#it takes twenty minutes for me to explain to him how the game works

[meownotgood]

I want aki to watch me play video games but he's so inept at everything that he has to ask me the most silly questions about everything

[pogueswrld]

*•.¸♡ make up sex ♡¸.•*

pairing: fred weasley x fem!plus-sized!reader

summary: Freddie talks too much, and his girlfriend is exhausting all the ways she knows to shut him up. Softly, of course.

warnings: smut🦢!1!1!1!1! there's plot and fluff, and everyone's of age ofc, although it is hinted that reader is still in Hogwarts, kinda sub!Fred top!reader, like he's whining and panting and begging and shit (bites lip) ANYWAY, dick riding hehe, no usage of y/n.

note: it is 2:59 pm on a Friday, let's see how fast I write this shit. note 0.2: Okay so it's 5:54 pm on the same day, I think I'm done. This isn't edited, but it took me 3 hours to write 😁

He was still talking. Why, in the name of Merlin, was he still talking?

Dating Fed Weasley is fun, there's no denying that, but Good Heavens isn't that a boy a handful. Both literary and figurative. He's got a wide imagination, a never-squelching desire for knowledge, and a big heart. That is a dangerous combination for a somewhat intelligent and never-quiet man.

She's a saint, his girlfriend, and Ginny made a point to always express that to her. "How do you put up with that all the time?" Gesturing to Fred, who was using his hands in elaborate motions as he went on his fourth rant of the morning on the same subject to George. She'd only shrug, lips engulfing another spoonful of whatever ice cream the girls were sharing. "In one ear and out the other darling."

Not to say that she hates it, or that it bothers her- quite the opposite actually. Fred's excited and hyper personality is what made him so interesting to her, it was what drew her to him in the first place. She enjoys listening to him rant, even about the most random things -he stopped her the other day and explained in great detail how penguins mate and how once the female accepts the male's proposing gestures, they're together for life- and she adores it.

Yes, it sure can be a bit much at times, but she wouldn't change it for the world. Imagine loving a man who was as boring and dry as his older brother, Percy? She would have to jump out of Ginny's bedroom window!

Today was her first day back in the Burrow from Hogwarts for summer break, and she was exhausted, to say the least. She was up from dawn, finishing up the last bits of her packing before leaving for the train station with Harry, Hermione, and Ron. And because she's a good friend, she made sure each of her friends made it to their transportation safely before she and Ron were picked up by Fred and George.

In the car, Ron opened the untameable can of worms by mentioning Bill who was staying over at the Burrow for the summer as well, taking a couple of months' worth of vacation away from the dragons and such. That was the spark Fred needed to blast off into a hundred rants one after the other.

He spoke about seeing Bill again, which is understandable, he hasn't been home in years. He spoke about the dragons, which led to his excited mention of his favorites and how he's going to ask Bill how it was training them. Then he turned to Quidditch training, and even though both him and George had left Hogwarts a year or so ago, the both of them still found time to play the game as a side hobby. After that was all done, George gave her and Ron and update on the shop, and Fred went on and on about all kinds of new candies and flavors and combinations they were working on to add to the store by the beginning of next year.

She was understandably tired by the time the Burrow came into view. And as much as she adores her boyfriend, she needed him to shut the fuck up for twenty minutes. But he's so sweet, and his eyes light up when talking, and he gets this beautiful energy surrounding him when he does it that she doesn't have the nerve to ask him to be silent for a bit. So she excuses herself and tries to bury her body under the covers of his bed.

But he finds her there, and he reports to her that dinner is ready, and that Bill is here, and that she looks so gorgeous on his bed, and that there's a strange animal in the backyard, and that Ginny tried to curse the bathroom when he went in to use it, and that he doesn't understand why she'd do that, and that George is out in the garage, and that-

She jolts up on his bed, her eyes twitching as she stares at him. He looks so beautiful, but he's talking too damn much. She cups his face, and he goes silent and stares at her with wide eyes.

"Wha'?" He mumbled, his lips squished together as she squeezed his cheeks.

"You talk too much, ya' know that?" She said, her thumb slightly caressing the apples of his cheeks.

He opens and closes his mouth like a fish out of water, and tilts his head ever so slightly. "Do' it bothe' yo'?"

She giggles breathlessly and lets go of his face before pressing her lips tightly against his. "Not all the time, but times like today..." She rests her forehead against his and sighs, "It can be a lot, and I need you to read the room and tone it down a little bit, d'ya think you can do that for me?"

He stares, something in his gaze changes, and he nods. "Of course, baby. Whateva' you want."

Great. Now she feels bad. She sighs and pushes past the blankets swallowing her to sit up on her knees. She wraps her arms around his shoulders and pulls him into a hug. "I love you, truly love you, and I don't mean to be mean to you, and you know I love it when you ramble, but I'm really overwhelmed today, darling. I'm sorry."

Fred wraps his arms around her waist in return, hugging her tightly. It's true that he can't always read the room, and now that he's no longer attending school he's got much more free time on his hands than he knows what to do with. It takes him a couple days to be able to read his girlfriend's body language like he used to once she's home from school, and he feels terrible that he was one of the reasons for making her feel so incredibly overwhelmed. He also feels slightly ashamed of his non-stop rambling all day.

He buried his face in the crook of her neck, mumbling something into her skin that made her shiver and giggle away from him. "Stop," she breathes in a giggle, "It tickles."

He chuckles, his hands squeezing at the skin of her waist as he stares at her dreamily. "I said, I'm sorry I made you feel overwhelmed, I promise to try and do better."

She grins at him, so brilliantly, that he can't help but lean down and capture her lips in a soaring kiss. "I love you." He mumbles against her lips, and she smiles while trying to kiss him back. "C'mon now, love, let's go have dinner."

Her eyes darken; her pupils widen, and she smiles that mischievous grin that he adores so much, and he groans while throwing his head back. He knows exactly what is on her mind.

"I have a better idea." She whispers, giggling as she throws herself into his lap and kisses him with such force that she's pushing him down on his bed. He yelps, his hands traveling to the bed and her waist, holding on to her for stability. Bubbling heat travels across his body through her kiss, and he sighs when her cold fingertips trace down his arms, sending goosebumps across his body.

Her kisses transfer from his lips to the sides of his mouth, his cheeks, down his jawline, until she's pampering open-mouthed kisses across his neck like stardust.

He sighs, his eyes closed and his head thrown back on the pillow. "Please," He breathed, a low whine undertoning his voice. She shivers above him, her teeth grazing his skin in a teasing bite.

She's always hated the effect his voice has on her.

"Please what, darling?"

He whines. It's low, for her ears only, it's a barely-there breath, but his mouth is right next to her ear and she hears him loud and clear. Her panties dampen almost immediately.

"Please touch me," He whispers. His hands gripped tightly to her thighs. He knows better than to roam her body without permission. She pulls back slightly, blinking up at him with a soft smile and long lashes. "But I am touching you, Freddie."

He knows this game. This cruel, cruel game she adores to play. He whines in pretentious of hating his role, but his hips buck, and his cock twitches underneath the fabrics of his boxers and trousers.

He slowly traces one of his hands from her thighs to her palm before letting her fingers rest on his aching cock. He guides her hands to gently rub him through his clothes and he lets out a breath when her fingers squeeze around him. "Touch me there." He gasps.

She entertains him, allowing him to set the pace and buck into her hold. He releases deep breaths and low whines, stuttering moans every time she tightens her grip around him. She can feel herself getting wetter by the second, how his eyes are shut desperately, his teeth bite down on his bottom lip, and her name is gasped out of his throat with every other movement. It makes her feel powerful, it makes her entire being vibrate.

"That's enough." She mumbles, pulling her hand out of his grasp and bathing in his complaining whines as she pulls off her shirt. He blinks up at her, watching her boobs bounce in the push-up bra she's wearing before she unhooks it and slides it off her shoulders. He blinks again and swallows whatever drool and saliva has gathered in his mouth, causing his Adam's apple to pop along with the action. She smiles at the sight and quickly bends down to leave a swift kiss on it.

"Take off your shirt." She commands him, and he does so without hesitation, throwing the garment somewhere on the floor of the room he shares with his twin brother. He watches her hands intensely as she teases him by running her thumb on the inside of her trouser's elastic, before slowly pulling the item down and off. He groans at the sight of his favorite panties on her; a partially lacey red thong that settles up between her butt cheeks. She always told him how uncomfortable it made her, but the look on his face when he saw it on her made every second she spent wearing it worth it.

"You're trying to kill me, love?" He groans, daring himself to take a dangerous leap and push his thumb against the damp cloth, pushing down on where he knows her clit hides. He glances up at her, watching the way her lips part and her mouth hangs open at his action.

"And what am I to tell George when he asks? Death by a red thong?"

He grins up at her, picking up the speed at which he's rubbing on her bud of nerves. "Only if you're the one wearing it."

She shudders, forcefully holding herself back from grinding against his thumb. Instead, she grips his wrist and pushes it away from her. She hooks two fingers on each side of his trousers and boxers before meeting his eyes, watching as he licks his lips and nods before pulling the clothing items down his hips and legs.

His cock bounces out from underneath the fabric happily, it smacks against his lower abdomen and she giggles at the sight of precum beads rolling down his slit. He whines, throwing his arm on his face to cover the embarrassing blush that matched his hair color. "Don't laugh at me, why're you so mean to me today?"

Her giggle grows louder, and she leans down to push his arm off his face. "I never intend on being mean to you, my darling, you just bring it out of me. I'm sorry." She mumbles as she meets his gaze, her hand cupping one side of his face and he leans towards her touch. "Don't hide from me, yeah?"

He nods.

"Good boy."

He whines, his eyes squeeze shut and his jaw drops when her fingers wrap around him again, but her thumb is collecting his precum before spreading it down his length before she works a steady rhythm going up and down. His whines slowly turn into moans. His noises were so heavenly that she could swear her wetness was flowing through the fabric of her thong and onto the skin of her thighs.

She sees his muscles contracting and she stops, removing her hand from him altogether. He opens his eyes, blinking up at her in confusion as a noise of complaint slips out of his throat. But he swallows it back up when he sees her push her thong to the side and spread her folds before sitting on his length, and she grinds back and forth on him without actually allowing him access to her.

He groans, throwing his head back. She's coating him in her juices and there's a delicious squelching noise coming from between them and it's driving him insane. He sucks air into his lungs through clenched teeth and shudders when she allows a single moan to slip through her parted lips.

Suddenly, he's engulfed in her warmth and he hisses. His hands grip tightly to her thighs, hips, and any plump skin he can find. He squeezes her, hissing, and pants until he's sheathed completely inside of her. "Slow down," He gasps, "Slow- slow down, slow down, slow down." His voice turns from low breaths to almost high-pitched whines, and she leans down and captures his lips in a silencing kiss.

"Need you to lay here and keep your pretty mouth shut, darling, can you do that? Can you stay quiet for me so your family doesn't hear us fucking?" He whines, hips bucking into her warm cunt causing his eyes to roll to the back of his head as he nods mindlessly. "Yes, yes, yes. I'll be quiet. Fuck- please, baby, please fuck me."

She giggles at his desperate whines, and slowly rocks her hips back and forth, just enough movement to send pleasure jolts but not enough to get them going. She was testing the waters, trying to see how loud he could get without giving him much of anything.

Fred was losing his mind, he could feel her walls clamp down on him every time she moved back, and he could feel himself nudging against her feel-good spot every time she moved forward. Her wetness made a mess out of both of them, making it easy to slide into her and pick up the pace.

He arched his back slightly, just enough to hint at her to go faster. Because she was starting to feel frustrated, she obliged. She switched from grinding down on him to bouncing, her knees and hips working overtime to not make a noise every time her ass cheeks met his thighs.

She's now moaning, leaning down to muffle her noises by his neck or breathe them directly into his ear. Fred's eyes roll to the back of his head every time, and his hands grab onto the fat of her hips to help her.

"I-" She gasps, pushing herself upwards, clamping down on him tightly before forcing deep thrusts with her movement. "I'm gonna cum." She whimpers, and her legs begin to shake and fail her. Fred let out a loud breath that turned into a whimper before pushing himself up and, with a tight hold of her hips, forced her up and down his cock.

"Wa- wanna feel you. Wanna feel you gush around me. Give it to me, please." He whines, his words muffled into her temple, his eyes closed as her walls flutter around him, her body shivering against him and her lips part in long whines. One of his hands sneaked in between them, and his thumb drew quick circles around her clit, just enough to electrify her over the edge.

She freezes up, squeezes down on him and Fred is gone. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her tightly down on him, the repeated squeeze of her walls stimulated him over the edge and they were shaking through their highs together. Her hands were buried in his hair, his hands holding onto her hips, while their lips interlocked in an overflowing kiss.

A few seconds later, their mouths parted as they gasped for air, holding onto one another as their highs dwindled. He traced random shapes on her bare back while she scratched at his scalp in a way she knew he loved.

He was the first to pull back, looking up at her with nothing but love and adoration. He tilts his head and grins, "Do you still want to go down for dinner?"

She laughs, heartily and loudly out of his arms and back onto the bed. "If you'll be going downstairs for a plate, get me one with you. There's no way I can look your mum in the eye after this."

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

College Rafe AU where he plays football and they win the big game. because we all saw THE GIF from ‘The other Zoey’ and needed a football au

Was I listening to The Alchemy when I wrote this? Absolutely. My only football knowledge comes from watching Taylor at the games and the smallest from TV shows...so don't take it too seriously. I hope you enjoy <3

Warnings: possible inaccurate football stuff and Taylor references

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

The February wind blew as you sat in the stands and watched the team finish practice. You usually were tutoring at this hour, but the person canceled at the last minute, leaving you with an hour to spare before your work shift. You hated when people made you waste your time. Going to your dorm would be pointless since your job was on campus, so you went on the football field to surprise Rafe.  

He ran across the field with the football, sweat dampening the collar of his gray tee shirt. You couldn’t help but worry about him getting cold. This Friday was the big championship game and, as the star player, Rafe couldn’t afford to get sick. No offense to the other players, but the team would lose without him.

Coach called the boys over and you watched Rafe taking off his helmet and wiping his face with the bottom of his shirt, flashing his abs. The few girls sitting lower in the stands were wetting their panties at the sight, dreaming impossible things. These abs were only yours to touch. 

Minutes passed, and then Coach blew his final whistle, calling the end of practice. You went down the stands and called out Rafe’s name, tearing his attention from his teammate’s. When his eyes found you, he changed direction and told his teammate he’d catch up with them later. 

‘’Shouldn’t you be tutoring that swim team jerk?’’ 

You tried to not look too annoyed as you explained the situation. ‘’He canceled on me two minutes before the lesson...’’ 

Rafe closed the last steps to you and pulled you in a loose hug, knowing you didn’t like it when he was hugging you with his sweaty body. You didn’t mind the sweat, it was the smell that lingered on your clothes that you didn’t like. One time, your co-worker asked why you smelled like a football locker room after a game… You’ve never been more embarrassed.

‘’I hope you’re charging him for the lesson. He made you waste your time waiting for him.’’ 

You wished you could do that, but that’s not how it worked. 

‘’How was practice?’’ you asked, changing the subject. ‘’You ready for Friday?’’ 

‘’Coach doubled our pre-practice run because Robbe showed up hungover.’’ Rafe groaned, his legs sore from the extra running. 

