#remember more of the beginning before the show and im HAVING . A MOMENT.

[transannabeth]

im trying to be normal i promise!!!!! however do you remember how i keep moaning about not being about to go back to grad school for literature because i want to talk about books 24/7 but not do anything else? um.

[n0thingbutlov3]

need you now

in which an impulsive voicemail leads to some secrets being spilled.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader. warnings/tags: angst (sorry i’m incapable of being nice lol) hurt/comfort tho!! lil bit of fluff too because i AM capable of being nice, alcohol consumption as a coping mechanism (i’m literally just a girl…) spencer and reader are broken up :( but they’re still sooo in love and it’s soo obvious so it’s fine!! (also it kind of gets fixed at the end-ish. you’ll see *evil smirk*) reader cries a lot (real) spencer is a cutie (as always) spencer and reader sleep together…no like literally, not in a funny business way, some swearing, no use of y/n!!! wc: 3k a/n: hihihi!! so this is my first fan fiction i’ve wrote and completed ever (gulp) it’s also my first time publishing one (gulp) my writing could definitely be better and so could my grammar tbh but i HOPE if you choose to read you’ll enjoy…feedback is always appreciated (plsplspls) also like requests?? if anyone’s into that—id love to write more but inspo is difficult sometimes. if there’s any spelling mistakes im sorry, eye am very tired!! it’s 5am *eye twitching* okay i’m going to sleep, gootbye IF U SAW ME EDITING THIS 5 TIMES NO U DIDNT (i’m bad at tumblr ok..)

“Hi. This is Doctor Spencer Reid. I’m not available right now, but leave a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can…”

His tinny voice cut off to make way for the signature beep of the beginning of a voicemail recording.

You could hang up now—you should hang up now, save yourself some dignity and go drown your sorrows in alcohol like a normal person instead of calling your ex-boyfriend.

You should, but your mouth was opening before your finger could reach the hang-up button, and…and it was a losing battle from the moment you clicked on Spencer’s icon.

“Uh—hi, it’s…it’s me.” You huffed out a sad laugh.

“So, um, I…I tried calling, but you didn’t answer so…” The static buzz of silence hummed through your ear, just inches from where you held your phone with a shaky grip. “maybe you’re on a case or out with friends, or someone else—“ You let the implication hang in the air—the thought of Spencer potentially being in a relationship bringing a lump to your throat.

You swallowed it down.

“I just…I just had an unbelievably shitty day, Spence.” You sniffed, wiping the moisture that had escaped from your eye with your sweater sleeve. “I know you’ve never read A Series of Unfortunate Events but I think I’d give those kids a run for their money.” You tried to laugh but it came out as more of a sob.

You inhaled shakily, trying to collect yourself and remember why on earth you thought it would be a good idea to call Spencer when you’d been broken up for months. Hell, you hadn’t heard from him at all since you had parted ways—except from the odd text about returning each others’ things. It was obvious he had moved on, and here you were, filling up his voicemail with blubbering messages and making references to adolescent books.

“God, sorry about this.” You breathed out a watery chuckle. “I just…didn’t want to be alone, I guess. But that’s-um-not your problem anymore, so I’m—I’m sorry. Have a nice night.” Your voice cracked and you hung up before you could start weeping down the line. You didn’t need to look even more pathetic.

You pulled your phone away from your ear, looking down at his contact photo through blurred vision. He was smiling—not the tight, closed lip smile he gave other people, but a full, bright smile that had his dimples showing. One of your hands was wrapped loosely around his neck and the other was holding your phone just far enough away to capture both of your smiles. Your head was rested on top of his shoulder, tilted just slightly to the left so your temple was brushing against his.

It felt like looking at a vintage photograph—you knew those people and their happiness existed at some point in time, but it wasn’t tangible; you couldn’t verify it was real.

When you were with Spencer, you never doubted how real it was. All you had to was look at him across the room and he’d flash you a smile identical to the one in that photo and you’d just…know.

It felt like forever ago now that you’d been on the receiving end of that grin and it killed you. So much so that before you could consider the repercussions, you were trudging through to your kitchen and grabbing the bottle of whiskey that sat unopened in your cabinet. It had been a present—from Rossi, actually. When Spencer had first introduced you to the team, the older man had given it to you as something of a welcome gift. Of course, he couldn’t have known you weren’t much of a drinker, and since you wanted to make a good impression (and because you were sure it had cost more than all the alcohol you had consumed in your life combined) you accepted it—deciding to save it for a rainy day.

You think this qualified.

You grabbed the bottle, a glass, and padded back through to your living room, slumping onto your couch. You filled your glass up a little less than halfway before gulping it down, enjoying the burn in your throat—it was better than the constant thickness.

You poured yourself another glass before turning on the TV. You weren’t sure what was playing—it didn’t really matter anyway, your vision was already being obscured by tears again.

You thought the pounding was in your head at first—serves you right for drinking half a bottle of whiskey. Only, it wasn’t, because moments later the pounding subsided and instead, your apartment door was opening, casting your pitch-black living room in a yellow glow which temporarily blinded you.

You squeezed your eyes shut, your mind hazy—again, serves you right for drinking half a bottle of whiskey. Someone was calling your name, but there was too much sensory input for you to make out who.

You certainly hoped it wasn’t a paramedic—maybe your neighbour had heard you sobbing for the last four hours and decided you needed a wellness check. Then there were hands on your face, and that had you flicking your eyes open, because you recognised those hands—impossibly soft, with a callus on his trigger finger being the only thing to mar them. Spencer.

“Spencer?” You slurred.

He sighed in exasperation (or relief) and tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

“Are you alright? You weren’t answering your phone, I thought…” He trailed off, worry evident in his voice.

You sat up then, trying to compose yourself even though the room was spinning. Fucking whiskey. You rubbed your eyes haphazardly, blinking until you could finally see.

You should’ve stayed bleary-eyed. Because nothing could prepare you for the way your breath hitched when you finally saw him. After months of not seeing each other, Spencer was here, sitting on your couch, and he was looking at you like you were something fragile, and—God, you needed another drink. You turned away from him, reaching for the neck of the bottle as you spoke.

“I’m fine.”

Before you could lift it up, Spencer gently pried your hand away from the bottle with his own, and then slid it across the coffee table with his other.

“You’re drunk. No more of that, please.” His tone wasn’t unkind, but he left no room to argue. You probably would’ve objected anyway, if it weren’t for the way he kept his hand clasped around yours, rubbing soothing circles into your pulse point almost absentmindedly.

You glanced up to him—to stop yourself from staring at your hand in his and how natural it felt, more than anything—but that proved to be a mistake too, because he looked just as beautiful as thirty seconds prior and it felt just as natural for him to be sitting next to you on your sofa, but it wasn’t natural anymore.

“How did you get in?”

“My key.”

“Oh.”

Right. The key that he still had because you refused to meet up with him to let him return it. He tried for weeks to contact you, but you ignored him, because getting the key back meant things were finally over. You supposed he could return it now—maybe that’s why he came in the first place.

“Why did you come?” You asked, your voice impossibly small.

“You called.” He replied—as though he was talking about something as simple as the weather. You call and I come.

You searched in his eyes for any sign of a lie, but of course, there was none. He was being completely genuine—as always. You were the awful ex-girlfriend who left concerning voicemails on his phone and had him travelling to your apartment in the middle of the night only for him to look completely okay with the situation—like there was nothing he’d rather be doing than making sure you were safe.

You couldn’t help the way tears sprung to your eyes or your lip began to tremble as you lolled your head back onto the couch, pulling your gaze away from his.

“Angel, what’s wrong?”

You liked to consider yourself to be a strong person. You had been through things in your life that were objectively worse than your breakup with Spencer, but something about the gentleness of his tone and the way he had let one of his many (past) petnames for you slip had your throat tightening and you ducked your head into your one hand—the other still seized by Spencer’s—to try and muffle a sob.

“Hey,” He trailed his hand that was wrapped around yours up your arm, all the way to your shoulder blade before lightly guiding you towards him. You don’t have enough energy in you to fight his magnetic pull, so you shuffle over until you can bury your head into his shirt. You inhale his scent; vanilla, neroli, and so him it makes you ache.

Stopping your tears is futile—you’d know, they’d barely ceased all night—so you just let them fall, seeping into Spencer’s tie as he rubs one hand softly up and down your back, the other cradling the crown of your head.

His breathing is quiet and slow—the exact opposite of yours—and you try to imitate it—forcing air into your lungs. When your sobbing has turned to shaky breathing and the occasional sniffle, he speaks up.

“Do you want to talk?”

Talk about what? About what had happened today—what had led you to calling him? Talk about how for the last few months, he had been the only person you had wanted to call?

“No.” You hated how pitiful you sounded.

“Okay.”

Spencer didn’t say anything else for a minute—your synchronised breathing being the only thing to stop the room from falling into dead silence.

“You need to rehydrate.” He murmured, smoothing down your hair.

You hummed into him, in no hurry to unwrap yourself from his body. You probably wouldn’t get to be this close to him again, after all.

He moved both of his hands to your biceps, pulling you back slightly so you could look at him. He knitted his brows together in a silent plea which had you rolling your eyes petulantly, your lashes still damp from tears.

“Fine.” You peeled yourself off of him, pushing yourself into a standing position. Horrible mistake. You were still incredibly drunk, turns out, and everything was spinning a little bit and come to think of it, you were also nauseous and—

“Careful, lovely.” Spencer placed his hand firmly on the small of your back, keeping you upright.

and—actually, you were fine now.

He stood too, moving his hand just slightly over to your waist so he could guide you to the kitchen. When he knew you could stand upright—even if you were relying mostly on the counter behind you—he grabbed a glass from your cabinet, moving around effortlessly to pour you some water. The sight was so domestic you almost wanted to cry again. Maybe in some alternate timeline, where you and him could’ve worked, this would be an every day thing—minus the drunk sobbing part, of course.

He handed you the glass of water, watching as you took a few sips. He raised an eyebrow, nodding his head slowly.

“Whole thing, please.”

You let out an exasperated (affectionate) sigh and gulped the rest of it down, setting it on the counter behind you.

“Happy?”

“Very.”

You smirked, trailing your gaze down his body. He was still in his work clothes which, at the very least, meant he wasn’t on a date before he came here. He always changed before dates—well, for you, anyway. You wondered if he had been on any dates since the breakup—you certainly hadn’t. It had been long enough now that it wouldn’t be weird for you to start seeing other people—but you didn’t want to. You weren’t sure you’d ever want to, to be completely honest.

The more you thought about it, the more the whole thing seemed stupid. You didn’t want anyone else, you wanted Spencer. You had tried to get over him but if tonight was any indication—it clearly wasn’t working. You can’t even remember why you broke up in the first place—it all seemed so insignificant now. No amount of pain you had ever experienced in your relationship had come close to that of living without him.

You met his eyes once more and it was like he could see the question brewing. He tried to stop you, calling your name in a quiet warning, but you ignored him.

“Why did we break up?”

He frowned, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth with his tongue in that maddening way he did.

“I—you know why—“

“No, but I don’t! I know things were difficult sometimes but that doesn’t mean it didn’t work. It worked—we worked.” Your eyes were stinging again.

Spencer pressed his index and middle finger into his eye, furrowing his brows.

“I know, I know we worked, angel—but you were sad all the time, remember? I was gone so often and it wasn’t good for you.” His true emotions were indecipherable but his tone was soft, and you wished you could be as calm about this as him. Did he just not care as much as you did?

“But It’s—It’s worse now—“ You choked out, tears falling freely now. “I was sad when you were gone, but you always came back—you don’t come back anymore.”

Spencer removed his hand from his face, flexing it at his side like he was uncertain what to do with himself before taking a stride towards you. He brought a hand to your face, wiping the tears from under your eyes delicately—like you were made of porcelain.

“Listen, sweetheart—alcohol affects your ability to regulate your emotions and I know right now it might feel worse but that doesn’t mean it always—“

“Spencer, stop! It’s not the fucking alcohol, I miss you! I miss you all of the time! Even—even when I’m having a good day—I still want you—and especially when I—when I have a bad day—“ You choked out through heaving breaths.

“Breathe.” He urges, cupping your cheek. And you’re so, so angry, and sad, and tired that you have no choice but to shut up and listen to him. When you’ve adequately calmed down, he moves his hand to your jaw, tilting your head up to look at him.

“I don’t think we should talk about this tonight but I—“ You open your mouth to protest.

“I promise we can talk about it tomorrow when you’re sober—if you still want to.”

Your lip trembles of its own volition and you frown.

“Of course I want to.”

“Okay,”

“Okay.”

He gives your eyes a final wipe before he’s—rather unexpectedly—pulling you into a hug. You all but melt into him, your head finding its home in his sternum and your arms wrapping around his middle. He tilts his head down, kissing the top of your head—and you’re certain you can’t let this go again. You will chain him down before Spencer leaves this apartment again.

Everything is wordless from there—mostly because you’re so, so exhausted that even talking seems like too difficult a task. Spencer helps you find something more comfortable to change into and you pull out an old t-shirt of his and a pair of plaid pyjama pants you had kept here for him. I guess your keeping them ‘just in case you needed them in the future’ had come in handy, after all.

As you washed your face, Spencer snuck through to the kitchen, refilling your water and grabbing two aspirin in a not-so-subtle attempt to help the inevitable hangover you were going to have in the morning.

You caught him placing them on your bedside table and mock gasped.

“Trying to drug me in my sleep so you can make a run for it in the night?”

He grinned lazily—exhaustion creeping up on him as well.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

You smiled, flopping yourself onto your bed rather ungraciously. Spencer looked at you like you were something fascinating before biting his lip, clearly deep in thought.

“What?” You let out a self-effacing little chuckle.

“I was just…wondering…if you’d like me to sleep on the couch?”

You probably should’ve been more careful in your facial expressions considering you were still broken up but your thoughts about that offer were obvious.

“No, stay.” Stay in your bed, in your apartment—stay anywhere that was close to you.

Maybe you were coming on a little too strong.

“Unless you want to, I mean—“

“No, no—I’ll stay.” Forever, preferably.

He walked around to the other side of your bed—as he had done so many times before—and sat down, pulling the covers over his legs. You mirrored his movements before flicking your bedside lamp out, turning to face him.

You were a little thankful you were so out of it, because this had the potential to be very awkward otherwise. Spencer shuffled down so that he was at eye level with you, turning to face you as well.

