickly to move forward. They spend a lot of time sitting near water, almost like the first time, except they don't have access to Charles' yacht every day. Every time Lando wonders if he should put an arm around her, but he never does. Until one day, when they’ve been sitting at the end of the gangway on the dock, their feet so close to the water, if they stretched them out their toes would be dipped in the water, and Lando’s arm comes closer and closer to making its way around yn. “Just do it already,” she says and leans on him, putting her head on his shoulder, “I've been waiting for the last many weeks for you to do it.” Lando can’t help but let out a small laugh and put his arm around her. 

“I wasn’t sure if you even wanted it.” He looks down at her quickly before looking back at the water. 

“I've been waiting for you to make some sort of move, so I knew if it would be appropriate to do this.” She says, as she sits back up straight and puts her hands on Lando’s cheeks and pulls his face closer. He puts his hands on her waist and pulls her closer while making sure none of them fall into the water. Her lips meet his softly, a tentative brush that sends a wave of electricity through her body. The kiss deepened, growing in confidence, and everything else faded away. All that existed was the two of them.

When they finally break apart, Lando puts his forehead against hers, a smile stuck on his face. He would never be able to forget this moment, and she wouldn’t either. “I’ve dreamed of this moment ever since that time Charles invited you to lunch.” Lando shares, not aware that yn has shared the same feeling since he shared that he had feelings for her.

“I was sure you’d do something about it sooner.” Yn lets out a small laugh and leans against Lando’s shoulder as he puts his arm around her.

“I was too afraid you didn't want to,” he says and lets out a sigh. “And I guess I just never thought to just ask.” 

“Well, you should have.” She smiles, before looking up at him, and he can’t help but smile back. They sit like that for a while. Just enjoying each other's company.

~~~

A couple weeks later, when they’re lying on the couch in Lando’s apartment, watching a movie, yn can’t help but smile, thinking about this moment, and how she never thought this would be a reality in her life. “Can you believe it?” She says in a soft whisper, her voice barely even audible.

“Believe what?” Lando asks, while his other hand mindlessly runs through the soft strands of her hair.

“This. Us. I never thought I’d be in such a happy relationship while traveling so much.” She says, softly tracing small circles on the back of his hand, that’s draped across her waist.

“Well I’m glad you're happy,” He says, placing a kiss on the top of her head, earning a soft hum from the woman. “You know, you could bring some stuff here. Just enough for a drawer if you don’t want to get too serious.” He mumbles, nuzzling his head into the crook of her neck.

She can’t help but smile, because she had been thinking of asking. “That would be nice, especially considering how much time I spend here.” She brings his hand up to her lips and places a soft kiss there, before going back to the movie.

~~~

It didn't take long for her to basically move in. It wasn’t official, but it might as well have been. She spent more time there than she did at her own home. But Lando didn’t mind. In fact, he loved having her there. They even started spending time together publicly, whether that was around Monaco when it wasn’t a race week, or if it was in the paddock. The fans had noticed how close they had gotten, and speculation quickly began. Were they a couple? Just friends? No one knew. Did Fred? No. But he wasn’t stupid, he knew something was going on, but he didn’t want to ask. But he didn’t mind, as long as yn was happy. And she was, for the first couple of months. And then it seemed like Lando had other priorities. Of course she knew racing was important to him, and she didn’t expect to suddenly be on the absolute top of his priority list, that would always be F1 and she knew that. However, that didn’t stop the feeling of neglect starting to spread through her. She knew he had a packed schedule, but she would often find herself wishing he had more time for her, yet it just seemed he got less and less time for her.

As the relationship between them progresses, small arguments make it to the surface. Usually sparked by the fact yn feels unimportant, or that Lando misses a date or an anniversary. It’s never his intention, and he always makes it clear that he loves her, but as it continues to get worse and worse, she begins to question it. She even stops believing him 100%.

It was 2 am. Lando had just returned back to the hotel after the race in Singapore. He silently opened the door to the room he was sharing with yn, expecting her to already be sound asleep on the bed, but to his surprise she was sitting up, leaning against the headboard with the bedside lamp on.

“Can we talk?” She asks, her voice soft but filled with a hint of vulnerability.

“Of course.” Lando quickly closes the door and walks over to sit on the edge of the bed.

“Look, I know racing is extremely important to you, that it’s everything to you, but,” she pauses for a moment, not really sure how he’s going to take this. “What about us?” She asks, her voice shaking slightly.

“I know it’s been tough, and I’ve not been the best, but I’m under a lot of pressure right now,” Lando looks up at her and he can see the way his words hurt, and he can’t help the defensive tone that creeps into his voice. “I didn’t have a choice.”

“Didn’t have a choice? You’ve always had a choice! You chose to sign up for all those PR events. All the additional promotional videos. Do you know how it feels to always be the last thing on your mind?” Her voice raises a little as the frustration takes over, and she searches Lando’s eyes for a reaction, just some sort of reaction.

“I never wanted you to feel that way,” Lando sighs and looks her in the eye, he genuinely never wanted her to feel like she was his last priority. “But this is my career, it’s what I’ve worked towards my entire life.” 

“And where do I fit into that? When you talk about your future, you’re talking about your next race, the next podium, the next win. I can’t continue to just sit back and wait for you to finally have time for me. I can’t continue to just be a spectator in your life, Lando.” The hurt is visible on her face, and she turns away momentarily to look out the window. The rain is subtly falling outside, and small drops of water roll down the window.

“I thought you understood when we got together.” He says, trying to defend himself. “This is my life, my dream. I never wanted you to feel like you're not important.” His voice softens, but his tone is still defensive as he tries to avoid addressing the core issue.

“I did understand. And I’ve been nothing but supportive, but it’s been months of you forgetting a date, or something else. And I’m not asking you to quit racing, I would never do that. All I’m asking is that I become a priority too. Because right now it feels like you’ve made a choice. And it’s not me.” Tears start to swell up in yn's eyes, and Lando is at a loss for words. He never wanted it to get to this point, but he doesn’t know what to say. He looks away, and that’s the last straw for yn. She swings her legs off the bed and grabs her suitcase that she packed as soon as she returned from the race, since they were planning to leave early in the morning anyway. “I’ll give you some time to think about all of this. But I won’t be waiting forever. Figure out if this is something you want. Because I can’t keep doing this.” And with those words she leaves the hotel room, and into the elevator.

She walks out into the rain, with tears flowing freely from her eyes. She stops and takes a deep breath. She doesn’t want it to end between her and Lando, but she also can’t continue to just be a bystander in her own relationship. As she grabs her suitcase and is about to begin walking she hears Landos voice. “Wait!” 

She turns around and sees him walking in long strides toward her, the rain already drenching his hair. “I don't want to lose you. I’ll never leave you alone again,” he says as he reaches her. “I remember how it felt when we were sitting by the water on our first unofficial date. Every time I look at you, it’s like I’m seeing you for the first time all over again. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” He places a hand on her cheek and gently rubs his thumb along her cheekbones. “Please don’t leave. We’ll make it work. I’ll make time for you. You’ll be my first priority, I promise.”

She looks up at him with an aching heart at the raw emotion in his voice. For a moment she wants to believe him, to just forget all the missed moments, but the pain is still too much. 

“You say that now, but what happens when life gets busy again?” She asks in a whisper, her voice shaking as she speaks. “What happens when I become the last thing on your mind again because something else takes priority?”

Lando’s hand trembles slightly against her cheek, but he doesnt pull away, and neither does she. The rain falls a little harder, and their breaths are visible in the cool air of the night.

“I won't let that happen.” His voice is filled with an urgency, a need, that she’s never heard before. “I know i’ve failed you, but this time-”

“”This time,” she interrupts him and takes a step back, resulting in his hand slipping from her cheek. “How do I know this time is any different?” She looks at him with tearfilled eyes, waiting for an answer she might not want. But it doesn’t come. Instead, Lando takes a step closer and his eyes are filled with so much love and hope.

“Because this time, I know what it’s like to lose you,” his voice is trembling and he pauses for a moment, searching for the right words. “And I can’t. I can't lose you.”

[randombush3]

a sense of coming home

ona batlle x reader

summary: part two of this! ona and you are (frustratingly) still just friends

words: 6.5k (i have NO idea why i waffle so much but lets pls allow it)

warnings: there's like five secs of smut at the end

notes: this has been the most self-indulgent fic i've written because this is how i met my gf and so i am glad to show you a nice happy ending

again, the quote is from 'this side of paradise' (said gf's fav book - i don't recommend however because the protagonist is a twat)

also i didn't proofread bc i am exhausted and i am hungover and i am very ready to go to sleep (#globetrotting is not for the weak) x

There is something difficult about forcing oneself back to their toxic roots. Ona discovers as such as she presses her body into a temple of meaningless sex, but she does so because she is a driven person. Ona is determined to get over you, once and for all, except she’d quite like to stay friends (hence why she agreed when asked). She also thinks it would expose her to fall out because her feelings shouldn’t have existed anyway, so she technically shouldn’t be heartbroken? 

Anyway, Ona rampages through Manchester! They appreciate her accent – some even ask her to speak to them in Spanish when she is three fingers deep inside of them, to which she obliges with little fanfare – and it isn’t like the city lacks queer women. It is a super solid way to keep her busy, to tear her attention from hungrily checking your Instagram whenever possible. 

It’s also what lands her with coronavirus. She’s embarrassed to admit just how many people she has come into contact with when the club doctors ask her questions over the phone.

You send her a lovely message after hearing she is yet another fallen soldier. 

Ona is at home, isolating, and you are apparently trapped in Spain, unable to get into Italy. You haven’t quite made it to your parents’ house since your flight was supposed to depart from Madrid. “How come you’re not on the phone to one of your ‘connections’?” Ona asks suspiciously, wondering why this call has lasted longer than ten minutes. “Surely someone knows someone else and they can get you back home.” 

“I’m hardly out of my depth in my own country,” you remind her with a twinging sigh, pained that she has suppressed all memories of your childhood. “It’s not like I don’t speak Spanish.” 

“Didn’t you get rid of it in your head to make space for Italian and English? Oh, and French too, right? That’s where the fashion weeks are.” 

You laugh at her pride for knowing something about your job, but it is not to ridicule her. “I am speaking to you, aren’t I?” 

“In Catalan,” she points out. “Forget Spanish, but don’t forget Catalan.” 

“I can’t. It’s the language everyone uses to tell me about how fucked you’ve been lately.”  You take in a deep breath, uncomfortable with Ona’s silence but knowing your piece needs to be said. “Are you aware of what happened a few months ago? Why I missed the wedding?” One of your friends met her dream man and he whisked her off to Menorca for a small ceremony. Only the people she loved the most were invited, which included your childhood friend group. “We were in New York, a whole bunch of us. It was late but the show had been a big deal so we went out to celebrate, and… these ‘friends’, these people, they aren’t the same as you and me. Most of them are English, you know, and they come from very fancy schools where addiction is normal. Two of them ended up in the hospital that night – the bag hadn’t even made it round to me by the time they’d dropped. I know it seems far-fetched, but all I’m trying to say is that addiction has consequences. Bad consequences.” 

“So you’re not on my side?” Ona isn’t taking this too seriously. A few people have joked about her questionable new hobby, but no one has made it seem so dire that they have needed to get you involved. You who, of course, Ona will listen to. 

“I am always on your side.” 

That is her main take-away from the conversation, Ona chooses, when it ends an hour later. She swoons, meaning the last twenty women have been a waste of time, but she also tortures herself into ignoring the potential problem. Being a sex addict would be embarrassing, so she won’t be. 

Though your subtle shaming for her abundance of quick-fix flings is hypocritical, Ona would also hate for you to see her that way. You can avoid commitment all you like, but she is determined to be different to prove to you that she is a viable candidate, should you wish to stop stringing her along. It’s probably toxic; it probably means that you are both clinging onto a friendship that should either end or be labelled something else. It probably is the push and pull that has kept you interested, Ona thinks, because she knows that you like the chase. 

However, as much as she’d like to be freed of whatever game she is caught up in, she can’t seem to let you go like that.

… 

The next time Ona and you have a proper conversation about something other than how your love lives have been stunted or how people back home are not as successful as the two of you is when most of the restrictions have been lifted. 

You waited out the pandemic in Vilassar de Mar, much to your annoyance, but now that you can travel again, the first person on your mind to visit is your childhood best friend. You’re not as close as you used to be, having drifted further during even more years apart, but it does not dull your love for her, nor hers for you. 

Ona has changed her mind about Manchester and is forcing herself to like it. It works enough for a visit from you to be the last thing on her mind, and so she slows her response time down until the next arranged date to see each other in person is all set for the summer before the Euros in England.

You’re not quite home but you are in the country, and, with the pre-Euros camp in two days, Ona is spending the final few hours of calm left before the storm in the comforting presence of her mum and dad. 

And… you, apparently. 

“You weren’t supposed to be here yet,” is Ona’s greeting when she opens the front door. 

Your smile is wide and genuine, and you are holding a gift bag in one hand. There is a nice bottle of wine in the other. “Not even an ‘hola’?” When no reply comes, you swallow the emotions that have arisen; the ones that are maybe, just a little bit to do with how soft Ona looks with her hair down. And the slope of her jaw. And the ghosts of defined biceps that bulge even when she isn’t flexing her arms. “I’m dropping by to see your parents. I thought you were in Barcelona with your footballer friends.” 

“You visit my parents?” asks Ona curiously. 

“Of course.” 

With that, you side-step her and call out to her mother, announcing both your arrival and your desire to hand them their gifts. Dinner is just about to be served, and Ona is soon tasked with setting another place at the table for you as though the last ten years had never happened and your friendship hadn’t lost its innocence. 

Maybe it would be better for Ona to not know what it feels like to kiss you, to touch you, to – dare she think it – love you. It would certainly make things less painful, and would have saved her from catching at least one illness and spending a good amount of money on Ubers to escape from random apartments. It would make it easier to listen to you talk about your life in Milan, where you seem to exist in a bubble of incredibly attractive people who are desperate to hold hands and form a raft. 

“Modelling can be brutal,” you agree, nodding at Ona’s father as you follow on from his concerns about your career. He voices them regularly; whenever you see him. Ona realises you have spent a lot of time with her parents without her. “It gets quite competitive between the girls so I’ve been somewhat avoiding them. They’ve brought in someone new, scouted from Germany, I think, and I’m a little worried that I’ll have to switch agencies if they start prioritising her.” You glance at Ona, wanting to know if she is listening, hoping she is. You wish that she were as good at suppressing her feelings as you are. You wish she didn’t look at you like you hung the moon, because you know that you have to tell her you have hung it for someone else. “I’d move tomorrow, to be honest, but I’ve started seeing this guy and he’s convincing me to stay in Milan.” 

“The minute he is your boyfriend, you bring him here,” commands Ona’s mother in a tone she hasn’t yet used on her actual daughter (said daughter has never mentioned anyone before). “Show us a picture of him! Is he a model like you?” 

He is, and if Ona holds her fork tighter after she sees the photo you pull up, that is her business. You secretly take in her clenched jaw and furrowed eyebrows, and this might be the worst thing you have ever had to do. To see her so defeated, so hopeless, is upsetting, especially since you are harbouring the same feelings. However, you are able to admit when it is time to throw the towel in, and you can no longer live like this. 

Ona is too perfect for you. She is driven, hard-working, and funny. She likes to nutmeg little children on the street, and she likes to buy them an ice-cream if they slip a goal past her, slotting the flat footballs into imaginary nets and celebrating as though they have just won the Champions League. She knows a lot, more than she thinks she does. She cares about people, but sometimes it manifests in anger, in frustration. 

Any aspect of her is an aspect that you could love, and that is reason enough not to. Because how can you allow yourself to taint such perfection? 

But, in this unspoken rejection, the compliment is obscured from the recipient’s view. All Ona sees when you gush about how he buys you flowers and takes you out to dinner, is a burning, bright question. It flashes red and yellow, both as a warning and cry for attention. How can she compete if you don’t even recognise her as a competitor? 

…

“--And then they proceeded to finish a film they were halfway through as if it were the most normal thing ever,” Ona rants the minute she hits the concrete of Las Rozas, walking into the facility with Aitana and the other girls who travelled with her from Barcelona. Only the midfielder has been gracious enough to listen to the entire monologue, but the others joke that that is because Ona’s emotional state has led her to spiral in her native language. It is forbidden for them to openly speak Catalan in the Spanish camp, according to Jorge Vilda, who loves to hurl a ‘we can send you back to where you came from in an instant’ their way if he so much as hears a ‘bon dia’. Naturally, Aitana doesn’t give a fuck about the rule, although Ona chooses to believe that she is listening because she cares.

“Are you done?” Aitana asks thoughtfully, sucking on her bottom lip as she tries to absorb her friend’s crisis and formulate a valid, sensible response. The two have known each other for a while now, and Aitana remembers a time when Ona was relentlessly teased by their older teammates for being in love with her best friend. It is clear to her that those feelings never ceased, though she has heard through the grapevine (Leila Ouahabi) that you are now a model and you live somewhere in Italy. You’re part Italian, is what Leila also claims, having professed your ethnicity to a small huddle of fellow gossipers one day in the gym at the Barça training facility. 

“No! Nothing is ever done with her. It’s viscous and it continues in a horrid cycle that has me flapping around in circles like some idiot. I am one of her boys.” Ona groans dramatically, the sound perhaps a little too loud. A few of the girls in front of them turn around to see why a cat seems to have been strangled, but they quickly lose interest when they see it is just Ona and her disastrous situation. “Do you know how fucking humiliating it is to be one of her guys? I am a professional footballer! I play for Manchester United, one of the most historic clubs in the world, and I am about to represent my country in a major tournament. I am successful, Aita, and yet I am still not enough for her.” 

“Maybe she only likes men.” 

“A man has never made her scream like I have,” she bites back. Aitana blushes, but Ona is too far gone in her rage to hear her crudeness nor preserve her friend’s sanity. “She’s been like this since she decided she was gay! Isn’t that hilarious? ‘Ona, I think I’m gay’, she said. I know lesbian breakups can be hard, but there is no way my cousin fucked her up to this extent.” 