You drew your eyebrows together. ‘’It’s only Wednesday…’’ 

‘’Exactly. It’s the second time he shows up hungover this month. He better clean his act up before Friday or else Coach is gonna bench him. Just because his father gives big money to the school doesn’t mean he can do shit like that.’’ 

‘’Fucking entitled rich kids.’’

You scoffed. ‘’Sure, Mr. My-Father-Is-Ward-Cameron-And-Owns-An-Estate-Company.’’ 

Rafe rolled his eyes. ‘’Alright, alright.’’ A brisk of wind blew and he scrunched his nose, his cheeks red from the weather. You reached to touch it, and he leaned into the warmth of your palm. ‘’Mmh, that feels nice. Do you want to get pizza and watch a movies?’’ 

‘’Tempting offer, but I have to get going soon. I have work in twenty minutes.’’ 

You pouted and Rafe pulled you closer. 

‘’Fuck work, stay with me.’’ 

A laugh left your lips. ‘’I can’t do that. I’ll get fired.’’ 

On Friday, you met Rafe’s family in the stands. You had met Ward, Rose and Wheezie before, but never Sarah. She was graduating high school this year and hadn’t been able to make it to any of Rafe’s games. It was nice to finally meet her. 

‘’Ah, so you’re the lucky charm,’’ Sarah said, flashing you a smile. ‘’I’ve heard the team is on a winning streak since you and Rafe got together.’’ 

The lucky charm was a joke Rafe’s teammates made after noticing the team had been winning every time you attended. You thought it was only running around school, but apparently Sarah had heard about it. 

The game was close to begin — seven minutes left before kickoff. From high up in the stands, you watched Rafe bouncing on his feet on the sideline, the stress of the game turned into bursts of energy. Damn, did his ass look good in his tight pants. Beside him, Topper was talking to the coach and pointing at something on the field. Perhaps a tactic idea?

You jumped up when the scoreboard came to light and cheered loudly as both teams were welcomed on the field. The ambiance was unlike any of his past games. Players took their positions, adrenaline coursing through their veins and waiting for the referee to blow the whistle. 

As the game unfolded, your focus was on Rafe. He was running across the field, trying to catch the pass Topper made. He caught it, his fingers closing around it securely, but a beefy guy from the other team came from behind, driving him to the ground with a thunderous tackle. 

You winced at the sight. You hated the contact part of football. 

Soon enough, the second period was ending and the half-time began, the score 17-14 in favor of Rafe's team. Sarah and Rose went to the bathroom while Ward went to get drinks and a snack for Wheezie. 

‘’Do you think they’re going to win?’’ she asked, scooting closer to you. 

She had taken a quick liking to you, the girl who had taken her big brother’s heart. 

You took a sip of your drink. ‘’I don’t know. I hope so. Rafe worked hard this season.’’  

Wheezie nodded. ‘’Rafe knows how to play the game and he knows how to win. I’m confident we’ll win this one.’’ 

The third period had barely started when Rafe crossed the field, carrying the ball. He was running so fast and ducking the other players without losing his speed. You held your breath, sitting on the edge of your seat. As expected, someone from the opposing team went to intercept him, but Kelce saw him coming and tackled him, allowing Rafe to score another touchdown. 

‘’Touchdown, Rafe Cameron!’’ The speakers echoed around the field, causing most of the spectators to stand and yell simultaneously. 

You jumped in excitement, a proud smile lighting up your face. ‘’Yes, baby!’’ 

Later in the game, with only thirteen seconds left on the board in the fourth period, the teams were tied. 

A score of 21-21 flashed on the scoreboard. There wasn't much time left, but you’ve seen Rafe score in eight seconds.  

‘’Come on, Rafe, you can do it,’’ you said, although he couldn’t hear you. 

Beside you, Sarah was holding Wheezie’s hand, stressed. 

The referee blew his whistle, signaling the resumption of the game. The crowd erupted into a frenzy of cheers and applause as Rafe dashed across the field, evading defenders with lightning speed. With just three seconds left on the clock, he made a spectacular leap, soaring over the goal line to score the winning touchdown.

The crowd in the stands went wild. Rafe's teammates rushed towards him in a jubilant huddle, their cheers drowning out the roar of the crowd. In their excitement, they lifted him high above their heads, his helmet coming off in the process.

Wheezie jumped, loudly cheering for her brother. ‘’I told you he would win!’’ 

You took your jacket and headed down the stairs, Rafe’s family following behind as the game reporter declared the grand champions, his voice booming over the stadium speakers. 

A lot of people had the same idea, which caused the large field to get crowded quickly. It was difficult to see over the taller heads, but your lips curled into a grin when you saw him standing at the center of it all, with his coach and teammates around him, looking both exhausted and exhilarated. His hair was tousled, his face flushed from the exertion of the game, but there was a radiant smile on his lips as he basked in the glory of victory.

You called out his name and his eyes searched around the field, high on adrenaline. Once he saw you, he broke away from the ecstatic mob of his teammates and sprinted towards you, his eyes shining with excitement. Without a moment's hesitation, Rafe enveloped you in a tight embrace, lifting you off your feet. You wrapped your arms around his neck, giggling and ignoring the sweat that was transferring to your clothes. 

‘’You did it! It was unbelievable,’’ you said, your voice filled with emotions. ‘’You’re the best, baby. The absolute best.’’

—

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[pinkestofpanthers]

i wanna write for richie but i want to test out the waters and actually make sure people like what i write for him because i do have a work in progress for him at the moment...

besides the occasional game of uno, you did not play cards much. every single time someone tried to explain a card game to you, your mind went blank and you found it hard to follow along. and if there was another thing that was to be known about you, you could be a people pleaser at times. in part, it's the reason you're out in the back of the restaurant sitting on a milk crate. richie's right across from you, shuffling the deck of cards that he sneaks into his suit pocket for occasions like this.

this has become a ritual between the two of you. every thursday after closing, he calls over to you and mouths a "you down?". your response is always a big smile, which you didn't even think you could muster because of how late it always is. he grabs three milk crates. two serving as a seats for you and him, and one as your playing table. to thank him for always setting a seat for you, you bring two glasses of water out to the back.

it started on a particular thursday morning. richie strolls into the kitchen looking as giddy as you've ever seen him. he's waving around a box of bicycle brand playing cards and bragging about how eva won them in some sort of gift basket from school and she didn't want them.

"kid doesn't know what she's missing out on," he looks to ebra, who just clocked in for the day. "sometimes all i needed was a deck of cards. a good game of solitaire, rummy, even poker. won my first pack of smokes at fifteen from a game of spit."

"spit?" you looked back to the two men. you didn't even realize you spoke what you were thinking out loud. you catch richie's attention, and he lightly scoffs.

"you've never heard of spit?" it almost sounds like an insult coming from him.

"never even played. i'm not good with card games," you explained, smoothing out the small little wrinkles in your dress shirt. you had tried getting them out of your waitressing uniform the night before, but had no such luck.

"you know what? what about a quick game before we open? i promise i know this game like the back of my hand, i'll tech you in no time," he sounds so sure, like he could shuffle and deal the right amount of cards in his sleep. as you're about to respond, carmy busts out from the walk-in, yelling about how there's only twenty minutes to open and everyone should start prepping their stations. he motioned to you and richie,

"you two, get out front. and no card games!" he shouted, and you both mutter out a "yes chef".

"come find me after closing, i'm gonna school your ass," he whispered as he held the door open for you.

and that's how you're here, week after week without fail. you feel a bit bad because you haven't necessarily gotten the hang of the game yet, and you don't want richie thinking you're not enjoying yourself. just being in his presence, having him acknowledge you and take the time to really teach you how to play, it warms your heart. it makes you feel a way that you want to say is strictly platonic. you feel there might be something there for you two, but you just chalk that up to you being delusional.

you're so close to the end of your game. this is probably your fifth or sixth round, you seriously lose count every single time you two play. richie has three cards left and you only have two. you don't have high hopes because there's been times you've been left with one card and richie won regardless. you've only won two games, and you didn't really win them. richie just made you win, and that made you feel a certain way too.

you stare at his cards. he has one queen of hearts, a two of hearts, and an eight of diamonds. you have an ace of spades and a two of clubs. you could win, if the next card drawn made you lucky enough. richie looks to you, eyebrow raising and hovering his hand over the deck placed to his right.

"come on, hit me, richie!" you both laugh as he turns over the next card, revealing an ace of hearts. richie lets out an "ooh" as he placed down his two of hearts. that's all he can do, and you realize this is truly the game where you finally get your first real win. you start to laugh to yourself as you place down your final cards and leave richie stunned.

"holy shit," he blurted out, double-checking the cards you placed down to make sure there wasn't some kind of mistake. you hated the way it made you giggle, it made you feel like a little girl.

"you didn't make me win this time, did you?" you accuse him, making him hold his hands up in defense.

"i had nothing to do with this, sweetheart. did this shit all on your own," he chuckled and collected the cards and gave them one more shuffle. you never let him know, but you love it when he calls you that. you wish he would only call you that, but you know it's a term of endearment he uses on everyone. sugar, sydney, and even carmy (that only happens when they're yelling at each other in the back). you wonder if one day he could call you something else, a nickname he had just for you.

"now that you've gotten your actual first win, maybe we can try another game. i'm thinking blackjack next, but the cards are in your favor," he cringes at his own joke but you do find some humor in it.

"what about poker? it's a card game everyone knows about, i just don't know how to play it," you look at him and he nods.

"we can do that. i don't play it much anymore. i think last time i played was when me and mikey tried impressing this girl. she turned it into a game of strip poker, though," he explained, packing the cards back into their box.

"well, i wouldn't mind doing that," you don't know what came over you, really. your eyes widened by your own comment, you hope he thought you were just referring to poker itself, not strip poker.

"then we better move it somewhere inside, then. your place or mine?" he winks at you and you know you have him right where you want him.

a/n: please i hope this reaches the right people & my richie girls are able to enjoy this :) if anyone is interested in the richie fic i have completed like 25% of, let me know!

[ashensgrotto]

Never Had a Friend (Like Me) - Part 2

Original art piece by pfbatakopd on twitter (Used only for Header. Do NOT REPOST ORIGINAL ART)

Part 1 Part 2 (You Are Here) Part 3

YandereSoulmate! AU:

Part 1 (Am I Feeling Love?)

Part 2 (Protective)

Part 3A & Part 3B (Poor Unfortunate Souls)

Characters: Azul Ashengrotto X F!Reader

Word Count: 9,105

Synopsis: A chance for redemption comes in the form of a wish…

Author’s Notes: Ok, here we go. I received an anonymous message in my inbox for the next part of the Yandere!Soulmate series and I was actually going to work on it - but with the arrival of GloMas, working on the next part of ‘Raison D’être,’ wanting to finish “Weren’t You Aware, Angelfish?”, AND the holidays, time got away from me and I forgot about Scarabia’s segment for a short while. 

However, because you all seem to enjoy this and want to know if the tako has redeemed himself - I figured I would work to get this part done. Now, warning - Pompefiore’s part is going to take a bit of time to complete because I will have to wiggle my way through my memory bank and replay a few parts of it (which is approx 76 chapters in length for those players who haven’t made it that far into the game yet) since I’m working so deep into Ignihyde’s chapter right now (which is a doozy - I’m still in chapter 67-tower 1, oof help).

This one is also going to be split into three parts - I promise it will not be a long wait for the second & third parts as this is my Christmas gift to all of my readers <3

Thank you all for your continued support!

Warnings are as follows: yandere behaviors, manipulation, imprisonment, & hypnosis

***

… Mister Kalim, sir, have a wish? Or two? Or Three?

I’m on the job, you big nabob.

You ain’t never had a friend like me.

***

“Well done, Jade,” Azul praised, “How did the ‘talk’ with Kalim go?”

It was the first night of being in Scarabia in the vacant room the Grim and (Y/N) had originally been held hostage in. Apparently, it was routine in Scarabia to have all of the students locked within their dorm rooms - hence the reason as to why the concept was foreign to both Grim and (Y/N) as the two of them never felt the need to lock their doors at night (though Azul did while (Y/N) had lived in Octavinelle for security purposes - but he would never tell her to begin with.)

True to his word, Azul started sniffing around straight away, using Jade to talk to Kalim while he and Floyd distracted Jamil with a game of mancala.

“It was just as you expected, I’m afraid,” Jade answered, placing his hands behind his back as he gave his report, “It’s very likely that Kalim is being magically mind-controlled to make him act out erratically.”

“That would explain the sea otter’s rapid changes in behavior,” Floyd nodded in agreement.

“But how is that even possible?” Grim asked.

“Grim, that’s like asking how you can stomach twenty cans of tuna in twenty minutes,” (Y/N) answered, looking toward the trio, “I’m assuming it’s similar to your ultimate magic, Jade.”

“To an extent, yes,” Jade nodded in agreement, “The closest you might get would be with Ruggie’s ‘Laugh with Me.’ That ultimate magic allows Ruggie to manipulate a person’s body to do what he wants them to. There’s also hypnosis magic that works in the same sense, but it takes control of a target’s mind and requires a far higher degree of skill and power. Very few mages are even capable of using it because of the amount of skill required to even cast it.”

“You gotta have skills and power on par with Azul for that,” Floyd added.

“But even I would be hard-pressed to control living creatures with their own egos like humans,” Azul argued, “I still prefer to give them the chance to think it over before signing one of my deals.”

“But I doubt anyone in Scarabia is half as good as you, Azul,” Grim piped up, “Even Kalim’s big signature is just a glorified waterspout…”

“Grim, ‘Oasis Maker’ is a very talented frame of magic,” (Y/N) sighed, looking at the others, “Though, I do agree… even Jamil’s score levels are relatively average on the school’s grading scale.”

“I wouldn’t be too hasty to make assumptions,” Azul chidded, “There’s an old saying in the sea that we have in the sea which states ‘a clever hawk hides its talons.’”

“So the brings us to the big question, who’s controllin’ sea otter and why?” Floyd asked.

“I’m afraid I won’t be much help there,” Jade shook his head, “I couldn’t get any answers from him.”

“Speaking of which,” (Y/n) asked suddenly, “What exactly… does your signature spell do?”

“Oh? Have you seen it before?” Grim asked curiously.

“Only once - I think we had a patron at the lounge that was behaving quite, um… indecently?” you admit, “It was like he suddenly just spilled what was on his mind as soon as Jade got close to him.”

Jade sighs, “My unique magic is one that would make most people guarded around me if they knew what it did, specifically - I’m not a fan of revealing it, but (Y/n) hit it pretty hard on the nose. It’s called ‘Shock the Heart’ - it allows me to force the truth out of a target that might be hiding something. The drawback is that the spell can only be used once on a target - once I use it, I can’t use it on them again, and it only works on those with a weak mental vulnerability or loosely guarded minds. Those like Azul who are weary, or have high resistance to magic, are effective against the spell - hence my signature spell is very limited in scope.”

“It works great on guys cowerin’ in fear or bawlin’ like babies,” Floyd grinned, showing off his row of sharp teeth.

“The way those two smile scare the daylights outta me,” Grim looked at you, “I still can’t believe you lived with these three for three months!”

“They’re not that bad,” you mumble under your breath, “...mostly.”

Azul coughed, “Jade, what were you able to find out? If anything?”

“Kalim’s always been the type to open up to others - it’s one of the reasons why he was selected to be the headwarden. Thus, my spell worked on him flawlessly - however, when I asked him if he knew the name of the student using hypnosis magic on him and if he would tell me, he claimed that he must never tell anyone. He made some sort of promise to this student long ago, so he couldn’t reveal it.”