You just stared for a moment, committing him to memory. The moonlight had a way of highlighting all the high points of his face, and the twinkle in his eyes, and—God, you were so glad the moon existed and that Spencer was in your bed that you couldn’t help but giggle.

“What?” Spencer laughed along with you, even though he had no idea what was so funny.

“Nothing. You’re pretty.”

“You’re drunk. Go to sleep.”

“Don’t wanna.”

“Why?”

“Scared you’ll be gone when I wake up—like I made it all up.”

Spencer’s smile faded then, and he looked at you with something that seemed so much like the one thing you had been willing yourself to stop doing the whole time that you’d been broken up, that it almost took your breath away.

“I won’t. I promised, didn’t I?”

You nodded.

“So there’s nothing to worry about. Now get some sleep, lovely.”

You smiled, feeling Spencer’s hand inching towards yours. He intertwined them and gave yours a squeeze.

“Just in case you make a run for it in the night.”

You chuckled, your eyelids fluttering shut. Yeah, you could make it work.

part two!

[rafeandonlyrafe]

moonlit beach

words: 1.6k

warnings: 18+ only!, smut, face sitting, p in v sex, unprotected sex, fluff, vacation, proposal, bratty!reader for the first bit lol

you walk over to the boys, already in a bad mood from having to redo your makeup as it kept looking patchy.

you step between the couches, interrupting their conversation as you stop in front of rafe. you place your hand out, looking down at your boyfriend.

“card.” it's not a request, not a question.

“what's wrong baby?” rafe coos, causing kelce to snicker at his pout.

“give me your credit card. im going to buy myself a birthday gift on your dime since you didn't get me anything.” you say, lowering your hand more to get your point across.

“baby, i told you it just got delayed. it will be here friday, i promise.” rafe takes your hand in his, pressing a kiss to your palm. he used to care about showing affection in front of his friends, but not anymore, his focus always solely on you whenever you're in view.

“yeah right.” you roll your eyes. “you forgot. come on, card.”

rafe reaches into his wallet with a sigh. he truly does have plans for your birthday, it just landed on an awkward day of the week for celebrations.

he places the credit card into your hand, watching you turn on your heel without another word.

“dude, just tell her you're taking her to the maldives.” kelce says, topper nodding in agreement.

“that would ruin the point of the surprise.” rafe rolls his eyes. “what, do you also want me to tell her that i bought a diamond ring and that im going to propose to her there?”

“well, guess you'll just have to deal with her being mad at you.” topper shrugs.

“it's alright, i think it's kinda hot.” rafe adjusts his pants not so subtly.

“ew, dude!” topper looks away suddenly while kelce makes a gagging motion.

--

“wake up, princess.” rafe presses kisses along the bridge of your nose until your eyes flutter open. you look happy for a split second before remembering rafe didn't get you anything for your birthday, a frown spreading across your features.

“baby.” rafe coos out, pressing a kiss to your still lips. he's planning to tell you later today so you have time to pack before the flight tomorrow evening, but rafe can't help himself, wanting to get inside of you while you're still pissed at him.

“fuck off, cameron.” you roll over, intending to get more sleep when you feel rafe push himself against you, his morning wood evident in his pants.

“come on baby, i told you ive got a really good gift for tomorrow. don't be mad.” rafe presses kisses to your shoulder, tugging the strap of your pajama shirt down to give him access to more skin.

you hate your traitorous pussy as it floods with wetness. you flip over suddenly, pushing rafe onto his back.

“you're gonna eat me out then im gonna ride you. i don't wanna hear you complain.” you say sternly. it has been a couple days since you slept with rafe on your birthday morning, happy and glowing as he gently thrusted inside of you, muttering how beautiful you are and how much he loves you.

“take those shorts off.” rafe just smirks, watching as you quickly disrobe before crawling on top of rafe. you usually would kiss him, but you bypass his lips to place your cunt down on his face, knees on either side of his head.

rafe grabs your hips, not even giving you a moment to adjust before he pulls you down onto his awaiting mouth.

you let out a moan and reach forward to grip the headboard as rafes tongue snakes through your folds before lapping at your clit.

you press yourself further down onto his face, a mess of juice and spit covering his chin and nose, but rafe couldn't care less, loving the way you take effortless control as your hips rock back and forth.

rafe pushes his tongue into your cunt, feeling the way your walls clench around him. you let out a moan as his nose bumps against your clit as he begins to thrust his tongue in and out. 

as much as you'd like to cum all over his face, you want rafes cock inside of you.

you turn suddenly, crawling down his body with your ass to his face as you pull his pajama pants down to reveal his cock, standing straight up and ready for you.

you position yourself over top, not caring when rafe whines out.

“turn around baby, i wanna see your face.”

you roll your eyes despite him not being able to see, sinking yourself down on his length with a moan.

your hips begin to buck, only focusing on your orgasm as you rub your pussy with the hand not on rafes thigh for support.

you blame having gone without an orgasm for a few days for how quickly you can feel your high building, but clearly rafe isn't far behind as his hips begin to thrust up into you.

his hands reach out to grip your ass as it bounces in front of him, the plush flesh too tempting not to touch.

you let out a growl, pushing yourself to move faster up and down on his cock until your high suddenly breeches and you fall forward into the mattress between his legs with a moan.

rafe moves quickly to his knees, pushing his cock deep inside of you as he cums as well, flooding your pussy.

“im gonna take a shower.” you say, kneeling back up as you look back at rafe. usually you love to allow him to keep his cock buried inside of you after you both cum, but not when you're mad at him.

“alright.” rafe says, sighing when you move away and his cock slips free as you climb off the bed, legs clearly tired from fucking. “just don't take too long, you have to pack.”

your footsteps stop. “pack for what?”

“im taking you to the maldives tomorrow. happy birthday.” the words barely leave rafes mouth before you're turning and jumping back onto the bed, kissing him between mumbles of thank you and how much you love him.

--

“i can't believe i was such a bitch to you and you had this planned the whole time.” you pout, burying your head further into rafes bare chest, rubbing your face against him as a cat trying to mark their scent would.

“baby, it's okay.” rafe coos out, not brave enough to say that he liked it. he likes you like this even more, glowing and happy.

“i love you.” you coo out, looking out onto the ocean, keeping your ear against his chest to hear his heartbeat, your favorite sound in the world.

“i love you too baby.” rafe runs his hand over your back, up until it meets the string of your bikini, then back down until his hands hits your bottoms, then occasionally over that to squeeze your ass. “i know i took you out for a birthday dinner back in the outer banks, but would you allow me to take you out again tonight?”

you pout, nodding quickly. “of course.” you pick your head up to press a kiss to rafes lips.

--

“how did you like the food?” rafe asks. there's really no point in questioning it, your moans every time you took a bite and asking for seconds told him everything.

“so good… can we go back there again tomorrow?” you squeeze rafes hand that's entangled with your own as you walk down the moonlit beach.

“anything you want. this trip is for you.” rafe says, hoping you can't tell that his palm is sweaty as you get closer to the spot he chose, just having to round a bushel of trees to see the lights.

he didn't expect to feel nervous, but with every step his worry builds. what if you say no? rafe knows it's ridiculous, but the small nagging voice in the back of his head is growing louder every minute.

“oh my gosh!” you squeal out as you see the string lights set up on the beach, over wooden slats placed on top of the sand for an even surface. “it's so cute!”

rafe smiles gently, glad he chose a cool color for the twinkling lights to match the moonlight. you change your path to walk around it, but rafe pulls you closer.

“rafe-” you begin to say that you probably shouldn't go onto random peoples set ups on the beach, but he just looks at you with a comforting gaze that would make you go along with anything, trusting him implicitly.

it doesn't hit you until you're under the lights. the realization suddenly sinks in as you look at rafe. he nods gently, like he knows the thoughts running through your mind.

rafe sinks to one knee, confirming your suspicion. he reaches into his pocket and delivers a beautiful speech before showing you the gleaming ring, a speech you are both bound to forget in your excitement and nerves.

“will you marry me?”

“yes!” you don't even wait for rafe to stand up, launching yourself to the ground with him as your arms fly around his shoulders. you managed to hold in tears until this point as you cry into his shoulder.

rafe holds you close, allowing you to feel every emotion in his steady arms.

“come on baby, let's make sure the ring fits.” rafe helps you stand easily before he pulls the ring out of the box, managing to snap it closed when you flung yourself on him so it didn't get lost in the sand.

you hold your hand out, a fresh batch of tears coming as rafe slides the ring onto your finger, hoping the photographers hidden in the treeline got good shots.

“oh my god, we are gonna get married!” you squeal out as it hits you all over again.

“you're gonna be my wife.” rafe smiles as he pulls you in for a kiss.

“im gonna get to call you husband.” tears flood in your eyes as you kiss him again, again, and again.

taglist: @drewstarkeyslut @forstarkey @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @drudyslut @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450 @babygorewhore @vanessa-rafesgirl @michelleisheres-blog @outerbankspov @drewstarkeyswifehoe @cutielando @sourkittie @rafeyslove @rafeinterlude @bellbottombaby @deeaardiary @rubixgsworld @wearemadeofstardust0 @leighbronk @starkeysheart @pradabambie @tobesolovelysstuff @alexiskirkland @rafestar @brioffthegrid @juniebugg @magicalyoura @cokepewpsii @mysticallystilinski @luvdella @aerangi @vogueprincess @auryyz @raysmayhem-72 @thestarlithideout @marvelfanfics1recs @rafesgiirl @ditzyzombiesblog @chiaraanatra @tobiaslut @drewsephrry @1aarii1

[suckerforblondeathletes]

Caught in the entrance - Alexia Putellas

Alexia Putellas x reader

Summary: While filming a get ready to me live, your secret girlfriend accidentally makes her presence known.

Warning: Kissing, light cursing.

Authors Note: Heyyy my monthly small fic

"Hey guys I'm going to a special dinner tonight so get ready with me!"

You say to the camera, dressed in a fury robe and a headband pushing your hair back from your face.

You and Alexia had a date tonight to a fancy Mexican restaurant in Barcelona, so you had decided to get ready early to have enough time.

At the moment, she is at a training session with the team, they all know about y'alls relationship, but the public doesn't.

She wanted to keep things quiet and low for now since everyone is watching her for any signs of a lover.

As you finish your makeup you hear the door open and a loud groan coming from the front door. Very quiet though since you are on the second floor getting ready.

You watch the comment come through and make sure no one heard the noise.

"Okay guys I will be back I have to go grab something." You say to your phone before putting your phone on mute and watching as the blonde walks through the door.

"Hola amor." She smiles softly as you walk out of the camera view and go to her, wrapping your arms around her strong neck and her arms going to your waist.

"How was the meeting?" You ask, looking down at her lips and smirking as she speaks.

"Good, Mapi wouldn't stop teasing me though." She smiles and presses her lips onto yours.

Your hands go to her hair and hers tightens around your waist. But you remember you are on live and pull back, making the Catalan pout softly at you.

"Sorry baby but I am on live right now." You say and press a kiss to her pouty lips.

She kisses you once more before leaving and you go back to your phone.

"Hey guys im back!" You say and touch up your lip stick, but you can't help but notice the extreme amount of comments coming in.

You begin to read them and you get confused when you see people talking about Alexia.

You're face goes pale as someone says 'No way they are dating!"

You turn to look at the mirror on the wall, showing a perfect view of the entrance to the bathroom.

"fuck."

[eomayas]

chasing pavements • hjs

pairing: husband!joshua x wife!reader, parent au

genre: angst, hurt/comfort

synopsis: just reader and joshua being parents

warnings: parental woes, arguments, past childhood trauma, girl-dad!joshua, their child is nameless and is called ‘baby’

a/n: the people asked for dad!shua but nobody said which kind…🤭 anyway this was v random and is very parent-y so beware!

1.

2.

3.

4.

5.

sighing out a deep breath, you open your eyes and try to make your voice as gentle and even as possible. “i’ve asked you to clean up your mess three times now, baby. i’m not going to ask you again,” you stop stirring the spoon in the pot to look over your shoulder at her. she’s busy dragging her crayons over a coloring page, not bothering to look up at you.

“but im not done!” she whines, bottoms lip jutting out with the beginnings of a tantrum. you tense and and blink a few times as she just whines, tiny hand holding the crayon tightly in her hand. she’s not even coloring inside of the lines, just streaking the colors over the sheet haphazardly.

“dinner is almost ready. clean it up,” you voice is stern, tension in your tone rising as well as in your posture. you grip the ladle tightly in your fist, your other hand braced against the kitchen counter. “if i have to ask you again, then-“ the consequence dies on your tongue at the sound of the lock clicking and the front door opening. she gasps and shoots up from the table, loose crayons scattering across the wood floors.

“papa!” she shouts, running down the hall to greet joshua. you close your eyes and push out a breath from your nose. your jaw is tight as you turn back to face the stove. “look at what i got from school today! oh, and you missed seeing soobin today!”

“yeah? what is it?” he’s pressing a kiss to her cheek as he enters the kitchen, making her giggle when he blows raspberry against her skin. joshua sets her down so she can run to her backpack. “hey, baby.” he says, a hand sliding around to your hip and his lips pressing against your jaw in a greeting.

“hey,” you shrug him off of you and turn the burner down to low heat. “uh-uh, you can show daddy after dinner. go clean up,” you say, stopping her short when she comes back with a paper from school clutched in her hands.

that bottom lip juts out again and her eyes dart over to joshua for help. it only frustrates you more, because all three of you know that she has him in her palm. “well- joshua, stop.” you bark, throwing your arm out to the side to push against his abdomen. “go clean up the table so we can eat dinner.” her eyes well up with tears, and you feel like the biggest asshole in the world for making her cry. you remember a brief moment of yourself as a child and being scared each time your father asked you to do something. he never had to ask you or your siblings more than once—you all found out the hard way—and worry that you’re doing the same thing to her.

she huffs and spins around, her walk mopey as she puts her paper back into her bag and starts to slowly pick up the crayons. you feel joshua start, his hand gently pushing yours away as he makes his way over to her. “i’ll help you, princess,” he says and you grit your teeth.

“joshua, stop! i’ve asked her six times now, she needs to listen!” you’re on the brink of snapping, another word out of him or her is very likely to send you over the edge. it’s rough. the day was shitty from the jump, but you didn’t think it would be this bad by the end.

you expect joshua to at least have your back when you put a number on it, he looks over at you before glancing down at your daughter with sad eyes. “y/n, she’s just a baby.”