“I can’t help you with this, Oni,” Aitana laments, sorry to have to confess this to her friend. “I think you need to talk to her about it. A proper conversation to fix long-term issues, not like the ones you obviously had when agreeing to stop having sex and things like that. Only she knows what she’s thinking.” It is definitely not the advice Ona wants to hear, but she cannot deny the midfielder’s wisdom. “But for now, we focus on winning.” 

…

You are more than a little confused. 

To start from the beginning, Ona’s cousin fucked you up. She broke your heart, and that first impression of dating girls was incredibly traumatising. With girls, you don’t just kiss and sleep with them, you get close – really close – and then when you break up, it is like you have lost both a girlfriend and a best friend. 

Men are a lot simpler. Men like you and they aren’t shy about it. They can sometimes be just as cruel, but you have never felt invested enough to care too much. 

Some nights, you don’t fall asleep, tossing and turning between your sexual identity, aware that you don’t need to label it but desperate to… discover yourself. If you don’t understand that part of you, how will someone else? How can you be loved? How do you even know who you want to love you? 

For as much as Milan is great, it definitely doesn’t help you with your crisis. Girls in Milan like to do what they want. It is not uncommon for the models to kiss each other in clubs, in front of appreciative male gazes or not, and then reveal their engagement to their future husband the very next day. It’s easy to be drawn into such a bubble, but the minute you step out of it, you are hit with the real world. 

It’s what makes the pandemic so distressing for you personally, because you are forced to live like normal people for some time. Your eyes are held open and the question is shoved down your throat, and it really doesn’t help that Ona’s cousin never moved out of Vilassar de Mar. 

She sees you one day, saying hello from a suitable distance as you pick up milk as per your mother’s request. “I heard you’re modelling?” she asks with no agenda, no seductive glint in her eye. You notice the ring on her finger, and she feels the heaviness of your staring. “Oh, I got married a year ago. Did Ona not tell you?” 

You realise that you and Ona try to avoid talking about anything other than the love interests you have. “No, she didn’t. Congratulations, though. She’s a lucky woman.” 

“You don’t have to pretend you’re happy for me,” laughs the woman opposite you, amused and somewhat apologetic. “Look, I’m really sorry for how I acted when we were younger. I was definitely not the most mature person out there, and I know I hurt you.” 

“I cried for months.” 

“I’m sorry,” she repeats. You suck in a deep breath, trying to hold the memories of your pain at bay. “The first breakup is usually the worst but at least it gets better, as you probably know.” 

She looks at you expectantly, awaiting your confirmation. It never comes. 

“I haven’t dated another girl since,” you tell her, sounding rather detached from yourself. 

Her eyebrows furrow and she is clearly frowning behind her facemask. “What about Ona? I thought you were together when you lived in Madrid. It takes more than a friendship to do what you did.” 

You were originally going to go to university in England. It was your dream, and Ona wasn’t entirely aware of the situation because you hadn’t wanted to tell her you were leaving. Then she was sent out on a professional contract to Madrid, and it wasn’t like you were the only one leaving. 

Ona’s cousin, years ago, had suggested that you go to Madrid if you wanted to get away from Vilassar de Mar. “You’ll be close enough to come home when you’d like, but not so close that you’ll feel as though nothing has changed,” she had said. 

No one had known about your offers in England aside from your parents. And Ona’s cousin, who’d only found out because you had called her, drunk on celebratory champagne, because you had to tell someone. 

“You gave up a dream for her because you didn’t want her to be alone.” 

“I moved to Milan. In the end, she was alone.” 

“You sound like you regret it,” she replies, nodding once at you to bid you farewell and then heading over to a woman who is standing with a puppy in her arms. You watch as she pulls down her mask and kisses her wife, her eyes shining with love and happiness, and your blood runs green with jealousy. 

You hate Ona’s cousin for devastating you once more. 

Do you regret it? 

It’s unclear. 

You try to make sense of it when you don’t hesitate to fly back to Italy the minute you can, going home to lick your wounds at Ona’s non-committal response to meeting you when you are in London the next month. It hurts that she is no longer at your beck-and-call, but you are somewhat happy for her. You know that lines have been crossed and that she has suffered for it. You know that you are probably the one at fault here. 

This time in Milan, you don’t fight it as much. You kiss other girls and let them go home to their boyfriends; you submit to the thing you had convinced yourself you would never become. 

As you drive yourself deeper and deeper into your stereotype, the thought of Ona gets pushed away and newer, more culturally-acceptable fantasies come to mind.

It takes a photoshoot for him to ask you out on a date. 

It takes returning home and gaining the approval of Ona’s parents (who are far more open than your own) for you to agree to be official. 

You don’t ask Ona what she thinks. She’s busy, you reason, because she is representing Spain at the Euros. She won’t care who you are dating and she certainly doesn’t need it rubbed in her face. 

There are many reasons why you go out with him. 

One is that you do like him; he’s nice, he’s funny, he treats you well. (He’s not Ona.) Another is that rent is going up and him sharing the load is helpful. (He’s not Ona.) There is also that he is very popular within the agency, and your chemistry on camera is enough to keep your jobs rolling in and casting directors satisfied. 

He’s not Ona. You know that. 

That's the whole point. 

If he were Ona, you’d be deeply in love with him. If he were Ona, you would never leave the house, never leave his embrace, never leave the little bubble created when it is just the two of you and no one else. If he were Ona, you would be excited about the conversations he gently guides you into; marriage, children, where you are going to live one day. You’d miss him more when he isn’t here. You’d care. 

But you just… don’t. 

Another year passes, more Ona-less than the last, and then she is suddenly coming back home to Barcelona, a medal around her neck and word of a relationship floating above her head. 

You could ask her about it if you wanted to because she is still one of your closest friends, but the truth is, you really, desperately don’t want to hear it. While Ona has been falling in love with someone else, you have been proving your stupid feelings to yourself. 

The act (your current relationship) lowers enough for you to go home for Christmas. You leave Milan as though fleeing from a hurricane, and you refuse to control the damage until you have entered the new year. Your parents aren’t entirely sure they want you moping about the house, confused how someone so successful can revert to a moody teenager the minute they are back in safe territory, and they heavily encourage you to accept an invite that was extended out to you a few months ago. 

Your friends are going skiing in Andorra, and they’d like for you to come with them. 

“Ona won’t be there,” one of them regretfully informs you. “She said she doesn’t want to make things weird. She has a girlfriend – or, I don’t know, a talking stage. She wants you to have fun.” 

“But Ona and I are friends,” you try to explain, feeling exposed by the look of pity she gives you; the same look someone receives when they find out their ex has gotten married or something similar. As a defensive mechanism, you hastily pull out your phone and dial her number. Everyone watches you, now uninterested in their food as you dine and plan your holiday. 

Ona picks up on the third ring, escaping her dinner with Lucy and rushing into the cool, nighttime air of Barcelona. 

“Hi?” she says – asks – with raised eyebrows, wondering if you’re in danger. 

“You’re coming skiing with us, aren’t you?” 

Your friends hide their laughs behind their hands, surprised by how firm your tone is. You do not need it for Ona, because she does anything you say regardless, but they enjoy seeing this side of you. This is someone who has had to fend for herself in a foreign country. 

Removing the phone from her ear for a moment, Ona sighs, disappointed in herself. 

“Yeah, of course. I’ve missed you, you know.” 

…

Skiing is not something Ona is really allowed to do. As a footballer, her legs are what pay her wage. Career-destroying planks of metal are not the best way to spend the dying embers of the year. She knows that. She does, she swears, but she is so eager to go that Jonatan cannot crush her dreams. He tells her, “if you get injured your contract will be reviewed, Ona Batlle,” and she promises him that it won’t happen. Nothing bad is going to happen. 

It will be the first time she has spent more than a day with her childhood friends, and she is unbelievably excited. 

Lucy finds it adorable and makes it known, helping her pack for her trip, versed in what to bring because her sister skis or something like that (Ona can’t really focus on her almost-girlfriend's monologue). Lucy likes Ona a lot, and it makes her stomach flutter when she thinks about Ona and her friends talking about them. She’s sure her feelings are reciprocated, and she cannot wait for Ona to return to her in the new year, all smiles and lingering hangovers, and ask her to be her girlfriend. Officially. 

Your friends convene in the centre of Vilassar de Mar with two cars between you. There are ten people coming. 

Someone, most-likely trying to keep the peace, instructs Ona into one vehicle and you into the other. The drive isn’t too long, but you suppose that the tension is uncomfortable for those who aren’t accustomed to maintaining a friendship despite the weight of it. 

It’s five days, and you are determined to have fun. 

Ona is naturally good at this, although she claims it is her first time. You, living in Milan, are just as advanced. 

By the third day, the both of you agree that going off together to do some of the harder runs will be harmless. Spending the day together won’t feel like a date or a romantic holiday. Watching Ona glide over the compacted snow won’t be attractive, watching her cocky smirk as she scales the bumps along the side of the piste won’t do anything. 

It won’t. (It does.) 

And it just has to be the third day that someone pulls out two bottles of tequila and a drinking game that is going to ensure every single one of you is off your face by midnight. 

In rooms opposite one another, you and Ona call your respective partners and tell them about how great a time you are having, actively avoiding telling them about who you spent the day with as though it counts as cheating. It doesn’t, technically. Nothing has happened. But, still, it feels intimate and secret; forbidden. 

Then, there is a shout that rings through the house. Everyone comes to the table; the party has begun. 

Ona finds out that she is absolutely terrible at drinking games, and loses in every way possible. 

You find out that she is still just as touchy when she is drunk. 

Your friends try not to comment on it, all having agreed upon yet another passive role in such an irritating situation. Their non-interference almost ceases by the time Ona climbs onto your lap, head turning as she whispers something into your drunk ears, making you laugh privately. In fact, someone has to hold someone else back before they shout at the two of you to make out or break up. 

But it’s not really necessary, their prompting, because it hits a certain hour and… nothing else matters anymore. 

Ona has been touching you the whole night and you have finally reached your limit. 

Boyfriend be damned, you lead her to your bedroom. 

She asks you many times if you still want this, and you cannot think of anything to say other than ‘yes’. 

You’re not as drunk as she is, and you both know that, but everything feels so perfect and right. 

When you wake up the next morning, your anger is more at yourself than the sleeping woman beside you, but she is an outward target for such a boiling emotion and it just makes things easier. 

“Ona.” You shake her awake, not caring for her hangover. “Ona, I can’t believe we’ve done this.” She rubs her eyes, dazed and confused for a moment but coming to her senses soon enough. “I have a boyfriend, Ona, and… I don’t like you like that.” 

It’s not true. 

It’s really, really, really not true, but the fact that you have said it is enough for Ona to leave your room with the intention of never seeing you again. 

She gets the train back to Barcelona, turning up at Lucy’s flat in floods of tears, and barrels straight into those strong arms with the intention of never mentioning what she has done. 

…

You break up with your boyfriend a month later. Or rather, he breaks up with you, tired of being messed around, tired of your hesitation to fully commit. 

The break-up is not the most upsetting thing you’ve been through, but your ego is a little bruised.

You try to make it look like you are having a great time in Milan, even though the agency has once again discarded your file and overlooked you for shoots you used to book in an instant. You try to seem like things aren’t falling apart, but it’s of no use when your father calls you and tells you that your mother is ill. 

It isn’t cancer but it’s similar, and you know that you need to come home.

You pack your bags and leave without a second thought, because maybe Madrid was far enough. Maybe there is a reason Ona signed for her home club again and most of your friends still live relatively close to their parents. 

Maybe you are not meant to be separated from those you love, because running away is futile if you are always going to end up together again. 

In Barcelona, a modelling agency eagerly draws up a contract with you. Although you are from there, your career being based in Milan previously creates an international allure about you (or so they say), and you are assured that work is going to rush towards you as though someone has just knocked down a dam. 

Your job is secured, your mother begins treatment, but there is something you cannot shake off. 

It hurts to think of Ona, to think of how you left things, but it helps, too. Seeing her face in your mind is comforting. You hear her voice as you drift off to sleep, and you let it soothe you in your dreams. 

“Ona has a girlfriend,” her mother tells you when you next visit them. Her frown is unexpected because all she has ever wanted is for her children to be happy and loved. “It’s not right, it doesn’t feel right.” You begin to shrug your shoulders and crawl into your shell, but she interrupts your thought process; “I think you should go see her.” 

“Why?” 

The woman rolls her eyes. “Just do what I say.” 

You nod because she is so scarily sure about it, and you… It’s hard to believe, but you call Ona. 

She picks up. 

“I was sorry to hear about your mum.” 

“Don’t worry. She’s fine.” 

“Are you back at home?” 

“Yeah, I am.” You pause. “Well, not quite. I’m living in Barcelona.” 

Something fizzes in the air; pops, crackles. 

“Need me to show you around the city?” 

And it’s Ona, so how could you say no? 

…

Your visit goes very well. 

She takes you out to dinner and shows you around her neighbourhood. She introduces you when she runs into people she knows, and she is insistent about dragging you to her football match on the weekend. 

Everything is seemingly forgiven and Ona is intent on integrating you back into her life. 

She wants you to feel at home, though she knows you should already, and she wants to lessen the stress of hospital appointments and death and, if not death, then a difficult recovery. 

You are sitting in her apartment – now devoid of all signs of Lucy – on her comfortable sofa, watching something together after a day of walking around and sealing up the cracks that formed in Andorra.

Sitting leads into cuddling and then into wandering hands that eagerly roam underneath layers of fabric.   

Ona’s breath hitches as you brush the hard lines of her abs, your hands particularly drawn to them and just how strong she has become. “You must have only felt them on men,” she offers as an explanation. “How many have you slept with in comparison to–?”

And your hands stop.

“Sorry,” Ona mumbles, seemingly upset at her outburst. “I’m just curious. I can’t work you out.” She can’t quite look you in the eye, mainly due to the logistics of your position, but she isn’t sure she wants to see the truth attached to her statement. 

You question if that’s a good thing, the fact she needs to ask; the fact that she has no choice but to communicate. It was going to happen sooner or later. “A few,” is what you settle on. Ona leaves it at that, carefully pulling the hair tie from your plait, unravelling it with one hand as the other rests against your stomach in an embrace. You smile. “You’re not going to ask who?” 

Her fingers stop for a moment. “No.” She speaks so quietly, her voice almost a whisper in your ear. “I don’t care about them.” You relax into her more, feeling her against your back, feeling the softness of the blanket against your feet as it hangs at the edge of the sofa. 

“Who do you care about, then?” 

“You.” 

Carefully, both her hands hold your hips and she sits you up, smiling as she does. You tell her she’s showing off, she replies that you are always showing off. To that, you brush those hands from your sides and lean down to kiss her, more decidedly for once; more in control. It’s a surprising feeling for both of you, the forcefulness. Urgency. Not unfamiliar, but unexpected for this time on this day. 

The last time you kissed Ona, you had a boyfriend. 

Your mouth goes to her neck as soon as she decides that she wants her hands back on your hips, pushing you down into her lap. It’s now a competition, you think. She’s quickly coming completely undone by your kissing and biting, but you are not ignoring the feeling as she makes you grind down, makes you need that friction. “Fuck,” you moan in her ear. She grips you tighter. 

You start to pull off her shirt having had enough of the grey between you, asking if it’s okay, if she’s sure she isn’t too tired. Her reply is, “take it off, god,” and then the removal of your clothes that get thrown just shy of the wine glasses set out on her coffee table. Leggings aren’t the most practical for impromptu sex, but she’s quick and smooth and someone who has definitely done that before. 

With your bare chest on display and almost nothing between Ona and you, she lifts you up for a moment with the intention of flipping the two of you, getting you on your back. You pause for a moment, trying to decide if she’s doing it because she wants to or because she thinks that’s the only way to do it, but her hands are moving now, up your sides, round the front of your chest and you relax. She laughs quietly, amused, because the tension dissipates, dissolving like sweet, sweet sugar in hot coffee as soon as your legs wrap around her back. 

Ona asks before she does it, picking you up and laying you back down without needing to part her lips from your own. You watch her as she sits up, body in between your thighs. “You’re going to just stay there?” She shakes her head. “I can top,” you tease, a stark contrast from how it was the last time you did this. Ona doesn’t like being told she can’t do something. However indirectly. 

“Yeah?” You nod, biting the smirk out of your lips. “I don’t care.” 

You are in the process of rolling your eyes when her cocky mouth is put to good use. Your underwear was taken off at some point earlier — you hadn’t realised. Ona’s head moves between your legs, up and down, your hand that isn’t holding onto the sofa in her hair, the soft waves lacing between your fingers. 

She’s good at it; thorough, practised. Her tongue circles your clit for a moment before dipping into your entrance. Something about the cockiness of her movements, her tongue, her hand rubbing between her own legs, makes everything more surreal, more blissful. She moans softly, lips kissing their way up your body, hands no longer focused on herself. Instead, they take the place of her mouth, two fingers inside you as quickly as it takes for her to ask if you are okay to carry on. Your reply (“yes”) is cut off quickly by her mouth on yours, tongue swiping at your bottom lip in another question of permission. You can taste yourself on her. 

At her command, you sit up, letting her pull you back onto her lap as she sucks at your neck. “Don’t leave any marks,” you warn as her teeth pull a whimper from your supposed stoicness. “I don’t want the makeup artists asking questions.” It comes out too late, because you feel her teeth graze your collarbone quickly, not painful, no, but something that feels so, so good. “Ona.” She sighs in disappointment and adjusts where you are in her lap, so your legs are either side of her thigh. 

You find yourself rocking slowly, letting her savour your breasts between her hands and her mouth. She whispers that she wants to see you come, that you don’t need to hold back – not with her, not ever – so you start grinding down, harder, faster. Her hands drop back to your hips, guiding your movements, forcing you to slow down when she feels everything building up. Each time, you let out a “fuck” and attempt to go against her grip to get that friction. “Not just yet,” she mutters, no longer touching you anywhere other than where her hands meet your hips and her thigh presses between your legs. 

“Fuck off, Ona,” you breathe, frustrated. “When, then?” 

She slows the pace even more. “Can you last a little longer?” You look at her face, brushing away the strands of hair that have fallen over her eyes, ghosting your fingers along her cheek, running your thumb along her lips. She smiles again, eyes creasing slightly. 