“Oh how hysterical!” Azul snorted, “Your signature spell was thwarted by Kalim’s strength of character!”

“It would seem that way,” Jade admitted.

“And here I thought the sea otter would sing like a canary,” Floyd hit his hand over his forehead, “Just when you think you know a guy!”

“...I would assume that it’s a promise he keeps close to his heart,” you think out loud.

Azul looks at you, eyes widening, “(Y/N)! You genius angelfish! That’s it!”

“What’s it?” you ask.

“I have an idea,” Azul answered, “I have a hunch at who our little serpent schemer is… and how to pull him out of hiding, but first - Floyd, I’ll need your help.”

“My help?” Floyd looked flabbergasted.

“Yes, I need to borrow your signature spell.”

Jade, Floyd, Grim, and you blinked in surprise.

“Azul, pardon me for asking,” Jade spoke after a moment of stunned silence, “but why in the world are you asking for Floyd’s ‘Bind the Heart’?”

“Because I intend on using myself as bait,” Azul answered.

“Azul! You can’t!” you could contain yourself at the thought of Azul stepping in harm’s way.

“(Y/n), listen to me,” Azul took your hand, “This won’t be like the last time, I promise. I’m one of the strongest mages here right now, so I have to do this. Floyd’s ‘Bind the Heart’ will allow me the protection from hypnosis when we have to face off against our little viper. I don’t intend on him gaining control over anyone any longer - not even you.”

“I hate to admit it, but Azul is right,” Floyd answered, scratching the back of his head, “As much as I hate to admit, it would give us an advantage as well.”

“What do you mean, Floyd?” Jade asked.

“I’m always goin’ off about how great my signature spell is an’ showin’ it,” Floyd shrugged his shoulder, “So, if I swap something with Azul an’ give him my signature spell - no one will know that he has it, least of all our target.”

“But you’ll have to feign ignorance, all of you,” Azul answered, “If you can’t, this trap won’t work - this is the one shot we have.”

“Alright, though I’m not really seeing where this is going…” Grim sighed, resting his paws on his hips.

“You will eventually, Grim,” Azul answered, “Now, Floyd. Are you ready? I’ll give you something that will be an adequate replacement for the time being.”

“Sure, octy - whenever you’re ready.”

“How many times must I…? Never mind.”

Azul closed his eyes and took a deep breath as magic began to gather around him.

“The song ceases, the sun sets… I extend my benevolent hand to you poor unfortunate souls… Now, to business! It’s a Deal!”

***

Azul always knew how to practice patience - it was something he learned over the years during his searches for his soulmate. He may have been desperate during his childhood years, searching every day and night for that special someone that was destined to stay by his side, but that didn’t change the fact that he was preparing for this moment specifically.

All day, Azul kept one eye on his target, watching them as he, Floyd, and Jade began to slowly rile him up with their constant assistance toward Kalim - helping the Scarabia housewarden with memorization spells, training routines, and homework that had been assigned over the holiday weekend, keeping him busy and away from the one person who was to be held responsible for the mess the dorm was now in. By mid-afternoon, the trap was set and Azul walked down the hall towards the kitchens with the suspect beside him.

“The students' completion rate for these assignments is up fifteen percent from yesterday,” Azul commented amicably, “Those are some statistically significant results, in my opinion. Believe it or not, (Y/N) and Grim both told me that Kalim was going through some rough patches, his mood swings pretty drastic - even compared to Floyd’s… but he’s been acting pretty calm since we arrived. Isn’t it wonderful that Kalim’s regained the faith of Scarabia’s students, Jamil?”

“...No. No, it isn’t,” Jamil hissed quietly.

“It’s not?” Azul feigned surprise.

“No offense, but I can’t let you people stay in Scarabia any longer,” Jamil stopped and glared at Azul hard, “It’s time you went back under the sea.”

‘Got you,’ Azul thought before asking, “Where did this come from, Jamil? Have I done something to offend you?”

“...You made eye contact with me. Fool,” Jamil’s wicked grin spread across his features, “The one you behold is your master. When I ask you a question, you will answer. When I give you a command, you will assent. Snake Whisper.”

Azul felt the magic coiling around him, a small murmur of ‘Bind the Heart’ rejected the magic - now… it was time to play.

Azul feigned pain until he could see you and Jade hiding out of the corner of his eye, making sure that the two of you could see everything - his cell phone held securely in Jade’s grip as the stream began. He feigned falling into Jamil’s magic, opening his eyes to reveal Jamil’s control over his mind and body. He slightly slumped his shoulders, giving the illusion that he was no longer in control.

As he did so, Jamil began to rant - playing right into the octomer’s hands

“Because of you, all my carefully laid plans have gone up in smoke! All I needed was a little more nudging from those two dimwits and the students would’ve kicked Kalim out,” Jamil growled, “Do you have any idea how much painstaking effort I put into laying the groundwork for that?”

Azul did not respond, though he wanted to give a few choice words to Jamil about calling his sweet angelfish a ‘dimwit’ - but he would have to wait for that.

“Azul - you returned all your contractually stolen powers back to their rightful owners recently, right?” Jamil asked suddenly.

“Yes, master,” Azul responded, thinking, ‘Where are you going with… ah, I see…’

“Tch. So much for using you as my own personal genie of the lamp,” Jamil scoffed, reaching up and rubbing his chin, “Your unique magic is quite a valuable asset… but it would be hard to keep you controlled long-term.”

“Master,” Azul’s voice spoke up, “I remember the contents of the contracts.”

“What?” Jamil looked at Azul in surprise.

“I remember all the secrets of the people I made contracts with - their troubles, their weakness, their desires.”

“What a… twisted collection. I see I made the right choice not to make friends with you,” Jamil smiled cruelly, “Tell me, does this intellectual cache of yours include the headmage’s secrets?”

Azul grinned internally, baiting Jamil even more, “Of course, master. I know one thing he would never want others to learn. Do you wish to know his secret?”

“Oh, abso-lutely!” Jamil’s smile broadened, “Once I have the headmage’s weakness in my grasp, I’ll finally be free. I’ll kick Kalim out of school and become Scarabia’s housewarden myself!”

“... And there we have it.”

Azul watched, a knowing smirk appearing on his face as Jamil whipped around to face Jade, his face contorted in confusion.

“So you finally show your true colors!” Grim pressed his paws onto his hips as he glared up at Jamil from between you and Jade, “I bet you thought you were real slick, pullin’ the wool over our eyes!”

“H-how… how much..?”

“All of it,” you answered, “Start to finish.”

“And live streamed to the world from Azul’s smartphone,” Jade waved the phone at Jamil as footsteps entered the hallway with many Scarabia students appearing, “Azul’s Magicam livestream presently had five thousand active viewers. It’s currently trending under the topic: ‘A Certain Magicians’ School’s Dirty Little Secret’.”

Voices began echoing around Jamil, the students of the Scarabia dorm demanding to know the truth and why Jamil - their own vice warden - would deceive them.

“Y-you… you’ve got it all wrong!” Jamil shouted, his fear and apprehensiveness growing.

“Don’t even try to talk your way out of this one,” Jade folded his arms across his chest, “The mind control magic you used on Azul is hard evidence.”

Everyone looked at Azul - who kept his silent slumped state, continuing to pretend to be under Jamil’s magic still.

“Jamil, it’s been you all along,” Jade continued, pulling everyone’s attention back to him, “You’ve been using your signature spell on Kalim and making him throw Scarabia into chaos!”

Jamil tsked, smearing, “I was trying to avoid escalating matters, but you leave me no choice - Azul, I command you! Subdue and restrain them all!”

“Yes, master,” Azul answered, taking a step forward.

You took a step back with Jade, Grim darting behind you as you looked at Azul pleading, momentarily forgetting that Azul wasn’t really under Jamil’s power, “Azul, no. You don’t want to do this. Please! Snap out of it!”

“Pleading with him won’t help you, (Y/N)!” Jamil laughed, “He’s my loyal minion now.”

‘And… now,’ Azul took another step forward, before spinning around and pointing his cane at Jamil, “You wish I was.”

“What?!”

Azul looked over his shoulder and winked at you, relieved to see your smile as he turned his attention back toward Jamil, “You told me the funniest thing earlier - allow me to return the favor. You think I’m an arrogant mage, but you were sorely mistaken. An embarrassing misjudgment for the vice warden of Scarabia - the dorm that is supposed to embody the spirit of mindfulness.”

“I know I made eye contact with you! I had you in my control!”

“Please, I’m a competent mage and you know it,” Azul frowned, keeping his cane pointed at Jamil, “I always prepare for the eventualities before I act - right Floyd?”

“I think you let your guard down a little too soon there, sea snake,” Floyd appeared, his voice sounding more baritone than before - almost like a tuba was speaking.

Azul snickered softly as your eyebrows raised up into your hairline, “That’s… what you exchanged with Floyd for his signature spell?”

“Pretty cool, huh?” Floyd said with a grin.

“Shall I explain it?” Azul asked, keeping his focus on Jamil, “In exchange for a vocal adjustment, Floyd gave me his unique magic, ‘Bind the Heart’ - it jams or blocks an opponent’s magic and diverts it elsewhere. Hence - I used it to evade your mind spell, then pretended to be in your hold and got you to spill your intentions while you gloated.”

Jamil gritted his teeth, glaring at them as Kalim appeared, the housewarden asking politely to tell him that it was true, that Jamil would never do anything like that, that it was just blackout spells because of how tired he was. But the silence from the vice warden was short-lived.

Azul felt you stiffen beside him, your hand suddenly gripping Azul’s overcoat, “(Y/N)? What’s wrong?”

You met his gaze and Azul knew.

An overblot was approaching.

He turned to Jade and Floyd, “Jade, Floyd, ready yourselves.”

“The one you behold is your master… When I ask you a question, you will answer. When I give you a command, you will assent! Snake Whisper!”

At Jamil’s command, the Scarabia dorm turned on its guests and its headwarden.

Azul was quick to pull you and Grim behind him as a shield of water protected the three of you from a rain of fire, “Mediocre, nothing! He’s easily one of the top mages in the entire school - to say nothing of Scarabia.”

Floyd grumbled, “I keep squeezin’ em but they keep gettin’ back up - are they zombies or somethin’?”

“That’s just part of ‘Snake Whisper’,” you explain, as if your eyes are seeing the internal workings of the spell, “It forces a target to continue to obey the commands - like a puppet on a string. Even though they might feel pain and are internally trying to avoid as well as fight the spell, their minds and bodies are not completely their own anymore.”

“Jamil! Please stop!” Kalim begged as he blocked an attack, “You can have what you want! You can be the housewarden! I’ll go home to my family!”

“What? You thought that would work? My spell won’t be broken so easily,” Jamil snickered as black ink and heavy energy surrounded him, “Not as long as you exist in this world… Kalim.”

“Jamil! You’re courting danger!” Jade begged, eyes widening, “If you keep using your signature spell, you’ll exceed you blot tolerance-”

“SHUT UP AND DON’T ORDER ME AROUND!”

The air became heavy as a dark shadow came over Scarabia. Azul pulled you closer as several dark shapes began to shift - the housewarden of Octavinelle watching in horror as a creature appeared before them. Hovering above the ground in ancient Viziar garb of black and red was Jamil, cloaked in darkness with hair that now took on the shapes of small black vipers - a dark shadow that took on the form of a dark genie hovering behind him, as if awaiting his command.

“He’s overblotted!” Azul gritted his teeth, “The negative energy is swelling up… Everyone! Steel yourselves!”

“I have no need for an incompetent king or a con artist,” the twisted voice of Jamil spoke, “Your personality flaws give me ADEQUATE cause… to send you packing on a one-way trip to the ends of the earth! So long! Ex-Housewarden Kalim! A-hahahahaha!”

The next thing Azul knew, he was airborne.

[cafeacademia]

𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐬

𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐭 𝐌𝐮𝐫𝐝𝐨𝐜𝐤 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Matt's interest in chess leads you to surprising him one rainy, autumnal Sunday with a blind accessible chessboard and he's more than excited to learn how to play.

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: Mostly flirty couply stuff, fluff, a couple of mildly suggestive comments but nothing in detail.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: Approx 800

𝐌𝐲 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 | 𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: Hello! This is my first Matt Murdock fic. I have no idea if this is OOC for him, I've been wanting to write for Matt for a long time but I always find it difficult to write for characters I've never written for before. Please let me know what you think? I hope the anon that requested this enjoys and thank you so much for requesting, honestly this was one of the cutest requests ever and I couldn't wait to write it!

Matt was almost giddy, which was unusual for him. Not only was this date spontaneous on your part, but he’d really not expected the level of thought that you had put into this.

“What is this?” He asked, a laugh on his voice as he smiled brightly. You sat opposite him on a rainy Sunday morning inside of a warm, cosy and largely quiet cafe. There was a storm outside, the autumn leaves thick with rainwater as they piled up against the edges of the pavements and porches in a myriad of orange and red hues. In front of him was a latte and you had your own coffee too. But between you on the table was a chessboard.

“Well, I remember what you said not long after we met.” You began. “You were impressed by my amazing chess skills.” You teased. “And you said you wished you could play.” “Oh, absolutely.” He chuckled, bowing his head in amusement. “Well, I found a blind accessible chessboard online and I wanted you to be able to enjoy it with me.” You told him truthfully, all teasing and joking gone from your tone. Matt’s smile softened, hands reaching across the table to find yours. “You are too sweet, way too sweet to be my girlfriend.” He grinned. You only heated at his comment, but Matt sensed your shyness and took your hand in his. “Come on sweetheart, teach me how this works.”

“Alright,” You said, holding his hand in yours and guiding it to the chessboard. “The board has two colours of squares. One is black and the other is white. The black squares are indented.” You explained, letting him feel across the board to identify the grid pattern. “The pieces are all on pegs, so each square has a hole they can fit into.” You tell him, watching as he curiously lands on a pawn and pulls it out of the board. “All of the pieces are textured so you can tell which one is which. Mine have raised bits on the top and yours are smooth, so you can tell if it’s an enemy piece or not.” You explain and he takes it in, nodding and reaching over to get a feel of the pieces on your side of the board.

“What do you think so far?” You asked. “You really did this for me.” He’s soft now, cheeks glowing with warmth, his smile reaching high up to his eyes. “Of course, Matty.” You said. “Sweetheart,” He paused, taking your hand in his and lifting it to his lips, leaving a kiss on your hand. “What the hell did I do to deserve you?” “Hmm I don’t know but I think it has something to do with being a flirt.” You giggled and watched as Matt fell into a relaxed laugh. “Okay, okay, tell me how to play, baby.”

For the next twenty minutes, you held a tutorial game, where you did your best to slowly teach him how to play a game of chess using the new board and allowing him plenty of time to get used to the layout and how the pieces moved. Matt, unsurprisingly got the hang of chess, the pieces and their movements within a couple of tries.

“You know, for a guy who's never played before, you run a tough game.” You told him as you played through your first proper game. “That’s just beginner’s luck, sweetheart.” Matt chuckled, a proud smile tugging at his lips. “Are you sure you’ve never played before?” You asked. “I’m sure, baby. But I’ve got a good teacher.” “Oh really?” You giggled softly. “Tell me about that.” “Well, she’s got the prettiest voice I’ve ever heard, she bought me a chess board I can use, she’s super sweet and I think I want to take her out to dinner tonight.” He gave you a devilish grin and you couldn’t help but become shy and giggly over his statement.