“goddamnit, joshua! let me do this!”

and then the dam breaks. her wail ripples through you like an electric current, setting off all of the alarms and signals that let you know your daughter is in trouble. except, you put her in this position, and now your heart has sunk to your stomach. joshua hurries to pick her up, cradling her against his chest and smoothing his hand over her hair. you stay rooted at your place by the stove, ignoring the sting in your nose and the newly formed lump in your throat. joshua shushes her softly like he used to when she was much smaller, but she just keeps wailing.

her cries slice through your heart and shred it to pieces. you want to walk over to her and hold her, tell her that you’re sorry, but you don’t think it’ll help. “baby- i’ve got it,” joshua cuts you off this time, cutting his eyes at you as he keeps trying to console her.

it only frustrates you more, and your anger is misplaced when you spit out, “deal with dinner, then. since you’ve got everything,” and storm out of the kitchen, your heels punctuating the end of the conversation. you fly up the stairs and into your bedroom, kicking off your shoes into your closet.

you stand there, in the middle of the walk-in, with your hands on your hips as you take in deep, shuddering breaths. your vision blurs with tears that you don’t let fall, instead blinking them away as you try to regain control over your breathing. her crying face swims through your mind and you almost forget why you’re so upset. almost. but unlucky for her, you’re not as easily swayed like joshua is.

grabbing a sweatshirt and a pair of pants off of their hangers, you quickly undress from your work outfit, and pull onto the much more comfortable clothes. you shove your feet into a pair of sneakers and push out a breath. her cries echo through the house, and you wince at her gasping breaths. it’s muffled, but you can hear joshua trying to calm her down, though whatever he says makes her let out a piercing wail that makes you flinch. it all feels too much; your guilt, her crying, your frustration at the both of them for different things.

you slip out of the bedroom and move as quickly and quietly as you can down the stairs. you force your eyes away from the kitchen and grab your purse off of the accent table in the foyer, and leave the house without a word.

i’m just like my father.

the thought rang through your head the the moment you pulled out of your neighborhood. it almost brought you to tears, but you managed to keep them in again. and you almost turned back, but couldn’t. you have the harrowing realization that the more you fought to be better than him, you ended up a mirror. it makes your stomach flip and turn, but yet you still don’t turn around.

time is a flat circle.

there’s not a place you’re heading for. you’ve just been driving on the back roads for nearly two hours. the sun set a long time ago, and now the sky is dark and unwelcoming. you should go him, you know it, but facing your husband isn’t something you feel up for at the moment.

turning into a dimly lit convenience store parking lot, you pull into a space and out your car in park. you sigh and lean back against the headrest, shutting your eyes and reminding yourself to breathe. you visualize a square and practice the breathing exercise your therapist taught you. in for four, out for four, her voice echoes through your head. it calms down the storm brewing inside of you and brings you back down. that voice in the back of your head, the one telling you that you’re just like your own dad, gets a little quieter.

your phone buzzes in the cup holder, and you pick it up.

joshua: you don’t have to tell me where you are, just lmk that you’re ok.

you: i’m okay.

you gnaw on your bottom lip, deciding that it’s time to go home. it’s past your daughters bedtime now, and you can guarantee that she’s already tucked in and asleep. at least you won’t have to deal with the both of them tonight.

on your way home, you pass a donut shop that is surprisingly open. you stop and quickly run in. the pastries surprisingly look fresh for 8pm, and order half a dozen of your daughters favorite (chocolate with sprinkles, and maple), before heading to the car to make your way home.

the stress of the day starts to weigh on you halfway home. the morning started out rough; joshua had to go into work early, so taking your daughter was your duty. from the moment you woke her up, she was in meltdown mode. you take the blame for rushing a seven year old, but you let her have juice in her lunch instead of the usual water, so you figured that it evened everything out. but then you were late from picking her up from the after school program she sometimes goes to if neither you nor joshua can pick her up, and she whined about it the whole way home. never mind the fact that your workday was filled with hour-long, unnecessary meetings.

you yawn as you pull into your neighborhood and up to your driveway. you stall in the car for a moment, looking at the dark house in front of you, save for the bright porch light. there’s a chance that joshua has gone to bed, but in your heart of hearts you know that he’s waiting up for you. deciding to just deal with your life, you grab the box of donuts and your belongings, and get out of the car.

you quietly make you way into the house, lightly shutting the front door and locking it behind you. just the sight of the kitchen makes you tense, and when you walk in you’re met with a clean kitchen table and floor, no signs of there ever being a previous mess. you put the donuts away in the fridge to keep them fresh.

with a sigh, you exit the kitchen and start up tje stairs, footsteps light just in case the stairs creak. you step into your bedroom with a quiet sigh, and shut the door. the light from the en suite bathroom shines through the cracked door, and you can hear joshua in there. grabbing some pajamas, you pull on a tshirt just as joshua comes into the room. “hey,” he says, voice soft.

“hi,” you tug the shirt over your head and toss your other clothing items into the hamper. he lingers near the bathroom door with his arms crossed over his chest, watching you as you make yourself busy with little things.

“we need to talk about earlier,” joshua says. you don’t look up at him as you apply hand cream.

you take a moment before responding. “okay,” you breathe out, roughly massaging the lotion into your skin. you hear joshua shuffle on the other side of the room.

“you can’t yell at her like that,” joshua says gently. you sit up and stare across the room at a family photo, blinking a few times.

“i know. but i asked her six times to do something, and she still didn’t even do it. you need to let me discipline her,” you say, finally looking over at him. he uncrosses his arms to run a hand through his hair, letting out a sigh as he does.

“she’s just a baby.”

“she’s seven.”

“she’s a little girl, honey,” joshua says, like that changes anything. you two are usually on the same page when it comes to disciplining her, though she doesn’t really get disciplined because she’s an good kid. you thought he’d understand your frustration today, but he doesn’t and you feel like your back is against the wall.

the fight in you is gone, though a flicker or your earlier anger lights inside of you upon hearing him talk. “okay, and i shouldn’t have to tell her to do something six times. she should just do it the first time,” you say, looking at him pointedly. he pokes his tongue in his cheek, and you know he doesn’t agree with you and is holding back whatever he wants to say. “and, i don’t need you to step in when im trying to teach her something. you need to let me parent her.”

“are you implying that i don’t parent her?” he asks, head tilting to the side. you squeeze your eyes shut and swallow the frustrated groan at the back of your throat.

“i’m not implying anything. im telling you that you need to let me teach her things, without interrupting me. because she’s going to think that she can get out of everything if she looks at you,” you say. joshua purses his lips and looks down at his feet, nodding slowly. “you have to stop babying her, joshua.”

asking him to do that is like asking him to recolor the sky: it’s impossible. one look at her and his entire backbone shatters. it’s sweet sometimes, until you need him to enforce some rules.

“fine, alright? but you can’t yell at her like that. you heard how she cried afterwards,” he says, his voice less gentle than before. you blink at him and drag a hand down your face. you’re ready to put this conversation to bed—nothing feels like it’s going to get resolved tonight. “she was scared, baby. remember that night when i met your dad? she had that same look on her face.” your stomach drops at the memory.

the first time you let joshua meet your dad was also the last time he saw him, until your daughter was born. you were in college, and had only been dating joshua for a few months, but you felt so sure about him. he was the first person you felt so sure about, and it scared you, but you felt like in order for joshua to understand you and to love you, he had to meet your dad. he’d met everybody else in your family, but you were putting off him meeting your dad because of how your father is. the night started out fine, everybody was generally getting along with each other and joshua was fitting in. you were on edge, worried that something would happen so much so that you weren’t able to relax. you were running around trying to help your mom with the kitchen, be a good host to joshua, and avoid pissing off your dad.

and then it happened. you can hardly recall the reason now, since you’ve really tried to block it out of your memory, but you forgot a dish, or burned something that he wanted in particular, and he flipped out. you were in your twenties, so you didn’t have a problem standing up for yourself at that point. but because your new boyfriend was there, and it was humiliating that he was yelling at you like that in front of company, all you could do was cry. you begged him to stop with tears streaming down your face, begged him not to say things in front of joshua. he ignored your pleas as they only made him explode. joshua tried standing up for you, but your dad yelled at him too, claimed joshua was ‘disrespecting’ him, and told him to get out.

joshua left but took you with him. he kissed your mom and siblings goodbye, and whisked you out of the house. you were so embarrassed that you could hardly talk through the tears. you expected joshua to break up with you after that, and managed to ask if he was going to leave you. he stayed and proposed to you five months later, and you quietly eloped together, only a few of your friends knowing about it.

“i’m not like him,” you say, throat closing. joshua’s face falls and his features soften as your eyes well up with tears, already moving to walk over to you.

“no, you’re not,” he clarifies, sitting next to you on the bed and pulling you into his chest. you press your fists into your eyes and try to control your breathing while he softly rubs your back. “i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to upset you.” joshua whispers, kissing your head as you tremble in his arms. he keeps his lips pressed to your hair and lets you fight the tears, never once letting go of you.

your eyes ache from pressing against them and you pull your hands away, sniffing and trying to pull yourself away from him. joshua only holds onto you tighter which makes your eyes well up again, and you can’t believe you’ve been brought to tears more times tonight than in the year so far. “i left,” you mumble weakly.

“you came back.”

“but i left.”

joshua pulls back enough to look down at you. you look up at him with sad eyes and he lets go of you to wipe your face. “and you came back. you’re nothing like him, baby. you’re a good mom, a good wife, and you care. you left, but you came back. water under the bridge,” he says, pushing your hair out of your face. you blink tears away as he peers down at you before leaning down to press a soft kiss to your lips.

“i love you. and im sorry,” you murmur, wiping under your eyes.

“i love you too, and we both have things to work on.”

you nod, and let him hold you until you eventually doze off, headache and all. you only wake up in the middle of the night because you’re uncomfortable, and move to your side of the bed. joshua still tugs you back into his chest and the two of you mange to stay that was until the morning.

when you wake, joshua is right behind you. he talks you down when you panic about facing your baby. “does she hate me?” you ask, wiping sleep out of your eyes.

“of course not,” he says, a small frown on his face. you want to tell him to wait until she’s a teenager, but he looks distraught enough at your question, so you just nod.

she’s asleep when you peek in her room, sprawled out on her small bed. you creep over quietly and kneel beside her, gently shaking her shoulder. she wakes up easily, stretching her short limbs before she opens her eyes. “mommy?” she mumbles, rubbing her eyes with a small yawn.

“hi, baby,” you say, smoothing a hand over her head. she looks up at you timidly, and your stomach knots. “did you sleep okay?” she nods and you give her a small smile. “mommy’s sorry, baby. i didn’t mean to yell at you.”

“it’s okay,” she says, sitting up. it’s not, but you’ll take her accepting your apology. “can i have a hug?” her voice is small, and makes you want to cry because she doesn’t have to ask you for that.

“of course, baby,” you say, wrapping yourself around her and pressing a kiss to her cheek. your hold her for awhile, until she starts to struggle against you. “i got you something.” you say once you loosen your hold around her. her eyes light up and you smile, scooping her up and heading downstairs.

you pull the box of donuts out of the fridge snd she gasps when you open the lid. you let her have a whole donut for breakfast, and promise her half of one after dinner. you apologize again, and she tells you that it’s okay again. one day, you’ll let her know that she can’t just say ‘it’s okay’ whenever somebody apologizes, but for now you let it be.

[star-girl69]

New Romantics

Clarisse La Rue x Fem!AphroditeCabin!Reader

—-

sypnosis: you and clarisse meet during a capture the flag game, In A Good Way prequel!!

a/n: IM SO GLAD EVERYONE LIKES MY CLARISSE FIC ☹️☹️☹️☹️ i have so many planned but i just wanted to say thank you all sm!!!! this one is so silly….. i hope you all enjoy!!

LMK IF YOU WANNA BE ON MY CLARISSE TAGLIST!!!!!!

New Romantics - Taylor Swift

warnings: violence, swearing, mentions of death and blood, insane clarisse bc she gets a LITTLE too into capture the flag, protective clarisse obvi i will never write a fic without her showing up, clarisse makes me SWOON if you couldn’t tell, not proofread we get turned into pine trees like thalia over here, tell me if i missed anything!!

—-

Your legs ache. You’ve been at Camp Half Blood all your life, but you just spent the entire school year doing absolutely nothing. It was an adjustment. You’re already being forced into the horrible tradition of capture the flag. You met up with your favorite and best friends Jackie and Tyla at the beginning of summer, and you’ve all been attached to the hip ever since.

The three of you thought you could escape to a random part of the woods and skip out.

It’s not like you were lazy, or couldn’t hold your own in a fight- but you had just taken turns doing each others nails yesterday, and it would be such a shame to see them all smudged and broken.

You were on the red team, so you watched as the incomparable Clarisse La Rue ran around instructing everyone what to do- completely skipping past the three of you. Jackie took it to heart, complaining about how she had lasted two minutes sparring with Clarisse once, and she had no right to label all Aphrodite kids as weak and useless.

You remember the night you finally made it to the crest of camp, blood staining your hands, your satyr protector dead on the ground behind you as some monster you didn’t know the name of chased after you.

The three of you thought maybe a nice walk at the edge of the woods would be nice, when suddenly a squadron of the blue team came running out trying to catch you as prisoners. It wasn’t a rule of the game, but it was generally expected that that the winner had more prisoners, or else the victory just didn’t seem right.

The blue team saw Aphrodite kids as easy targets to pick off.

This felt all too familiar to that stormy light, your pounding heart, looking around as everything crashed around you. One of them even jumped down from the freaking trees, and you screamed at the top of your lungs as all three of you sprinted off into different directions.

There was only one chasing behind you, a Hermes kid you didn’t know the name of, but he was fast on your tail.

Just as you had reached the crest of the hill, you screeched at the top of your lungs as you saw four figures in front of you. A satyr. Two girls. One boy.

“Not another one,” the stayr moaned, before beckoning you towards them. You stayed frozen in place. The monster was big and slow, but you could hear it approach.

The boy held out his hand.

“I promise,” he breathed, locking eyes with the smaller girl, maybe a year or two younger than you, before looking up at the older girl. You could tell she was battle hardened, she was ready to win this. “We’ll all make it to camp.”

Both monsters chasing you let out ear-piercing roars, and you quickly slapped your hand into his and sprinted away.