As her hands drop to cup your face, you say, “you’re beautiful.” 

Ona blushes. 

You look down at her exposed cleavage, nipples pebbled against the sports bra that is unusually low-cut. It might border on intense staring as you begin to grind against her with the intention of actually getting off now. She laughs, saying her eyes are higher up than that, but going back to her trail of kisses along your jaw nevertheless. 

For what seems like longer than a few seconds, the build up finally stops, the tower toppling over in a rush of pleasure. Ona’s hands move your hips as your head drops to rest on her shoulder. She talks you through it, telling you that you look so pretty, telling you that she’s so turned on. 

And that’s when she whispers it. 

It has taken years to get to this moment, many of them filled with unnecessary suffering. 

It has taken years but it does not matter. 

Ona tells you that she loves you and that is when you have finally come home. 

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

The Fight: Final Part

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~3k

Summary: After a weird encounter with your parents and friends, you try to get to the bottom of it even if you don't like the answer.

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill

Season Five Masterlist

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there are any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them.

x

You join Emily and Mick Rawson who is on the Red Cell team. They're standing over the recent victim while SFPD is closing off the park from everyone else.

"Hey, I came as fast as I could," you say. "Do you have any gloves?"

Emily hands you a pair and you slip them on over your own hands. You kneel next to the body and touch the wounds on his face. His spiritual energy flies out of his body and swirls around you, putting out a video that plays out in front of you of his last moments. There is an empty pool with two people inside, one of them being the victim. Both of them run at each other before fighting. There are tons of blood stains all around the pool, telling you that many people have fought there. A man sits on the edge of the pool looking down at the two men fighting but the only thing you're getting from him is that he's white. That narrows it down... Not. You stand up and remove the gloves.

"So, the only thing I'm getting is that he and another man were inside this big empty pool and they were fighting each other. The unsub was sitting on the edge watching them but the only thing I saw was that he's white." Mick stares at you like you have two heads and you stick your hand out which he shakes. "Hi, I'm Y/N, the on-call psychic."

"Not the weirdest thing I've come across," he shrugs.

"British, huh? I know a girl who has a thing for accents," you grin and look at Emily who blushes.

Mick smirks but he doesn't say anything about it.

"So, the Tenderloin is full of junkies who would be easy to control, but the first victim had no drugs in his system and this geezer looks pretty healthy except for the whole dead thing. There's skin under his nails. Didn't the first victim have scratch marks on his chest?"

"The victims are fighting each other," you say, "not the unsub."

"Exactly," Mick agrees.

"I take it you're about to wow us with a theory?"

"The first victim is dumped before the fathers and daughters are taken. Why?"

Because he wants to send a message to the wife that he means business, to make sure she doesn't call the police."

"It also sends a message to the prisoners he already has. If you lose a fight, you die." Mick leans down and points to the welts that are on the victim's back. "What do those welts look like to you?"

"Wounds from rubber bullets?"

"This is the same as how they used to control rioters or prison inmates. I think the unsub's been locked up. It's where he's learned to control his own prisoners."

"Well, if he's learned how to dominate them, why are they fighting each other?" Emily asks.

"It has to be part of his plan to watch them beat the hell out of each other. The loser is executed."

You take out your phone and call Hotch.

"Hey, we might have the profile on this guy." You tell him everything Mick told you. "How do you want us to do this?"

"If what Rawson said is true, the profile will need to be given to San Quinten Prison."

"Hotch, I can't go there," you whisper.

"I'm not asking you to. I'll have Rossi and Sam go there. Get back to the station so we can give it to SFPD."

"Thank you."

Rossi and Sam go to the prison, Derek stays with Jane's mother, and the rest of the team is at the SF police station to deliver the profile.

"We have a serial killer on our hands. We think he might have done time in San Quinten Prison. It's very likely that this unsub has a prison record. He's white, and judging by the age of the people he abducts, most likely in his thirties. Considering the terrain in which he's dumping the bodies, we think that he's imposing or at least very physically fit," Hotch begins.

"He also has access to a space that's large enough to house and control a number of prisoners, all without disturbing the neighbors. Look for places that have big pools, most likely abandoned," you say without telling them about your gift.

"This guy keeps to the same hunting ground and same dumpsite. He's a control freak and really organized. Also, in prison, he would have been obsessed with the guards and their methods of controlling the prisoners, especially in the yard."

"This dude kills folks the same few days every year. There's no way he's that obsessed and he's not talking about it," an officer scoffs.

"We think the man has a daughter of his own, most likely a brunette like Jane. The dates he chooses probably correspond to an event involving his own daughter. Our guess is that he lost his daughter in some way and it's symbolic of him not fighting for her in the first place."

"A lot of times, killers choose victims that are surrogates for someone, like a wife or a mother. In this case, we think his own guilt is making him choose surrogates that represent himself."

With the profile in mind, it's time to do some scouting on the streets. You know his energy. You'll be able to spot him out in a crowd if he's around. Emily and Mick joined you on the mission with Mick up above in the clouds. He's a very good sniper and can see more than you and Emily might. The place you hit is Chinatown while everyone else scouts other cities the unsub might hit.

"So, what are you wearing?"

You smirk when you hear Mick's voice in your ear. You look at Emily to see her smile, and you know she heard him, too.

"A gun." She chuckles. "Hey, Mick, explain something to me. How come we're out on the street and you're sitting on your butt on some roof?"

"Do you really want me to expound on my own prowess? It's undignified. Stay on your headset. All his victims are coming from this four-block radius."

Emily looks at you and sees the look on your face.

"Don't start."

"I didn't say anything." You remember Friday's mishap and look at Emily with a slight frown. "So, how's that dating profile of yours coming along?"

She tenses next to you. "Good."

"Come on, Emily, you know I know you two were lying. Why did you lie? I'm not mad, just confused as to why you felt the need to. Do you not like my parents?"

"It's not that," she sighs. She hopes she can leave it at that but then she sees you staring at her, waiting for an answer. "I don't know. I felt something when he looked at me."

"What do you mean?"

"Y/N, please drop it."

"No, Emily, what do you mean? Did you feel unsafe?"

"No, nothing like that. There was something about him that made me uncomfortable."

"Was it something he said?"

"No. I'm sorry. It was the way he looked at me."

"Oh," you say softly.

"I'm probably reading too much into it." You nod and continue to walk in silence. "Are we okay? I don't like fighting with you."

Whatever happened on Friday wasn't Emily's fault. Your dad must be under a lot of stress and his look might have come across as creepy when it had nothing to do with Emily. You look at her and give her a reassuring smile.

"We're not fighting. We're okay. I just wanted to know, is all. In the future, you don't have to lie."

"Okay," she chuckles.

"If you two are done, I think I've got something," Mick says from above. "I don't know if it's anything but check out the guy in the southeast corner. See the guy clocking the junkie?"

"Care to expand on that? All I see are guys clocking junkies."

"Gray shirt."

You two look where Mick is directing you and see a man following closely behind another man who looks like he's cracked out. Emily is about to follow them when you stop her.

"That's not him."

"What? How do you know?" Mick asks.

"Look, I'm a psychic. I see energies and I've already seen the unsub's energy through the victims. His energy doesn't match the unsub's. Everyone has their own unique aura and that guy isn't ours."

"I trust her with my life," Emily backs you up. "If she says it's not him, it's not him."

"Put a little trust in me, Mick."

"Alright, I do," he says after a pause.

"He was never here. Tonight was a bust."

The next morning after a restless night, your team meets the Red Cell in their domain. It looks like a storage garage that one would go to if they wanted to get their car fixed. Only there are no cars but computers and other tech equipment everywhere.

"Did your analyst get us the data?" Sam asks JJ.

"Yeah, I can lay it out for you."

"Good. Let's cross-reference it against our potential suspect pool."

One of the agents, Johnathan Simms, takes out his phone once he hears it ringing.

"Hello? ... Yeah, we can be there." He hangs up and looks at Rossi. "You up for a ride to San Quentin?"

"Lead the way."

"Okay, what do we have?" Mick asks once the two men are gone.

"The profile says he's spent time in prison and probably lost a teenage daughter in a way that corresponds to the dates he abducts and kills his victims. We have the dates in question divided into four specific subsets." Spencer points to the different groups as he explains. "This group is teenage girls ages thirteen to sixteen who were removed from their fathers' care. This group are deaths of teenagers the same age. The remainder are men arrested for violent crimes and anyone serving a prison sentence during the same window."

"The stressor's in here somewhere. Let's find something that looks promising so we can start running background checks. I want to get inside the girl's head. She's the key. Any insight could help break this thing. We need to understand why he took this girl at this time," Sam says.

One of the prisoners who asked Rossi and John to come overheard a story about this big white man who was in this prison at one time. Supposedly he's all kinds of crazy. When he found out his daughter died, he went all commando--boxing, working out, and challenging everyone in the yard saying that he'd fight them to the death. Sounds like it could be the unsub. It got so bad that he started to beef with the officers when they finally put him in solitary confinement to serve out the rest of his term.

Derek, while with Jane, finds something about Jane that sticks out to him. There is a collage in her room that doesn't have her parents in it like she's trying to hide them or keep them from her life. He finds her diary which is filled with typical teenage stuff like rants about her parents being unfair and talking about some boy named David. He thinks it's odd that she'd have a diary when she comes across as a very private person. The diary only goes back nine months, and Sarah reveals that the family counselor suggested she start one. His office? In the Tenderloin District.

"Okay. Got it. Good work, Morgan," Hotch says when he called. He hangs up and looks at the team. "The Mcbride family went to a therapy center in the Tenderloin. The place also did evaluations for social services."

"We profiled that the unsub may have had his daughter taken away from him," Emily says.

"If he was processed in the same place, then he would know how to target the fathers and daughters. Can I talk to your analyst?" Sam asks.

"Sure."

Hotch calls Penelope and places her on speakerphone for all to hear.

"Penelope Garcia."

"Sam Cooper here."

"Sam Cooper?" she gasps. "As I live and breathe, and here I thought you were a story someone invented. What you got?"

"Here's what I need from you. Has anyone been processed by social services who ended up losing a daughter? I don't care how big the list is. I can cross-reference it against my others."

"Roger that. Gonna hack like the wind. Prepare to be wowed, sir." She is silent for five minutes. "Alright, my tribe, I have a list of parents evaluated by social services who ended up losing custody, but as Cooper predicted, it is a lengthy tale of woe."

"We'll use it to cross against the teenage girls who died on some of the dates in question. I'm gonna start reading names. You tell me if they're on your list. Maria Salter, Carla Denny, Joyce Collard, Dawn Sparrow--"

"We have a name," Sam says while checking a text. "John Vincent Bell."

"One of the first who died was named Mandy Bell."

"Garcia, run the name John Vincent Bell against the family therapy list."

"Shazam. Bell and his wife divorced then the wife died. Bell was declared incompetent to have custody of the daughter due to a host of mental health issues."

"They got that right," Sam scoffs.

"Oh, Lord, when social service agents showed up to remove the girl, Bell beat one of them to death and was given seven years for manslaughter. During this time, his daughter was in a car accident. It looks like she survived three days on life support but eventually died of brain injuries."

"Bell is making these men fight to the death just like he did. He's trying to prove he did what any father would do."

"Do we have an address?" Sam asks.

"The only listing I have is a gym on Hall Street in the Tenderloin. It belongs to Bell's family. It hasn't been operational for years."

"Gyms have pools," you say, remembering what you saw.

"We got him."

You take two cars to the place and get out once you arrive. You sneak inside the darkened gym quietly. You come across the main room where there is a big pool with tons of blood stains in and around it. There is a body inside the pool... dead. Half the team searches the gym while you stay in the main room.

"See? Told you I saw a pool," you mutter to Mick.

"I will never doubt you again," he chuckles. Someone moans in pain from the left side of the room, and you see Ben McBride chained to the pole with cuts and bruises all over his face. "I need paramedics immediately to 631 Hall Street."

Pictures of Jane and Bell are scattered around the floor on Polaroids and she looks terrified.

"Sir, where's your daughter?" Sam asks.

"He took her."

"How long ago?"

"A few minutes ago. Find her," he begs. "Please find her."

"The place is clear," JJ says when she comes back.

"He's on the street. He's got the girl."

"I'll stay with the father."

Hotch takes out his phone and calls Penelope.

"Garcia, I need vehicle information For Bell. Tell police we need an APB."

"I can hit the rooftops," Mick offers.

"Good. Go," Sam says and Mick runs off. "I need a helicopter."

"Garcia, tell San Francisco PD we need a chopper." Hotch looks at you. "Can you track Jane?"

"Yes."

"Good. Do it."

This is the way you prove yourself. You need to feel like your old self again. You're done letting others control your life. Both Jane and Bell's energy is everywhere inside the gym but her panic causes her energy to wisp through the gym and out the back door. You immediately follow the wisp until you reach the street. The wisp flies down the street. You don't think twice about running after it. Hotch, Rossi, and another Red Cell agent take the car while Derek and Emily run after you. You don't stop running until you reach the end of the street and watch as the wisp flies down the sidewalk toward a public parking garage. You keep running and enter the garage with nothing on your mind but Jane. You run all the way to the roof of the garage where you see Bell practically dragging Jane with him to the ledge.

"John Bell, FBI!" Derek yells with his gun out. "Put the weapon down!"

"Don't shoot me!" Jane pleads.

"Drop the gun!"

"It's over! Look around you! You know what it feels like to lose your daughter. Do you really want to hurt somebody else's?"

Bell shoves Jane away and jumps onto the ledge. He's going to jump.

"Get off the wall!" Derek yells.

Bell smirks and jumps off the wall without a second glance. You and Emily rush over to the wall and look down only to see Bell with a gun pointed right at you. He jumped onto a ledge and waited for someone to come so he could take out one of you. Your eyes widen but you don't have to think about your life ending. A shot rings out but it doesn't come from Bell. Mick zeroes in on him through the scope of his sniper rifle. You two look at him and he waves to show you that he's got you.

This calls for a win. Strauss can be pissed all she wants but if it wasn't for Sam and his team, you'd have never thought fathers and their daughters were going missing. For your last night in San Francisco, Sam opened his shop to your entire team for a small party to celebrate.

"Thank you for what you did," Emily says to Mick.

"Same here but I'm sure she'll do enough thanking for the both of us," you wink at Emily whose cheeks redden.

"You guys wanna watch out for this one. She's gonna have a hard time getting over me," Mick smirks.

"Like kicking a virus," she grins.

"You know, I could have just missed."

"With your ego? Not a chance," she chuckles.

Spencer walks over to you with a cracker that has a dip on top of it. He holds his hand underneath it so nothing falls on the ground.

"Open." You open your mouth and he puts the cracker inside. You chew it happily and nod to him to let him know you think it's delicious. "Good, huh?"

"Yeah," you smile and swallow.

"I see you're doing better," Rossi smiles and nudges you.

"Doing better, Rossi, and feeling better. I think... I think I'm going to be okay."

In fact, when you got home, you didn't have a single nightmare.

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[98starkeys]

girlfriend, or girl that’s a friend?

warnings!!

none except cheating, if it counts!!!

----------

a/n :sarah cameron x female!reader. 

it’s my first time writing something here. i didn’t want to do something to hard for a first time. feel free to request anything. i write about any obx characters, i write fluff, smut, angst. i will try to improve my stories for you. excuse the mistakes too, english isn’t my native language. i hope you’ll enjoy! 

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

summer air was making y/n’s hair float as she was chilling in the passenger seat, some taylor swift songs playing. you were about to meet up with the pogues in a few. as you arrived at the chateau with kiara, you ran into the house. jj was teaching pope how to do shotgun, john b was all over sarah. as hers and your eyes met, there was a kind of electricity sending shivers through your all spine. 

“hi y/n!” she exclaimed, standing up to greet you with a hug.

“h-hey sarah!” you replied. 

it was safe to say you were intimitated by the blonde. you pulled away as jj yelled for everyone to put their attention on him and pope. he finally succeded to teach him how to do a proper shotgun without chocking on the beer. you all cheered. the plan was to go to the bonfire, you were already dressed, only with ripped shorts, and a white cropped tank top. you hesitated with a dress, but you guys would probably have to run from the cops, or kooks again. plus, this white cropped tank top would fit perfectly on your tanned skin. you got into the twinkie and drove to where the bonfire took place.

your phone biped in your hand, it was rafe... you had a tiny affair with your best friend brother. it happened right after a party, since then, the kook king has been obsessed with you. you rolled your eyes at the multiple messages and calls from him. you put it back in your back pocket as jj approached you. 

“make me the happiest man on earth by accepting this drink; miss y/l/n” the blonde said with a light smile on his face. 

you laughed and rolled your eyes, shaking your head at how unbelievable he was. you laughed at his jokes as you would usually do. your eyes looked around and that’s when you spotted john b and sarah, again.you suddenly stopped laughing, you just stared at the scene. his hand were all over her, his lips were working on her neck. you couldn’t deny it, even if he was one of your closest friend, you hated him for this. jealousy took over, you couldn’t feel anything else.

you were so much into your thoughts that you didn’t notice sarah looking at you. you got up and excused yourself to jj, he was the only one aware of your crush on sarah cameron. he tried to calm you down and make you stay, but, you were already walking away. 

as you reached the parking, you heard someone screaming your name from afar. it was sarah, you knew it without even turning around. her perfume was already suffocating you, in a good way.

“y/n ! wait, where are you going?” she asked. 

“nothing,nothing at all sarah.” you sighed. 

“lies!” she yelled. 

you rolled your eyes and finally turned around to face her. you scoffed, sarah lokked at you with a confused look on her face. you were about to explain her the situation, but, the words couldn’t come out of your mouth.

“c’mon, i’m your best friend.” the blonde sighed softly.

yeah, it was the problem. 

you tried to explain the situation to her, even though it was hard. you only wanted her to listen to you, nothing else. 