The storm grew worse outside as you started another game, but as the morning went on, a couple of hot drinks later and you were convinced Matt was now going to get this chessboard out as much as possible because every time you finished a game, he was eager to begin another.

“Sweetheart, will you come over tonight?” You paused, drinking some of your coffee before you spoke. “I’d love to.” “When the storm dies down and bit, we should head to mine and get comfortable. I’d like to listen to some classical music while we play.” “Chess?” You asked. “Yeah, something like that.” The devilish grin made its way onto his lips again and you felt your cheeks heat intensely. What a tease.

@megantje123

[canirove]

Rice, Rice, baby | Chapter 15

Author's note: You don't want to miss this week's chapters 👀

Previous chapter | Next chapter

Masterlist

It's been three months. Three months, twelve days and twenty hours (yes, I've counted them) since I slapped Declan's face and told him I didn't want to see him again. But today that is over, because the national team is coming back to Tottenham training centre, and I'll have to face him again.

The phase of feeling like there is a hole in my chest and crying with everything is over. But am I ready to see him and those stupid blue eyes of his, to hear his loud laugh, and to smell his perfume everywhere around me? I am not. At all. 

But oh, well.  

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

“What do you mean he isn't coming?”

“He picked up some kind of injury on the last game. Not sure what, tho, I don't understand those things” Olga says. “But he apparently is going back to Arsenal so he can rest.”

“Thank God” I sigh.

“You look so relieved, Liv” she laughs.

“Well, how would you feel if you were about to see again the guy you fell in love with and who broke your heart, and had to put on a smile on your face and make him coffee as if nothing had happened because otherwise you could be losing your job?”

“I don't think they would fire you for not smiling at him.”

“Yeah, but for dropping a boiling coffee on his precious feet…”

“Oh my God, Liv” she gasps. “I know he was a dick and I hate him for what he did to you. But would you do something like that?”

“Maybe” I shrug.

“Olivia!” she gasps again.

“I was kidding, it was just a joke. Relax.”

Though maybe I wasn't 100% kidding. Because I think this is the new phase I'm in. Violence. Rage. Wanting to hurt him as badly as he hurt me.

“I hope so” Olga says, giving me a worried look. 

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

“Bloody hell” I curse when half the boxes of napkins I'm carrying end up on the floor.

“Let me help you” a voice says next to me.

“It's ok, don't… worry” I say, looking up at the owner of that voice and getting lost in the most beautiful blue eyes I've ever seen. Declan. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Uh?”

“Weren't you injured?”

“Yes.”

“Then?”

“They want to run some tests before I leave tomorrow.”

“Oh, good. The sooner the better. And I can do this myself, I don't need your help.”

“Liv, please…”

“No” I say, snatching one of the boxes from his hand and starting to walk away. 

“Liv, c'mon. I just want to talk.”

“And I already told you I don't want to talk to you ever again. Besides being a liar, are you also deaf now?”

“Liv…”

“Stop saying my name, Declan. You are gonna wear it off.”

“I'm sorry.”

“Yeah, sure” I snort. 

“I am, Olivia. If you'll let me explain myself…”

“I said no, Declan. And now if you'll excuse me, I have work to do” I say, turning around and walking into the cafeteria, taking big breaths to calm myself and not kick something or start crying again. Or both.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

“See you tomorrow, Liv” Olga says before getting into her car.

“Bye” I smile back. 

It's already dark outside, the car park full of puddles from the rain. And I'm so busy trying to not step on one of them while also looking for my keys inside my bag, that I don't see the person standing next to my Mini until he talks to me.

“Hello, Liv.”

“Holy mother of Jesus!” I scream, my bag falling from my hands and ending on a puddle. “What the fuck are you doing here, Declan?”

“I want to talk with you” he says, picking up my bag.

“Again? Didn't I make myself clear earlier?”

“Yeah, but…”

“But you are stupid, I know. And now look, my best bag is ruined because of you” I say, snatching it from his hands just as I did with the napkins. It is soaking wet.

“At least your phone wasn't inside” he shrugs.

“What a relief, uh?” I say, walking around him and opening the car's door, throwing my bag inside.

“Liv, it'll be just a minute. Please let me…”

“No, Declan! I don't want to hear your excuses! I'm done with you! Why can't you understand it?”

“Because I… Liv…”

“Because I… Liv…” I repeat, making fun of him. “Don't you have somewhere else to be? Like texting that singer or one of those other girls you are sleeping with to let them know you will be free tomorrow?”

“Liv…”

“For the love of God, stop saying my name!” I say, lifting my arm to slap him like I did at his house. But like happened the second time, he grabs it before I can touch him.

“I probably deserved that” he says, closing the space between us.

“You definitely did, yes.”

“I was a dick.”

“You are a dick” I correct him, trying to stay focused on being mad at him. But it isn't easy. The way he is looking at me is making my heart beat too fast, my knees are already feeling like jelly as he keeps moving closer, and my skin is burning where his fingers are touching me.

“Liv…” he whispers, his free hand moving to my face, caressing my cheek.

“Stop saying my name, Declan.”

“I can't.”

“You…” He is too close. So close that I can smell his perfume everywhere around me, surrounding me, making me get lost on him. Fuck. Shit. No. “Declan…” I whisper.

And then, what I didn't want to happen, happens. 

At first he just brushes his lips against mine, something delicate, barely noticeable. But it is enough to send a wave of electricity through my whole body, making me shudder in his arms. And when he properly kisses me, I'm gone. My arms move on their own, wrapping around his neck, pulling him closer to me. Which only makes his kisses more intense, more desperate. We are kissing as if our lives depended on it, as if we needed each other to breathe. And that doesn't stop when I open my car's back door and we both get inside. When clothes start leaving our bodies, the little space turning us into a tangle of limbs, pushing us against the other as close as it is humanly possible, gasps, moans and other unholy noises leaving our mouths. 

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

“Liv, this just came for you” Alex says, leaving a big package on the table where Olga and I are having lunch.

“Who is sending me something here?” I ask with a confused look.

“I don't know” he shrugs, sitting down next to us.

“Open it, Liv!” Olga says. 

“Ok” I say, doing as she's asked.

“Oh… my God. Did you buy yourself a designer bag?” she says when she sees the box.

“I didn't, no.”

“Then who sent this?”

“I… I don't know” I say, slowly opening it.

“Liv! That's the bag you've been wanting for ages! How many times have we gone to Harrods just to stare at it?” 

“Too many” I chuckle.

“Does it say who has sent it?” Alex asks.

“There is a note, yes” I say, taking it and reading it while Olga marvels at the bag.

“You once told me that you were in love with this bag, that you would go to Harrods with your friends and stare at it wishing it was yours. Well, guess what. Now it is. Hope it makes up for the one I ruined the other night. -DR ”

“And?” Alex asks again. “Who sent it?”

“Kennedy.”

“Madders’ wife got you a designer bag?”

“She says she got invited to do some free shopping, was able to choose whatever she wanted, remembered that I was feeling a bit down, and…” I shrug.

“They gifted her a designer bag?” Olga gasps, totally buying my lie.

“They gave her a budget and it was the same amount of money as the bag.”

“Wow. The life of a wag” she laughs. “I want friends like that too. This is so nice…”

“It is” I smile. 

“Olga, we need you” one of our coworkers says.

“Coming” she sighs. “Will you let me try it on later?”

“Of course.”

“Urgh, you are the best, Liv” she says, giving me a hug before leaving.

“Kennedy's last name is Rice now?” Alex says.

“Uh?”

“You may fool Olga, but not me. I know he sent you that bag. Are you back together? Did you forgive him?”

“No and no.”

“Then?”

“Then what, Alex?”

“Then why did he buy you that bag?”

“Because it is over. It is like a goodbye gift.”

“A goodbye gift?” he laughs.

“Yes. Now if you'll excuse me” I say, getting up and taking the bag and the package with me.

Even though Declan and I haven't talked again since what happened in my car, we both know what it meant: it was a goodbye. One that hurts and that neither of us wanted if we only think about what we were feeling that night, but that was the right thing to do.

[rhiannswork]

l. kennedy || an extra shot of espresso

warnings: i might’ve written leon as a caramel macchiato kinda guy idk, umm idk what else, leon being a little awk, yn being a lil weird idk. if i missed anything, lmk!

"here's your light iced americano and a delicious blueberry scone. have a wonderful day," you beamed as you graciously presented the chilled coffee and pastry to the well dressed woman. with a swift nod of gratitude, she accepted the offerings, mouthing a swift "thank you," and proceeded to take them from your hands.

you glanced out through the glass windows, keeping an eye on everyone passing by. you were on the lookout for that guy who used to show up at the shop like clockwork, but it's been a good three weeks since you last saw him around.

every time he visited the café, he'd place an order for the exact same thing. it was all part of a little game you played, pretending to forget just to have the delight of hearing his charming voice, again and again.

the evening was growing late, and you were getting ready to close things up in about ten minutes. your coworker had already punched out an hour prior to closing, which left you all on your own.

with your manager being out sick, he knew he could rely on you. so, you stepped up. you grabbed the money tray from the register and headed to the back to begin counting the money.

the doorbell chimed with that familiar jingle. "hey, sorry, but we're just about to close. i've already shut down all the machines," you started to explain, but then your words trailed off as your gaze locked with his – leon. it felt like forever since you'd met eyes like that.

"bad timing?" he chuckled. "no, not at all! i kinda use that when i'm not in the mood to serve anyone. but for you, I'm more than happy to. don't worry."

"aw, thanks," you practically melted on the spot. "well, you already know my usual," he chuckled, stepping closer to the counter and fishing out his wallet.

"yeah, but i like hearing it from you," you hummed, tapping in his order. in your head, you couldn't help but think, 'did I really just say that?' your eyes shot up to meet his. "uh, i mean, sorry about that. yeah, um, a medium caramel macchiato with an extra shot of espresso and extra caramel."

all you could make out was a faint smirk on his face. "that'll be ei—" you began, but he cut you off. "eight twenty-seven, i know," he said, handing you a ten-dollar bill. you returned one dollar and seventy-three cents in change.

"keep it, my treat," he chuckled softly, gently placing the money back in your hand. his other hand slipped under yours, forming a cup as he poured the change back into your palm, as if it were delicate as water.

"wow, a whole dollar and seventy-three cents... all for me?" you grinned, playfully looking at leon's warm smile. you stashed the change in your apron pocket before heading over to switch the machines back on, letting them warm up once more.

“so, why are you here so late? you usually come here in the afternoon.” you attempted to make small talk, looking over at leon as you brewed the two shots of espresso.

"you even remember when I usually drop by?" he chuckled, crossing his arms. "yeah..." why do you keep blabbering? "i've been away for work stuff. just got back, luggage's still in the car," he shared, strolling around the café a bit, stretching his legs.

"—i've been missing you and the way you make my caramel macchiatos," leon chimed in. you grinned to yourself, adding a generous amount of vanilla syrup to the drink. "i'll make sure this one's just as special as the rest," you assured him.

the café lingered in silence for a moment until leon broke the quiet atmosphere. "so, when's your next day off?" your eyes widened at the question, caught off guard. you didn't quite know how to respond, but the question did raise your curiosity about his intentions.

"um, next tuesday," you replied, deftly drizzling caramel into the macchiato. "yeah? i was thinking maybe you'd want to come over to my place. i could cook something up for you, you know, since you’re always making those delicious macchiatos for me," leon stumbled over his words, appearing more disoriented than you'd ever seen him. then again, you hadn't really exchanged more than a few words with him before.

“i’ll consider it..." you smirked, finally capping the cup. grabbing a few napkins from the dispenser, you pulled out a sharpie from your pocket and jotted down your number.

“caramel macchiato with an extra shot of espresso and extra caramel for, leon.” you smirked, making sure the napkin with your number was visible. “thank you. sorry, i came so late, i wish i gotten here sooner.”

“don’t worry, you made my night.” you nodded, picking up the cash register tray once again. “same here… i guess i’ll call you then~”

“i guess so.”

[pedripics]

Pedri: "On the pitch I don't think; I do the first thing that comes into my head" | EL PAÍS Deportes - Translation

The Barca player breaks free in the Spanish national team, the team that is making waves at the Euros.

He seems shy, but he is not. In fact, he is one of those who spreads joy at Spain's training camp in Donaueschingen. And although he doesn't really enjoy interviews, Pedri González (Tenerife, 21 years old) is relaxed and fun. And he has a message for his team-mates: "I would like to say that Nico is very bad at Play". A state of mind that is reflected on the pitch, liberated as a midfielder in the Roja team that shines in Germany.

When was the last time you cried with laughter?

"Twenty minutes ago. We were in the gym and a physio took a big hit and it was… Someone's falls, someone else's bad feelings without the person actually hurting themselves, make me laugh a lot."

Are those the videos you get the most on TikTok?

"Falls, a lot of monkeys and food, especially chocolate. It's a bummer because I can't eat that. It's more than forbidden. They take everything away from me [laughs]. But if I win the Euro, before I go on holiday, I will eat chocolate."

Have you thought that it's been less than four years since you made your debut in La Liga?

"A lot of people say to me: 'It seems like ten years have passed'."

And how do you cope with the feeling of time passing?

"I certainly feel like a lot has happened because of the things I've learned. You're so into what you do, whether it's a World Cup or a European Cup, that when you want to start thinking, you're already in the next season."

What would you say to the 17-year-old Pedri who came to play for Barça B and ended up in Messi's team?

"That he enjoys the day-to-day and everything he does. It goes by very quickly when you think about it…. For a footballer the most important thing is to find what makes you good. In the beginning, for example, you don't have much idea about nutrition or what to do in a gym. But as you start to gain experience, you find what works for you."

Has it hurt you not to have trained at La Masia?

"It was different. Players who have been trained in La Masia are accustomed from a very young age to a certain type of work that other quarries do not do so much. For example, another thing that is not about the game is the interviews. At Barcelona, they've all practised, they've done a thousand with the club's television. But when you get caught out of the blue..."

Has everything happened too suddenly?

"And on top of that, they take away the good things you used to eat… [laughs]. But you adapt: it's your dream."

Have you talked to Lamine Yamal about these experiences?

"In the first few games of the EUROs I told him to be calm, to enjoy himself. I explained to him that if he did what he knew, he would do well. And we see how he does it."

Is it true that you are all day with Ferran Torres?

"Now a little less, because he plays Call of Duty and I'm very bad."

Has Ferran introduced you to his interest in mental health?

"Yes. One minute in ice water. He's been doing it for a year. He goes in every morning, before breakfast: ice water up to his neck and before getting out he also dunks his head in it. He got so annoying about it that he convinced me. And now I can't stop doing it. I've been doing it for three months now. It's good for my muscles, it wakes me up, it activates me. I recommend you try it."

With the number 10 in extinction, how do you feel in the position of playmaker instead of the interior?

"I'm closer to the danger zone. Everything I do has more relevance to the game. Also goals and assists, of course. On the other hand, when you are a bit further back you help to bring the ball forward. It's true that in today's football there are few coaches who use a playmaker. But there are many players with the qualities to play there. It's a position where I feel comfortable. I enjoy it."

Why?

"Because when you receive the ball you are already in a position to face the center backs, to shoot or to provide an assist. It is spectacular."