Thalia, you would later learn her name, didn’t survive that night. But you did. Luke did. Annabeth did.

The three of you will forever be bonded by that, even if you’re on different teams in capture the flag. Gods, you wish it was Luke chasing you right now- but it’s not.

You’ve forgotten everything about swords and fighting in exchange for the Russian Revolution and the Periodic Table. You hate school even more in this moment.

He reaches out towards you and you’re distracted by his hand touching your shoulder, heart pounding in your ears, and you trip right over a root and stumble before falling to the ground.

You faintly see the flash of bronze armor pass you, then you suddenly hear a body slam into the ground. You whip around, only to find a girl wearing a red-tipped helmet on top of the boy chasing you.

“Clarisse!” she shouts. “I got him!”

You breathe heavily, watching at the boy yells and tries to buck her off of him, but you faintly remember seeing her constantly around Clarisse. She must be another Ares kid, which means there’s no way she’s letting this Hermes kid gets away.

Clarisse saunters out of the woods on your left, looking between you and the boy on the ground.

You sit up on your hands, watching it all play out, not able to catch your breath.

She smiles, slow, like a cheshire cat.

Gods, why does she have to look like that? Why does she have to smile like that? Why does she have to make you feel this way?

Why doesn’t she just drop the spear and make out with you?

“So, this is the dummy who thinks it’s funny to chase around Aphrodite kids,” she says, slowing walking turns him. The girl holds up his head so he has to look at Clarisse. She places the end of her spear into the dirt. She leans down in front of him. “Well, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but the Aphrodite cabin is on the red team, right? Right?”

The girl tugs his head up and he winces, but nods.

“And who captains the red team? Cause I think it’s me, isn’t it?”

He’s learned his lesson. He nods quickly, now.

“I’m feeling nice today. Why don’t you apologize to the pretty girl, and maybe I won’t kill you.”

His eyes lock with yours. He says nothing.

“I said apologize, dumbass.”

He glares at Clarisse.

“You’re fucking insane.”

She laughs a bit. “It’s capture the flag, Zander, why are you not getting a little crazy? Chasing after Aphrodite kids is just embarrassing, honestly.”

“Fine,” he spits. “Fucking fine. I’m sorry.”

“Was that so hard?” she coos. She nods, and the girl let’s him go.

Holy Hades if that wasn’t the hottest thing you’ve ever seen.

He runs straight off into the woods after a moment, when he realizes they’re not gonna chase after him, not now at least.

The other girl turns to you. “You ok?”

“Yeah, yeah,” you dust off your knees. “There’s more of them by the edge, just so you know. Just north of the river.”

The girl smiles. “Gods, yes. Fuckin’ love destroying the Hermes cabin.”

Clarisse turns to you. She tilts her head to the side, watching you breath heavily on the ground. She sticks out your hand. Your grab it quick, scared she might pull away, and her hand is so warm and fits perfectly with yours. She pulls you up and you dust off your knees.

The other girl takes off running, following the boy, yelling for Clarisse to hurry up.

She smiles a bit, and you swear to Zeus her cheeks are a little flushed, you swear she looks at your lips for a second.

She brushes her thumb across her cheek.

“You’ve got some dirt on your face, gorgeous.”

She runs off before you can say anything, electrical spear crackling to life.

Oh, you fucking love capture the flag.

—-

clarisse “you’ve got some dirt on your face, gorgeous” la rue the woman you are

—-

[aemondwhoresworld]

WITH WIRED

pairing: ewan mitchell x fem!reader

summary: in which ewan and y/n doing their first interview as newlywed with wired

words-count: 1,3k

warning: fluff, maybe abit cliché?, use of y/n, ewan and y/n being a newlywed couple, reader is quite sensitive, does not have any specific descriptions about y/n and ewan's appearance.

mae: english is not my first language, i do used google translate a few part in this one-shot. also this is my 2nd fic, im a long time reader but im a new writer, haven’t wrote any long imagines before. please forgive me if there was any mistakes. thank u!! maybe a part 2? idk

ASK | SUBMIT A POST | ARCHIVE

you and ewan had the opportunity to meet each other at a new movie premiere few years ago, at the event ewan participated as the main actor and you were a guest invited by the director of that movie.

at first you were quite hesitant about being the one to make a first move to go over to talk to ewan, people would wonder what was the reason? well of course, because you’re attracted by ewan’s charming appearance, but also by how the way he treated his colleagues, or anyone he met.

and then today, at this moment, you both received an invitation from wired to come here for an interview as newlyweds… yes, ewan and you have been married for 3 months now and both are extremely excited for the upcoming interview

it can be said that since you got married, or to be more precise, since the announced, the news has caused the fan community to react extremely positively, of course, negatively as well. yes but mostly positive

—

and 3… 2… 1… the interview begin, camera start rolling

"hi! this is y/n, y/n mitchell" you introduced yourself with a small smile while looking at the camera, then raised your left hand to show off your wedding ring you were wearing on your ring finger at the same time you look over at ewan, ewan now looked at you with this “husband proud smiley” smile

“and, i’m ewan mitchell, husband of this beautiful woman sitting next to me” ewan introduced himself, and then he repeated the same gesture as you, at this moment you heard a few people behind the camera, giggling and enjoying themselves

“we're here with WIRED, answering the most asked questions on google” ewan continued

“but newlywed edition” you and ewan both said at the same time

then a staff member brought out a large copy, with the questions partially hidden. you were now extremely nervous, then turned to look at him and asked softly.

“are you ready to answer these questions” you asked

“always” said and then ewan smiled slightly

"okay, first question for you my dear" you said and then gently pulled the sticky note off with your hand to make the question appear, then you continued to read

“how did ewan and y/n meet?” you read the question, then looked up at ewan and continued, "hmm, do you remember how we met, husband?" you asked ewan

“how could i forget it, the first time we ever met” ewan said while looking at you smiling, he sat thinking for a moment then he continued

"y/n and i met at this movie premiere, well… i was the main character, actor and she was invited by this great movie director, john, as a friend" ewan said, then used his hand to stroke his chin and continued. “while i was you know doing those interview, i saw her was looking at me so after the premier, we have like a little after party, i was just enjoying myself you know…” he laugh “erm.. and i-i saw this pretty lady slowly walking towards my direction and started conversation with me, and after a few minutes of talking, i thought wow she’s kinda nice to talk to, yeah.. that's… that’s how we met” and now you just sit there and giggled, flashing back all of those memories the first time you met him

“great job husband, it's so surprise to know that you still remember the first time we met, cause you never mention it ever since” you laughed and then continued “you know, to be able to date this guy, ewan mitchell, it's really a journey for me. to be mrs. mitchell is a long way" as you said, you used your thumb to point at ewan. at this time, ewan just looked helpless and shrugged his shoulders

from where you sit, you can clearly see the surprised faces of the staff member behind the camera about the fact that how hard it is to get close to him

“it's your turn” you said as ewan tore lightly to see the next question

“are ewan and y/n expecting?” Both you and ewan seemed quite surprised after hearing this question

“really, is this really the most asked question?” you laughed and giggled, “asked google?! this is crazy” you were extremely surprised by this question

“well y/n and ewan ARE NOT expecting… yet, and if we are, we will definitely announce it and share the joy with you guys so there is no need to ask mr google” you laughed, then you tuck your hair behind your ear

“we are not planning on having baby anytime soon and yes we do talk about it more often now since we’re married, you know we both love to build a family of our own but we both think this is not the right time” ewan said, you nodded with agreement with that ewan said

“next question” you looked at ewan, saying “oh i see this question seems long, it might be quite interesting!”

“the question is, have ewan and y/n ever been in a movie together?” you read the question, then you both looked at each other, you asked ewan “we talked about this a few times, aren’t we?”

“oh we literally talked about it yesterday before bed too…“ ewan chuckled then he continue “even though we have never worked together on any movie before, but we both talk about hoping that in the future we will have the opportunity to work together” ewan explained.

“yea…, there's a funny thing that if we both have the opportunity to be act in the same movie, we’ll both hope to be each other's villains” you laughed then ewan continued.

“you know, it's funny when viewers hear y/n and me's names and they might immediately think we're going to play happy married couple but no, there is not lovey dovey birds”

“but i think it's quite interesting, don't you guys think so too?” you turned to look at the camera in front of you, asking the people whom watching (after this interview video was posted).

“I'll let you answer this last question, baby” you said then let ewan remove the last sticky note to read the last question for today's interview.

“how have ewan and y/n enjoyed their marriage life so far?” ewan continued reading the last question and then he continued to answer

“who would ask this question on Google? how would Google know?” ewan replied

and you both sit there and laugh like an idiot because of how stupid this question is. really, how can Google know what your and ewan's married life is like? You laugh until you cry because of the absurdity of it

“how was it, my husband?” you asked ewan with a curious expression, wonder if he liked married life with you or not, making ewan partly amused and partly pampered, looking towards you, while you sat there patiently waiting his answer

“honestly, i am extremely happy and enjoy this married life with my wife. in short, i’m extremely satisfied, i mean who wouldn't, when you marry the person you love, so do i and especially y/n always makes me feel like i’m the luckiest man is marry to y/n, the woman i love the most" ewan replied a bit shyly because you know he rarely shows affection in front of the camera or in public

“ewan, you're going to make me cry” you smiled and used your hand to gently wipe away the happy tears at the corner of your eyes.

ewan then turned to see you so moved and pulled out a small handkerchief from his pocket and wiped your tears.

“i love you” ewan whispered to you while wipe the tear off your eye but he didn't know that the microphone attached to his shirt caught his all his words.

“i love you too but we have to say goodbye to the audience watching this interview first” you said to ewan and then burst out a small laughed

“and these are all the most asked questions on google” you said with excitement again, turning to look at ewan

“thank you WIRED for inviting us, and see you next time” ewan said “goodbye” both you and ewan raised your hands and waved to the audience

WIRED just made post

liked by y/nmitchell and others

wired #EwanMitchell and #Y/nMitchell Answer Most Asked Question On Google (Newlywed Edition)

Now available on WIRED! check out the link on bio

tagged: y/nmitchell

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user1 cannot believe they haven’t had any movies together. that’s a need

user2 my fav couple

user3 i can feels ewan head over heels for her, like even more than before

user4 his eyes always had this bling bling whenever he look at her

[nymphomatique]

special affair

dbf!miguel o’hara x fem!reader

art credit: _insomniac_red_ on ig. pictures are for mood setting, reader has no specific race or physical descriptions.

cw: a lil angsty, this is just shameless smut im sorry guys i don’t know what came over me, daddy kink, dbf!miguel <3, unspecified age gap but reader is legal, rough sex, squirting, unprotected sex, miguel is not a good man, conflicted reader, creampie, lowkey breeding kink, degrading language, choking/breath play, face slapping, spitting, mentions of oral (m), overstimulation, crying/dacryphillia, pubic hair grinding? lmao idk, reader is alluded to being in sub space. not proofread lol. 18+ only.

wc: ~1.5k

❤︎ an: hi my loves!! this is a sorta part two to this drabble, but can be read as a stand alone one shot. tbh i wrote this w my pussy.. i’m ovulating rn i’m so ashamed of myself 😔 nevertheless, enjoy! if you guys want more don’t hesitate to lmk!!

from that first night he fucked you from behind, you knew you strayed too far from the status quo in your life, you’re at the point of no return. that night, when he finished pounding you from behind and defiling you further with his seed all over your back and ass, you had laid in that position— spent and on your stomach- for the rest of the night, silently sobbing. you had betrayed your father, that much you were aware of the day you started rubbing at yourself meekly in the dead of the night thinking about his best friend.

you had long come to terms with that guilt, accepting whatever image of a burning inferno there is in the afterlife. what you cannot come to terms with, is the fact that he- miguel- had actually fucked you, indulged in what you considered your own taboo thoughts, ripping them from page and making your crude thoughts a sick reality. the worst part of this all is that amidst it all, the mental beratement, the nights you spent crying, the sick feeling the memories of miguel’s cock stretching you absolutely thin, showing you a climax like no other— you want to hate yourself for it, for being weak. for being such a bad girl. but you didn’t know why your body decided to betray your brain, the physical craving for the older man’s body possessing you whole. you can’t bear this feeling, holding it up inside you and trying to keep it at bay. fuck- you needed to talk to someone, you had to, even if it’s the last person you want to speak to.

nevertheless, you end up two houses down, sniffling and heaving in the dead of the night, knocking the door as hard as your trembling hands would let you. the door swings open and at the sight of him you keen, your body aching at the sight of the burly muscles covered in sun kissed skin. dark brown hair streaked with grey at the temples. a slight five o’clock shadow, he must not have shaved this morning. and then you look into those eyes, swallowing you up whole and you begin to tear up again. miguel is silent, leaning against the door with messy hair, glazed eyes and clad in boxers, and boxers only. fuck, you shouldn’t have come here.

“I-.. Miguel, it hurts,” you sob quietly, aflame with shame and embarrassment at how little resolve you had. He grabs your face with his warm hands and you’re trembling now, ready for him. your lips ghost for a moment before he breathes out. “i’m not a good man, sweetheart. if you don’t say no, i’m gonna break you.” he sounds sincere with his words and his eyes go stern. you wish you had some self of self control, or maybe having better discernment. but the only thing you say to him only confirms what you already knew about yourself; you’re a terrible fucking person. 

“violate me.”

your lips are smashed against each other, tongues dancing and it feels so good to be in his embrace again. your tears fall down your cheeks, meeting at the junction of your mouths in a pool of saliva. miguel groans and you know why, remembering what he had said to you the last time.

“i like when you cry.”

you’re grabbed up at the hips, legs wrapped around a thick torso, pressed up against a firm chest and a heavy cock. the moments up to the bedroom are cloudy, drunk off his lips against yours. you come to slightly when cold plush sheets hit your back and a pair of lips leave yours. you whine, yearning for his touch again. he looks down at you, bringing your right foot to his mouth, he licks lightly up the sole- kissing the ball of your foot before he leans down, caging your between his elbows, face to face.

“you gonna be good for your daddy?” he asks softly, kissing between the bridge of your nose once. 

“y-yes,” you breathe out with a slow nod. 

“mmm. gonna let me violate this tight little body too?” he asks, still soft in tone and you think you’re gonna go crazy by the end of the night. “yes, daddy,” you murmur, lost in his eyes. 