“so... i like you sarah.” you finally admitted.

she looked at you with wide eyes. you started to excuse yourself but you got cut off by her lips smasing on yours. you took a second to realize what just happened. you dreamed of this moment since a year. you kissed her back softly and passionately. you and her couldn’t care less about anything else.

your hand rested on her cheek, hers was on your waist. 

yet, you still didn’t know if it a girlfriend, or girl that’s a friend

[hanadulsetaad]

RICH KIDS OF SK ( HYUNJIN X READER (Y/N) X BANG CHAN PART 8

BOYCOTT SEO CHANGBIN?

part 9

part one part two, part three, PART FOUR part 5 PART 6 part 7.1

part 7.2

TRIGGER WARNING: Body Image Comments (DONT READ THE HIGHLIGHTED RED PART if you dont want to read such comments)

Y/N saw Yeji shaking, her eyes were red. Y/N went closer and crouched down, asking Yeji,

"Yeji, I'm gonna call Hyunjin and Yuna, okay? Till they come, I'll stay here with you." When Y/N was about to pull out her cellphone, Yeji held her hand and said, "No, please don't call anyone. Please, Y/N, I just want to be alone." Y/N said, "Yeji, something happened with Hyunjin?" Yeji replied, "No, everything is okay with him. I just... you won't understand, Y/N. Please, just leave me alone." Y/N took two minutes to think, then she sat next to Yeji on the bathroom floor. Neither of them said a word to each other. Yeji's phone buzzed again. Yeji looked at Y/N and said, "Did you open Twitter?" Y/N replied, "No." Yeji said, "Well, I am trending on Twitter, and my mom keeps sending me tweets." Y/N looked at Yeji with a confused look. Yeji weakly smiled while tears rolled out from her eyes.

Yeji opened her phone and showed Y/N what her mom texted. Her mom's messages were just random screenshots of people on Twitter. As Y/N read those tweets, which said, "I wouldn't be caught dead wearing what she wears. It's like she's trying to repel everyone with her hideous outfits."

"Her body is so disproportionate, it's like she's been assembled from spare parts."

"She's so old and wrinkled, it's like looking at a raisin. Maybe she should just retire and disappear."

"She's so ugly, it's like staring into the abyss. I can't believe anyone would find her attractive."

"Her hair looks like a rat's nest. Maybe she should invest in a wig or a paper bag to cover it up."

"She's such a disgrace to womanhood. She should do us all a favor and disappear from the public eye forever."

The message Yeji's mom sent was, "I told you to stop eating like a pig and get plastic surgery. Now you're bringing bad press and harming the family's reputation, Yeji."

Yeji said, "This is my life, Y/N. Since I was born till now, I had to be perfect at everything, even when I was doing my best, it was never enough. Every time you or anyone else in our circle achieves anything, my parents made sure to put me on more diets and classes to be better than anyone else." Y/N said, "Yeji, I didn't know. Why didn't you ever tell me this?" Yeji replied, "I never wanted anyone to know how miserable my life really is." Yeji looked at Y/N and said, "Please don't tell anyone about this, except Hyunjin. No one knows." Y/N asked, "Why don't you live with Hyunjin and his parents?" Yeji said, "I can't. If anyone finds out about my parents treating me this way, I don't know what they will do to me.

And without any reason, Hyunjin's parents won't allow us to live together; they have a very traditional mindset." Y/N said, "Yeji, if you want help, you can stay with me and Woo. You don't have to go back. Take a few days to clear your mind and decide how you want to live your life." Yeji looked at Y/N with tears and asked, "Are you sure?"

Y/N replied, "Of course."

yeji, y/n came out of the washroom and everyone had troubled expression. y/n asked what happened? felix broke the slience and asked did you see twitter?

taglist: @lee-knows-cats @luvvvash @rockyhedgehog @chansbabygirlsstuff @nilas-posts @midsoulz @hynnnpic

[still-astray]

A Special Someone (part 5)

Sophie gets a taste of normal teenhood

genre: fluff (finally)

word count: 1.6k

warnings: mention of biting (this was written almost solely on impulse and i proofread almost nothing so it’s quite chaotic) (it’s not a bad kind of biting!! i feel like i’m digging my grave deeper and deeper the more i try to explain this)

Special thanks to @mynameisnotlaura for coming up with this idea <3 i really don’t know where Sophie would be without your amazing ideas

taglist: @fromfreesia @skz-angel @skzfairies @mynameisnotlaura (just send in an ask to be added or removed <33) (couldn’t tag: @fromfreesia)

🧚🏻‍♀️🧚🏻‍♀️🧚🏻‍♀️

“I really want to see you.” Ni-ki brushed his hair out of his eyes as he looked through the screen at Sophie. “If we take a couple members of one of our groups we can just hang out as friends. Our manager is all for it.”

Sophie smiled sadly. “Your members may be ready to move on, Riki, but mine aren’t. I mean it took six months to even get to call you.”

“True.” Riki fell silent for a few moments. Sophie wound a strand of hair around her finger, thinking over the last few months. Like awkward silence!

Seven months had passed since Sophie’s last scandal. Things had calmed down for the most part around the Stray Kids dorm, with the exception of the normal daily chaos.

She hadn’t seen Riki (or any member of Enhypen for that matter) since the scandal. Recently Chan had begun allowing her to message and call Riki again, but a FaceTime video just wasn’t the same as seeing him in person.

Behind Riki, Sophie saw the boy’s bedroom door open and Heeseung poke his head in. “Ni-ki, we’re home.”

“Hello there,” Riki replied without turning around. “As you can see, I’m still here.”

Sophie cracked a smile. “I thought you just said your members were okay with leaving the situation behind now,” she said to Riki.

“We are,” Heeseung answered for Riki. “He’s still salty about the time when he wasn’t allowed to go anywhere except for work.”

Sophie giggled. “Riki, I’m still not allowed to, so count yourself lucky.”

Heeseung whistled. “Chan’s still trying to figure out when he can let you go?”

“Yep.” Sophie fiddled with a ring on her hand, one Riki had given her as a belated birthday present last year. “I keep telling him that I’m never going to rebuild my reputation if he never lets me try.”

“Good for you. He just wants what’s best for everyone,” Heeseung told her. “I guarantee you it’ll get better.”

“Thanks.” Sophie was about to say something else, but right then her door opened and Jeongin came in. “Hey, Bubble! Dinner’s ready.”

“Be right there,” Sophie answered. Jeongin grinned at her and nodded towards the iPad. “Talking to Ni-ki?”

Sophie’s cheeks flamed pink. “How did you know?”

“I just did.” Jeongin winked and fled the premises.

Sophie let out an amused sigh. “I better go before someone else comes to get me,” she told the two Enhypen boys. “I’ll talk to you later?”

“Tomorrow?” Riki asked hopefully.

“Depends on schedules, but I’d love to.”

The two said their goodbyes, Heeseung included, and Sophie closed down the iPad.

She could smell the food before she even left the hallway: hamburgers. Felix must have taken over chef duties for the night, she decided.

Seungmin met her as she passed through the living room. “Did Felix steal your job?” he asked her.

Sophie laughed. It was technically her job to make American food, but Felix loved to playfully steal the job from her. “I guess he did,” she replied as they entered the dining room.

“Who did what?” Hyunjin asked, looking up from selecting a burger patty.

“Felix stole my job tonight,” Sophie replied, taking a place next to Minho.

Felix grinned at her. “I didn’t have the heart to take you away from your FaceTime.”

“Aw, that’s sweet of you.” Sophie sent him a grateful smile as she picked a burger and started adding condiments to her bun.

Changbin stared at her from across the table. “What the heck are you doing?”

Sophie looked up at him, puzzled. “I’m just putting on ketchup and mustard.”

“I mean why is it that specific way every time?”

“Mustard burns so I put the ketchup on the underside,” Sophie explained, replacing the ketchup bottle and adding pickles and French fries to her plate.

“Oh.” Changbin still looked a little perplexed but he let it go.

Sensing that someone was missing, Sophie glanced around the table, mentally counting members. “Where’s Chan?”

The other seven members glanced at each other. Their answer came simultaneously. “Working.”

Sophie sighed. “Of course.”

“He said he’ll be home tomorrow, though,” added Jisung. “He wants to-“

“Jisung!!” six voices yelled in unison.

“What?” shrugged Jisung.

“That’s a secret,” scolded Hyunjin. “He literally told us to keep it a secret.”

“Naeryeooneun binmure modeun geokjeongdeureul dama tteolchyeonae,” sang Seungmin on an impulse.

“Okay, now you’ve got me curious.” Sophie took her seat at the table and sent Jeongin her best pair of puppy eyes. “Pleaseee Jeongin?”

Jeongin rolled his eyes, letting out a sigh. “Bubble, you know it’s hard to resist when you make that face at me.”

“That’s exactly why she’s doing it,” Hyunjin said. “Stay strong!”

Jeongin sent Hyunjin a look that clearly said, i don’t know if i can…

“YOU MUST RESIST!!” Hyunjin insisted.

Sophie broke into giggles. “You sound like I’m the Wicked Witch of the West trying to put a spell on him!”

Now it was Hyunjin’s turn to roll his eyes. “Oh, come on….”

“She sure put a spell on Ni-ki,” teased Jisung, earning a flick on the shoulder from Sophie. “Ow- hey, you’re getting pretty good at that.”

“I have all of you to practice on,” replied Sophie with a grin.

“Can we eat?” Changbin asked plaintively. “I don’t know about you guys, but I’m hungry.”

🧚🏻‍♀️🧚🏻‍♀️🧚🏻‍♀️

(the next afternoon)

7/9 members were lounging in different areas of the dorm. Sophie was napping, having suffered a bout of insomnia the night before and gone immediately to an early dance practice and recording session.

Half the members were dozing off while the other half played Just Dance. The sudden click of a key turning in the front door alerted them to either an intruder, a friend with a key, or-

“CHAN!” yelled Jeongin excitedly, the other members joining in.

Though exhausted, Chan smiled at the sudden enthusiasm from his members. However, he had one thing to do before he could grab a nap.

“Where’s Sophie?” he asked, setting his bag down on the couch.

“Napping,” said Hyunjin, completely failing a Just Dance song (due to all the distractions, as he would insist to his members later when they teased him for it). “I don’t think you should wake her up Chan hyung. She gets reeeeally cranky.”

Chan let out a sigh. “Welp,” was all he said (copying a phrase of Sophie’s) before heading towards the maknae’s room.

Hyunjin watched in utter disbelief and a bit of horror. “I JUST WARNED YOU??? DO MY WARNINGS MEAN NOTHING?? DO YOU VALUE YOUR LIFE CAUSE SOPHIE MIGHT NOT ONCE YOU WAKE HER UP-”

“I’m not too worried,” Chan called back right before the members heard him opening Sophie’s door.

Felix smacked Hyunjin upside the head. “She’s sleeping you idiot!”

“OW!” Chan yelled. “SHE BIT ME!”

Hyunjin smirked at Felix. “Not anymore, pabo.” He looked towards the hallway. “I TOLD YOU HYUNG. SHE’S VERY CRANKY WHEN WOKEN UP. SHE’S LIKE A SEA BEAST. SHE WILL DRAG YOU BY THE FEET AND NEVER LET YOU GO! SHE-”

“SHUT UP, HYUNJIN!” Sophie interrupted. She hates being woken up.

Hyunjin cringed back, reminded of four months ago when Sophie kicked him in the shin after he woke her up from her nap. It hurt even more than stepping on legos.

“That’s Texans for you,” Minho said.

Felix just let out a sigh and started for the Sleeper Car, as they called the hall where all the bedrooms were. “Need help pouring oil on the troubled waters?” he asked in English.

“GET HIM OFF OF ME???” Sophie shrieked before Chan could answer. The members ran to her room- well, more like most of them walked, but the over-dramatic HyunSung ran. They were greeted by Chan literally lying on top of her like a beached whale and hugging her while she was biting his arm (“Please tell me she’s not drawing blood,” muttered Changbin) and trying kick him off (Jeongin later remarked that she looked like she was trying to swim). Her hair was a mess from her nap. Honestly? It was like someone took tumbleweed, flattened it out, and plopped it on her head. It wasn’t pretty.

Sophie took one look in the mirror and shrieked. As if Levi Ackerman had gifted her all his strength, she launched Chan off of her to grab her brush and comb through that mess. He landed with a thud on the floor and stared up at her, a little scared. Matter of fact, after what she did to Chan, the others took a step back, the expression on all their faces saying the same thing: Don’t wake Sophie up. She’ll wake up and become Supergirl!

Sophie turned and glared at her members, who recoiled in fear of her wrath as she got out of bed. “If you’d just told me my hair looked a mess, I would’ve WOKEN UP. WHAT IS THIS??? WHO FRIED MY HAIR? ZEUS? WHERE’S MY DRY SHAMPOO??” Her gaze pierced the person with the next best hair after her. “Hyunjin?” With that he bolted. You could hear his footsteps as he went into his room to grab it. He ran back with it in a matter of seconds.

Sophie, looking like a wild raccoon with her smudged mascara and slightly-improved hair, took a deep breath and calmed down a little bit. “What?” she said innocently, like she hadn’t just terrified the living heck out of eight guys.

Chan blinked at her. “Well, I was just coming to say that if you’ll get dressed and fix your makeup, I have someplace we’re going.”

Sophie looked down at him. “Hey, how'd you get on the floor? That’s weird. But anyway, that’ll take me like half an hour. Where to?”

The others looked at her like she grew a second head and lost her memory. How did she not remember turning into She-Hulk?

“Americans are so forgetful.” Minho mutters it under his breath as he turns away to leave the room, hoping Sophie wouldn’t hear.

She didn’t.

Chan got up off the floor, shooing the rest of the members out the door. “That’s a surprise,” he said to Sophie with a wink.

[ladythornofrivia]

The Imperfection of Sound

In a world of sound, reader is deaf. Until she meets Ran Haitani, who shows her that life is more than just hoping for a miracle.

Pair: Ran x Reader

Warnings: Mature Content, Inappropriate Moments and Adult Language—Angst (if you’re under 18, you can’t read this).

Author’s Note: I have been reading some stories on Webtoons—it’s so worth it! Enjoy this chapter.

(Please report if someone decides to steal/plagiarize my story. And notify me. Thank you.)

Chapter 3: Shattered

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

Ran couldn’t stop pleasuring himself. With stress and aggravation, he tends to find adult stores with adult films and magazines in any way he can to relieve himself.

It’s been three days since Ran had the last conversation with you. Trying to figure out what went wrong with their last conversation, he cooped up in his space for a while. He did send you a message. Why weren’t you answering him?

He told himself that you’re busy. He told himself that you have a family and friends to hang out. Or possibly watching your favorite films and shows. Or maybe you were sick.

Though it didn’t stop there. After the day where Ran and you were playing two truths and a lie, everything was going smoothly. When he texted you, he found no reply from you. He told himself that it was okay. So he decided to give you space; he didn’t want to distract you. Then the second day became days. He tried to visit back to where you and Ran first met. He would wait on you coming out from the doctor’s office. But it’s just another doctor’s patient exiting.

Did you ghost him?

Lately, he hadn't been eating or drinking or sleeping, except drinking alcohol, waiting takeout food, and pleasuring himself, watching adult films on his laptop with a blasted volume. He wanted to drown the noise out, including Rindou’s. Even when he sleeps, he sees you, but couldn’t touch you or embrace you.

Rindou banged the door. “Why the fuck are you watching porn at night? Turn that shit down!”

“I’m busy here!”

Behind a closed door, Rindou groaned before he went out their spacious apartment with a slam.

Ran expected everyone wouldn’t fix their eyes on him.

Lately, he hasn’t been happy with what’s happening with Tenjiku. Despite their request for having a different colored uniform with Rindou’s apart from the usual Tenjiku’s red uniform, he should be happy. But, lately, he wasn’t himself.

Normally, Ran would give anyone a cold shoulder. But little by little, everyone’s eyes were on him. Sometimes he’s absent, even though Rindou bombarded his older brother to go at the hideout.

It’s pointless.

Why bother coming?

Even if he does, why bother? It’s not like nothing’s exciting in life anymore. Anyone could see his now lifeless form. That wasn’t Roppongi’s Long-Haired Prince anymore. It’s someone else who looks like him, mimicked as him, but less happiness and more…upsetting.

Even Rindou hasn’t gotten his peace on his end. He tried everything, by fixing the upset Ran with another designer clothes from Mont Blanc and the latest Yves Saint Laurent designer clothes and perfume and watch.

Rindou told him once he’s leaving “that shit” outside of Ran’s door, package comes in white boxes with a huge black fancy ribbons decorated on top.

Up to now, Ran’s dejected. His downturned eyes went crestfallen twice as obvious, and less vigor. Not paying any attention to anything or anyone.

Then he opened his phone, texting you. Somewhere in his heart, he wanted you to reply instantly. But he didn’t want to scare you more, so he respected your decision. Whether you want to answer him or not.

••••••

“Why are you still moping and shit?” Rindou asked, his nose slightly flared with a slight reddish color across his face.

Without looking at Rindou, Ran said, playing with his food. “I’m not up to talking right now,” he said, groggy.

Rindou smacked himself on the face, sighing. “Ran, I swear, you’ve got to pull yourself together! This isn’t you.”

“What do you know?” Ran snapped, watching Rindou’s shoulders flinched.

“Because you’ve been fucking yourself in the bedroom for more than two days. I didn’t know you’re into good girl kinks. It’s been eight days.”

Ran ignored him, absentmindedly softly fiddling his fingers as he clasped them altogether, contemplating.

“And I could hear you mumbling and sighed over a girl’s name,” Rindou added.

“So what? What are you trying to imply?”

“Whatever you did, you’ve fucked it up big time.”

With exhaustion, Ran stood up from the couch. “I’m going to back to my bedroom.”

Rindou blocked him; shoved him back down on the chair. “You have to fix this.”

“I don’t want her to be gone forever.”

“There’s billions of girls in the world. Pick anyone.”

“I can’t,” Ran’s fainted voice came. “I fucked it up. If only I would’ve been more direct.”

“You must really like this girl.”

“Ya think?”

Rindou withdrew himself. “Try to look good for tonight. This is important; there’s going to be a lot of people coming in—big cash, nonetheless. You deserve a big break, Ran. Tonight’s the big event. Once you can’t miss.”

“So who is it?”

“There’s this girl, who often goes there. We have to be happy. Otherwise that girl will suspect there’s something going on.”

“But—”

“More money means more Yves Saint Laurent and Mont Blanc merch! Be happy.”