Did they play videos to show you how to move in that area?

"Yes, at the beginning. Luis [de la Fuente] told me that he wanted me to play in that position. He explained to me how I had to press, where I had to position myself when we had the ball. He showed me videos of other players from national team games. He wanted me to see the model of the game so that I could understand the playmaker's position. He also showed me videos of me at Barça to analyse what I needed to change and what he wanted me to improve."

Which players stand out for you?

"There are a lot of people. Wirtz has had a great season. Musiala, I've played against him, I like him a lot. You've seen the season Bellingham had. And I shared a dressing room with Grizi. He is a player I love."

Griezmann has reinvented his position a bit.

"Now he's like a false forward. He makes plays, scores goals, gives assists. He is super complete. When he was at Barcelona I laughed a lot. Very nice guy."

And when you were a child, who did you look up to?

"I looked up to Iniesta a lot. He didn't play in that 10 position, but he had the qualities to do it. In fact, he could play anywhere: as a winger, on the inside, on the outside. He had that ability to turn. David Silva also turned spectacularly. Players who know how to be between the lines, who know how to profile themselves to have an advantage over the opponent."

Is the twist the most important thing?

"With good control you can face the centre directly. If your back is turned, the midfield reaches you, you can't turn and everything becomes a bit more complicated."

How far in advance do you think about what you are going to do?

"When I'm on the pitch I don't think too much. I improvise. I shoot with the first thing that comes into my head. I know there are a lot of people who also visualise the gameplays or situations that can happen in a game. I don't do that. I prefer to go out on the pitch and do whatever comes out."

And what do you think about before the games?

"I try to be calm, I listen to the music playing in the locker room. Now we made a list with the teammates in which each one put a song. I put on Zero Hour by Myke Towers. It's good. At least nobody says to take it off when it's playing."

Did you like any of the other Euro teams?

"Germany is at a spectacular level. There are teams like England and France, who may not be playing a great role, but they have players who are going to get involved at any moment."

You don't see the title being only between Spain and Germany?

"Not at all. There are teams that are not playing at a good level, but they are going to do their best. There are people who say that you have to lose a game, look at the example of Argentina in the World Cup."

Is the player also winning?

"When you gain minutes you settle into the team. In a national team you don't know your teammates as much and you gain confidence. Surely we will improve"

You have arrived fresher, but without so much rhythm.

"When you don't have a competitive rhythm, it's noticeable. But when you have looser legs, you go all out. They always say that quality players don't have to run or defend, but I don't think like that. When everyone works, the team is better."

Do you finish games more tired than usual?

"No, I'm very well. Above all, because of the work I've done to get there. I have found something that has been very good for me."

What is it?

"A specific type of work for me. It's a secret [laughs]."

How do you get on with marketing?

"Well, I'm doing fine. At the beginning I didn't like it very much, but I've accepted it. The situation is worth it. It depends on what it is, I like it. There are some things that are more fun."

For example.

"When I take the photos for a campaign I get a bit lazy, but then when I see the result I like it."

When you arrive in a city and you see yourself on the posters, what do you think?

"Let's see if I look good [laughs]. My mother always passes them to me. The one in Doha was huge."

Who was the last person you made cry with laughter?

"I haven't made anyone here cry with laughter yet. But I will. I'm going to make Ferran Torres cry with laughter."

[palmofafreezinghand]

twilight advent calendar day twelve: What changes did the rest of the family see in Edward as he began to fall in love with Bella? (prompts here)

Early March 2005. 

Gesso. Ochre. Cadmium red. The routine had stayed the same for over forty years. 

A professor had once written about the warmth of her — well a male pseudonym’s — art, about the expert knowledge of color theory and keen observation skills, and how she — the male pseudonym — was arguably one of the most technically skilled artists of the century. Her husband had been thrilled by the recognition of what he had claimed to know for decades. She always suspected he was thrilled by the fact his vast collection of unreleased sketches and warmup paintings skyrocketed in value overnight. It was an amusing memory, a silly little compliment that had cemented her routine in fear of never reaching such recognition again. 

“Dr. Callaghan may have been wrong about the technique, but he was not wrong about your skill. You are one of the greats,” Edward’s voice came from the doorway. 

“How long have you been spying?” Esme asked. 

“Have you ever accepted a compliment?” 

“How can I help you, Edward?” 

“I do not need anything,” Edward responded, taking a seat in the armchair tucked in the corner of the studio, placed specifically for the two members of her family who insisted on keeping her company as she worked. “I only wished to watch you paint.” 

‘This will be good,’ Esme thought to herself, failing to bite back her sigh. At one point in their lives, Edward would have sincerely spent an afternoon sitting comfortably watching her paint. It had been at least ten years since he had last done this. 

“It has not been that long,” Edward said quietly. 

She flipped through her memory like a rolodex. Dozens of times she would drift into the living room while he played the piano only for him to excuse himself a few minutes later. Hundreds of invitations to accompany her on a hunt, or errand, or in a game of chess, all politely declined. The past month or so he had scarcely been home at all. 

“I have been a lousy son.” 

“I did not say that, dear.” It had been seventeen years since he referred to himself as her son in front of her, it had only been a year since he referred to himself as such in front of others. Edward winced at this thought and she mentally apologized. 

“You did not have to say it, it is true.” 

“I was simply surprised you are here, sweetheart, that is all.” 

“I wanted to watch you paint.” 

Esme smiled, getting up to fetch a new bottle of linseed oil. 

“And,” Edward continued after a moment. 

“Here we go,” Esme laughed. 

Edward rolled his eyes with a fond smile. It was a playfulness that was once hallmark to their relationship. She had not realized how much she had mourned it. 

“You were the one painting me, I presumed you would like a live reference.” 

“I have your face memorized, you know that.” 

“It appears I have been the subject of the week,” Edward said, standing and walking over to her desk that was littered with dozens of sketches and paintings of him. His unspoken question of why hung in the air. 

She did not say the answer aloud but instead thought of the element she had been trying to capture. She walked back to her desk and saw his finger lingering on one of the drawings’ dimples. 

‘It had been a while since I had seen that smile,’ she mentally explained. If she was truthful she had not seen him smile so brightly before, before he met… her. 

“I apologize I have been so morose lately.” 

“Lately as in the past twenty years?” Esme laughed, poking his arm. He shockingly laughed along. ‘I’m happy to see you so happy.” 

“Even if it means I am never home?” 

“Of course,” she smiled. “I was probably a rotten friend when Carlisle and I first started courting.” 

“You were an awful friend,” Edward chuckled. “You kept thinking of my father without his clothes on, it was traumatizing.” 

Esme smiled, attempting to keep her mind from wandering. 

“Esme,” Edward chided, crinkling his nose in disgust.  

“You brought it up,” she smiled, taking a seat at her desk once more. He walked back over to the arm chair, slinging his legs over one arm. 

They sat in peaceful quiet as she worked on the portrait, occassionally glancing over at him as she painted the face she knew too well. 

“Will you just ask already?” Edward eventually sighed. 

“I do not wish to pry,” Esme lied. She wished to pry very much and to know every detail about the girl who brought her son’s happiness back but she knew better. 

“Her name is Bella.” 

“I know that,” Esme grinned, spinning on her stool to face him. “Tell me everything else.” 

“She’s perfect. She loves Jane Austen,” Edward said, looking at the ceiling as if he did not know where to begin. “Her middle name is Marie…” 

Esme reached for her sketchbook and pencil as he spoke, not taking her eyes off his face. She barely glanced down at the paper as began to sketch her son absolutely beaming. 

He stopped after a minute, recgonizing the faces begining to form on her page. 

“Is that what I look like?” 

‘Only when you talk about her… and Liberace.’ 

“I should not be this happy. She is a human, this is not going to end well,” Edward started, the familiar frown returning between his brows. 

“Edward,” Esme sighed. “Can you allow yourself to be happy for once?” 

“How are you not worried?” 

“I know you will worry enough for the both of us,” Esme laughed, begining to refine her linework. 

“Your eternal optimism can be cloying at times.” 

“Do you wish to tell me you do not feel hopeful when you think of her?” 

“Not solely hopeful.” 

“But there is hope?” 

“Yes,” Edward admitted reluctantly yet immediately, a soft smile on his face. 

Esme grinned. “Will you please tell me more?” 

“She was born on September 13, 1987. Her favorite color is brown…” 

He was grinning as he spoke, allowing himself a rare moment to gush without worrying about the future and all the possibilities. Esme had to flip to another page of her sketchbook, it was difficult to capture his unadulterated joy accurately but she was quite grateful she finally had the opportunity to try.

[hockeyisit]

Halloweeennnn

Hi everyone! It's been a long long long time. I have been looking at my account and have been feeling inspired. Here's a halloween story I just wrote. Absolutely no editing done to this so for any mistakes I apologize.

“Papi, please take us trick or treating tonight,” 

I let out a sigh as I clicked my phone off. I had been scrolling through different costume ideas for the last hour and a half as I waited for Auston to arrive home from his game. The twins were in bed hopefully asleep as it was pretty late. Auston’s game had ended only twenty minutes ago. I tough loss that I knew would probably upset him. 

Halloween was just around the corner and they had many different ideas of what they wanted to be. At four years old they had a different idea every time we talked about it. The hockey party was coming up. I had already gotten Auston and I costumes for the adult party but was at a loss for what to get for the family party. 

I stretched out on the couch as I pulled the laptop on the table to me. I was looking for superhero costumes. Kai had mentioned wanting to be Captain America. Noah had been leaning towards Spiderman. I had no idea what I would do for Auston and my costume.

Felix let out a bark as he sat up from his place on the floor. The garage door opened and in walked Auston. Felix immediately hopped up and went to greet him. I slipped the laptop off my lap as I watched the two. 

“Hey babe,” Auston said as he took his shoes off. He made his way over to me and pressed kiss to my lips as he slipped into the seat next to me. He grabbed the laptop and let out a soft laugh.

“These costumes look fun,” he teased as he scrolled through them. I let out a groan as I relaxed back into the couch. 

“Talk to your kids and find us a costume,” I told him. He let out a laugh as he closed the laptop. He wrapped his arm around me. I leaned into his touch leaning up for another kiss. His fingers slipped into my hair tugging slightly, causing me to let out a light moan.

“I will.” He said when he pulled back.

“Seriously because I don’t know what to do and the party is tomorrow. Aus, I dont remember the last time I procrastanted like this,” I said truthfully. The party had me completely stressed, with the boys indecisiveness and Auston not helping. 

“Okay, I’m sorry babe. I will talk to them tomorrow, I promise.” 

I let out a deep sigh as I nodded my head. “I’m sorry about your game,” I said softly. Auston shrugged as he leaned into me again.

“It’s okay. Will get them next time, now lets go to bed.” 

He nudged me up from the couch and together we went up to our room to get ready for bed.

—---

“Mama, I want scrambled eggs.” 

“And I want bacon!!” Noah screamed.

“Okay coming right up,” I laughed as I grabbed the ingredients out of the fridge. Auston smirked as he pushed a cup of coffee towards me. I smiled gratefully as I took a sip. 

It was early morning and a rare one where Auston didn’t have to go into practice until later. We were all in the kitchen preparing lunch. Noah and Kai were sat at the table coloring while Auston stood at the counter watching me and the kids. Music was playing softly as I cooked.

Auston walked up to me and pressed a quick kiss to my lips before sitting with the boys.

“Hey guys.” Both boys stopped their coloring to look at Auston. “So you know how we have to go to this party for Papi’s work?” 

They both nodded their head. “Well we all need to come up with a halloween costume,” he continued.

“Can it be anything?” Noah asked. 

“That’s a hard question to answer,” Auston mumbled causing me to let out a soft laugh. I had finished the food so I started setting it down on the table. 

“Can we be our favorite breakfast foods?” Kai asked letting out a laugh as he reached for the eggs. I let out a loud laugh as I looked at him.

“What do you mean bud?” Auston asked reaching for the pancakes. I took another large sip of my coffee we waited for Kai to explain.

“Well I can be an egg, Noah can be bacon, Papi can be a pancake and Mama can be coffee.” 

I let out another laugh as I set my cup down. I felt a little called out. Auston laughed as he finished putting his food on his plate. 

“That’s a pretty funny idea bud.”

“Yes!! I want to be bacon!” Noah said excitedly. 

—--

After that it was surprisingly easy to put the costumes together. When we showed up to the party everyone loved the costumes.

[mia-tiny]

『 Enemy Wooyoung & Office Sex 』 | KTB ‘22

⇒ pairing: j. wooyoung x fem!reader

⇒ smut, hate sex, cocky enemy coworker wooyoung, office sex, unprotected sex (big no no), light spanking, dirty talk, use of “slut” and “whore,” questionable workplace activities

⇒ word count: 2.1k

💕 view my masterlist here

🖤 view my Kinktober ‘22 masterlist here

⇒ author’s note: finally got to watch YTC in Busan on rerun last night and Min Yoongi unalived me with every breath x.x. Also thinking about continuing this story after Kinktober if people enjoy it~

To say you are pissed off is an understatement. Your blood is boiling inside your veins and it wouldn’t be surprising if steam was truly coming out of your ears, all because of your fucking coworker Wooyoung. You two entered the company around the same time, so you’ve always been competing against each other for promotions and recognition, but beyond that, Wooyoung is also just a straight up asshole.

From shooting down your ideas to “accidentally” deleting some of your important files, he has almost done everything he can to fuck you over just so he can swoop in and save the day. And the worst part is that everybody else absolutely adores him. No one else sees or understands the shit he gives you, which only makes you look like a jerk when you start complaining about him.

Today, however, you have reached the breaking point.

Your day actually started really well. Your bus was on time, your coffee tasted just right, and you already had your project proposal finished and ready for presenting tomorrow. It wasn’t until twenty minutes ago that your mood did a full 180, and all because of that smug son of a bitch.

Wooyoung had apparently asked management if he could show his project proposal a day early only to then get up and present exactly what you had put together for tomorrow. Through the absolute shock that clouded your brain, you realized that he must have accessed your work through the shared folders used by the team and decided to entirely obliterate your last shred of sanity.

Your fists were shaking in rage throughout the never-ending ordeal, unable to speak up since you would only make yourself look worse. The fact that he kept glancing at your furious expression and smirking definitely did not help either. As soon as the meeting ended, you roughly grabbed his wrist, muttered an exasperated “we need to talk,” and dragged him away to one of the more secluded, and rarely used, conference rooms.

Now with him staring at you expectantly, you can’t even think of the words to describe your anger. You want to curse him out. You want to hit him. Honestly, you even want to get him fired from the company. But you are frozen solid in a state of absolute fury.

“Did you just bring me in here to stare at me? I mean, I know I’m attractive, but I’ve got work to attend to.” His arrogance never ceases to astound you, provoking your dramatically loud scoff and rolling eyes.

“You stole my proposal, jackass.” You cross your arms in a way that makes your cleavage even more prevalent, which Wooyoung takes immediate notice to, but he quickly regains his composure.

“You’re the one who put it in a shared folder. I don’t see how it’s my fault that I stumbled upon it,” he explains with a shrug, his nonchalant attitude making you fume even more.

“You know what, I’ve been relatively patient with you and your stupid fucking games, but I’ve had it! You think you’re all that because you’re handsome, people like you, and you can get away with shit by schmoozing your way around, but you are just a self-centered prick!” 