“sick fucking little girl. but that’s how i like it,” he chuckles, kissing you softly before getting up stripping you bare.

“letting your daddy undress you like a good girl. so obedient f’me,” he coos at you, touching you softly and you’re almost in tears. you need him. and you let it be known. a lone tear falls down your cheek and you mewl, “n-need you to make it better down there, daddy.”

his large hand engulfs you cheek, thumb wiping your tear softly before squishing your face, putting his tear stained thumb in your mouth. “you think you’re a big girl now, hmm? telling your daddy what to do?” you look up at him teary eyed, suckling his thick finger.

“you take what i give you, when i give it to you.” he squeezes you cheek a little harder before softly slapping your cheek and you squeak at the contact. a rough laugh leaves miguel’s mouth at your reaction. “you have no idea how bad i’m gonna treat you, baby.”

you’re non verbal at this point, mouth agape and leaking saliva down your jaw seeping into the sheets and the junction of your neck and chest. a hand slaps your cheek again, you’ve lost how many that is now. “i fucked you stupid already?” miguel laughs, hard thrusts sending you flying up the bed. his hands on your hips bring you down back to him each time, poking you right in that sweet spot in your pussy. you’ve lost count of how many orgasms you’ve head, body wracked and numb with pleasure. throat hoarse from the near-violent throat fuck he gave you.

a glob of spit hits your forehead and you groan a bit. the one thing you’re sure of is that you look a goddamned mess. a crude picture of the activity you’ve been partaking in for the past two hours. a hand leaves your hip to wrap around your neck and squeeze roughly, making you gasp for air, your body finally moving.

“there we go, got you moving now. thought i fucked you to sleep for a second.” 

your eyes are glossy, at the lack of air and building pressure. your hand meekly wraps around his wrist as he fucks into you. you know you shouldn’t like the way he toys with you like this, waking the line of torment and pleasure with no care in the world. but you do. and you can’t deny it anymore.

“you’re tightening up on me again. you gonna cum for me again?” miguel asks you, and he laughs after knowing you can’t even answer him. “sick little girl. you like it when i choke you? make you feel weak? worthless?” 

it’s barely audible, but the moan you let out vibrates in your neck and miguel can feel it with the hand pressed against your throat. he throws his head back with a groan. “nasty, naughty girl. fuck baby, gonna cum in that little pussy.”

you’re almost there, and quite frankly impressed that you haven’t fully passed out yet. your head feels light, and you begin to tremble violently, gushing out spurts of liquid as your head falls to the side. if this is hell, you’re not so sure you could give this up for heaven. your eyes close and you feel so close to falling asleep when he removes his hand from your neck, grabbing your head by the nape of your neck, craning you up to where you can see his thick cock slip and slide between your thighs. you groan at the image. 

“need you awake to see me cum in you, don’t i?” miguel groans. “you like watching me fuck you, like letting me dirty you.”

 his tuft of black pubic hair rubs against yours as his thrusts become increasingly sporadic and intense, and it has you trembling at the stimulation it gives your clit. you weakly squirt each time his pelvis brushes against your clit, your body letting you know you have only so much left in you before you’re drained empty.

“fuck, love it when you wet the bed. my pissy little girl. daddy loves the messes you make.” he’s nearly breathless and you pray he’s going to cum in the next minute, the ache in your neck and dull sensation in your pussy building slowly.

“c-cum in me. wanna give you a baby,” you moan, looking up from the fast thrusts and into miguel’s eyes. 

“fuck! so n-naughty, baby. gonna give me another one, huh? fucking take it, then.” with a final thrust, you feel the warmth of his cum shoot and blossom somewhere deep within you. you moan weakly, one final weak spurt of squirt coming out of you. miguel pulls out and you watch him look at the mess he made of you and your pussy, covered in spit, cum and the beginnings of handprint bruises blossoming on your hips and ass from how hard he gripped and spanked you. 

you can feel his cum slowly trickle out of you, and your body feels like it’s no longer your own. after so many orgasms, your limbs are on fire, and you can do nothing but breathe and weakly murmur a “d-daddy..” while your eyes close.

tags: @realhotgirlshitah @obsessed-with-miguels-ass @maxiethestrange

message me to be removed!

[pierregazly]

tolerate it ꨄ lewis hamilton

lewis hamilton x fem!reader

warnings: age gap (no specific age, just mentioned), angst, no hea

this is just me projecting my sadness with this song onto one of the drivers, lewis being the best option. there's a chance i may do a part 2 to this eventually, but im pretty content with how it ended for now. i hope you enjoy!

It wasn’t always like this.  

There was a time when you didn’t wake up, clenching your eyes closed in the hopes that it would magically change the outcome once they opened.  

There was a time when you would wake up, Lewis nuzzling his chin into the space where your neck and shoulders collided, peppering the skin with little kisses in the hopes it would wake you from your slumber. 

There was a time when you didn’t have to hold your breath, when your eyes didn’t have to adjust to the lack of light in the room, just to get a small glimpse of the man you loved curled up next to you.  

It was hard to pinpoint the exact moment when it had all changed. Maybe it was at the beginning of the season, maybe it was before that. You couldn’t really be too sure. 

Now, you were lucky to catch a glimpse of him in the morning, lucky to even get the chance to move your eyes across his ink-coloured skin beside you. You were lucky to even get a kiss goodbye in the morning before he left, the sun barely up when he was leaving to go to training, or the factory, or God knows where.  

The words between the both of you were minimal nowadays, it was more like living with a roommate you saw occasionally instead of a lover that you were supposed to be sharing a life with.  

There was a time when Lewis would giggle as he read the words of his books to you in whatever animated voice he could come up with. There was a time when the art he created was a joint effort between the two of you; now, it felt like all he did was tolerate you. 

It was evident neither you, nor Lewis, wanted to touch on the topic. Both of you tiptoed around each other, not wanting to open the door that would push the storm in.  

There isn’t much time spent at the paddock anymore, your career becoming the main focus of your priorities. You still welcomed Lewis home after every Grand Prix, his favourite dinner’s packaged in the fridge, the linens cleaned, and his clothes prepped.  

A battle hero’s welcome, one could call it. 

He always politely thanked you, a gentle kiss to your forehead before he made his way to the office for the remainder of the night. There was a time when he would debrief with you after every race, watching highlight videos on the television while he explained what he did wrong, what he did right, where he could improve and where he got a little too cocky. Now he just did it alone, the door of his office tightly closed, no sound emitting from the room. 

Sugarcoating it to your friends and family was difficult. They understood Lewis’ career took center stage, but they couldn’t understand why he was never around when they came to your shared apartment, why it felt like his presence wasn’t even prominent in the home at all. 

There was no way to explain it, without sounding naïve, without sounding like you were just letting a relationship that was drowning, pull you down with it. 

Everyone suggested different reasons. The season wasn’t going in the way Lewis had hoped. Maybe his age is finally getting to him. Maybe he’s considering retirement and it’s bothering him. Maybe the age difference between the two of you is too much now.  

Maybe he’s fallen out of love. 

You knew the last one was a significant possibility. Lewis was a private person, but he showed his heart on his shoulder, especially at the beginning. Large declarations of love, obnoxious presents, at first, he wanted you to know that he was in love with you, constantly. 

There isn’t a time in the last four months that you can remember where Lewis demonstrated his love for you, quick ‘love you’s’ before the door slammed behind him, a random heart in the middle of the night when he’s halfway across the world; even those had slowly stopped. 

Nowadays he would hum silently when you told him you loved him, he would send a heart back if you sent one to him. He didn’t initiate anything, it just simply felt like he was tolerating it when you expressed your love for him. 

It wasn’t hard to remember the times when Lewis would tell you how much he loved you, how he would show it.  

He would curl up behind you in bed, the unmade sheets wrapped lazily around the two of you as he groaned into your neck, his hands resting around your middle as he eagerly cuddled up to you. 

You could always feel him mumbling words into your neck, but he would never tell you what he was saying. Lewis would just smile and press a tiny kiss to your lips, the kiss heating up as time went on, your bodies moving in sync as he demonstrated his love for you in every way he knew how. 

You weren’t a self-conscious person, you knew you had plenty to offer when it came to your relationship, and when it came to life in itself. You knew your love should be celebrated, celebrated in the way that Lewis used to celebrate it, the way he used to giggle as he wrapped his arms around you from behind, gently swaying to the music coming from his phone as you cooked together. 

You tried to push the negative thoughts away, the thoughts of leaving, of packing up your bags and leaving in the middle of the weekend while he was away. You considered it, time and time again. The suitcases staring at you from the closet, telling you to open them, pack them, and leave. 

Every weekend the temptation grew stronger and stronger. The urge to walk away, to preserve your dignity, sat heavy on your shoulders.  

Every time when you thought you had decided, thought you had made the decision to pull the dagger out and walk away; an invisible force pulled you back. Told you that the season was slowly coming to its end, that the old Lewis would come back to you when the season was up, he was just stressed out and things were hard. 

He never talked about his problems with you. He would debrief with you, sure. He would tell you about the problems in the race, but he would never tell you about his internal problems.  

It’s how you constantly justified his behaviour, and his actions... or lack thereof.  

Your mind always went back to those thoughts when you considered leaving. It always made you think about the fact that he was probably struggling, that he just wasn’t able to talk to you about it and that you leaving would probably make things worse. 

It was the invisible but obvious force, that, you knew. 

Lewis didn’t know about these thoughts. At least he never showed that he knew. The bags were always tucked away in the back of the closet when he returned home, like they were never sitting in front of the open door. Everything was back in their rightful place, as if the thought of leaving had never crossed your mind.  

One of your favourite moments with him happened just before the beginning of the season. You were cuddled up on the couch, the remnants of a ‘Game of Thrones’ episode playing on the television, Lewis’ hand gently creating shapes on the visible skin of your back.  

“Do you ever feel like you’re too old, or like... too wise for me? Like someone closer to your age would be better?” 

You felt him huff against your neck, a small laugh falling from his lips before he pressed a kiss to the spot his lips were before shaking his head. 

“Are you calling me old, my love?” 

Immediately shaking your head with a tiny laugh, you slapped his chest with a gleam in your eyes. “You know what I meant, Lew...” 

Rolling you over, he leaned over you as he pushed a lock of his own unruly hair behind his ear. “I rarely think about the fact you’re younger than me. It doesn’t affect the way in which I love you, half the time I forget that you’re younger than me. I definitely don’t think I’m wiser, that’s for sure. It’s pretty obvious who has all the wisdom between the two of us.” 

The night ended with you below him, the sheets rustling, as if all the love he had for you could be encaptured in the way his eyes connected with yours. You had never felt that kind of raw love before, had never felt like everything you had done had led to that exact moment. 

Trying to convince yourself that everything happening now was all in your mind was easy. The comments that your friends made, that maybe he didn’t love you anymore; was easy enough to ignore when you considered the fact that he did still reply to your messages, that he still came home every Sunday, that he still sometimes pressed a kiss to your forehead before leaving in the morning.  

But then sometimes you let your mind reel, and reel, and reel. Lewis was there, but was he really there? 

The conversation almost happened, after Spa. Lewis was exhausted coming into your shared apartment, his bags dropping down at the front door. You were wrapped up in one of his Mercedes sweaters, his racing number engraved on the sleeves; even if he was there physically and not mentally, you had still made him your everything, you had made him your mural, had dedicated the sky to him. 

The pictures on the walls still showed a love between the two of you that wasn’t obvious anymore. The picture of you wrapped around him after the end of the 2020 season. The pictures of the both of you cuddled around each other at his family Christmas, the collage of his nephews wrapped in your arms. There were hundreds of photos that showed how life used to be. 

Your mind came back to the present when Lewis crossed the path in front of you. 

Like always, he went to press a gentle kiss to the crown of your head, the exhaustion prevalent on his face. As he was walking towards his office, you felt the words bubble out of your mouth before you could control them. 

“Did you want to watch this with me? I feel like we haven’t really spent much time together lately.” 

The words stopped him in his tracks, you could practically see the wheels turning in his head as his body turned in your direction. It felt like his face was mocking you with its fake sympathy as he gently shook his head, his curls moving with the direction. 

“I’m just too tired. I have to go watch highlights in my office. Maybe later.” 

It was always ‘maybe later’, or ‘maybe tomorrow’, or ‘I’m sorry we can’t celebrate our anniversary this year, I just don’t have time this weekend, maybe next weekend’.  

It felt like you were begging him for a spot in his life, like you were an inconvenience that he didn’t want to put the effort into anymore. By now, you weren’t even begging for a line in the story, but a line in the footnotes of his life. A minuscule part, something that he couldn’t even try to give you.  

Lewis made it clear he felt bad after he bailed on your anniversary. He spent hundreds of dollars on you, basically begging you for forgiveness and emphasizing things would be different soon, he promised. 

He was right, things were different. Not in a good way. Maybe that was the point when things really started going downhill. It was still hard to pinpoint it. 

Making yourself scarce when Lewis was home was easy. Your friends were always looking for you to go for lunch, or dinner, or out for drinks. Spending your time at work was always an easy escape, allowing the never-ending flow of work to occupy your thoughts as you went above and beyond. 

If Lewis noticed that you were avoiding him, avoiding your home; he didn’t say anything. He never said anything. 

Spending the weekends at home was therapeutic, your arms wrapped in another one of Lewis’ oversized sweaters. The smell of his cologne wafting up your noise as you pressed the sleeve to your face, the unshed tears refusing to leave your eyes. You wouldn’t cry, not again. 

You knew you would cry, again. You always let the tears fall when you scrolled back up in your conversation with Lewis to when things first started, when he was animated, when he overshared, when he sent you photos of George, of Mick, when he forwarded you along videos of Roscoe when Roscoe was away with him.  

Back when your love was celebrated, when it didn’t feel like Lewis was just tolerating it, tolerating you, tolerating your love. 

Jealousy reared its ugly head every weekend as well. Whenever you saw an Instagram story, or a twitter post, whenever you saw that Lewis was out with his friends, or his team, or his crew. You knew it wasn’t fair to be jealous, that it wasn’t fair to compare yourself to the people that Lewis spent 5/7 days a week with, that it was hard for him to say ‘no’ to them. 

It didn’t change how much it hurt, how much it made your heart ache to know that you truly were something that could be put on the backburner. He was always out building other worlds, but where were you?  

Where were you every time he was out with his friends after a race? Where were you every time he was celebrating a win, or celebrating a pole in qualifying? Where were you every time he went live on Instagram? 