There he goes off again.

Ran’s back plopped down at the couch, eyes fluttered from a bright light.

When am I going to see you again?

(y/n)….

I hope you’re okay.

Before he turns off the lights and ushered back to the bedroom, trying to make use of cleaning his space, throwing empty bottles and vacuuming and doing the laundry, then exchanging bed sheets with a new one before masturbating again with a new porn video.

In the end, he didn’t care about anyone except the last conversation he had with you.

•••••

For days, you haven’t been able to text Ran. Your phone was broken; you need to repair and replace the old phone with a new phone. It was a hassle with repairing technology, but picking and transferring your stuff from an old phone with a new phone is easy. Your new job pays you well than the last few weeks. And saving up money is better. Hard work is well-earned.

And your old attires have been worn out. You wanted to make a new change for yourself. Still having a hard time communicating with people with pen and paper; no one can do sign language.

But it’s all worth it in the end. A worth to wait.

Excitedly, you went outside with a new phone purchased in your hands—more advanced and easy to use, ready to go to the clothing store to buy a bunch of new clothes and shoes. Even skincare and makeup. Doing makeup wasn’t easy for you; your eyes got poked by the mascara wand once, and your eyes turned pink that you have to wash it away with freezing water.

But no more. You wanted to change your style and boost more confidence. Becoming bolder and wiser.

You went into the clothing store, and so far, you picked four outfits so far. Then off to cosmetics store, you picked bolder and darker—rich colors. And plucked a couple of skincare and perfume, even hair products.

He’ll see my new phone once I show him. I can’t wait to get a good look on his reaction.

You’re happy with the results for today.

Nothing can go wrong.

Until you turned over the corner and saw a familiar face with a girl smiling, though both Ran and the girl stand a few distance, but the girl walked to him closer, but Ran placed his hands over her shoulders. You read his lips, but it was fast, so you couldn’t make out what he was saying.

So this is the girl he likes. I guess he finally confessed. I feel like a little girl. There’s no way I can compete with her. I should get going.

As soon as Ran saw you, you turned around and rushed off the block.

Ran’s anger went overboard; he pushed the girl he hated aside and went chasing after you, but you went into the cab by the time he got near.

As for you, you don’t feel like doing anything good and right anymore. I guess that’s what affection does to you.

This wasn’t suppose to hurt.

Having a crush on someone is meaningless and childish. Being happy around someone who I once considered a salvation with is useless.

Stupid me, as if I ever get a chance.

You decided to block him and change his name into ‘Roppongi’s Douchebag’.

You can find somebody else better than Ran. Who wouldn't break or play with your heart. So much for communication.

So much for wasting time on somebody who thought of you as his equal. But in the end, you’re alone again, in a soundless world.

Congratulations, you won again.

Taglist: @colored-tr-panels @galactict3a @f1yh1gh @akemiixx01 @mrssano04 @goldenbeskar @penguinlovestowrite @sehunnies-hunnie96

[eyedove]

alright whats up fuckers get timelined.

you want your deep taagnus fankid lore, this might be the only spot ya get it for a while. also included: a little on lup's first kid, a LOT on taako having a bad time in general, some relationship details btwn taako and magnus past and present, casey character development to follow it up, and then a little bit on the twins. the, like, little twins, i mean. the ones that taako and magnus have.

warnings for taako’s general, like, everything: identity crisis, his issues socializing, loneliness, depression, gender dysphoria (weirdly enough, not pregnancy related), his experience with chronic pain, and later being diagnosed with a connective tissue disorder, which in itself is not a trigger warning but moreso his dealing with it is not particularly healthy and could be sort of self-harm-y in a way. and for magnus: his RSD is mentioned, his self-worth issues are alluded to, mentions of past self harm, he gets very emotional about family planning in regards to past relationships, his death is eventually mentioned but isn’t part of the timeline nor is it gone in depth on.

in general they’re also just… taako and magnus. they’re kind of shitty guys and kind of immature and kind of fucked up. they’re good to their kids, they’re just still, y’know. taako and magnus.

i can not stress enough, pregnancy and issues relating to this. difficulties conceiving and postpartum depression are IN. HERE. everything turns out and everyone involved is perfectly fine, it just takes some time to get there and it’s a rough road, but they ultimately end up doing it twice and they’re both pretty firmly in the camp of it being worth it.

anything else that needs to be mentioned please let me know holy shit and i’ll exercise my best judgment, cus i know some of it might be wild to read, but i want to get triggers down for the most part. stuff that’s not triggering, like… oops, sorry, but. it’s taagnus mpreg what do you WANT FROM ME. if i listed everything that people might not like it would just be another 6k words.

basics:

lup’s first kid, missy, is about 5 years older than casey, who was carried by taako, and is about 3½ years older than elodie, who’s a few minutes older than rian, both of which were carried by magnus.

tl;dr coming soon. and by tl;dr i mean a shorter version that’s been picked through and had all of the bullshit unnecessary garbage taken out. :)

timeline:

- after story & song magnus and taako do not talk for like a year. it’s rough. they correspond a little, magnus sends him funny good things he finds like fuckin. silly chainmail messages and pictures of stuff he thinks taako might like, but he’s trying his best not to overstep any boundaries. taako has not actually established these boundaries. magnus has just sort of assumed them. unfortunately, taako is not a guy who goes out of his way to go to magnus’ place of residence and yell at him.

- but he doesn’t keep it up forever. he does go fucking find magnus. and he does go yell at him. and magnus does kind of have a fit about it. but it’s fine. it’s taako, and he also knows that getting down here was probably. a hell of a lot. and he does appreciate it.

- they immediately click though. because of course they do. and a year and change is a long time for them to go without each other while also actively knowing that they’ve gone without each other. it’s weird. taako one minute is living in lup’s empty ass house because she’s at work and kravitz is at work and he hates everyone who has any time to spend with him, and then the next, he and magnus are picking out like. the color of the accent wall in the livingroom. what kind of flooring should be in the hallways. (magnus wants hardwood, taako refuses to go with anything except shag. carpeting.)

- it’s sort of nice! taako stays a homebody but he’s not completely disconnected. weirdly enough, he sees more of lup. and kravitz. and barry and merle and davenport and everyone. mostly because he doesn’t avoid outings as much. and because he starts going to parties. and goes fishing with davenport. and gets all of his and magnus’ weed from merle that he felt too fucking sick to sit home alone and smoke himself. magnus still has like, a business to run. and taako kind of does, too, sort of, even though he’s been really fucking that up recently and taking a huge backseat on accident.

- anyway, they settle. taako’s doing okay. magnus is doing okay. they had already decided years and years and years ago they weren’t gonna get married and EXTRA aren’t gonna now. magnus doesn’t want to get married again. taako hates it as a concept. it’s complicated. but they’re together. it’s semi-open. taako occasionally sleeps with other people. rarely. listen, he barely goes out, let alone fucks around, and magnus knows it.

- lup has missy like 2 yrs after taako moves out. which does mean that she got pregnant only like a year after he left (elven gestation w/ their slow ass metabolisms), which he’s a little peeved about, but whatever, he gets it. he’s happy for her. he’s not as absolutely gutted as he thought he’d be if it ever happened. is he numb? he can't tell.

- turns out he's… not? maybe? yes, taako being dissociated and numb usually results in being a little more blase about stuff than hed normally be, but he feels. in it. he has an attachment that he's used to having, because it's lup, and it feels almost natural again. almost? there is no way he's picking this feeling apart. they will remain complicated forever because a child is definitely not something that he has to confront (all lies he knows he knows better.)

- weird concept: so how about confront it?

- taako is weirded out by this Thing. lup’s proud of it, though, and magnus is immediately and irreparably damaged by holding this baby, taako can see it in his stupid face, the way he just fucking. grins. and tears up and holds this thing so gently. lup is looking at taako like do not let this guy squish my baby, i’ll kill you, and taako’s just thinking the whole time, yeah, i get it, but like. fucking look at him.

- anyway rightfully she doesn’t let magnus hold the thing for more than like ten minutes before she wants it back but it’s fine - they all relax, taako worries about something else for a change, gets his heart ripped out of his body still beating by this thing crying, everything’s good.

- and now he’s obsessed. partly just with missy, lup’s baby, because she’s hilarious and she’s cute, and she literally just keeps getting FUCKING cuter, but partly with the idea of. baby. like. he could have one of those. he’s got everything for it. like, a house, and a boyfriend, and… financial stability. emotional stability? yeah, man! like, he’s super getting there, isn’t he?!

- he and magnus talk one night. taakos literally sat on his chest over the top of him and starts asking him abt this fucking coffee table lup bought when she first moved into her house, and magnus is like oh yeah, i like that thing, it’s really cool, i kinda wanna make one just like it, but it feels like it’d be copying, at this point. and taako’s like holy shit EXACTLY. exactly correct. but what if we did anyway. just, like, in our own. way. y’know? it’d be different if we did it. we could handle it. we have space for it. if we both worked on it maybe we could like. take care of it. sides, it’d be nice to just. have more shit that has some of you. in it. that will last a long time. so i don’t have to like, go out and replace it later, and i… know that it’s from you, and everything, y’know.

- anyway they keep having this conversation. like, every day, taako brings this up. talks about hey, listen, i know that this is uncharacteristic. you gotta take me seriously here, though. i’m so serious. and magnus is like… serious about… buying a coffee table? and taako’s like NO. i mean maybe, if the conversation must go in that. direction. later, but we’re fucking. capable, are we not?? of doing it ourselves? or we should at least find out?

- eventually magnus asks him, hey, are we… talking about… the kind of coffee table. that you and me, have, uh, tried to make. before? and taako goes LOL, tried?! no. we’ve never had the time or resources to get it like, anywhere near a real project. pal, have we maybe accidentally started on it, and then had that shit totally made useless like every other bodily state ever over and over for ninety nine years? i genuinely dunno man, if we have, that’s between our respective guts, the coffee table, and god only. and magnus just goes ohh. so we are definitely talking about the same thing. okay. oh wow.

- they decide they want one! theyll fucking. build a damn. coffee table. okay.

- and so they start! and they work on it! and they fucking! try! they do eventually get to the point where they can say aloud that they’re trying for a baby. it takes an embarrassingly long time. they are not known for their healthy communication. but taako forces it out into the light eventually. he's okay with being silly about it on a basic level but listen, someone has to rein magnus in a little bit on that. a little. (magnus actually hadn't expected taako to go for it, calling what they're doing having kids, so it's a huge surprise and an extremely positive one, because as much as he's stalwart in the idea of honoring the concept, he also kinda gets it.)

- they don't tell people at first. this is entirely because they KNOW people will be weird about it. but the moment he needs someone to complain to he tells lup and then it quickly gets around elsewhere - which. fairly, most people are kind of skeptical. it’s taako. taako? child? lup, though, kinda knows. she still has early adulthood memories of conversations complaining about the world and guys devolving into if i ever have kids... and how early on taako did show interest. how it kind of became a thing he stopped talking about over the decades. she believes him. and her believing him makes it easier for everyone else to kind of fall into place about it.

- and taako has a few freakouts. a couple total meltdowns. but they got it. they get it, after almost two years. they get it down, and both of them flip their absolute FUCKING lids but taako way moreso than magnus was expecting in any way shape or form. yeah, it was taakos idea. yeah, its taako whos carrying, so hes probably way excited about it. he just didnt expect such an explosive reaction out of him. given that he's, y'know. taako.

- literally every problem taakos ever had becomes an issue. his bullshit tolerance is now: none. his energy level is now: none. his heat tolerance is now: none. his blood pressure is now: none. his ability to cook and feed himself is now: uhh, very little. which that second thing is not super abnormal, but the first one kinda sucks more than usual. this also peaks right in the middle of summer. hes convinced hes dying. (hes not. they absolutely make sure hes not.)

- he DOES like having a good excuse to make everyone else do everything for him. not a huge fan of the genuine doting, but having someone on call for a bucket any time any where is a power he didnt know he wanted. he doesnt use it genuinely very often, but magnus is GREAT at coming when called, and thats funny.

- they pointedly do not know the sex. it is partly performative. it is partly because taako is in the THICK of a gender crisis (had been before he got pregnant even, it hasn't gotten particularly worse, but it's still there) and if someone in his life found out and started prescribing shit even on accident or coincidentally based on the thing's genitalia he'd fucking lose his shit, so they just don't know, they're not gonna know, it's not a big deal, leave him alone.

- taakos naturally a toe walker. not abnormal for elves from the two sunned plane. their feet are just built for it. he manages to maintain this for a little while. he's always fluctuated in weight, he's fine - but his balance does indeed get so bad, even with his tail, that he has to start walking on his whole foot so he doesn't lean forward.

- this makes him like four inches shorter than usual. this makes him like five inches shorter than magnus. this makes him SHORTER THAN LUP. and he fucking. despises it. he's still taller than magnus BARELY when he has his ears straight up but this is all he has, and those ears rarely stand up for any long amount of time without extreme effort. they’re HEAVY.

- it does make magnus hugs nice though. magnus won't bearhug him + break his back anymore for the time being, which he misses, but he gets to stuff his face into magnus' chest. which he likes. hes starting to think MAYBE. maybe after he has this baby he MIGHT occasionally get down on his heels just so he can do this. SOMETIMES. but only around select people. there are only a handful of chests hes cool with being smothered in. magnus definitely tops this list.

- it fucking HURTS his HEELS. fuck his ankles or whatever, his heels!!!! he's not used to putting any weight on them. theyre bruised and blistery and he hates it. magnus will now be carrying him forever. (he says this but ends up being the most hermited motherfucker of all time, worse than taako's normal, which is not good, but whatever. people like to come over to HIS HOME and BOTHER HIM, so he doesnt need to go to functions he can't drink or smoke at anyway).

- he is, however, feeling really fucking good about how fucking AWESOME he is, currently. like, one, everyone had to admit that he’s taking things super super well, and two, he’s being SO open right now. he’s being so chill. he’s being communicative, he’s being honest. he’s not being NICE because that’s just not on the table for taako, but he’s kind of enjoying having a good excuse to be a little more snuggly. a little more needy. sometimes. when he’s not so pissed off he could scream.

- magnus is a fucking. wreck. hes good! hes doing good! but hes crying ALL the TIME. and its PISSING taako off slowly more and more. he knows its just because hes worried or overwhelmed or whatever. who cares. its annoying. he is nice though. maybe the nicest hes ever been to taako. there are a significant number of people who are being nice to him, actually, which is hilarious, and also extremely frustrating. LUP. even lup wont fuck with him in the same way. he has to keep pressing her buttons harder and harder to get her to react. HOWEVER: one person is still ready to pick on him.

- lup's 5 y/o daughter. is RELENTLESS. and honest to god one of the most stable and delightful things throughout the whole pregnancy. this kid has only the vaguest idea of what's going down, is extremely nice, but also compromises NO asks. if she wants him to make her breakfast she WILL cry about it. if she wants to play with his hair, she'll figure out how to do it, even if shes gotta ambush him. great tenacity on this girl.

- they have casey, their first kid, spring-ish? early spring. they have her at home. it sounds like a great idea at the time, and it turns out perfectly fine, but there is the ego barrier of describing to people the story of your firstborn child being PLANNED on being delivered by a lich and the grim reaper along with the boyfriend and then ending up getting stagefright. this is good, you might think, this means grubby corpsehands aren't on your newly born child! and you would be correct, instead it's just magnus, who is crying MORE than the baby and taako combined and it's FUCKING annoying, and lup's not even there to make it funnier. it's fine. it's like, bonding. and shit.

- shes small. smaller than taako would have thought and also would have hoped, and shes bald, and her ears are fucked up somehow, they dont have anything, like, in them to move them around or whatever it seems like, but maybe she'll grow into that. maybe that's fine. not a whole lot of info out there currently on babies who are half alien elf half alien human. so yknow. as long as she's eating and breathing and warm and clean they're pretty happy.

- taako can not let this thing go. magnus occasionally gets to hold her or feed her, but for her first nine/ten days, taako has her almost exclusively and wont put her down. he started sleeping later into his pregnancy because it required less effort than meditating (altho it takes more time), but hes back to it now, so he can keep this baby, who he has still not named btw!, in his arms and remain alert enough to sleep with her.

- two weeks. three weeks. she's FINALLY getting a little bigger. MAYBE taako can manage to have people over to see her in person instead of just showing photos. maybe. the amount of people that technically know about this kid's existence even is a ridiculously low number. the amount of people in the public that knew he was having a kid is most, since he made a statement about it, but the kid herself was never, like. announced. he just doesn't. want to share. at all.

- gets rough. gets really rough. having lup and missy over nearly kills him. he cant even let his TWIN SISTER hold his baby. what the fuck is wrong with him? what is wrong with their relationship? why does he feel like it somehow makes him a better parent when it does not? why has he lost all control of what emotional stability he had? he'd been worried he wouldn't be attached enough to her, that he'd fuckin, abandon her or whatever, and it's so nice that that fear was unwarranted that he doesn't want to confront that he's overcorrecting.

- missy gets to hold casey before lup does. and taako feels bad about it, kinda. BUT: she didn't technically hold the baby on her own, taako just held her while missy put her arms under her as well, but still. then lup. this was a few visits in. casey is still not technically named yet, but taako knows already. kinda.

- she gets her name by two months. it's not elven, like he and lup had, but it's got the same basic rules, which is a compromise he and magnus come up with. once she gets old enough, if she wants something else, she fuckin' names herself. if she wants something else for like. gender purposes, they'll deal with that when that comes up. for now she's casey. burnsides? maybe.

- she stays FUCKING BALD. taako can not get over it. he has hair. magnus is COVERED in it. why's she bald? why's she SO BALD?

- magnus is audhd and taako is autistic. they know that she's gonna probably not necessarily follow the average infant timeline. this turns out to be extremely true. she's very quiet. she makes noises, but even as she gets into multiple years of exposure, she doesn't speak common or elvish, except repeating certain phrases she's heard often (some of her favorites are calling magnus mean names and 'i don't want to', because the former makes her parents laugh and the latter makes uncomfortable situations resolve a lot of the times it's used).