You expect Wooyoung to yell back, make a scene, taunt you for being so upset… But he just smiles as if this is going exactly how he planned. He takes a relaxed step towards you, prompting you to maintain your distance by backing up the same amount.

“So you think I’m handsome?” he purrs, the look in his eyes turning into that of a hunter about to pounce on its prey.

He continues strolling closer despite your attempt to back away, soon bumping against the edge of the conference table and having nowhere else to go. Determined to keep him from intimidating you, you collect yourself and fight to ignore the quickening rhythm of your heart.

“If that’s really all you heard, then I don’t know what else to say to you. Just stay away from me.”

He takes one final step to close the space between your bodies, your hands instinctively pressing against his chest as he leans his hips against yours, the bulge in his pants making your eyes widen in shock. An indisputable blush rushes to your cheeks as butterflies erupt in your stomach. You’ve never been this close to him before, close enough to feel the warmth of his body against yours or the lean muscles underneath his shirt. As angry as you are, his proximity has you feeling heated in a very different way from your usual disposition.

“Are you sure you want me to stay away?” He takes hold of one of your wrists and glides your touch down the curves of his abs. “Tell me that you really want me to stop, and I will.”

He finally settles your hand over his hard cock, squeezing your fingers around it so you can feel how big he is. Your legs subconsciously press together as you notice yourself getting wetter, your pussy aching for stimulation. You glance into his hungry eyes and the final semblance of rational thought that was left in your brain gets tossed to the curb.

The desire he has awakened in you takes over as you abruptly attach your lips with his, enveloping him in a frenzied kiss. He takes a few seconds to respond, but soon matches your salacious enthusiasm. His hand is then slipping under the waistband of your skirt and panties to rub at your clit, causing you to moan into his mouth.

Startled by the volume of your own voice, you momentarily remember that you are both at work and definitely should not be using the conference room for this kind of meeting. You pull back from Wooyoung’s face by a few inches, having to hold his head still with your hands when he attempts to lean in for more.

“Wait. What if someone comes in here?” you question in a sudden panic. There will be no way to escape the pink slip if you get found in this position. Wooyoung, however, seems entirely at ease.

“No one comes in here. Besides, the door is locked anyway.”

The feeling of his fingertips caressing your sensitive clit has you weak in the knees, your mind unable to keep a single train of thought as he uses your moment of hesitation to tug you back into his kiss. The second he does, you are once again wrapped up in overwhelming desire.

Wooyoung soon removes his hand from your heat, but before you have time to fuss about it, he is whipping you around and pushing your front half down against the table, his erection poking against your ass. You wiggle against him teasingly, causing him to let out a deep groan.

“Look at you, going around acting like you hate me just to let me bend you over a desk like a good little slut,” he sneers before aggressively tugging your skirt up so that it rests around your waist and pulling your underwear down just enough to expose your soaking cunt. The jingling of his belt lets you know he is undressing as well.

“Just shut up and fuck me already. I still despise you.”

Your smart-ass remark is immediately followed by a loud gasp as he shoves his entire cock deep inside you, stretching you out perfectly. Wooyoung chuckles at your reaction, knowing he clearly has the upper hand in this situation.

“Even if you hate me, your pussy sure doesn’t,” he purrs as your hole flutters around him in an attempt to accommodate his girth.

You have to clamp your own hand over your mouth to control your pitiful cries as he begins plowing into you from behind, his hands occasionally laying a sharp slap across your bottom that has you worrying if people can hear. The pleasure is too great to tell him to stop, though.

He roughly grabs you by the hips, using his strength to bounce you back on his dick in time with his sharp thrusts. The filthy sound of his hips smacking against your ass cut through the silence of the secluded room, a rhythm complemented by the melody of desperate pants and moans.

‘Of course he’s an expert at this as well,’ you think to yourself despite the thick fog of pleasure clouding your mind. ‘How annoying.’

A particularly hard thrust catches you by surprise and you unwillingly let out a piercing yelp that has Wooyoung grinning with pride. He has always longed to bend you over and turn you into a moaning mess on his cock, mostly just to prove how much power he has over you above all else.

When he had first noticed the way you were constantly pitting yourself against him and trying to outdo him in everything, he had been irked by the unnecessarily competitive behavior, but just assumed that you were a hard-working perfectionist. It didn’t take long, however, before he became increasingly frustrated with your dirty looks and dismissive attitude that were always directed only at him.

The fact that you were so uptight and so bothered by everything he did just made him want to irritate you more, the sight of you getting so worked up becoming his favorite form of entertainment. And what better way to rile you up than to have you submitting to him, giving into your own desires, and taking his cock despite the risk of getting caught in your own workplace?

At least, that was his mindset until he stepped into this room.

Even though he refused to show it, the way you dragged him in here and finally let out everything you’ve been thinking got him heated for you in a very real way that he hadn’t noticed before. And now, with your body splayed out and pussy clenching around him, he can’t help but worry that he is about to become addicted to you.

He quickly clears such thoughts from his mind, though, saving that dilemma for when he isn’t balls deep in your needy pussy.

With his attention recentered, he picks up the pace of his movements, the table scraping against the tile floor with each powerful snap of his hips. Every time his cock slams against your g-spot, you involuntarily let out a whimper. The knot in your core tenses tighter and tighter by the second, your climax threatening to hit any minute.

Feeling you clench around his dick, and not being able to withstand the pleasure much longer either, Wooyoung focuses all his energy on pushing you over the edge. “Go ahead and cum on my cock. Don’t worry, I won’t tell anybody what a shameless whore you are for me.”

You should be insulted, but his filthy mouth is the final straw that has you constricting around his cock mercilessly as your orgasm erupts like fireworks in your body, every inch of your skin tingling with pleasure. Of course, the vice grip on his dick is more than enough to have Wooyoung moaning wantonly as he stills and cums deep in your pussy.

Neither of you have the energy to move for a couple minutes, but Wooyoung eventually pulls out and tucks himself away before helping redress you properly as well. He assists you back into a standing position and spins you around so that you are face to face. When you glance up at his blushed cheeks and sweat-glistened brow, you get shy in your post-orgasm clarity and look back down to the ground, not sure what to feel or say now.

“Y/N,” he calls more gently than ever before, causing you to gather your courage and meet his soft gaze. “Do you really hate me?”

His expression teeters on the edge of sadness, your heart panging as you register the first true moment of vulnerability he’s ever shown you. In this moment, you can’t bring yourself to feel the same fury that consumed you not long ago. Your emotions are now all fuddled and your brain isn’t quite working right, but you may be starting to see him in a different light.

“I don’t know…” you mumble with honest uncertainty.

He nods minutely with a conflicted exhale before taking a step back, leaving a normal amount of space between you that somehow feels like miles now.

“Well… Let me know when you figure it out.”

With that, he strolls past you and out of the conference room. You are frozen in place as your brain tries to process what the fuck just happened and why it has left you with such mixed emotions.

The only thing you are sure of is that, at this rate, Wooyoung is going to be the death of you.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Taglist: @minkysmilk @annaflwrs @han8ul @whatudowhennooneseesyou

[ashestoroses018]

Four Puffs (1/2)

Originally posted in 2017.

mikeygc3000 (mikeygc3000.tumblr.com) said: Could you write one where you’re Dustin’s older sister and all the kids can tell that you and Steve are in love but are in denial so they set up a blind date by tricking you and Steve and you both end up together in the end???? And lots of fluff!???? (P.s I just found your blog and I’m in love with it)

“Dustin, where the Hell is my hair spray? Did you steal it to do your hair again?” You shout through the house.

“Language, F/N!” your dad yells at you. It’s not often that he’s home, considering he travels for work, and when he is home, you have to fight the urge to roll your eyes every time he opens his mouth.

“Dad. He keeps stealing my hairspray and using, like, all of it. And the little shithead never asks first!”

“F/N! One more outburst like that, and you won’t be going out tonight!” Your dad looks over his newspaper at you, an eyebrow raised.

“Sorry, Dad. Do you know where Dustin is, by any chance?”

“Dusty’s over at Will’s house.”

“You couldn’t have told me that before I started yelling for him?”

Your dad folds the newspaper on his lap. “I didn’t have the chance, missy. Just call Joyce. I’m sure she can get him on the phone for you.”

Your battle against the eye rolls is futile, this time. Instead of even gracing your father with a response, you just grab your keys and a scrunchie, tossing your unruly hair up lackadaisically while holding your keys in your teeth.

“Be back before dinner, F/N! Your mom’s cooking meatloaf!” your dad calls behind you.

“’Kay, Dad!” You slam the door behind you, jogging to your beat up ’68 VW Beetle.

She is your baby, but shit if she hasn’t seen better days. Your seats are stained, and the engine makes this weird sound, if you drive Becky the Beetle for more than about twenty minutes at a time. One of these days, she’s going to crap out on you, and fuck if that day doesn’t terrify you. Who bikes to school at eighteen years old?

It takes you roughly three minutes of driving to arrive at the Byers’ residence, and you thank every god you can think of when you see your baby brother’s bike outside on the lawn, thrown there while he was obviously in a rush. What you don’t expect is to see Steve Harrington’s brown BMW in the driveway.

However, when you see that Joyce’s and Jonathan’s cars are both gone, it makes more sense. He must be playing babysitter for the thirteen year olds again. With a sigh, you go up to the door and knock, knowing that you’re about to embarrass the hell out of yourself in front of Steve, considering you’re in exercise clothes – leggings, leg warmers, and a ratty sweatshirt. All over your petty need for hairspray.

You raise your brow when it’s your brother who opens the door. “Oh shit.”

“Hey, Dustin. Wanna let me in?” Your tone of voice brooks no argument.

“I can explain, F/N, I swear.”

“What can you explain, Dustin?”

“I didn’t realize I still had your hairspray in my bag, and you have the Farrah Fawcett spray, and you know they discontinued it, and I really like your hairspray, because it’s better than Aquanet, and – “

You follow your brother through the Byers’ residence. In the living room, his friends are sitting around a table, playing Dunces and Diapers, or whatever the hell the stupid game is called. In the corner, a bottle of Coke in his hand, sits Steve Harrington, whose eyes meet yours as soon as you walk in the room.

“Well, Dusty?” you ask, your voice suddenly saccharine sweet. Your brother gives you an incredulous look at your impromptu change in demeanor. “Where’s my hair spray?”

“I can’t believe you needed it so bad that you actually came all the way out here,” your brother mutters under his breath as he digs through his backpack. “interrupting our game and shit.”

After a moment, he hands you the bottle of Fabergé Organics hair spray, which you immediately notice is nearly empty. “What the hell, Dustin? You used all of it! Do you know how hard this shit is to find?”

He looks down at his feet, biting his lip. “I’m sorry, F/N.”

“I had a date tonight, but I guess I’ll have to cancel. Aquanet sucks.”

“You, uh, you had a date, F/N?” Steve suddenly speaks up, and you glance over at him.

“Yeah, it wasn’t anything crazy, but Billy Hargrove seems like a nice enough guy.”

The redheaded girl, Max, gags audibly. “Billy is a shitstain of a human being. What are you talking about?”

“He really is, F/N. You shouldn’t go out with him. Did you know he beat up Steve?” Your brother is nodding emphatically with Max, his eyes wide.

You raise an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Yeah, he was defending Lucas! Billy’s a terrible person, F/N. You should cancel that date and just hang out with us tonight.”

“Fine, Dustin. I’ll take your word for it, this time. Hey, Will, where’s your phone?”

The Byers boy points you towards a wall handset, and you connect with the operator quickly, asking for the Hargrove residence.

“Hello?” A woman, whom you presume to be Billy’s stepmom and  Max’s mom, answers the phone.

“Is this Billy Hargrove’s house?”

“Yes, it is. One second. Billy!”

A moment later, Billy’s on the line, and though you’re not particularly interested in the boy – aside from his obvious physical appeal – your heart skips a beat at how charming he can be. “Hargrove residence, Billy speaking.”

“Hey Billy, it’s F/N Henderson.”

“Oh, hey, babe. What’s up? I’m still picking you up at 8 to see Ladyhawke, right?”

“Actually, no. A bit of a family emergency came up. Sorry, Billy.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, what?”

“Yeah, sorry. Our, uh…cat went missing again. My mom loves that kitten, so Dustin and I have to look for her.”

“Just tell her that you’re looking with me, F/N.”

“I really can’t do that to my mom, Billy.”

Steve comes up to you, hearing the tension in your voice. You okay? he mouths towards you. You just nod, your mouth pursed.

“Fine. Forget about rescheduling, though. I can get a more attractive whore at Hawkins High.”

“Excuse me? What the fuck did you just call me, Hargrove?”

“A whore. Everyone knows you’re fucking Harrington.”

You glance over at Steve, embarrassed that he’s going to witness what you’re about to say. “I am not fucking Steve Harrington, asshole. And you’re right. We’re not rescheduling. Get bent, shitbag.”

You slam the handset back onto the hook, actually shaking through the force of your anger. “Dustin, come on, we’re going home.”

“Wait, what? But I don’t need to be home until dinner.”

You give your brother a Look. “Please, let’s just go.”

“Let him stay, F/N. Why don’t you stay, too?” Steve asks, in a placating voice.

You bite your lip. “I need to be alone for a bit. I was hoping my brother would be there for me, but I fucking guess not. I’m going home Dustin. Dad says to be home by dinner.”

There’s a fierce migraine brewing in the left side of your head right now, and you just want to take a bath and ignore the world. Careful not to slam Joyce’s front door, you jog to your car, however your beloved Becky the Beetle won’t start. You turn your key in the ignition seven or eight times before slamming your forehead onto your steering wheel. This cannot be happening to you right now.

Giving up, you walk back into the Byers’ living room, much to the shock of everyone there. Steve is the first one to break the silence. “Change your mind then, Henderson?”

You sigh. “My car’s not starting, so I’m stuck here. Maybe you guys can help me push start it?”

“Can we do it after our game, F/N?” your brother asks.

Once again, you sigh. “Yeah, I guess. I’ll just go…sit with Steve, I guess. Enjoy or whatever.”

You collapse on the Byers couch next to Steve, who glances over at you. “You can’t tell anyone this,” he whispers.

“What?”

“I…have a few spare bottles of the Farrah Fawcett spray. Is that what you use?”

Your eyes widen. “Wait, really?”

He smirks gently at your excitement. “Yeah, I do. I can bring a bottle over to your house tomorrow, so you have it for school on Monday.”

“Oh my gosh, Steve, you’re the best!” You lean over and give him a hug, forgetting, for a moment, that you’re not looking your best.

He blushes slightly, his smirk turning into a shy smile. “Glad to help, F/N.”