Where was his love for you when you sat looking at the suitcases in the closet, again? 

Gone. 

It was time to accept the truth, that his love for you was gone. That he didn’t celebrate his love for you like he once did, that he didn’t celebrate you, like he once did.  

He tolerated it, and he tolerated you. Tolerating something and celebrating it were too obviously different things. It had never been more evident. 

The bags didn’t stare at you anymore as they laid open on the bedroom floor, your clothes finding themselves folded and inside each of them, your portion of the closet emptying out as the bags grew heavier and heavier. The bags under your eyes growing darker alongside them. 

You couldn’t leave without saying anything to him, couldn’t allow him to come home to an empty home. It was obvious he didn’t deserve an explanation, and you didn’t plan on giving him one. But he deserved a goodbye.  

It was clear the presence of the suitcases registered in Lewis’ mind the moment his eyes found them as the front door closed. He immediately looked at you, the most emotion you’d seen in months shining in his eyes. 

“What’s going on?” 

The shake in his hands was visible as he asked the question, his own bags falling gently beside your own as he stared at you.  

“I can’t do this anymore. I can’t beg for a place in your life anymore, Lew. I’m sorry.” 

The resignation was evident in his eyes, but there was no fight in them as he sat on the couch opposite you. It almost hurt to know that he wasn’t going to argue, wasn’t going to ask you to stay, to not break free and leave the both of you in ruins. It almost hurt, but you knew it would be the case.  

“I’m sorry.” 

He didn’t try to stop you as you went towards your bags, he didn’t look up from his ink-stained hands as the click of the lock sounded. He didn’t try to say anything more as the suitcases rolled out the door. 

You didn’t see the tears gather in his eyes and then fall down his cheeks as the door closed behind you, the longing on his face as he debated with himself internally if he should run after you. Beg you to stay. It was so plain to see now, you were younger, and wiser, and he didn’t deserve you anymore. 

Lewis knew the truth. You deserved someone who would celebrate you, celebrate your love. Not someone who could only tolerate it when their own life was falling apart. He didn’t deserve you, not anymore.  

i really hope you guys liked this!! im really not too sure if i'll make a part 2, but if there's a lot of demand for one i will. thank you for all the love. also i read this like 4 times so if there's any mistakes im sorry lol

tag list

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(if you're interested in being added to my taglist for all my works please reach out! i didnt tag anyone who only requested to be tagged for specific parts of my other work!

[xxchumanixx]

You're absolutely right, Eric Winter is the Godfather of sexyness🔥

Anyway, I hope you don't mind that I came up with with a The Rookie idea 🤗 hear me out my love hear me out:

Reader is a cop. Tim and her secretly harboring feelings for each other but they would never admit it

Everything was fine until one night when they were out with the others to celebrate and then they had a drunken one night stand

The next day Tim tells her that it was a mistake and they should forget about it. Reader is heartbroken and devastated.

Tim is also sad about the situation but he thinks it's for their best, so he even tries to avoid reader at work and she him

Until one day they have to partner up and go on patrol together

Above this uncomfortable situation reader is also feeling under the weather and feeling ill, but she doesn't want to show weakness towards Tim. So she tries to live trough the day despite her beginning to burn up and feeling weak

They got called to warehouse but it's a trap and they got captured

Tim finally starts to talk to her but notices how pale and sick she looks

He goes in full worried Tim mode

He tries to keep her calm and help her in her sick state

He apologizes for his behavior and they talk about their feelings

Reader is starting worsen, Tim holds her

With a lot of drama, sick reader, worried Tim until they're found

What do you think?

Have a nice day 💕💐

Intoxicated

Tim Bradford x reader

Warnings/Tags: 18+, mdni!, smut, unprotected p i v (wrap it before you tap it!), slight praise kink, hell of a lot angst, fluff

Word count: 4.939

Authors note: Hello love, thanks for the request! I absolutely loved it and I hope you'll like the way I wrote it! I don't know how, but somehow this ended up in present tense, not past tense. It's like my brain was offline when I started to write. Anyways, I hope you don't mind!

Im pretty sure I switched somewhere between the tenses, and haven't corrected it yet, so please let me know!

Enjoy!

You can't help the giggle that escapes you, when you try to open your door. Tim giggles along with you, his smile being so much more intoxicating in this moment, than you remember it.

Even though he's just waiting for you to open your door to bid you good night, before he would continue on to his own house, you can't help the exited feeling that's cursing through your veins.

You'd give more than everything to have him stay over. But that's just a fantasy - a very good one, but still.

You are colleagues, nothing more. Good friends, maybe, but that's it.

You're just coming home from a night out with your friends and other colleagues, having had a drink too much.

Tim had to hold you up all the way to your house, or otherwise you would have stumbled and fallen most of the time.

His hands had felt wonderful on your waist, a feeling that would surely burn its way into your brain forever.

When you finally hear the familiar click, you look up at him in triumph. He cocks a brow, huffing a laugh at your proud smile.

Heaving a sigh, you push the door open, turning back around to him. He's still looking at you, his face adorned by a warm smile though his eyes seem darker in the light of your porch's lantern.

The atmosphere prickles like electricity, it's thick - at least it is for you, as you inhale shakily.

He swallows thickly, taking a step closer.

"Are you sure you can take it from here?" he rasps, his voice suddenly hoarse. "Or do you need any help?"

He can't deny that he secretly hopes you would want his help. You had been intoxicating the whole evening, catching his gaze more than once with the way you looked and carried yourself that night.

His fingers feel numb, as the electricity shoots through them, his heart beating unsteadily.

Yours does the same, eyes locked onto his, as you search your mind for an answer.

"Some help would be great." you finally breathe out, watching his adam's apple bob, as he swallows again.

Nodding, he bites his lip, before you walk inside backwards, placing your keys on the dresser beside the door.

Once he crosses the threshold, he pushes the door closed with one hand, gaze still locked on yours.

Your breathing becomes shallow, heart pumping in your throat, as you anticipate his next moves.

Would he really just help you, so you'd be tucked in bed safely, before he left? Or would he help you in the most delicious way, the one you secretly yearn for?

Once the door clicks shut, he closes the distance, his hands grabbing your neck, as he pulls you closer. His lips meet yours like a starved man, not sweet, but hungrily and demanding.

Butterflies erupt in your stomach, his sudden boldness leaving you dizzy.

Your hands interlock behind his neck, one of them brushing though his hair, as you tug him even closer.

His tongue brushes over your bottom lip, asking for entrance. You give in more than willingly, sighing into his mouth, as his hands find your waist.

His touch almost burns you, the intensity of his kisses soon leaving you breathless. It's a sensation you're sure you'll never forget.

He pushes you against the wall behind you, hands wandering further down, before they grab your thighs, letting you know that he wants you to jump.

And so you do.

As he walks you towards your bedroom, you can't help but sigh dreamily.

This is all you had silently wished for.

Even though you are drunk, you suddenly feel sober again.

As he lies you down on your bed, his lips leave yours, sucking on your neck instead. You moan as he finds that sweet spot that has your toes curling, causing him to suck even harsher.

His hard-on presses against your thigh, giving you a hint of what lies beneath the jeans - it was a lot.

He grabs the hem of your shirt, tugging it over your head, before discarding of it on the floor. His lips greedily trace every inch of skin he exposed, kissing his way down the valley of your breasts, fingers fumbling for the clip of your bra.

Once he opens it, he lets it join your shirt on the floor, one of his hands grabbing a breast, kneading it. It makes you moan, arching your back into him.

It doesn't take him long to move further downwards, getting rid of your pants and underwear, after removing his shirt. He tugs you closer to the edge of the bed with his arms wrapped around your thighs, breath ghosting over your heat.

You are a whimpering mess under him, only growing louder, as his mouth attaches to your clit, sucking and licking, his hands firmly holding you in place.

Your sounds spur him on, his name on your lips; his hips frantically rolling against the bed frame in search for some friction. He hums at the taste of you, the sound vibrating through your cunt, eliciting another string of moans to fall from your lips.

He alternates between licking and sucking, tongue circling your entrance, before he slowly pushes a finger inside. He curls it just right, hitting that spongy spot that has his name cried into the night.

In a matter of minutes he has you coming on his tongue and fingers, riding you through your first orgasm of the night, as you continue to whimper his name like a mantra. He takes everything you give him, greedily lapping at you.

You can taste yourself on his lips, his tongue licking into your mouth. When he pushes inside it causes you both to groan, and he hisses as you grip him so tightly.

Panting, you try to calm your racing heart, as he pulls off his pants, before joining you on the bed again. His lips entangle with yours, as he aligns his cock with your entrance.

Falling into a steady rhythm, your legs wrap around his waist, granting him even deeper access. You can't help but gaze down at where you both are connected, moaning at the sight.

His lips find yours again, before they brush down your throat, kissing and sucking, stars appearing behind your closed eyelids, as your head tilts back.

You moan loudly, when he hits that sweet spot, cock softly kissing it. He does it again and again, hitting it so good.

"You're so tight." he grits out and you whimper in return. "Takin' me so good."

His words send shivers down your spine and you clench down on him. He hisses in return, smirking to himself. "You're doing so good for me, gripping me so deliciously." he praises, drawing a strangled moan from you.

"I'm close, Tim!" you breathe out, gazing up at him through hooded eyes. His meet yours and he nods. "Me too, baby." His lips graze your cheek, brushing up to the shell of your ear. "Come for me." he demands, hips snapping against yours. "Come all over my cock for me."

You cry out his name, following his demand as you come hard, squeezing him and he follows, stilling balls deep inside you, as he paints your walls with his cum.

You pant, shivering as he fills you up, his cum slowly oozing back out of you.

You swallow, heart pounding violently against your ribs. Tim slips out of you and you shudder at the sudden emptiness.

Sitting up, you watch as he collects his clothes, putting them back on. Suddenly it's awkward as you're sitting there, unsure of what you should do.

Scrambling for your own clothes you mimic his actions, until you're standing in front of each other, fully dressed again.

He seems hesitant, not sure what to do or say either.

"I'm gonna head home." he then says, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows. "See you tomorrow."

You just nod, eyes following as he walks to the door, eyes meeting yours for a split second, before he leaves.

You feel like shit.

Used, that somehow sums it up.

Walking into the bedroom you shed your clothes again, before stepping into the shower and turning the water on.

Trying to forget the gnawing feeling in your stomach, you scrub at your body, trying to wash him off of you.

His touch, his kisses, his scent.

But it doesn't work.

Not even the saltiness of your tears gets the feeling of his lips off your skin.

When you're lying in bed, wide awake, you try to think of anything other than him.

But nothing works.

_____

When the alarm goes off the next morning, you groan, rolling over to shut it off.

You haven't slept much, barely able to slip into the darkness without his face behind your closed eyelids.

Getting ready for work, you drag yourself around the house, before gathering your keys and heading to the station.

Somehow it feels strange, everyone seems to stare at you, like they know what you and Tim did last night.

But they don't, and they're not actually staring at you, barely glancing your way as you bid good morning.

Tim is already there, you've seen his truck when you parked. Dread is eating at you, not sure if you want to see him at all.

Walking into roll call, taking a seat at your usual spot, your eyes scan the room. He isn't there yet, but as you realize he'd sit right beside you - like he usually would - your heart picks up its speed.

Panic suddenly floods you, as you consider if you should go sit somewhere else.

But as the room slowly fills with people, your chance at another seat reduces more and more. When Tim enters the room, you stiffen.

Missed your chance.

He avoids looking at you, only mumbling a good morning, as he takes a seat beside you. Your arms brush against each other, and you flinch back involuntarily.

His eyes find yours at the motion for the briefest of moments, before they avert. Shrinking into your seat, you bite you lip, arms pressed to your body to avoid another touch.

Suddenly, you regret what you did last night. It seems to have changed everything - how could it not, right?

What else do you expect?

Sighing quietly, you wait for Grey to begin, so you could concentrate on him instead.

He assigns tasks, before he dismisses you.

Breathing a sigh of relief, you get up hastily, but Tim has the same idea.

You bump into each other like two teenagers on the run, before he takes the lead, walking out of the room in front of you.

"Tim!" you call out after him, before you can stop yourself, flinching internally.

He stops in his tracks, biting his cheek, before he gathers the courage to turn around to you.

"Yeah?" he asks, taking a step closer. You search his eyes for any indication of regret, unfortunately finding it.

He looks pained, like he wants to get away from this conversation as fast as possible.

"Can we talk?" you ask, voice lowered so other colleagues wouldn't hear. His eyes swipe through the room, before he nods once.

You follow him into the empty break room, stopping when he does.

"What do you want to talk about?" he wants to know, like he doesn't already know the answer.

"Last night." you press out, fighting to keep up the eye contact. He nods, biting his cheek again.

"Look, I know we... had sex, but it was a mistake, okay? It won't happen again." he says, all the while keeping a straight face.

Your heart crushes, but you won't let him see it.

You can't.

Not when he had you moan his name so often last night, that you aren't able to think anything else other than Tim.

Not to mention the way he talked to you. Or more like praised you.

A cold shiver runs down your spine, as you gape at him like a fish.

Cheeks flaming up, you look away, jaw ticking as you try to suppress the tears.

His face contorts, pain flashing through his eyes. He hates doing this to you, but he has no other choice.

Thankfully, you don't see it, as he steels himself, before you look back up at him.

Before you can say anything, someone enters the room, seemingly in search for some bad coffee.

Without another glance, you turn around, leaving him behind to find your rookie, his carefully put up mask crumbling with a pang in his heart.

Finding your rookie - or rather John's, but yours for the day, considering John isn't at the station until tomorrow - you send her a small smile.

"Celina." you greet her with a nod, motioning for her to walk towards the already prepared war bags, gathering them along with the guns.

She carries them towards the shop, storing them in the back, before heading to the passenger side.

"What's up with you?" she asks, sending you a worried glance. Brows furrowing, you get into the shop, buckling up. "Don't know what you're talking about." you give back, starting the engine.

You have been talking to her a lot since she started as a rookie, getting along pretty well.

That she can seemingly read you so well, has you swallowing.

This shift will be a stressful one.

_____

And it is.

You swear at some point Celina's stares have begun to burn holes into your skin.

"What happened?" she asks for what feels like the hundredth time, barely two hours into the shift. "I'm sensing strong discomfort."