- she also doesn't walk. ok, she kinda walks, she gets up on her feet and uses walls and objects to walk alongside them, or walks slowly with a leg to hold onto. she's very particular and delicate about her foot placement, but still ends up with her ankles out. magnus thinks she might be rolling them? but she seems okay? they get that checked out, though. definitely. make sure she's not in pain or anything. she ends up with some braces for her ankles and heel, but she's still more than a little pigeon toed.

- casey is a shy little thing. very observant. she likes watching people do things. literally anything. she will sit and watch taako cook, she likes to watch the aquarium, she likes to watch people write and draw and cast spells, she likes making other people play with her toys so she can watch. she sleeps with taako and magnus more often than not, either being held by taako while he meditates or lying between them on the mattress once she gets a little older.

- missy ADORES her. missy is a little upset that she doesn't like dressing up and having her hair played with, but she loves casey's dark red hair, thinks shes super cute, loves her floppy ears, just adores her. this is, to her, her baby sister, and taako and lup do nothing to dissuade that. basically are sisters, right? who cares. they live right next to each other, and see each other almost every day, since taako does a lot of watching them during the day now, which… admittedly, he's still working on, but he's got like 8 years of experience by now, three of those with his own baby, so he's. like, getting it. he's understanding it.

- this is around the time taako starts hiring out losers to watch the children (or child, sometimes just casey). ie he makes angus do it when possible, or alum he's still pals with from some of the first years of the school's establishing, or other family friends who are around. merle's off limits. as is she who shall not be MENTIONED in his household.

- with a tiny bit of time alone magnus and taako find out that … they want another kid. taako brings it up. another baby. oops. 

- again, taako brings it up, but magnus is fully on board. except… hold on not really: shit was ridiculously rough on taako specifically, and he’s really, really not excited to have taako go thru it again. which is fair. definitely in the top 100 shitty wild things that have happened to taako, if only for the relative novelty of it and how much it sticks in his memory (haw-haw), but like. he wouldn’t say it if he wasn’t willing to do it one more time. like, just once. he’s got it in the bag now, he knows what’s up. plus, he would not at all mind having like. a year off. of just being sick and hanging out with casey and missy. magnus is skeptical. their decision is easier this time, though, even with everything considered.

- they talk about it briefly but they’re pretty into the idea of magnus carrying, maybe. if they can get it to work. they had some fuckin issues last time, so, like. what if they start trying (stressful but cool), see if it sticks (lower amount of stress, more casual) and if it does that’s cool, and if it doesn’t, oops, must be something that’s not gonna happen? magnus is an older guy at this point, which was factored in but ultimately didn’t keep them from giving it a shot. once again they start trying without actually telling. anybody. except each other. mostly because it’s not set in stone.

- funnily enough? performing in this way specifically gives taako weird dysphoria. there’s also a little scene in which magnus, who’s been out as nonbinary for like, 15 years at this point, talks about how he’s totally cool with carrying a child, doesn’t bother him, he’s nonbinary, NOT that it’d be weird if a man did it, because you did it taako and that was fine, and that also makes taako squirm a little. he’s working on it. he’s spent so fucking long getting that like, femme in a masculine way thing down, why’s it bothering him now?? ugh.

- luckily, doesn’t take a whole lot of trying. unluckily, taako is a little annoyed that magnus gets pregnant so easily. whatever. he still gets his baby out of it. (yeah, casey is his baby, this baby is their baby, since he can’t claim it all himself, but it’s still definitely partly his, duh. casey is just his though.)

- angus starts doing babysitting stuff for casey. taako ALSO ends up getting his GODDAMN… joints checked out. fine. whatever. for casey, because she’s having issues with her joints too, obviously, and he can talk about how he feels slightly more than his mostly nonverbal toddler. he’s forced himself to be verbal over the fucking. centuries. so he gets it. he can handle maybe informing whatever genetic thing she’s fucking got, cus he’s kind of always known that lup doesn’t have nearly the same difficulty he does with chronic pain. so this is on him. this is on him now.

- taako gets himself a nonspecific hypermobility disorder diagnosis. so, like, sweet, i fuckin guess, he’s gone like 300 years without it. also, they don’t even have an actual name for it. thanks. feels awesome. after years and years of forcing it down, he’s forced to actually pay attention to the pain and it Fucking Sucks. not a project he thought he’d be starting on while magnus was pregnant, but whatever. it’s fine. life is FINE.

- magnus is actually faring really well. which is also jealousy-inducing in taako. anyway, magnus is sort of miserable about how low energy he is, suddenly, though, but that’s about the most of it, since his brain doesn’t slow down to match the pace of his body. not in the traditional sense, anyway. taako does not understand what he means by this because to him magnus is still bouncing off the walls. he is, however, a great source of humor at the time (as he fucking ALWAYS is, taako always finds him ridiculously stupidly too fucking funny for him to even be REAL, ugh).

- double appointment day. taako sends casey off with angus, and they’re gonna do… whatever they do. he’s given angus some free rein on what he does with the baby. he kinda trusts angus’ instinct. a little more than he did when casey was an infant, anyway. this is a decision he will eventually regret, because while he is getting the shit annoyed out of him by being quizzed on his pain and fitted for digitigrade AFOs he doesn’t want to use (the other braces recommended arent as bad since his like, fingers aren’t so different from most people’s, it’s just just feet and legs that need extra special shit) and then getting slammed with the major whammy of the fact that up until now magnus has been RIGHT: they’ve been missing a TWIN at past appts, and twins are now for sure confirmed. plus, angus is doing unspeakable things, ie he has been introducing casey to lucretia even though taako has said this should not be done at all. today, lucretia makes the mistake of seeing if taako has been teaching her elven sign language.

- magnus is beyond stoked, taako is torn between being excited and being extremely, outrageously jealous because if one of them was going to have twins, it should have been him, goddammit. but whatever. they tell the relevant parties: ie again it stays mostly under wraps except to really close family.

- casey continues seeing lucretia. it’s not a SECRET, it’s just not being said out loud to taako, exactly, is angus’ reasoning here. they both know that it’s going to get out eventually - and it happens sooner rather than later, for sure. what ends up breaking it wide open is one night taako is watching casey and she makes a motion at him that he’s absolutely certain at first is a sign, but it’s just mixed in with a bunch of other hand waving and other movements she’s prone to doing. so it can’t be. plus, he hasn’t been teaching her elven sign. nobody has, have they? So after she goes to bed, taako stands in front of magnus and makes the same series of movements - nonsense and all, and gets confirmation from magnus that it looks a lot like sign language, but magnus denies teaching it to her.

- lup also denies teaching it to her. lup and taako haven’t used it in tens of years, and when they aren’t using it, there isn’t a reason for the other birds to use it, given that it was mostly used for taako to communicate. plus, very few people on faerun use it, given that it’s a language that doesn’t even originate on the goddamn plane. she’s not learning it from angus, probably. probably? FUCK.

- taako confronts angus about it and he immediately folds and tells taako everything on lucretia’s behalf, because he knows it’s going to get rough if they have to be in the same room together. taako is. devastated. and angry. but angus explains to him that he’s always there, he makes a super good middle man, casey LOVES lucretia, they get along really well, she hasn’t been telling casey anything controversial. casey isn’t even old enough to like, get lucretia’s life story. she’s not getting lucretia propaganda, taako. but she has been um, maybe, using elven sign language, because they thought maybe you’d been trying that, too, because she hasn’t been verbal. Taako confirms he has NOT been, he hasn’t used it since cycle 99 started, because he had it fucking TAKEN from him, is the thing.

- but magnus also starts using it again. starts speaking in ESL to casey. taako gets mad about it, but he can’t deny that it’s much more comfortable for him most of the time, and that he can use his limited energy being more expressive bodily when he doesn’t have to curate his voice specifically like he does when talking aloud. magnus is into it! and he makes sure to tell taako this. taako starts using ESL more. a little. to see if casey will pick it up.

- casey does pick it up. casey picks it up much easier than common or elvish. she has some coordination issues in her hands like taako does, exacerbated by her being like four, but she can communicate a little better and it’s. weird. it’s weird. taako is weirded out by it. but everyone else in the house just keeps - even lup gets in on it, so…

- he gets to talk to casey more. it’s so sweet. she’s an asshole and he loves it. she is a lot like taako in so many ways. it is a weird thing to witness. she’s not exceedingly social. she’s kind of . aloof. which is something he knows he’s been accused of, but he didn’t really get it until he saw literally his fuckin. weird self reflected back at him. he realizes pretty quick that she’s definitely a person. she’s fairly independent and at this stage ENJOYS sleeping in her own bed. she likes the routine of brushing her teeth before bed. she hates socks (so does taako), she loves bugs, but she’s scared of dogs. she likes magnus’ woodwork, but doesn’t like powertools, and has next to no interest in magic, but she does like watching taako cook - she also has strong opinions about food, which taako is a little frustrated about at first, but soon finds is fun to work around. he likes flexing his cooking creativity for the first time in years.

- taako fucking. eventually uses his braces, but only because he wants casey to also use them. she has such a hard time walking and he absolutely hates the idea of her being in any amount of pain, much less pain comparable to what he went through as a kid before he made himself deal with it quietly. neither taako nor casey are big on the sensory input these things provide, but they get through it together. they are just kind of on the same wavelength when it comes to sensory overload - so even if taako doesn’t realize it, given that he’s had hundreds of years to perfect masking even to himself, once casey’s had about enough of it, taako can pretty reliably tell that it’s probably time for him to give himself a break, too, if he can manage it. she’s helping him out a lot, even if she doesn’t exactly know it.

- that winter is when elodie and rian are born, in that order. not at home this time, which magnus is a little indignant about because he’s the tough guy here, but ultimately there’s not a whole lot of fight about it. this is partly because magnus burnsides is a bird, and gets whatever he wants, and if he wants a parade of like 20 goddamn people present, nobody, not even a medical professional, has the power to stop him. this time, names were picked out beforehand, mostly because magnus was DEAD SET on not waiting until they were multiple months old. they get these names assigned to them in the same way casey did - as child names, if they want to change them, or permanent if they don’t, or whatever the hell they want to do. magnus takes immediately to calling them duckie and goose, respectively, because he knows that everyone will back him up if taako tries to tell him he can’t call his newly born children what he wants to call them as nicknames. (they do fight about it. everybody is, indeed, on magnus’ side, if only because they’re tired of the naming scheme taako is perpetuating, here.)

- he has also been calling casey bunny for a few years at this point because of her floppy ears (taako wouldn’t let him get away with ‘dumbo’ any longer), so it fits the theme. (he later gets a duckling, a gosling, and a bunny tattooed on him. they can change their names all they want, but their childhood nicknames are his forever now!)

- magnus, uh, DOES have a little stint of oh god what have i done. turns out that weirdly enough, having taako baby him a little bit makes him feel better. having taako be kind and surprisingly understanding about his feelings is weird and puts him on edge at first, but really, taako was like this when he was pregnant, too, where he’s a little more open and a little more emotionally available, so it’s not super surprising in a way that makes it impossible to believe that taako’s actually willing to give him space to grieve and think and worry and wonder.

- elodie and rian are also digitigrade, but their ears are more solid. not quite as mobile as taako’s, but they have some muscle in them instead of casey’s little floppy thing she has going on. they’re cute and all, but the biggest thing taako can’t get over is the fact that they are both born with hair. istus just keeps fucking kicking him while he’s down. magnus doesn’t even worship her, what the fuck.

- they’re both VERY LOUD. casey wasn’t a crier, the twins are. they’re loud, they’re rowdy, they’re babies. they’re, like, real babies, and not little weird creatures like casey. casey is a bug, not a baby, elodie and rian are infants. taako has already set a precedent of being a nighttime caretaker, given that magnus needs 8 hrs of sleep/night and he needs 4 hrs of meditation. so this continues, for the most part.

- yes, they have two infants. they also have a little girl who is now getting finally also fitted for orthotics which is cool. she’s also learning ESL. magnus, taako, lucretia, and lup all know it. basically everyone in her life knows sign language. magnus is a little rusty, but he’s taking like. ‘lessons’ from taako. this is also being taught in moderation to the twins, but the twins have their own shit going on between each other. taako gets to watch these things develop twin language WITHOUT HIM. it’s fine.

- lucretia becomes a slightly more… common… occurrence. he sees her at parties and gatherings now - they start being invited to the same things. they’re not involved with each other closely, but they’re adjacent. they talk SOMETIMES. if there’s a buffer between them. mostly at these gatherings, and only when taako’s sober. the moment he’s imbibed anything magnus physically gets between them. it becomes missy and casey’s jobs to watch the twins and magnus’ to watch taako to make sure he doesn’t say or do anything too fucked up.

- elodie is a huge casey fan. loves casey to death, but they have the sibling dynamic going on where casey is so focused on being fully enamored with an looking up to missy that she sort of ignores elodie, and elodie is so focused on casey that she ignores missy, who just wants everyone to be friends together so bad.

- the twins are definitely a step up in complicated parenting. casey was a good first step. somehow? got what is the beginner-friendliest baby. some fucking how. these guys, though. elodie is a very curious kid, a very energetic kid, a very intense kid. playful, extroverted. chatty even when she doesn’t have like. language down yet. rian less so. rian’s more like casey in this regard. less chatty. needs a lot of quiet time.

- magnus used to have a stim where he would ball up his fist and slam it into his chest or shoulder, which definitely, definitely was not good for him, given that he eventually got very strong and was giving himself some pretty gnarly bruises and lacerations with it. he also used to (still does, but slightly less) deal with really bad RSD. it kind of fucks him up watching rian go through the same things. taako is just kind of like “yeah, dude, the dark mirror, we’ve all been peering into it” and magnus is like wow. huh. this is wild. i’m sorry, little guy.

- rian ends up sharing a room with casey once he’s old enough (not permanently, but it’s an option for him). he does better in a quiet environment and elodie is not super conducive to this, but casey is, with her also preferring no loud or repetitive sounds. she also relies more heavily on ESL than the other kids, which rian uses with her quite often while he feels more pressured into speaking verbally to others.

- by this time magnus has made casey what he calls her rabbit hutch - basically, as a toddler, she always ended up like, under her bed, or in her closet, or what have you to sleep. taako’s solution to this was ‘oh baby come sleep in my bed then’, but she didn’t want this, so magnus makes her a little doghouse style thing. A canopied bed, but with solid walls and a weighted base, and a tighter space inside. it doesn’t last her into her teens, but she does use it a lot as a little kid. it’s like a permanent blanket fort. taako’s embarrassed that his daughter lives in a fucking dog house his boyfriend made, but she loves it - and eventually starts letting rian in there, too.

- elodie also likes going in there but 3 kids can’t fit at once, and also she gets bored really fast so most of the time it’s casey and rian time only. and they just sit silently in there.

- listen i have a ton of twin lore in my brain but it’s very difficult to put down in a concise way. i’ll get it out. some day. til then have basics. elodie is a big girl, she’s a tough little girl, she likes being able to help out her mama. (even taako is not allowed to call magnus this. elodie and rian, however, are. for taako is it papa strictly. papa bear will also be tolerated. encouraged.) she loves AXES. she wants one so bad. she’s like six and it’s all she wants for every gift-giving event ever is a REAL AXE. taako and elodie absolutely have a Real Sword type conversation. elodie thinks it’s hilarious, but also kind of frustrating because no, dad, she really does actually want a real axe.

- elodie ALSO isn’t really a dog person. they’re okay! she likes them! she’s just not like, dog obsessed. despite magnus’ best efforts, she does not develop canine special interest, which he’s a little sad about, but it’s okay, because he does eventually get it with rian, thankfully. SOMEONE fucking likes dogs in this goddamn household.

- elodie does however LOVE their cats. she’s neutral on the fish and shrimp (did i mention they have a huge saltwater tank. they do. taako raises shramps). she wants a goat. she’s not the pony kid, that’s rian.

- rian is fucking obsessed with animals in general. he loves casey’s stuffed animals. he loves garyl. he loves dogs, especially the big rough guys, mostly because they can handle some roughhousing. he and magnus wrestle, which magnus loves, and they do a lot of work with the dogs, which is GREAT, because by the time rian is 8 or 9 magnus really, really just wants to get back to working regularly, doing dog training and stuff, and he loves having angus and rian around to help.

- OKAY ALL I REALLY KNOW BEYOND THIS IS THAT casey gets really into rollerskating. she likes drawing, but doesn’t stick with it. she likes roleplaying games. taako and lucretia are keyword kinda reintroduced to each other’s lives after a LOT of strife and a lot of fuckups. casey lives with taako for quite a while. idk about the twins yet, but i know that casey is not really ready to go do her own thing for quite a while, and even after she does move out, she’s always got her dad on speed dial, and out of everyone in the universe once magnus is gone, she is one of the only people he will ALWAYS pick up the phone for. every single time, doesn’t matter what he’s doing.

ta da there’s more, obviously, but like. this is where i’m at. currently. with my fucking. six million words (realistically more like 40-50k, it’s hard to compile when it’s spread out across many text docs and google docs and shit.)

[77angelnumbers77]

for the writing prompt: fem!eridan and vriska fighting/sniping while subtly implying their gf is better

Super rough, this one. Thanks for the awesome prompt!! Absolutely obsessed with this.

"Why are you bothering me?"

The ship needed routine maintenance, and without a crew, the work fell to Vriska. She had been broken up with Eridan for two sweeps, but selling the boat would send off the wrong message. Something like "I only bought it for you" or, worse, "I can't be on the sea without thinking of you". Which, no, it wasn't that big a deal. The whole relationship was about their ancestors -- Eridan herself? Vriska could honestly care less.

That being said, the rope holding the anchor is fraying, which means that the rope that more or less holds the craft together is capable of fraying, and of course that means that Eridan is here to flaunt her imagined superiority, right when Vriska has more important things to worry about. Just great.

"That's no way to greet an old friend," Eridan's tone suggests that she is enjoying this immensely.

"Well I don't see any of those," Vriska deadpans, running the heavy rope through her point stumps and trying to simulate in her mind how long it will take for the rope to actually snap.

"You're not looking at me."

"Do you need something?" Vriska snaps, dropping the rope to the deck with a heavy thud and finally turning to her solicitor. Eridan smiles like the purrbeast with the cream, decked to the nines (eights) in heavy gold rings, a cape that kisses the deck, her long scarf, flapping in the wind, and those stupid pants. She hasn't changed at all.