[crestfallenyh]

2:52 AM.—

“well, it’s not cookie dough but i remember you once told me oreo ice cream was your favorite, so…”

you rolled on your back just in time to see yunho drop the convenience store bag filled with sweets and something that very much looked like a box of medicine on the kitchen counter. you smiled at him, reaching out with your arms extended and an inviting look on your face. it was late, probably well past two in the morning on a regular thursday and he had gone out in search of ice cream for you.

over the weekend he had invited you to the movies, taking advantage of his free time and hoping the lovely summer weather would be a good setting for him to see you after not being able to come over or go out at all the last couple of weeks. he wanted to catch up because he had missed you, badly. playing games on his own wasn’t as fun as it was when you were there to cheer him up or laugh at him for losing, and yes, he had to admit that hanging out with all of his friends there except for you had been less enjoyable, even if the slightest bit. performing and working had been enough to keep him distracted but he couldn’t help the lingering feeling whenever he looked around and he couldn’t see you. that’s just how life was though, comeback time was usually hectic and life had been busy for you too. that’s why he was so excited to see you and hopefully spend his whole day with you. unfortunately for you, it had rained pretty heavily and even though you absolutely loved summer evenings filled with warm rain, you were also very prone to catch a cold and after your little weekend trip, you were now sick.

after a couple of days the symptoms of your cold had subdued a lot and you were left now with only a slight headache and the occasional sneezing but yunho was still treating you like you were made of glass, making time amidst his packed schedule to check on you and asking what you needed. his reasoning was that he felt guilty. thanks to him and his idea of going out you were now like this, and no matter how hard and how many times you tried to explain to him that it was okay (from reassuring him to “stop bugging me, i’m doing good!” three times a day) or how much his group members teased him, he was still firm, going as far as to run to the nearest convenience store after getting to your place and asking what you had for dinner and after you told him you were craving cookie dough ice cream.

“that’s right, that’s my favorite. thank you though, you didn’t have to…”

your voice faded with a slight groan when the weight of his body pressed down against yours on the couch because he was now hugging you like he had gone three days instead of twenty minutes. you stayed like that for a bit, taking in the smell of rain and the faintest trace of fabric softener from his clothes and the cold touch of his jacket against your fingers. as much as you liked acting like you were annoyed by him, you were very grateful that he was taking care of you, even if it was not his responsibility and he had other things to think about. you tightened your arms around his shoulders and just when he was about to complain, your sneeze made him jump from the couch with a mixture of playfulness and worry on his face. his fluffy hair near your nose had been the culprit of your sneeze but he looked ready to scold you like he had been doing the entire week.

“you know, you shouldn’t be eating that when you are still sick”

“i’m not, i promise. it’s just that doodle hair of yours, it tickles”

yunho brushed a hand through his hair, scanning you up and down with slightly frowned brows.

“okay fine, but if you’re eating the ice cream, you’re also taking the pill for that headache,” as you were about to protest, he turned on his heels and walked to the kitchen, “and i don’t wanna hear any complains”

you rolled you eyes at his back, amused over the fact that he was gentle and bright most of the time, but could also behave like a parent whenever he was worried. you stood up as well, walking over to your best friend and thanking him as he handed you a cup of water.

he sat down in front of you, eating in a comfortable silence for a while until he started telling you about his day and everything he had done. you looked at him and couldn’t help but feel a pinch of something in the pitch of your stomach while you listened to him and occasionally commented on his stories. with everything that had been going on these past few days you knew he wasn’t taking proper care of himself and it was obvious in the way his tired expression didn’t seem to vanish even after trying to hide it with smiles and mischief. his skin still had that very characteristic healthy glow, but he had the look of someone that hadn’t had a full eight hour sleep in weeks. he had the permanent expression of somebody who was worried, and every time he looked at you, it was like he was about to say something but decided not to. although you wanted to, you didn’t say anything. as much as you would like to ask if he was okay, you knew he would brush you off until he was ready to speak on it. so you let it go, and by the time you were finished joking around, it was almost four in the morning.

“are you going back to the dorm?,” you asked, voice laced with sleepiness, “you can stay here if you want. it’s too late to be on the streets now”

“or too early,” he jokingly corrected you before standing up and nodding, “okay, i have to be at the company by noon anyway, it’s closer from here”

you walked to your bedroom first with him following closely behind. he had clothes at your place from whenever he would stay over for the night so after getting changed, you both got into bed. it would seem strange for anybody that didn’t knew you, but you had been super close from the moment you met and by now, it was not a rare occurrence for you to sleep in the same space, wether that was your bed, his bed, the back seat of his group’s van or even their couch at their dorm. you ignored the fluttering on your chest when he looked over at you from under the bedsheets, with his dark eyes sparkling and the slight flush of his cheeks, a clear sign that he was getting sleepy.

you made yourself comfortable on the bed before reaching out and clearing his bangs from his forehead. it was was a sweet gesture, something you hadn’t done in a very long time.

“thank you for being here, yunho”

he nodded, still with the same odd sparkle in his gaze.

“it’s the least i can do for you”

[donnerpartyofone]

We are now entering the holiday season, more or less, which starts early for my family due to a birthday, and I wish this didn't fill me with ambivalence. I like my family, they have interesting things to say, they're great hosts, they can create an idyllic sort of environment; but meanwhile, there is the exhausting obligation to somehow promote oneself, to find something to take to market, and I don't have anything like that and it causes problems. I'm the only person in my family who isn't outrageously accomplished. I had all the same opportunities as everyone else, it was just never going to happen, I'm not good enough. Which sounds self-pitying but honestly it only sounds that way because our ears are conditioned to hear it as some kind of criminal admission of an unacceptable circumstance, instead of a casual acknowledgement of a completely normal circumstance. I think I would feel a great, cathartic relief if it were socially acceptable to just concede that you're a loser, that you're not going to amount to anything due to personal limitations. I mean, I feel like this should not be controversial actually, but it seems to make people feel frightened and confused and angry and if you even come close to saying "This is about it for my personal potential, nothing really worked out"; anyone who hears this will immediately go to great pains to try to force you to take it back, even if they believe it themselves.

I think this might be more true than usual in my family. I think they're embarrassed to know me, but admitting such a thing could make anybody feel like a bad person even though they shouldn't, they have a right--but to avoid feeling guilty (about something they shouldn't feel guilty about), there has to be this endless, exhausting game of make-believe where we all pretend to like me and to be interested in what's going on with me. So I have to like "bring something to the table", I can't just say I have nothing going on; I have to describe one of my dumb little hobbies that I kind of just nominally get paid for once in a while, and they don't understand what it is or what is the context or why any normal person would care, is so I have to describe it in a lot of boring detail, and then by the time I finally get through clarifying what the service/product is everyone's eyes are totally glazed over but they still have to find the energy to respond as if they are somehow impressed. And then the next time it comes up, we have to do the whole entire process over again because no one ever remembers what I said because they didn't really get it the first time, and it's really something they wouldn't even have to know about if it weren't for me, and it's at least as exhausting if not more so.

Recently I tried out a strategy of just saying less. I thought that if I just clammed up and didn't draw attention to myself, then that would put everybody at ease. (Asking other people about themselves only gets me so far, they always seem a little annoyed, like when you're trying to explain fashion to your uncool aunt or something) Sometimes it's like I'm not really there anyway; when I got engaged they threw a dinner for me, and there was about twenty minutes of discussing the wedding before the rest of the evening was devoted to someone's restored, vintage BMW and the drama of where to park such a beautiful and valuable object. Then there was the birthday outing where nobody asked me any questions, the whole afternoon was devoted to someone else's brand new Audi, which distraction prevented them from attending a super important professional event I had actually-on my birthday. The deflection to someone's fancy car whenever I require attention has become a private joke between me and my spouse, who frankly I sometimes think they are not nice enough to because he's married to me. He's an interesting person with a serious career that tells him a lot about how the world works, but sometimes I think they kind of see him as another stunted child because marrying me reflects poorly on him.

Which could totally be a projection on my part, but anyway. The point is I tried out my policy of only speaking when spoken to, or at least not saying anything personal, and everything indicated that this should have worked out, but it seemed to just make people even more mad at me. Admittedly there was an extenuating factor, that someone's famous friend came over and immediately challenged me to say that I was a professional writer like everyone else, and when I confessed that I was just unemployed, he kept trying to put words in my mouth about how successful I must be in some other way, and it was mortifying for me but more importantly it was mortifying for him that I couldn't reward this behavior. Meanwhile, another relative asked me exactly one question about myself--a career question--and when I didn't have an answer, that was the end of all conversation until we were all departing and she accused me of refusing to commune with her even though she missed me and was dying to talk to me. I don't really know what I'm supposed to do.

I feel the need to defend these people. I'm certain it's true that they care about me in that deep-down, fundamental, blood ties way. That's a lot more than many people get from their families. And it's mostly true that they have not been openly hostile or insulting; I mean this is absolutely not true historically, some pretty fucked up things have been said to my face and in front of groups, but this hasn't happened in long enough that I think it's right to try to let it go. In some ways it would be easier if everything were just bad enough that we could all give each other the finger and part ways. What I'm grappling with is this feeling that if I don't work really hard, I'm going to become estranged, which I think would be bad both spiritually and strategically, if you have a family who doesn't actively harm you I think you should keep them around for many different reasons. But it's an established thing that if one family member pulls away, there's a loving conspiracy to draw them back, whereas if I seem to become a little distant, I'm going to get accused of something, like even in writing sometimes. So I have to be on my best behavior all the time, and I have to keep playing this game where I pretend that big things are happening for me and I have to do a whole marketing presentation on this total lie even if everyone is bored to death and not a little embarrassed. I don't know, I guess it's nobody's fault. There's no way we would ever know each other if everybody weren't forced to be related to me, I might as well try to make it easier for them. It's just hard because there is nothing about me that would make it ACTUALLY easy for them to be associated with me, so I'm dutybound to kind of just laboriously smile and make shit up for the rest of my life in order to keep clinging to the fringes of our existence.

It just sucks because I love the fall, I love Halloween and Thanksgiving and Christmas and New Year's. And it's not NEVER fun to be with my family. But the season I love is just tainted with this anxiety because it's like illegal to admit that you're just sort of a loser, and my family could never admit that they just basically kind of dislike untalented, unsuccessful people, because there's a cultural prejudice that that's a moral failing--which it isn't, it's just a personal preference, but I guess we're all saddled with the same baggage. Everything would be so much more relaxed and intimate if we could openly accept the way things really are, but it's definitely never going to happen. Stress.

[k-evans-reads]

In Living Color

Chapter 9 - Part Two

Summary: When Natalie Marton, lead character designer for Buzz Lightyear, meets the voice of Buzz, Chris Evans, the sparks are undeniable. But when their work pushes them away from each other, both physically and emotionally, will the sheer differences between their worlds be enough to force them apart?

Pairing: Chris Evans x Pixar Animator OFC Natalie Marton

Word Count: 4,705

By: @k-evans-writes and @ourfinest-hour

We do NOT give permission for our works to be reuploaded, translated, or reposted on any other site. Our work is our own.

Warnings: None.

Previous | Main Masterlist | In Living Color Masterlist

June 2021

If Chris had to guess, he’d say he slept maybe for twenty minutes the previous night.

Twenty restless minutes, after which he woke feeling as though he’d had a nightmare. But what he wished was only a nightmare had become his reality, which was that damned leaked picture from the catering company, one with him all over Nat in the background.

Chris couldn’t stop thinking that this was just an absolute fucking disaster. One that didn’t end when he opened his eyes, instead playing out in front of him with every passing moment where his phone didn’t light up with a text from here and when he was still so fucking annoyed and discouraged, not knowing how or if he should reach out first when Nat was the one to end things. 

Thankfully, the crew had the day off to adjust back to day shoots after a long few weeks of night work, but the reprieve didn’t last long when he heard the door to his hotel room unlock and open as Scott came inside with a yawn. They’d made plans the previous night – before Chris’ life went up in flames thanks to a simple phone call – to eat breakfast in Chris’ room, then find the Sox game on a random online stream and spend the day on the couch. 

Chris didn’t even look up from where he was staring out the window when Scott came into the room, shoulders taught when Scott asked, “So how’s Nat?” 

“The fuck if I know,” he shook his head, glancing down at the table before he took a sip of coffee, hoping it somehow held the answers to how to fix everything.

Scott’s face fell and he reared back before hurrying to sit down at the table next to Chris, pulling a plate of eggs from room service in front of him. “What the hell does that mean?” He asked Chris with a raised brow as he sprinkled some pepper onto his food. 

“It means I wouldn’t have a clue,” Chris began before he scoffed and his hand flew in the air. “She’s going to Seattle and doesn’t want to talk to me. We fought last night and she said she wanted time to think.” 

Scott listened to him with an expression of pure disbelief, and once Chris explained what happened vaguely, his younger brother held his own hand in the air and ordered, “Hold on, back up and start from the beginning. None of this is making sense.” 

With a sigh, Chris began from the beginning, reminding him about the stressful hurried texts and calls with Megan in between takes and during dinner, but then caught him up to speed on what happened after the fact, once he was back in his room and Nat was on her way home from work. And as he retold the story, he was struck by just how sideways everything went, and how quickly it went wrong. But he still couldn’t figure out why Nat got so frustrated with him relaying what Megan – one of the people he trusted the most in this industry, almost implicitly – advised them to do to handle this. Which was her job. What he paid her to do. “I just feel like she was blaming me for everything when all I was doing was trying to make it better for her,” he finished, shrugging as he shook his head in frustration. 

But he didn’t expect Scott’s scowl once he finished, and the dirty blond held his hands in the air placatingly as he told Chris, “Look, don’t shoot the messenger, but it sounds like she kind of told you she just wanted some emotional support.” 

“That’s what I was trying to do! I was trying to solve it so she wouldn’t have to deal with it,” Chris explained, hands flying in the air as he clenched his jaw. 

“She had to deal with it anyway though, Chris,” Scott explained slowly, in a way that made Chris feel as though he was a four-year-old getting chastised. “Remember that Nat isn’t used to any of this. I’m sure it really scared her.” 

He stared at his hands as they anxiously fiddled in his lap, wrapping around themselves before they dropped to his sides, only to go right back to it again. “....It did,” he admitted, remembering how gutted and terrified she sounded, almost more than she did the previous week when she’d call him distraught. 

Scott listened to Chris and was quiet for several minutes as Chris moved his food around his plate and Scott ate. Even looking at the food made Chris feel sick, he just wanted to hop onto the next flight out and apologize to Nat and hold her. But he couldn’t. He had too much riding against him here – commitments and contracts, things he absolutely couldn’t get out of without fucking up his career, and people relying on him, people he had to owe a good portion of his career to – but he yearned to see her face to face, to make things right. 

“C’mon, I know you’re thinking something. What’s going on in your head?” Scott prodded gently, pointing his fork towards Chris. 

“I don’t know Scott, I just know I fucked it up,” he whispered, rubbing a hand over his face to hopefully calm himself down and stave off something like a panic attack. “I think me wanting to solve all of this with the picture was more about wanting to solve it for me than it was for her.” 

“Why do you think that?” 

Chris shrugged, frowning as he tried to clear the lump in his throat. “Because I think I knew how much it would hurt her and make her see all the shit that goes along with me,” he admitted finally. 

Scott sighed, almost sympathetically as he pointed out, “But that’s unavoidable. With the level of fame that you’re at, that’s what goes with it.” 

“That’s the problem. Anyone who’s with me has to deal with it,” Chris agreed, his voice stronger. It’d taken him a long time to recognize the burden he placed on his loved ones with just being him. With being the guy on his nephews and niece’s friends’ lunch boxes, the guy in every other commercial some years. It sucked, it was a level of fame he never quite desired, and he was grateful for it – don’t get him wrong, he was immensely grateful for the career he worked for – but he missed the days where people didn’t breathe down his neck, didn’t tag him in random pictures every minute, and didn’t flood his mentions with less than desirable things. It was all the biggest turn offs to anyone, but especially someone like Nat, who had a career that afforded her with the privacy and autonomy he no longer knew. “And Nat’s no social climber who likes the spotlight but she’s also not someone in the industry who’s used to it and I know she’s going to hate it.” 