Sighing, you grumble her name, though you know she probably won't stop. With Nolan she wouldn't be this forward, but you two had become sort of friends over the past few months.

"Okay, yes something happened." you finally give in with wide eyes and a motion that said 'happy now?', before carefully scanning your surroundings, as a sigh leaves your lips.

"With Tim?" she asks, still looking at you, even though you refuse to meet her gaze. "Did you sleep with each other?"

"No!" you respond a little too fast, eyes widening even more, causing her to tilt her head at you with a cocked brow.

"...maybe?"

Her own eyes widen as well, not having expected to be right with her assumption. "Wait what?" she gasps, leaning forward in her seat.

Rolling your eyes, you silently hope for a call, something to get you out if this situation.

And you're prayers are heard.

_____

It has been a week that feels like a whole month.

Tim avoids you whenever he can, and you do the same.

You should have known it would ruin everything.

Waiting for Grey to finish, you squint your eyes. Everything has been blurry since the morning, your body heating up slowly as time passes.

But you didn't want to call in sick, so you pushed through and to work with a sigh to yourself. You aren't one that gets sick fast, so you intended for it not to stop you.

"Bradford, you're with Y/L/N today." Grey's voice rips you out of your thoughts, gaze snapping up. If he sees the look of disbelief and panic on your face, he doesn't show it.

Or he simply doesn't care, as your watch commander.

Standing, your eyes hesitantly meet Tim's, who's across the room. You had switched seats with another colleague, so you wouldn't be sitting beside Tim anymore.

Sighing, you follow him, as he leaves the room, heading for the shop.

When you both stop behind it, his brows furrow. "Where are the war bags?" he wants to know, and your brows furrow as well. "Thought you'd get them." you mumble, avoiding eye contact.

He groans in annoyance, the sound making you feel worse, before he leaves, going to gather the things you need.

Fumbling with your body cam nervously, you wait for him in the shop, glancing into the side mirror, when the doors slide back open. He stores the bags and guns in the back, before getting into the drivers seat.

You don't talk, as he leaves the garage, driving out onto the bustling streets of Los Angeles.

Sighing to yourself, you adjust in your seat, back aching. His eyes drift over to you for a brief moment, taking in your appereance.

You are looking uncomfortable, but not only from the current situation. There are bags under your eyes, indicating that you didn't get enough sleep. The slightest bit of sweat makes your forehead glisten, and he wonders if you're feeling ill.

But he holds his tongue, not saying anything.

Your heart races, only adding to the uncomfortable feeling creeping into your bones. It isn't only Tim's presence, but whatever you might have caught, as well.

Coughing quietly, you lean forward in your seat; inhaling deeply, when you can breathe again. Yesterday you were feeling good, so why are you getting so sick now?

Tim's eyes wander back to you, brows furrowing, before he looks back out of the window.

The silence is deafening, tension palpable. Your tongue feels like lead, your feelings making it hard to speak.

"Can we stop to get more water?" you ask hoarsely, not daring to look his way. He nods, the crease between his brows deepening, as does his worry for you.

He can't deny that he's worried, not sure what you are going through that has you looking so pale. He's sure it's not only his presence, though.

When he parks, he motions for you to stay in the car, getting out, before you can protest. Huffing, you lean back in your seat, silently grateful that you don't have to go yourself.

Eyes closing, you breathe in deeply, trying to relax and lessen some of the pain in your back. But, when the door opens and Tim gets back into the shop, all relaxation goes out of the window again.

"Are you okay?" he wants to know, handing you two bottles of water. You nod, taking them without really looking at him, shivering as his hand brushes yours.

"I'm fine." you assure him, trying to sound stronger than you actually feel.

His teeth grit, but he doesn't push further - he doesn't have the right to, not when he's possibly responsible for how you're feeling.

With a nod, he buckles up, starting the engine and driving south, when the radio comes to life.

"7-Adam-100, we have a reported dispute, possibly armed, at a warehouse, 5601 Pico Boulevard. Do you copy?" "7-Adam-100, dispute, possibly armed, at 5601 Pico Boulevard." Tim speaks into the radio. "Copy, we're on it."

You rub your temples, clearing your throat, as you try to clear your head as well, shaking off the uneasy feeling.

The drive is quiet, except for the sirens, adrenaline pushing through your veins, alleviating some of the pain and aching. When you arrive, you draw your gun, hopping out of the shop and quietly following Tim.

Heading inside carefully, you start to clear the place, brows furrowing at how quiet it is.

How odd.

That is, until something heavy hits your head, and all you suddenly see is darkness.

With a groan you startle awake, sight blurry, as you try to make out your whereabouts. The air smells dusty and bad, brows furrowing. Pain shoots through your head, and you groan again.

What happened?

Blinking, you try to clear your vision, slowly making out another silhouette. "Tim?" you breathe out, once you're able to make him out in the light above.

He grumbles something, before his eyes meet yours.

"Hey," he brings over his split lips, blood already drying. "You're awake, thank god." You try to swallow the dryness in your throat away, but it makes you cough.

You feel feverish, body aching to the bones. You swallow again, in desperate need for some water. Sweat trickles down your neck and forehead, hair sticking to your skin.

You feel like shit.

"I'm not feeling good, Tim." you mumble, head lolling to the side. "Hey, stay awake!" Tim demands, causing your eyes to snap back to him.

He's bound to a chair, diagonally sitting beside you. Eyes widening, you realize you've been captured.

"Either they hit you real hard, or somethings up with you." he speaks, trying to analyze you from his position. "Either way, you're not looking good."

You huff, anger bubbling up beside the sick feeling in your stomach, vision lightly turning, but you try to keep it together. "As if you care."

He looks genuinely taken aback, forgetting he's being held captured for a moment. "Why wouldn't I?" he wants to know, leaning forward as best as he can.

"Because you refuse to even look at me." you retort, looking away, trying to inspect your surroundings instead. It's dark, except for the lamp dangling above you. "Because you refuse to engage with me no matter how."

You hear him swallow, as he licks his lips.

"That's not true." he mutters, inhaling shakily. Your gaze snaps to his, disbelief painted on your face. He holds your gaze, his own hardening slightly. "I do care. I care enough to end things before you can regret them."

You laugh dryly, anger seeping through.

"And what's with fucking me?" you ask, biting your cheek. "What about that?"

He flinches, swallowing again, as his gaze wavers. "We were drunk." he tries to play it off, shaking his head with a frown. "We weren't that drunk." you give back, leaning further back in the chair.

It's quiet for a while, your body growing hotter, the more time passes. You cough, groaning at the sick feeling that's making your stomach turn like a washing machine.

"You're sick." Tim realizes, eyes widening and you chuckle coldly. "No shit, Sherlock."

Someone chuckles behind you, causing you to jump in your chair, the wood scraping over the floor angrily. Heart racing, you try to catch your breath, head turning to watch the man come up in front of you.

"Well, that's the wonders of our chemical knowledge." he speaks, his accent thick. It sounds Italian, you think, as your brows furrow, same as Tim's.

"A bit of this, a bit of that, and you have a potent poison that makes you feverish, nauseous and sick."

Breath fastening, you swallow thickly, glancing at Tim. He fumes in his seat, eyes shooting daggers at your captor, who seems unfazed by it.

Panic grips at you with its iron claws, shivers running down your spine.

"Don't worry, it's nothing too serious." the man explains, grimacing. "Wouldn't want a dead cop on me, no. It'll wear off, but it gives me the perfect opportunity to tell you-" He cuts himself off, a sick grin splitting his lips, revealing pearly white teeth.

"Whups, maybe it is deadly. Should have read the description better, I guess."

Tim leaps forward, only held back by the thick ropes around his wrists. Fire spits from his eyes, and something tells you he'd kill the guy, if he wasn't restricted.

You try to focus, failing as you begin to hyperventilate.

I'm gonna die. I'm gonna die.

You hear the man laugh heartily, like he just heard the best joke on earth. Tears well up in your eyes, and you can only partly make out the mans frame slowly stepping back into the darkness, eventually slamming a door behind him somewhere down the warehouse.

Tim yells after him, tugging on the binds, the chair scraping over the floor with the sheer force of his tugs.

When the tears start to fall, you hear a crack, followed by a grunt.

Tim has managed to tip the chair over, bringing enough force with him to break a part of it, using it to free himself.

"Hold on Y/N." he says, working on the rope with the wood. "I'm here with you."

You sob, dread eating you alive. You are gonna die, and you didn't even have a chance to really live your life.

Another grunt, and he has freed himself.

Making his way over, he starts to untie the ropes around your wrists, but the fever burning your whole body blocks the feeling of his skin on yours out. When he's kneeling in front of you, his hand softly connecting with your forehead, you flinch at how cold he feels.

"Fuck." he mumbles, knowing that your skin was way too hot.

He helps you down from the chair onto the cold floor, fishing for his back up phone, that was clipped to his body, where your captor didn't find it.

He dialed the station, calling for an ambulance.

Breathing heavily, the tears run down your cheeks in cold tracks. When he ends the call, he brings you into his arms, embracing you in a hug.

"I'm so sorry." he mumbles into your hair, his breath cooling your burning skin. "I'm so sorry."

You sob, choking on your tears.

"Don't be." you whisper, hands fisting his shirt. "It's not your fault." But he shakes his head, something cool hitting your skin - a tear.

"I shouldn't have distanced myself from you." he speaks, tugging you even closer. "I'm such an idiot. I'm so sorry."

Shaking your head, you rest your forehead on his shoulder, breathing in his scent. "You didn't want to be near me after what happened, I don't blame you." you tell him, swallowing, but he shakes his head frantically.

"That's not true."

Your brows furrow, lips trembling. "What do you mean?" you rasp out, coughing once. "I mean that I didn't want to distance myself." he explains, a shaky hand brushing through your sweaty hair. "You have no clue how badly I wanted to be near you. But I didn't want to ruin what we have, I didn't want to face the possibility that you'd regret what we did. So I tried to give you space, telling myself, that it was the right thing to do."

A sob racks through your body, shaking him with you.

"But I don't regret it." you tell him, more tears falling. "I don't, because I love you."

It's now or never.

He stiffens, before he's the one shaking you now, with a sob of his own.

You are in his arms, dying, and you just told him what he was wishing to hear from you for god knows how long.

But you are dying.

"I love you, Tim." you tell him again, lifting your head to rest your cheek on his shoulder, nose brushing his pulse point. "And I don't regret it, not for a second."

He breathes out shakily, holding you against him. "I love you too, Y/N." he rasps out, smiling despite the situation you were in. You breathe a sigh of relief, and it let's you see a light at the end of the tunnel, if even for just a moment.

Black splotches obscure your vision, the world around you slowly fading. But you don't care anymore, not when you are held by the man you so deeply loved.

"Hey, hey!" you hear him say, his face coming into view, as he pats your cheek. "Stay with me, Y/N." You nod, trying to follow his demand, but it gets harder with each passing second.

You hear sirens in the distance, shouting, as Tim rocks you in his arms, after pulling you back into them.

As your world slowly turns black, you can't help but smile.

He loves you.

_____

A strange sound wakes you, it's steady rhythm calling you back into consciousness. Bright light blinds you, as you try to open your eyes, making you groan in discomfort.

Something beside you shuffles, a chair being moved closer.

"Hey." you hear him say, before your vision slowly clears and his handsome features come into view. Sighing dreamily, you try to sit up and he helps you, moving the bed up so you can sit more comfortably.

He holds out a glass to you, moving it to your dry lips so you could take a few much needed sips.

"How are you feeling?" he wants to know, putting the glass back on the table beside him. "Like shit." you mumble, sighing again. He nods, biting his cheek. "But at least I'm alive, right?"

He huffs, elbows coming to rest on the bed. "They arrested the man, Damiano- I don't know what, and he's in custody right now." he tells you, hands wiping over his face.

You nod, relieved. "That's good." you say, sending Tim a small smile. He nods, barely registering. "He almost killed you." he mutters, frustration and anger clear as day on his face. "We barely managed to get here in time, to give you an antidote. And all just to teach the police a much needed lesson."

Carefully taking his hand, you give it a reassuring squeeze. "I'm alive." you remind him, and his gaze turns to you. "But-" "I'm. Alive."

He halts, swallowing, before he nods slightly.

It's silent for a moment, as you tug him closer. "Please tell me I didn't dream all of that." you tell him, trying to avert his attention. He huffs, a small smile gracing his lips. "No, you didn't." he assures you.

Your smile widens, tears burning in your eyes.

"Can you say it again?" you ask him quietly, sitting more upright. He chuckles, leaning more towards you. "I love you." he says, and you chuckle in glee. "Again."

He huffs playfully, scooting closer, so his face is inches from yours.

"I love you."

Pushing forward, your lips graze his. "I love you, too." you say, before he closes the small gap, pressing his lips to yours in a soft kiss, a silent promise.

He'd never distance himself from you again.

Not now, not ever.

He simply couldn't.

Tag List

@newobsessionweekly @laheysfilm @augustvandyne

@rookietrek @dhunhdchrih @nachofriess @dtftheavengers

[comet-forgot-you]

need some vampire amber freeman x human reader smut

ily for this omg

teeth

vampire!amber freeman x human!reader

summary: your girlfriend is gone for a week and d shows up with what you think is a shitty excuse.

warnings: 18+ pls, smut, fingering, oral, biting, blood sucking, needy top!amber, i think thats all.

a/n: what if i said i love twilight, what then. idk this is kinda silly at beginning and end but it gets the tiniest bit intense. do not repost for any reason.

amber had been gone for over a week without reaching out to you for an explanation. a week of you checking her location, spamming her phone, calling nonstop. it wasn’t like her, she could barely go an hour without talking to you let alone an entire week.

you wanted needed her to say something, anything. whether it was over between the two of you, an explanation from her telling you why she had been gone for so long without an explanation, hell even a simple “hey” would do, you just missed her and needed her to say something.

you spent your nights on the couch, attempting to drown out your racing thoughts with the sound of the tv. even that barely managed to soothe the nonstop thoughts of amber’s whereabouts or whatever reasoning your brain could possibly think of to explain her absence.

a knock interrupted your thoughts, you glance away from the tv. whoever it was would have to come back tomorrow. it was late and you had no interest in opening that door. a minute passes before more frantic knocks come from the door. you groan, pulling yourself from the couch and follow the sounds of insistent knocking on the door. you look through the peep hole and relief floods your body.

amber

its amber.

holy shit its amber.

you make quick work of unlocking the door, allowing yourself to be face to face with the girl. her jaw clenches the second you open it. she’s beautiful, skin clear of any blemishes it held before.