"I was wonderin' if we could spar," Eridan gurgles out in her weird seadweller accent that stretches the W's into throaty waves. "Like old times."

"Do I have to?" Vriska asks, feeling like she already knows the answer. Eridan's rifle is out of its holster. It doesn't dwarf her like it did in the past, it fits nicely in her hands, she doesn't struggle to hold it up, which is dangerous to a girl down on her luck. The dice are out before Vriska has a chance to consciously think about it.

"I have a new kismesis," Eridan says conversationally. To someone else, it might've sounded casual. Vriska can tell she is practically vibrating with the excitement of it.

"Do you want me to be jealous or something? Congrats."

It's just the right thing to say to Eridan, who does want her to be jealous, who wants to be seen as a prize that everyone is vying for. She always hated Vriska blacker than Vriska could ever hate her.

With a snarl, the rifle goes off, a warning shot meant to make Vriska jump. She does not jump. The shell lands somewhere in the ocean behind her.

"Polluting?" Vriska lunges forward. "Nasty."

Dodging her prosthetic claws, Eridan sets her rifle up for the next shot. With a flick of her wrist, Vriska has an axe, heavy even distributed across both hands, one augmented. It's not a bad choice, she can move quickly with it, and it's hefty enough to work as a shield too, if she's lucky and holds it parallel to her shoulders. Either way, it'll make Eridan's job more difficult, and for that Vriska thanks the dice.

"Aren't you doing to ask who?" Eridan shoots again. It's loud, and it embeds itself into the mast of Vriska's ship. Now she's angry.

"I actually couldn't care less. Stop destroying my ship," she snaps.

"It's Sol," Eridan discloses like she's telling Vriska some great secret.

"Ew," Vriska says reflexively. "Does she even use her ablutionchamber? She's always online."

"Don't talk shit about her hygiene," Eridan gives Vriska an opening, which she gladly takes. She attempts to disarm her opponent, grabbing at her forearms and leaning on her one-handed strength. Eridan holds fast. "That's my job."

Vriska wrenches the rifle out of Eridan's grasp and chucks it overboard without a second thought.

"What the fuck?"

"Fetch," Vriska commands flippantly. "You swim, right?"

Eridan doesn't move except to ball her hands up into fists, to shake with some sort of effervescent rage. It's not going to work on her. Vriska has a mast to take care of, rope to replace, and finances to lust after. Serves Eridan right. She goes back to her diagnostics.

"Sol is a better kismesis than you ever were," Eridan shouts.

Vriska can barely help rolling her eyes. "I find that hard to believe."

"Like you'd know. You don't even have a kismesis. I was the only one. You can't compare at all. I bet that makes you angry."

Vriska sighs, deciding that she's not going to get any work done as long as Eridan is here. "Your information is outdated."

"What?"

"Yeah, I've been with Terezi for ages. Not sure where you're getting your intel. The same place you got the scoop when we were FLARPing? That explains a lot."

Eridan mouths something -- there might be words behind it, but Vriska can't hear her over the crashing waves. Nor does she particularly want to hear.

"Terezi, huh?"

"Yeah. She's a lot less pathetic than you. I couldn't even hate you right, you were just always so pitiable. Platonically, of course. I never really wanted to fix your soggy ass."

Eridan is gaping now, like a fish.

"Sol doesn't pity me at all. Her hatred for me is the blackest variety. Darker than the pitted trenches of the sea. It's not your run-of-the-mill hatred, it's the type they write sonnets about. Epics," she quite literally spits. Flecks of saliva fly out from behind her teeth. It's disgusting.

"Cool," Vriska pretends to dislodge something out from under her nails. "Are you done yet?"

"You know what? Yeah. Fuck you, Vris," Eridan turns with a dramatic sweep of her cape. She spits right onto the deck before jumping off the side after her rifle.

It might, Vriska reflects, be time to sell this piece of junk before Eridan takes its value down further.

[idontunderstandchemistry]

Indecent Proposal (An academic rivals to lovers fanfic) - Tim Drake x Latina!Fem!Reader.

Sinopsis: Being a scholarship student at Gotham's most expensive school is not easy, especially when your academic rival, your nemesis, who coincidentally is the owner's son, decides to make you a rather usual proposition.

Tropes: Academic rivals-to-lovers, contract/bet, he loved her all this time, everyone else sees it except them, opposites attract, etc.

Author's Note: As promised yesterday, here it is! For those of you that want to read some chapters ahead, feel free to acess my AO3 account here. TYSM for reading S2

Warnings: none,.

Wordcount: 1373.

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven: Chemistry in pink foam

Ignoring Tim Drake was harder than you thought it would be. He stared at you for most of the Geography class, you could feel his stare burning your neck. At least, he wasn’t as pretty today as he was the day before, since he looked tired, as if he hadn't slept the whole night. It was good, you wanted the guilt to consume him. 

The first three classes went peacefully. Maths was easy, Sociology was a bit harder but interesting anyways and, although his stare was a bit distracting, Geography was nice. At the break, you and Alysanne went to the outdoor camp to chat more privately. They were a bit concerned about their parents. Apparently, things haven’t been the same at the Lewis’ house for about a month now. Tim appeared, trying to catch your attention, but when he saw Alyanne crying as you comforted them, he vanished. Good, at least he knew to respect harsh moments. 

And then, after the break, there was Chemistry class. You were particularly anxious for this one, since because of an attack Bane had done in the first week, you haven’t used the lab and all of your classes were theoretical. However, last friday Bruce Wayne himself came to the Gotham Academy to the opening of the new lab. 

Miss Gillian was even happier. She hated theoretical classes. First she reunited the whole class and gave the speech about safety inside the lab and asked you guys to form pairings. Obviously, you and Aly stuck together, however, it didn’t last long. Timothy Jackson Drake Wayne gently touched Aly’s shoulder and asked them if they’d like to switch partners with him.

Aly, knowing that Duke Thomas always stuck with his brother, looked at you with puppy eyes. You nodded at them, smiling. This might be their chance to “grab” him. So now you were stuck with Tim, probably for the whole semester, if not for the whole year. Yey!

— Hi — He said, shyly, and you had to control yourself to not roll your eyes. 

— Hi — You answered, trying to not sound angry.

— Did you get the flowers?

— I did.

— Do you like them?

— I’ve cut them to the stems — You answered, wearing your lab coat, angrily. 

He gulped.

— Look, I’m sorry…

— Enough talking. I’ll grab the materials.

You managed to keep him quiet for most of the class, since the experiment Mrs. Gillian chose wasn’t complicated, but required your complete attention. However, halfway through it, he slid a paper note to you.

“I really am sorry. I got stuck in a unexpected event”

You wrote back to him.

“Really? I couldn’t have guessed”

“How many times do you want me to apologise? You really think I would let you wait?”

“It’s not about leaving me waiting, it’s about not sending a message saying that you couldn’t make it”

“I ran out of battery and when I finally could charge my phone, you had blocked me”

“I doubt with all my heart that no one had a charger to borrow”

He sighed, then he did the unexpected: He added something to the solution that made it explode pink foam at you and him. The whole class laughed and Miss Gillian came to your aid. 

— Oh, geez. How did you even do this? — She said, inspecting you both — It’s just foam, gladly. But I want you all to look at them. Two of my best students, covered in unicorn vomit because they didn’t pay attention to what they were doing. Take it like a warning. You two, go wash yourselves. 

You looked at him angrily as you removed your lab glasses, leaving them on top of the worktop. Now you were a joke. You left the lab, walking quickly towards the washroom. He followed you.

— Not now — You said, washing your hands, angry, when he opened his mouth. He sighed again and started to wash his hands too.

— You know what, fuck this — He said, closing the tap — I did not just made a joke out of myself in front of the whole classroom so i could have a moment alone with you for you to treat me like shit. Yes, i fucked up. I left you waiting, but I didn't do this on purpose. And yes, I ran out of battery, and no, I couldn’t find anyone to lend me a charger because there were no sockets on Waynetech’s roof, and I know this is ironic. All I wanted was to get out of there so I could spend the evening with you, but I couldn’t. 

— Oh, your father did as he liked when he was our age, and you really want to play the “I couldn’t” card against me?

— I am not Bruce, Y/N! — He exclaimed, taking off his lab coat so he could wash it, even though the pink marks probably wouldn’t vanish — He was very irresponsible when he was our age, yes, he was. He was a spoiled brat, a scoundrel, practically a whore who fucked half the socialites in town and didn't give them the satisfaction. He slept at events held in his honour and the most popular thing on the internet are headlines about the embarrassments he committed when he was drunk. But I am not like him! I wanted to be there with you, I really wanted to! And Bruce changed a lot since he became a father! He educated us so we didn't take him as an example, so that we became gentlemans! I would have messaged you if I could, but I couldn't! What will it take for you to believe me?

You simply couldn’t hold back. He seemed really sorry. Your hands reached your face and hungrily pulled him down for your lips to touch his. Like your last kiss, this one wasn’t gentle, sweet or pretty. This kiss was hungry and full of emotion. He pulled you by the waist so he could be closer to you. His grip on your skin was rough and passionate, his hands were warm and cling to you as if you were made of dust and could simply slip through his fingers. You couldn’t judge him. Your grip on him wasn’t sweeter. One of your hands reached to his hair and the other pulled him closer by his shirt. You were still both soiled in pink foam, but you couldn’t care less. Nothing else mattered now, just your lips and his. 

Then the door opened and you quickly split apart, both embarrassed and breathing heavily. Miss Gillian stood on the door with an unbothered look on her face. She took off her glasses and cleaned them on her skirt, then put them on again.

— Well, it seems that you both don’t suck in Chemistry after all, just needed a different environment — She said and you saw Tim get even more red.

— Miss Gillian, I can explain.

— Look, honestly, I don’t care — She said — Actually, I’m happy, this means I won the bet against the other professors, however, you two should really get clean and go fill up the lab accident report. 

— Bet?! — Tim asked.

— We are stuck with the class most of the year — Miss Gillian said, crossing her arms — Sometimes we want to see some drama. Mrs. Bliss and I bet you guys would get together at the beginning senior year, Mr. Tanner, a romantic, bet on the sophomore year. Miss Oliver bet on the Junior year and Mr. Ogwan bet on the Senior Prom.

— No one thought we wouldn’t?

— Mr Hansen, but he is Sociology professor, he knows nothing about chemistry or romance — She said as if it was something personal to her — Finish cleaning yourself. I want the report at my table by the end of the class.

Miss Gillian left the washroom, closing the door as she left. You and Tim stared at the metal door for some seconds, still completely shocked. Then he turned to you again.

— This kiss mean I’m forgiven? 

— Yes, you are — You said, after laughing and taking your lab coat off.

He smiled beautifully and you finished cleaning the coats and threw them into the drawer machine. You grabbed a laboratory accident report card for you to fill together at the library. 

[smolldust]

heyyyy your Zelda au/story thing sounds cool you got any interesting facts

okay SO not sure of any interesting facts so I’m just gonna dump all of the information & stuff that I have written/planned out so be warned of the LONG text under the cut

I’ve dubbed this story The Legend of Zelda: The Daughter of Evil but there’s a chance this may change so be warned

So prettty much Zelda’s mom Sonia (I named her Sonia as a reference to totk) is a sheikah who falls in love with Ganondorf. Over time, however, Sonia starts to get scared by Ganon so after Zelda is born, she flees Gerudo Town and goes back to Hyrule. There, she hides the fact that she’s a sheikah in hopes that Ganon won’t be able to find her or Zelda. Sonia asks Impa for help with everything. Impa helps Sonia and teaches Zelda the ways of the sheikah. Eventually (when Zelda is like 2) Sonia falls in love with king Rhoam (she’s a bad bitch who pulled not one but two kings lol). Sonia, Impa, and Zelda move into the castle. Impa continues to train Zelda & no except Sonia knows of this. Eventually, Sonia dies when Zelda is 11 (sad)

Link lives in a little farm on the outskirts of Castle Town. His dad is a florist and his mom is a knight in the royal guard.

Every three months, a ceremony is held where everyone in the kingdom aged 14 or older must go to the temple of time to try and pull out the master sword.  Years ago, a seer prophesized that the holder of the triforce of power would attack hyrule andbring evil. Only the holder of the triforce of wisdom who had special sealing, light powers alongside the holder of the triforce of courage who carries the master sword can banish this evil.  The master sword was found in the temple of time in the lost woods. The king placed guards on the temple to protect it from evil.  Ceremony is held to find the one who holds the triforce of courage and protect & train them to defeat whoever holds the triforce of power.  Only those there to try to pull out the sword & the royal family are permitted in the sanctum with the sword.  Link pulls the Master Sword out on his 14 birthday on accident.  Monsters show up so without thinking he grabs the sword to defend everyone else at the ceremony.  Ends up being taken to the castle to begin training & to be protected.  Zelda and link become quick friends.  Zelda does not yet know she holds the triforce of wisdom.  They spend some time together goofing around the castle.  After being bored of being trapped in the castle for so long, Link and Zelda sneak out to go explore outside of the castle.  They get attacked by monsters not too far from the castle.  Link tries to protect them with teh Master Sword, but he’s not well trained with it yet (it takes a lot of energy, more than a normal sword).  As he is about to be struck down, Zelda jumps in to save him and unlocks her power from the triforce (think how botw zelda unlocked her powers when saving link from the guardian).  Impa (who was following them) sees this and tells the king.  The King is upset at them sneaking out, but happy that they found the holder of the triforce of wisdom (especially since it’s his kid, lol).  King Rhoam holds a ball to celebrate the finding of Link and Zelda holding pieces of the triforce (and to send a message to any enemies that they are protected by the king of hyrule himself).  Ganondorf sees this and sends monsters and a phantom ganon to attack the ball and kidnap Link & Zelda) .  King Rhoam is killed.  Link & Zelda manage to avoid getting caught or killed but they do get separated. 

After the ball, Link wakes up in the temple of time where he first pulled the master sword out. He heads further into the temple and meets the great deku tree. He speaks to the great deku tree and meets Navi as well.

I haven’t figured out what happens after this yet but I do know that I want an evil/puppet Zelda fight before the final fight against Ganondorf like the possessed Zelda in twilight Princess or spirit tracks

sldeowhdgejdbenfidjd anyways sorry this is long and messy and filled with spelling errors but I hope you like hearing about my little story!!!

if you have any questions about anything feel free to ask me!! I know this prolly wasn’t the clearest answer

[jadeylovesmarvelxo]

Boo! 👻 I have a crush on you 🎃🍁

Summary; There's a new tradition at Hawkins. Halloween-themed love notes sent anonymously in a variety of spooky shapes, and messages inside.

This year y/n wants to send one to her crush Eddie Munson certain he's never noticed her before...

Warning; Angst to Fluff, confessions, sweetness. Cute with a spooky theme 🎃🍁

Likes, comments and reblogs are much appreciated. I do not give anyone permission to copy my work.

Happy September everyone ❤ Hope you enjoy this cute Lil story. 🎃🍁

🍁🎃

She didn't think he noticed her, she wasn't a cheerleader or in the school band, in fact she didn't draw that much attention to herself.

Y/n worked on the newspaper with Nancy who was her closest friend in school along with Freddie and liked to keep to herself, she wasn't confident enough to admit her crush to Eddie Munson in person.

However with Autumn's arrival and Halloween very, very soon she planned to tell him anonymously.

The school was doing an event similar to Valentine's day but for Halloween where students sent anonymous cards- love notes with a variety of Halloween puns, phrases and cute sayings.

She had already picked her one for Eddie it was pumpkin orange coloured and had bats on it similar to the ones on his arm with tiny love hearts in between each one.

🦇 I'm Batty For You 🦇 the inscription insode of the card reads and she wrote a small message for him too.

Nerves fill her stomach. As it's getting closer to the cards being handed out at lunch. No one knew she was sending the card except Nancy and it was nerve wracking.

The students sending the cards finally came in looking bored and doling out the cards in a fast manner.

She saw Eddie take his looking at it in disbelief then his features softened and he smiled tracing over the little bats.

Heart racing she makes an excuse to Nancy and moves closer to the Hellfire Club table to see what's being said. Dustin waves at her and she waves back pressing a finger to her lips in a shushing motion.

"Dude? Who do you think sent it!". Mike asks trying to peer over at it as Eddie snatches it away annoyed.

Gareth smirks smugly.

"Bet we know who he wished sent it... His dream girl Chrissy". He teases and y/n stops still her heart slowly tearing.

Chrissy. Of course, he would want it to be Chrissy. The pretty, popular queen of Hawkins high.

Chrissy was his dream girl and he would be so disappointed knowing that y/n had sent it instead.

Hiding her tears she rushes out of the cafeteria just as one of the students delivering the notes drops one down on where her usual seat is with Nancy...

Eddie scowls listening to Jeff and Gareth teasing him about Chrissy.

"Shut up dude, the crush was in middle school, I'm not interested in her anymore. I like someone else".

For some reason, the news shocks the others and he rolls his eyes. Heart warming as he reads the words written.

🦇 I'm Batty for You 🦇

I notice you every day but I've always been too shy to tell you about my crush❤ I hope this makes you smile Eddie and just know that I think you're amazing.

Love your admirer.

He wants it so badly to be y/n because he had written one for her too. Eddie was never one to get sucked into cheesy shit like this but it was Halloween, hopefully, his Final senior year and he had to tell y/n how she felt.

She was beautiful, so pretty and kind, sweet. He always noticed her and adored her beautiful smile, pretty eyes and endless kindness.

Never once in their interactions though very brief did she ever treat him like a freak. So yeah, his cynical heart softened in her presence and he fell for her.

Come to think of it where was she? Wasn't she just at her lunch table with Nancy and the other students who worked on the newspaper?

The note he sent her hasn't been touched and he frowns in disappointment. She hadn't seen it. Where was she?

Dustin followed his gaze.

"Oh, y/n came to talk to us but I think something spooked her Eddie, she left when those two mentioned Chrissy".

Eddie's heart sinks. Did she hear what those dumbass friends of his said? Jesus H Christ, he glares at them and Gareth gets a look of dawning realisation on his features.

"Oh. You like y/n".