But Scott saw right through that argument, that line of logic, and in between bites of bacon he told Chris, “If she cares about you though, it won’t matter.” 

“I’m just afraid that we haven’t had the chance for the good to outweigh the bad,” Chris confessed quietly, feeling as though he was now just waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

“You can’t control that though,” Scott argued back, but then his expression turned empathetic as he studied Chris with a sad half-smile. “And I know you hate that.” 

“I dunno, Scott. Maybe it’s for the best,” Chris shrugged and tried to assure himself of just that. That he would bring nothing but chaos and a spotlight to Nat’s otherwise peaceful, uninteresting-to-the-average-fan life. “Nat’s better off without all this in her life.” 

“Are you better off without her?” 

“I don’t think that’s part of the equation anymore,” Chris admitted, more to himself than Scott. “I fucked it up, but then again I always seem to.”

“So don’t you think you should work on fixing things?” Scott asked with a shrug, with the self-surety that only came with being Scott. At Chris’ silence and odd look, he explained, “I’m not trying to make you feel worse, Chris. I’m really not. I just feel like you do something you perceive as wrong and then just beat yourself up for it. Nobody is perfect, nobody handles things the right way every time but that’s why you have to just learn from it, apologize and move on.” 

“I know you’re right,” Chris began quietly, taking a large sip of his coffee, more to distract himself and hold off on speaking more than anything. “I just don’t think Nat wants to hear from me. It didn’t sound good when she said she wanted to think things over… it sounded like it was it for us and that just scared the shit out of me. Then I was an ass and made it worse by saying I’d maybe see her later.” 

Scott pointed his fork at Chris again, eyes wide as he instructed, “So tell her that. Tell her you were scared and you’re sorry.” 

Chris listened, eyes finding his phone from where it sat a few feet away, screen dark with no messages from Nat. “...I don’t think she’ll answer,” he whispered. 

But Scott simply shrugged, reaching for his iced latte and drawling, “Doesn’t mean you shouldn’t say it though.” 

He just nodded before changing the subject as he finished breakfast with his brother, but the words Scott had spoken stuck in his brain throughout the day. He couldn’t stop thinking about how all of this had happened, how good things had been and just how quickly they went wrong. His brain kept churning and replaying it over and over in his mind as the day wore on, but now that the shock and emotion of seeing that picture surface and the panic he felt was gone, all he could seem to remember was the emotion in Nat’s voice when she talked to him on that phone. 

Chris had been so focused on fixing this, on trying to make it go away to assure Nat that dating him wouldn't be the circus that he knew it was at times. He had tried to come into it with a strategy to make her feel as if he had it under control and yet all he managed to do was push her away and cause that crackle in her voice that still plagued his memory, and he was determined to make it up to her. 

Nat couldn’t help but feel disappointed that even coming back home to Washington didn’t seem to soothe her heart, and instead of breathing a sigh of relief as she stepped off the plane, she only choked back more tears. The flight, under three hours long, only provided her with more opportunities to mull over the situation with her and Chris, to think back on their highs together only to come crashing back down as she remembered their lows… and what had happened just a day earlier. 

And while she looked forward to seeing her sisters, the pair volunteering to pick her up from the airport, the grilling she received on what had just transpired hurt even more than she imagined. She hadn’t thought it could get worse than it already had, but hearing about how even Heather and Alex had felt the effects of the blow up put the final dagger in her, both having hundreds of follow requests as well, for no reason except being the sisters of Natalie Marton, Chris’ fling. 

She pushed aside those feelings however, determined to enjoy the evening at home, finally. And she did – she enjoyed walking into her childhood home, into the comforting and warm arms of her father, and hugging her brother-in-laws and getting tackled by her nieces and nephew. But all throughout dinner and until after the kids went to bed, her eyes kept getting drawn to her phone, hoping for something from Chris, something that said this was just a nightmare, or a horrible misunderstanding.

Nat thought she’d disguised her emotions well enough behind the genuine excitement of finally being home, but her cover was blown once she finally ignored and walked away her phone while she helped her father with the dishes while Heather, Ryan, Alex, and Zach were busy getting the kids down for bed and cleaning up the backyard.

“I’m so glad you were able to come, Nattie,” her father murmured, his voice hardly audible over the running water from the sink as he washed dishes before handing them, one by one, to Nat for her to dry and put away. “We love it when you’re around.” 

“I do too,” she agreed, knowing just how much being with her family had made this better and having people who loved her so deeply brought comfort to her. Nat kept her eyes on the plate she was wiping, letting out a soft sigh before telling him, “It was nice to have my mind off of… everything.” 

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him give her a long glance before finally asking,“You want to fill me in on what’s going on, honey?”

Nat rolled her eyes, feeling the anxiety inside of her rise as she told him, “I’m sure Heather and Alex already have, considering the nonstop texts I’ve got from them all day yesterday.”

But Eric simply shut the sink off, turning as he dried his hands with a dish towel and leaned the small of his back against the sink as he looked at her. “They told me that there was a picture online, but that doesn’t tell me how you’re feeling and that’s what I’m concerned about.”

“I just can’t wrap my head around it. I was having a normal day at work and then suddenly everything turned upside down because of one stupid picture where Chris had his arm around me,” Nat still didn’t understand the reality of this all, all the fear and anxiety spilling over as her voice rose and she tossed a hand in the air. 

Her father shook his head, muttering, “I can’t imagine what it must be like for Chris to always have to be looking over his shoulder.”

“Now I feel like I do too,” Nat admitted quietly, swallowing nervously as tears threatened to burn her eyes. “I mean, I’m nobody and yet I have thousands and thousands of his fans requesting to follow me.”

“What did Chris say about all of this?”

At just one mention of his name and the memory of that hurtful conversation that was only one day ago, tears sprung to her eyes as she thought back to his cold tone and swallowed hard, “… That was the worst part.” 

“Here, let’s sit down and tell me what’s going on,” Eric could see the emotions passing over her face and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, leading his youngest daughter over to the kitchen table. He pulled out a chair for her that Nat ungracefully plopped into before he sat down across from her and instantly reached a hand across the wood table top to hold one of her hands in his. 

“Dad, I was so freaked out,” Nat confessed with a shaky voice, trying to blink away the tears unsuccessfully before they slipped down her cheeks. “I mean, I got blindsided by this and Chris and I aren’t even officially together or anything but he called me and just gave me a laundry list from his publicist of what I can and can’t do.”

“Oh really?”

“Can you imagine how that made me feel? I was so terrified and all he wanted to say was that I had to make sure to keep everything private and don’t say a word about it to people I’m not close with,” the words just came pouring out of her mouth, finally having an opportunity to fully process and express her feelings. Nat ran a hand through her messy curls before admitting, “I felt like he couldn’t care less how I was doing.”

“Did you tell him that?” Eric tried to prod as he looked right into her eyes. 

“Yeah,” she shrugged. But Nat knew it didn’t seem to matter because even when she had told him, he had been less than understanding, but in an attempt to give her father a whole picture of the situation she filled him in that, “He just said trying to fix it was because he cared about me.”

“I’m sure he was,” Eric nodded. 

“I get people don’t always react the best in the moment. I know I wasn’t thinking the most clearly but I…” Nat had to stop for a moment to swallow the lump in her throat, going on with, “I told him I just needed time to think and he basically called off coming back to LA and said he’ll maybe see me later which felt like a big fuck you.”

When Nat saw the way her dad’s eyes arched in sympathy, she knew that it probably wasn’t good and it only caused the knot in her stomach to tighten. The tears filling her eyes just didn’t seem to stop and when Alex came walking into the room, she knew that her sister saw them by the way she stopped short. Nat didn’t say a word as Alex walked over, just putting an arm around her and giving her a soft squeeze before saying, “You left your phone outside and it was ringing.” 

And with that and a soft kiss on the top of her head, Alex left the pair the way they were a minute ago as they sat in the soft light of the kitchen. Nat tapped on the screen and instantly felt her heart drop when she saw that name on her screen, and her father must have known too based on the way he asked, “Is it Chris?” 

“Yeah… he um, left me a voicemail,” she whispered, eyes frozen on her phone, thumb hovering anxiously between the play and delete buttons. 

Eric was quiet, nodding more to himself than to Nat as he took a sip from the glass of water resting on the table next to him. “Maybe you should listen to it,” he finally suggested. 

Part of Nat didn’t want to. She was afraid of what might be waiting for her on the other end of the line. She should have known from day one that there was no way any of this… this connection they seemed to have would go anywhere but then somehow it seemed to. Nat had tricked herself into believing it all would somehow be okay until that bubble was popped yesterday. She got hit with the reminder that this couldn’t be and somehow it felt like it would be easier if it could just slip away, but it looked like she wasn’t going to get out of it without hearing what he decided she needed to hear. 

With a shaky hand, she turned the volume up and clicked play, hearing that husky voice of his start talking, “Hey…. It's me. Nat, I’ve been such an idiot. I handled all of this like shit and I just want to tell you how sorry I am. I couldn’t believe how much this blew up and I knew it wouldn’t be anything you were prepared for so I think I just wanted to solve it and have a plan to make it all better, but in doing that, I missed out on the most important thing which is you.” Nat kept listening to the voicemail as the line paused for a minute, hearing his soft sigh before he continued, “I kind of um, wanted to be able to say this right to you, but I get you need space and I respect that. I just want you to know that I’m sorry, Nattie. I’m so, so, sorry.” 

She was quiet as she listened to his last deep breath before he had hung up, tears freely falling from her eyes as she processed what had just been said. She almost forgot that her father was sitting just across the table from her until he tilted his head, looking at her in concern as he whispered, “Nattie…”

“Dad, what am I going to do? How do I figure any of this out?” Nat’s voice crackled as she practically begged him for any answers. “This is not anything I thought I’d ever have to deal with.”

“Times like this I wish your mom was here,” her dad’s voice was soft as he lightly shook his head, remembering, “She always knew what to say.”

“I just don’t know what I should do…” 

“Nattie, I don’t know that I’m always the wisest person or have all the right answers,” she could see just how uneasy her dad was, knowing that he was doing everything in his power to be there for Nat in the way she needed in this moment. 

“I’d really like to know what you think, Dad,” Nat insisted, knowing that Eric was never one to tell anyone what to do, but she needed his guidance, explaining, “I’m so confused.”

Eric reached out, taking Nat’s hand again and squeezing it softly as he gave her a sad smile. “All I know Nattie is that you get that sparkle in your eye when you talk about him. And that from even just those few moments when he came while we were having lunch in California, I could tell by the way he looked at you just how deeply he cared for you,” he told her, and Nat let out a deep breath as she realized she agreed with him. Chris did care for her, hell she cared for him more than she thought was ever possible, but she also had never been here before, never had to consider anything more than updating her Facebook status as a relationship grew and changed. 

“I know he does… I know he means what he said in that voicemail,” Nat knew there was no way she could deny that what Chris had expressed to her was anything less than authentic. But she finally gave voice to her underlying fears, “I just don’t know if it’s enough… if I can deal with everything that comes with him and his life.”

“I don’t have an answer to that, honey,” Eric was honest, a hand motioning vaguely in the air before he told her, “But I think you’re in too deep for him not to find out for sure.”

“… I’m really crazy about him, dad,” the emotions inside of Nat feeling so heavy and deep, knowing that what she felt for Chris wasn’t something she’d be able to walk away from so easily and admitted, “I don’t want things to slip away as easy as they seemed to on the phone when we talked.”

“Give him a call, Nattie.”

“I don’t know… it’s late… he’s probably asleep,” Nat muttered, knowing that he might not even be up yet, or could be in the middle of filming, but more so finding an excuse to shield her feelings from any further damage. 

“Just call him,” Eric murmured again, a sideways grin on his face as he nodded resolutely. “Trust me.”

She felt him give her hand a soft squeeze before Nat nodded, silently agreeing before she used the sleeve of her sweatshirt to wipe away her tears. Eric pulled Nat in for a long hug before they were interrupted by her elder sisters coming in with both their husbands behind them, carrying in the last few things from outside and filling the kitchen with their loud chatter. While the chaos was happening as everyone filled the kitchen, Nat was the only one who saw the little wink Eric gave her, encouraging Nat to slip out of the kitchen unnoticed and walk up the stairs and down to the end of the long hallway where her childhood room still was. 

Nat closed the door behind her before going to sit on the full-size bed, hearing the soft creak as she put her weight on it. She just sat there for a long moment, staring at the phone in her hands as she wondered what she should do… What should she say? Maybe this was something that should wait, she thought to herself. Nat’s brain kept filtering through every excuse in the book before impulsively hitting the call button. 

It only rang a few times, enough that she was sure it’d go to voicemail and she’d be spared from having to face him, but soon his gruff, sleepy voice answered, “Nattie?” 

“Shit, you were sleeping weren’t you?” She swore, frowning as she shut her eyes. Nat kicked off her flip flops, moving her legs onto the bed and leaned her back against the pale yellow wall. “I knew I shouldn’t have called.” 

But his voice sounded much more awake than it had only a few seconds ago when he explained, “No, no. I was just dozing.” 

Nat nodded to herself, staring down at the worn quilt as she picked at a loose thread on it restlessly. “I just wanted to call you and tell you that I’m sorry,” she finally whispered, pausing for a moment as she felt unable to help but listen to every sound that left his lips, no matter how small. “I’m really sorry, Chris.” 

“Are you kidding me? What do you have to apologize for?” He asked, his voice quiet but incredulous. “I was the one who was an ass, Nattie.” 

She frowned, listening to him but insisting, “I don’t feel like I handled any of this well at all.” 

“Why should you? You were blindsided and not at all equipped for any of this,” he explained, and Nat felt relieved that he finally saw how she’d been feeling throughout all of this. “And instead of helping, I just made everything fuckin’ worse and I can’t tell you how sorry I am for that.” 

Tears filled her eyes as relief flooded her, and it was then that she knew that they’d make it out of this, out of this nightmare that’d been consuming them. It wasn’t something she’d ever entertained happening – them pushing through it together – because it just seemed so final and absolute, the way they’d left things, but they’d come together and began picking up the pieces as a pair instead of broken individuals. “...I’m just scared and I miss you,” she admitted, her voice cracking as tears slipped down her cheeks.  

“I miss you too, I’m so sorry baby,” his voice was low and tender and Nat could almost see him shaking his head before he told her, “I wish I could make it up to you.” 

“Your apology was more than enough,” she told him, shaking her head to herself as she listened to the sound of him breathing, aching to be there next to him. “But… you could still take me out to dinner when you come back if you’re available.” 

Chris’ voice was stronger, no room for question as he told her, “When I come back from Europe, I’m spending a couple days at home to shake off the jet lag and get Dodger, and then I’m flying straight out to see you.” 

She bit her lip as a smile spread across her face, feeling some butterflies in her stomach as she whispered, “I think that sounds really good.” 

“I do too, Nattie,” he whispered back, a smile evident in his own voice before he yawned. “I’ll see you soon.” 

Even as the call ended, the smile that was on her lips stayed put as she realized that she would - finally - see him soon. That mental countdown she’d had for a month now was moving closer and closer to the end with every passing moment, and she fell asleep with a smile on her face as she thought about tomorrow, about her niece Ella’s birthday party, but also about how she’d be one day closer to being back in his arms again. 

A/N: We hope this made up for everything! We can't wait to hear what you all think! Please feel free to send in an ask or leave a comment!