"Yeah, no fucking shit Sherlock". He gets up rushing to the table with Nancy, Fred and a few others and snatches the card before they can say anything as he rushes out to find her.

She heads deep into the woods. It was quiet and peaceful here which meant she could cry in peace here and let out all her emotions.

Of course, Eddie liked Chrissy she was so stupid.

Suddenly she's brought out of her reverie by Eddie himself crashing through the trees and skidding to a stop beside her catching himself on the wooden bench.

"Eddie?". He's clutching her note in his hands and smiles at her.

"Hey, sweetheart, been running around looking for you. Wanted to ask you something".

Shit, did he figure out the card was from her and was here to turn her down gently.

"Eddie, look I know you like Chrissy and don't feel the same, Chrissy is your dream girl and it's fine I..." He kneels down in front of her and fishes another note from his jeans.

"Open it. It's for you princess". Heart racing she takes it and opens the envelope revealing a light pink card with a cute little ghost on it.

Boo! I have a crush on you 👻

Oh my god oh my god she feels her breath hitch and happiness fills her.

She reads the words inside.

Hey princess, usually I don't care for stuff like this but it's Halloween themed and that's fucking metal right?

I've been falling for you for a while now sweetheart and I want you to be mine.

From the Metalhead who's crazy for boo.

Ps. Jesus H Christ that was corny as shit huh? Be mine princess. ❤

Beaming she looks up at Eddie who strokes her cheek.

"I loved your card sweetheart and I want you. Definitely not Chrissy, I haven't liked her like that in years. You're the one for me".

Feeling a whole lot happier she leans forward at the same time he does and they kiss.

It's magic and they both come apart with goofy grins on their faces.

"Yes, I'll be yours, Eddie". He presses a kiss to her forehead and together they head back to the school hands entwined.

[panic-in-the-multiverse]

Being Logan’s ftm son

Pairings: Wolverine x ftm!son!reader

Imagine: @icydeku14 Hi, I saw that you did a daughter headcanon for wolverine but I was wondering could do an ftm one like wolverines ftm son headcanons? If not I completely understand thank you for your time

Warnings: one swear word, mention of transphobia

A/N I love Logan/Wolverine so much he’s literally one of the best characters so when I got this request I was glad, and I’d gladly do any other request for Logan <3

Oh and sorry if something is wrong, pls send me a message bc I do not claim to know how it is for trans people as I’m not one

(not proofread)

okay so let’s all be real here, Logan is like hella old (still love him tho, as he is one of the best characters ever) and that for me means that he wouldn’t quite understand what you meant when you come out to him. But he would try to search up anything he could find on it. Because your his child, daughter or son didn’t really matter to him, he’d love you either way.

Which leads to the fact that you didn’t know that he’d love you either way. As you are aware that your father is very old and couldn’t help but to think that maybe he thought like a lot of other old people, that it was wrong.

But when you came out he was confused like stated before. He tried to understand, but didn’t quite do it at first. Of course he accepted that you were a boy and not a girl. He just needed to understand everything

for starter he want to understand why it had taken you so long to come out.

So he searched on the internet and even asked all of the teachers (even Scott) if they knew anything about it. Eventually he was pretty caught up on the whole changing gender thing.

He realized that it was a bit like being a mutant, you couldn’t just go around and tell everyone you were a mutant as a lot of people feared them and wanted them all to die. Logan guessed that it maybe felt a bit like that for you. That you couldn’t be open in case some people didn’t accept it.

Luckily he did accept it

He accepted everything with you

When you came to him about getting a chest binder (sorry if that’s the wrong thing, pls write to me if it’s wrong) he was more than glad to help you out, and when you wanted to buy more “manly” clothes he helped you without a single complaint or well that’s a lie as he didn’t really like going through every store fucking store as he put it, even though you did most of the shopping, except for that one time he bought a leather jacket identical to his own.

He went with you when you cut your hair the way you wanted it

If you wanted to change your name he helped with that

He was with you every step of the way to becoming who you really were, he helped any way he could

Though he didn’t understand everything he really tried to, which is the point

When you wanted to learn how to drive he was overjoyed to teach you even though he’d never admit it

You always took his old flannel shirts or leather jackets, they still smelled like him, and whenever he was away on a mission for X-Men or he did something else you took one of his old shirts and hugged it close to you whenever you missed him

Helping your father found out about his past

Becoming an X-Men even if he was against it

Now over to your mutant powers. Well he didn’t care if you had them or not. He’d always loved you even though he might seem grumpy all the the time.

But I believe (like on my daughter one with Logan) that you’d have the same mutation as him after all Laura has it though that’s a different story.

But you might have another mutation which Logan always hoped for swing as his mutation hurt him a lot, and he didn’t want the same for you.

Oh and on the note of Laura she loved you either way, she like having an older brother around, who for a matter of fact always protected her from any enemy whenever she couldn’t or needed help, then again she did the same for you

Being devastated by his death, going to find revenge, if someone just killed the one person that had always accepted you and loved you then they’d die and you didn’t care if you died in the process, nothing mattered more than to get revenge/justice over your father.

Plus who else would let you mess with their hairs in the way you did with your fathers, (you know that iconic wolverine hair, it was you who made that hairstyle for him)

And who else would protect you the way your father did whenever someone threw a bad slur or comment your way

[babyboibucky]

The Match - Part 3

Pairing: CEO!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Bucky’s becoming extra horny around you in the office.

Word Count: 2,697

Warnings: still smut, boss x employee affair, unprotected sex everywhere, hints at misogyny???

A/N: And a mini series was born 😂 no but honestly, I didn’t expect for parts 1 and 2 of The Match to receive such amazing feedback 😭 I really enjoy reading everyone’s reaction to this series and trust me, all comments keep giving me ideas. Thank you all so much!!!!!!! 😘😘😘 and btw, this part isn’t their promotion “celebration” because that will have a chapter on its own. Long story short, that will be pure porn with no plot at all so stay tuned for that 😂

The Match Masterlist || MAIN MASTERLIST

It’s been a rollercoaster ride since you matched with James— Bucky, on Tinder. Maybe not a literal rollercoaster ride but with how Bucky had you bouncing on his cock as he sat on the couch, or that one time he asked you to sit on his face inside his car, it was a ride nonetheless and an exhilarating one at that.

Despite your relationship with him, the both of you surprisingly managed to keep things professional when there was work involved. Of course there were times when quickies in the office took place, given that Bucky was fucking insatiable (let’s all admit it, so were you). Work was work and you excelled at being the head of your department, but once office hours are over, you excelled more at giving Bucky head.

Oftentimes you found yourself worrying about getting caught. You’ve always been careful but lately, Bucky seemed to be slipping up. He just couldn’t seem to get his hands off of you and he was becoming more and more obvious. You were pretty good at being discreet but sometimes, it was hard not to react to Bucky when he would look at you with a naughty glint in his eyes, a smug smirk tugging at his lips as he watched you present. He’d tilt his head sometimes as he looked at you, lifting a brow as he smirked whenever he was impressed.

You ended up stuttering when he gave you that look one time. It was proud and it made your chest swell and your pussy throb. He rewarded you that night in his office by making you cum on his face twice.

That look was going to be the death of you and he was giving it to you now as you entered the conference room for the monthly mancom meeting. Bucky eyed you as you went around the desk, lifting a brow and pulling the empty chair next to him, commanding you to sit beside him without having to say a word.

You cleared your throat and pulled the chair, noticing how Bucky eyed your ass before you sat down.

“Is everyone here?” He asked after ogling your backside for a good five seconds.

All the department heads affirmed their attendance and soon enough, the meeting began with the HR manager reporting first. Lights were shut off and as soon as the report was projected onto the wall, Bucky began his little game. You were paying attention to the slides being presented until you felt Bucky’s foot nudge your ankle, hooking around it to slightly open up your legs.

You side-eyed him and subtly shook your head. He had never done this in public, at least, not during meetings. So you weren’t sure why he was being so frisky now, placing a hand on your thigh. You grabbed his hand and moved it away gently before slightly moving your seat away from Bucky, crossing your legs in the process.

“What do you think Mister Barnes?” The HR manager asked.

All heads turned towards Bucky, who obviously wasn’t paying attention provided that his hand was trying to sneak back onto your thigh. He cleared his throat and straightened up on his seat, fixing his tie before pursing his lips.

“I’m sorry, can you please repeat that?” He asked and you fought the urge to snort.

“I was wondering if we can hold another seminar about workplace etiquette.” She said.

Bucky hummed, “Do we have problematic employees?” He asked curiously.

The HR manager sighed, a blush creeping up to her face. “There have been rumors going around the office about employees engaging in...lewd acts within the workplace. I thought that we should revisit the topic about workplace code of ethics.” She explained.

You ended up in a coughing fit, quickly apologizing and reasoning out that you were having allergies today. Bucky tensed in his seat but managed to remain calm. He stole a quick glance at you before turning back to the HR manager.

“And have we identified these employees?” He asked, rubbing a hand on his chin. A nervous habit of his, you noticed.

This was what you have been worrying about! Bucky has been fucking you around the office and now everyone was catching on to it. And although you wanted to blame Bucky for this, you knew you were just as much to blame. Damn you and your hormones!

The HR manager shook her head, much to your and Bucky’s relief. “No sir, but some employees have been noticing and hearing things, especially after office hours. Janet for instance, filed a report last week about hearing hushed whispers from the pantry, followed by the creaking sound of the table. The following day, shards of someone’s mug were found in the trash. There was an assumption that there might be employees behaving inappropriately.”

“Oh my god, I’m close. Bucky I’m—“

Bucky’s hand clamped around your mouth as he shushed you, hearing footsteps approach the pantry. You stilled as you nervously watched shadows move beneath the door, but of course, this didn’t stop Bucky from snapping his hips against yours.

His thrusts were slow and languid, but he slammed back in with such force that made the pantry table scratch against the floor. Once the footsteps faded, Bucky wasted no time to get back to fucking you. He lifted your legs up and rested the back of your ankles against his shoulders, slightly bending down over you so he can angle his cock to perfectly hit that one sweet spot.

A single, powerful thrust sent you reeling, your hands finding purchase on the sides of the table.

“Cum, baby. Cum.” Bucky growled.

Another thrust made you gasp out loud, feeling the head of Bucky’s cock nudge against your cervix. One hand reached for his bicep, your nails digging into his dress shirt while the other reached back for the edge of the table only to knock off the mug resting on top.

You made a face when you heard it crash against the floor. The mug was soon forgotten when Bucky leaned down to kiss you, his tongue sliding into your mouth as his hand reached down to rub your clit.

You wiped the sweat on your forehead upon remembering that incident. Fucking Janet just had to file a report. It was after office hours, for fuck’s sake! Who cares what employees do after their shift?!

“I see.” Bucky responded, fixing his suit. “Okay. I approve of the seminar. Who’s next?” He asked, quickly changing the topic as if it was no big deal.

The head of the Finance department began with his presentation and just like that, Bucky returned his hand on top of your thigh, prying your legs open. You turned to him with a look of disbelief on your face. He was acting as if there wasn’t any close call earlier. You couldn’t believe this man, sure he was hot as hell, but you weren’t giving in to him. Not today, not when the both of you were almost caught.

The entire mancom meeting was pretty eventful, with Bucky teasing your legs with his hand despite your half-hearted protests. You hated how Bucky was able to familiarize himself with your body and how it reacted to him. Your eyes might be saying no but with how your legs eventually spread on their own, Bucky knew you were desperate for him too.

-

It was an hour past your shift when you received an e-mail from Bucky with the subject being “Report”. Thinking it was one his follow-up e-mails (Bucky is an impatient man when it comes to the submission of reports and you weren’t an exception) you opened it immediately and choked on your spit when a photo of his dick showed up on your desktop. You started clicking around in an attempt to close his e-mail, but instead of hitting the “x” button, you ended up maximizing the window instead.

“Jesus fucking christ!” You cursed and covered your monitor with your hands as you frantically looked around the office.

It was like a fucking jump scare, like one of those computer pranks asking you to concentrate on a dot before a scary photo would pop out. Except that it was Bucky’s dick that appeared. A dick scare.

Fortunately, you were the only one left in your area since pretty much everyone else scrambled out of the office as soon as work hours were over. It was a Friday after all.

You sighed in relief and quickly scrolled down to see the message beneath the photo of Bucky’s dick.

Need you in my office in ten.

P.S. Bring the report I asked from you the other day.

Best,

Bucky Barnes

Who sends an unsolicited dick pic through e-mail followed by a work reminder? And the signature? It was the cherry on top. Bucky Barnes was something else. Sweet jesus, you really couldn’t believe this man.

Grabbing your report, you marched your way to the elevator and headed up to Bucky’s office. Seeing that his floor was empty, you didn’t even bother knocking on his door and simply barged in.

“I can’t belie— what the fuck?” You called out when you were welcomed with the sight of Bucky leaning back on his chair, his cock out for the world to see as he gently stroked it.

“Need your pretty mouth around my cock, baby.” Bucky cooed with half-lidded eyes.

You huffed out a humorless laugh and shook your head, “I’m not sucking your cock, Bucky.” You refused and walked over to his table, slamming your report on top of it before walking away, but not before stealing another look at his majestic cock.

“Are you mad?” Bucky asked but he was smirking with amusement. He was giving you that look again but you were having none of it tonight.

You stood in front of his desk, keeping a safe distance away from him. Crossing your arms over your chest, you scowled at Bucky and tried your best not to let your eyes fall down to his cock again. Which by the way, he continued to stroke.

“For someone as smart as you, I can’t believe you’re so fucking dense.” You said with irritation when Bucky didn’t seem to understand why you were agitated.

He licked his lips, bucking up his hips when he squeezed the base of his cock. Bucky let out a delicious grunt as he continued to stroke himself. As much as you were salivating at the sight of Bucky’s cock— tip red and swollen, begging to be sucked— you didn’t want to give in.

“You’re fucking priceless, James.” You said, exasperated and turned around, heading towards the door.

You were about to reach onto the door knob when you heard the sound of a zipper followed by the wheels of Bucky’s chair screeching against the floor before a pair of hands grabbed at your waist. Turning you around, you were met with Bucky’s worried face.

“Shit, you’re really mad. Talk to me?” He pleaded, eyes apologetic as he took a step back, urging you to speak up.

“You might want to take a seat because I’ve got quite a list.” You said.

Bucky obeyed and returned to his chair immediately, sitting upright as he looked at you with doe eyes. If you weren’t so mad, you would’ve melted at the sight of him like that. And the Bucky Barnes? The CEO? Obeying you like a good little boy? Huh, what an interesting concept. You mentally took note of a certain kink that you might enjoy. But for now, you were mad at him and you were going to make him understand why.

“Number one, I don’t particularly enjoy it when you tease me in front of everyone else. We talked about staying professional when there’s work involved and what you did during the mancom was definitely not professional.” You told him.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t hold back not when your ass looked so fuckin’ tight in that skirt of yours. Can you blame me?” Bucky almost whined.

“Keep it in your pants, Barnes. I’m not yet done.” You reminded him and went over your second point.

“Number two, we almost got caught to the point of the HR deciding to hold a seminar on workplace ethics! Do you know how awkward it would be for me to sit there and listen to scenarios about office misconduct? Most of which we’ve probably done. I’d sweat like a whore in church!” You hissed.

Which scenarios could that be? Fucking inside the janitor’s supply closet? Check. Doing the nasty in one of the bathroom cubicles? Check that twice. Giving a blowjob beside the fax machine during lunch break? Triple check that shit.

“And oh, you sent me a dick pic using your work e-mail! You do know that the IT can access our computers right? Almost gave me a heart attack when it flashed on my monitor.” You asked in a huff.

Bucky snickered, “Are you forgetting that I’m the CEO? Baby, I can easily clean up our mess.” He reassured and stood up, approaching you.

You shook your head, “That’s exactly the point, Bucky. You are the CEO and I’m an employee. You may not understand it but I’m scared. If we get caught, it’s over for me. Whether you have it cleaned up or not, I’d still be the one at risk here. You’ll never be in the same position as I am. People won’t call you names if we get caught. No matter what happens, I’d always get the short end of the stick.”

You didn’t mean to be all serious, talking about the possible misogynistic outcome of your relationship with Bucky. As much as you enjoyed it, it still scared the living daylights out of you. Some were already spreading rumors about your promotion, getting caught would only add fuel to the fire.

Bucky sighed and nodded, “I’m sorry. I didn’t try to understand where you were coming from.” He genuinely apologized.

“If it scares you that much, then let’s make it official.”

You deadpanned at him, “Make what official, Bucky?” You asked, eyebrow raised in curiosity.

Bucky shrugged and motioned his hand between the both of you, “This...us.” He simply said.

You scoffed, “Tell the entire office that we’re fucking every chance we get? Are you out of your mind?”

Bucky ran a hand through his cropped hair, “Not like that. Look, we’ve been at it for what? Two? Three months now? We might as well make this into an official relationship.”

You blushed at Bucky’s suggestion. Sure, you practically jumped at the opportunity to fuck your boss when he asked you. But were you an easy bitch in general? Of course not, even with how thirsty you were for him, you still had a little bit of appreciation for the old-fashioned ways.

Pushing Bucky’s chest away, you shook your head at him. “That’s now how relationships work, Bucky. You can’t fuck your way into my heart.”

Bucky laughed and bit his lip, “Fine. Then I’ll do it properly.” He said so easily you were starting to wonder whether he was fucking with you.

You narrowed your eyes at him suspiciously, “I don’t believe you.” You said.

“You will, baby. I’ll make sure of that. We’ll do it old-school.” He said, caressing your cheek.

You were caught off guard but you didn’t want to get your hopes up. Bucky had been an amazing lover and in the past months you’ve fucked, he treated you with respect and took good care of you. He brought you dinner, drove you home and texted you good night. Sometimes he’d text you during the weekends too.

“Old-school it is then.” You shrugged as if it was no big deal but oh, it was a big deal.

Bucky nodded with a grin, “Okay. But...” he trailed, his smile turning upside down in deep thought.

“Does that mean we’d stop fucking each other for the mean time?” He asked.

You snickered, “I said you can’t fuck your way into my heart, not my pussy. So sit down and let me suck your cock.”

-

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