“what the fuck?” your mouth acts before your brain can stop it. amber’s eyes are darker than their usual color, eyes softening the moment the words leave your lips. “where the fuck have you been? you don’t text me, you don’t call me, you just disappear for a week, what the fuck?” your voice rises with every word and amber winces.

“baby, please. js’ lemme explain. can i come in?” you let out a huff of air, standing back to widen the door. amber stays still, eyes darting around the entrance of your home.

“you just gonna stand there? come in,” you say, raising your eyebrows at her random hesitation. she comes in, standing behind you as you shut and lock the door.

“sorry, just,” she lets out a huff of air, “nervous,” she finishes, fiddling with her hands. you turn to face her. shes so pretty and god did you miss her. you wrap your arms around her waist, resting your head on her shoulder. her body is tense underneath your arms. shes still, her arms make no move to wrap around you, shes just still. hell you’re not even sure she’s breathing.

“where the fuck have you been amber,” you say, pulling away from you.

“i didnt think it was real,” she mumbles, taking a step back. your eyebrows furrow. “thought they were joking and then they fucking did it and now..” she trails off, looking around the room for a brief moment.

“who did what? what was real?” you ask, her attention returns back to you.

“im a vampire.” you cant help the laugh that leaves your throat.

“yeah fucking right. you leave for a week with no reasoning and the best excuse you can come up with is that you’re a vampire? are you fucking kidding me? if you needed space, amber, you could’ve just said that, you didnt have to make an excuse up, a dumb one at that.” you shake your head, brushing past the dark haired girl. she’s quick to follow after you.

“im not joking. i know it sounds stupid, i just, i don’t fucking know. i just wanted to go to that stupid concert with tara and a few of her other friends and then someone did something, i don’t even know what happened, all i remember was waking up in the worst pain i’ve ever felt in my life and a thirst that water wasnt helping in the slightest,” the words fall from her lips at a speed you didnt know she could possess. her shoulders were stiff as she paced your living room.

“so, what, you went out and bit someone and said ‘hey, that was pretty good, i think ill do it again.”? do you even hear yourself?” you huff, leaning back into your couch.

“i know it sounds stupid, but its true,” she looks around the room, searching for some way to prove it to you. she takes a seat next to you, “watch,” she opens her mouth, canines growing sharper and longer in seconds and your eyes widen. your fingers move to poke at the sharp ends, a slight hiss coming from your lips the second it pricks your fingers, the smallest drop of blood forming on your finger. amber’s quick to pull your hand away, snapping her mouth shut. her fingers are freezing against your wrist. she takes a deep breath in, eyes closed. “y/n, im sorry, but it, you smell so fucking good,” she mutters, jaw clenching.

“what, a little drop of blood gets you thirsty?” you tease, the droplet of blood falls down your finger. amber’s gaze flickers to you, your eyebrow raises slightly. you shake your hand from her hold and hold her jaw with your opposite hand. “open up,” you mumble. she does exactly that, her jaw falling slack in your hand. you press your bloodied finger against her tongue and her mouth closes. she wastes no time sucking the blood off of your finger. a whine threatens to escape your throat at the sight. you squeeze her face between your hand and she opens her mouth again. you pull your finger from her lips, a whine escaping her throat in the process.

“y/n..” she whimpers, pushing herself closer to your body. “taste s’ good.” she presses her lips against your neck, your heart beating so loudly in your chest, you’re certain she can hear it. she pushes you back, settling between your thighs as she litters purplish marks across your skin.

cold hands meet the warm skin of your stomach and you gasp at the chill, arching your back off of the cushions. “you’re hands are so fucking cold,” you hiss, hands flying to tangle in her hair. she hums against your neck, sharp teeth scraping the skin. she presses a thigh against your clothed core, your hips buck into it.

“wanna taste you, baby, please?” you nod frantically and she rips your shirt open, leaving your chest exposed. the sight of her ripping your shirt open had you grinding yourself down on her thigh. amber was never that strong, that needy for you. it sent heat plummeting to the pit of your stomach.

she circles your erect nipples with her tongue, hands moving to remove your pants. “sh-shit amber. so fuckin.. shit.. so fuckin needy.” breathy moans break your words apart, “please.” she pulls back for a split second before shes back on you, both of your pants long gone in that tiny amount of time. “holy shit,” you mumble, arching into her cool thigh. her actions are quick against your body, her mouth on your needy cunt in minutes.

you whine the second her tongue meets your pulsing clit. a cold finger sinks into your greedy hole, a strewn out moan falling from your lips. you two had experimented with ice, but this was a million times better than previous experiences ever were.

she curls her finger in your cunt, tongue circling your clit at a faster pace than shes ever had. she was a lot quicker, and she used it to her advantage. “taste so fucking good,” she moans into your cunt, the added vibration sending a new wave of wetness to soak her finger. she pushes another finger into your soaking cunt, curling and scissoring them into you at an inhumane pace.

“fuuck,” you moan out, arching off of the cushions. it was so much, the way her fingers were fucking into you like she needed your orgasm in order for her to survive had your head spinning. sharp teeth poke your clit and your hips still, the feelings new, and so fucking exciting. her tongue is back on your clit just as fast as it left. your orgasm is fast approaching, heart besting erratically.

“gonna cum, baby? can hear your heart beating s’ fast. its okay, you can cum, want you to cum so bad,” her fingers curl into your cunt perfectly and youre coming against her faster than you ever had, juices coating her cold fingers. she pulls them out, lapping it up quickly with her tongue. she groans at the taste, vibrations causing your body to jerk against her tongue.

she presses kisses against your thighs, teeth scraping against the fat of them. you prop yourself up on your elbows, watching as she does her best to keep herself from sinking her teeth into your skin.

“you.. you can bite, ambs,” you mutter. amber looks up at you, rubbing at the skin of your thighs.

“what if it hurts you? i don’t want to hurt you,” her voice is full of emotion, yet so needy. “what if i can’t stop?” the question lingers in the air. what if she cant stop? what if it kills you? its a risk you’re willing to take.

“i trust you.” the words are all it takes for amber to sink her fangs into your thigh. the area burns, your head spinning as she drains blood from your body. a whimper leaves her throat, heat flooding through both of your bodies. it hurts, but at the same time feels so fucking good. your hips buck off of the couch for a split second.

you feel almost light headed, you were losing blood fast. you nudge amber with your other thigh but the girl hardly budges. she glances up at you, eyes dark.

“amber,” you can barely get her name out. she looks almost apologetic. “amber, baby, please,” it seems to pull her from her trance like state. she unlatches herself from your thigh, lapping up the blood that drips out afterward.

“sorry, im sorry, im so sorry,” she mumbles, reaching out to hold your hand. “taste s’ good.” she trails kisses up your body, quiet “im sorrys” falling from her lips after every kiss.

“its okay,” your voice is quiet, eyes tired. she presses a kiss to your lips. “felt kinda good,” you say against her lips. she smiles, pulling away to press kisses around your face. “wait does this mean i cant have garlic anymore?” amber rolls her eyes, smacking your shoulder lightly.

“you can still have garlic you idiot.”

[whyareyouhere66]

Ok im back in my JJ Maybank era 🧎🏻

Could you do a JJ Maybank x male reader with them being in an established relationship, and the pouges (+reader obvs) are having a bonfire party and reader maybe drinks a little more than the others. Everyone is talking and just mingling with each other when out of no where reader comes out with a microphone/mini karaoke machine (?) and starts singing 'That should be me' by Justin Bieber to JJ in front of everyone. Reader being too drunk to remember that they're literally already in a relationship and wants to 'win him over'. And probably ends up with JJ having to pick up reader and dragging him away to get him to stop 'declaring his love' in front of an audience lmao (All light hearted and fluffy ofc <3).

I would like to firstly apologize for such a long wait 😭 this request was sent in before I closed my requests, making it basically one of if not the last one I accepted so felt the need to make it good for you. It’s been in the process of being made for months now, so. It is very much possible you are no longer in said JJ Maybank era but nonetheless I hope you enjoy this Anon despite it not being perfect, and anyone else who is reading. Thank you for the request and anyone reading, enjoy. (It was actually kinda fun to write this when I got into it again)

JJ Maybank x Male! Reader

“Love You Like a (drunk) Love Song”

cw: alcohol, one mention of weed. Possibly a little ooc? I haven’t watched the show in a while. Loosely edited. Silly. Mid ending. Kinda long.

x

The world is spinning.

Just a little bit, though.

Or maybe more.

Hold on.

Bumps and valleys from peoples footprints indent the sand, grains of tiny rocks flying behind their dancing shoes. 

In the middle of the drunk crowds, teenagers stumbling about with bottles in their hands, is you, with your own bottle tucked between curled fingers. Number 3 maybe? You’re not sure anymore.

Through blurry vision, you stumble around with a lopsided grin, drunken laughs falling from it at every bump and nudge. Music pumps through the Boneyard, ringing in your ears from some indie-pop song you don’t know the name of. 

People begin to blur together, just bodies you push through as you and Pope jog through the crowd, whooping with each beat. It’s one of the few moments when Pope’s awkward smile has faded and all that’s left is a stumbling, giggling mess. And of course, sand. Lots of sand. 

Tiny rocks prod at your heels, filling the bottom of your shoes as you run. Your eyes dart to them- the roughed up converse that could probably fall apart at any given moment. Without thinking, you reach for your shoes.

“Wait-waitwaitwait-“ 

Pope doesnt slow down until your hand is clapped over his shoulder, eyes snapping from the Touron next to him, as suddenly he’s supporting all your weight on one arm.

“What- what are you doing?”

You don’t answer immediately, coming to a stop just outside the crowd of dancers. 

“Sand.”

Pope watches you with a dazed stare, the somewhat distant light from the bonfire all there is to light up his face, casting shadows across his nose and jawline. 

“Deal with it.” He says it like it’s obvious, though doesn’t try to move as you wriggle around to get your shoe off your foot- much harder than it should be. You click your tongue and grunt.

“Gotta sit-“

Like two mangled cats- you and Pope fall to the ground, bracing yourselves on your arms and elbows. Landing right on your ass- you begin to struggle with your shoe once more. Pope groans, brushing sand from his arm and his lap. A mumble falls from his lips, muttering curses at you for bringing him to the ground with you. However, you pay him no mind, tugging the sneaker off your foot, sand draining out through the hole as you flip it upside down. 

The distant reflection of the fire is all you have as you play with the ties of your shoes, shining faintly across the two wobbly figures you and Pope have become. He begins scooping handfuls of sand into his palm, letting it slip through his fingers as he waits for you to finish. For a second, he brings his hand towards your shoe- sand threatening to slip into the sole of your just emptied sneakers. You slap his arm away before he can succeed. 

“That fire is so hot.” Pope complains out of nowhere, wiping his forehead for some imaginary sweat. You twist your head to look at it, palm weakly slapping the bottom of your shoe. 

“Dude, it’s like….” You squint, unsure, “100 feet away. You’re just drunk.”

He rolls his eyes.

“Alcohol doesn’t make you hot.”

At that, you scoff, though it comes through your nose like a snort. “Speak for yourself.”

Pope’s head slowly turns to you, eyes narrowed and mouth popped open like a fish. He looks like he’s trying to jam the logic of that sentence into his brain, but failing. 

“I have no idea what to say to that.” He concludes. 

In all fairness, you only sort of know what you meant by it in the first place. 

The topic quickly loses relevance as you finish dumping your shoes, tugging them back onto your feet and jumping up. He stumbles to join you, and soon enough, you’re at it again. 

Walking through the sand, there’s less people to weave around now that you’re out of the crowd that’s formed around the speakers. Some Kook has jumped on to a log, taking over the mic from the cheap karaoke machine and is currently belting the words to Katy Perry’s “Last Friday Night”- except her version has a drunken slur thrown in with the melody. The sound is…amusing at most, but no one cares enough to complain, watching and some even dancing around her log. 

You and Pope stagger right past it, your arm now slung around his shoulder. 

You both stumble and laugh until you catch a familiar face in the crowd- JJ. 

You grin.

JJ.

The blonde sits on the edge of another log, sitting with a few others around the ring of the bonfire. John B and Kiara are on the log next to him, while other Pogues and the occasional Touron fill in the remaining space. Some redhead leans into Kiara’s shoulder, choking on her own laugh while being completely oblivious to the side eye Kiara gives her in return. Two Pogues pass a blunt back and forth over John B’s shoulder, grinning wickedly when he comments on it.

In Pope’s eyes, he sees the group, and without thinking points his next few steps in that direction. Not you, though. 

Your eyes become still, tuning everyone else out, not even seeing the giggling redhead, or John B’s easy smile. All you see, is JJ.

The crackling fire casts an orange shadow over his features, creating a shadow on his cheekbone, next to his nose. It contrasts perfectly with the blue of his eyes, the usual mischievous glint behind them showing through with his laugh as he makes yet another stupid joke. 

He’s so pretty. 

Dilated eyes follow his every move, the twitch of his smile- and you’re completely oblivious as Pope leaves you behind, moving up towards the group without another thought.

“What’s up, guys.” Pope reaches his hand out for a greeting as he makes it to the group sitting around the fire- JJ’s hand meeting his as their palms “clap” in unison. 

“There he is!” JJ loudly greets, watching the boy make his way to a seat on the log. The others say their own hello’s, as Pope easily molds into the atmosphere of the smaller group. And still, he hasn’t noticed that the your drunk (far more drunk than him, at least) self is still standing in the sand with parted lips and heart eyes. 

Your eyes flicker across his figure again, wishing through alcohol-tainted thoughts that you could capture the sight with a picture. From his nose, to his lips, to the muscles in his shoulders to the wave of his hair falling across his forehead. Your vision is starting to blur around the edges when you stare too long, but you can’t look away just yet. 

‘Is he single?’

Suddenly, you can’t remember anymore. 

Your eyes trace over every feature you can catch with the orange light, hand twitching with an empty warmth. You wonder what it would be like to hold his hand. 

JJ is oblivious to your stare, downing half his cup between conversations as Pope and John B joke about something next to him. In your mind, despite the influences making your thoughts sway back and forth- you come to a conclusion.

‘I should flirt with him…’

A simple task, just a small goal. Anything to make the pretty boy look your way.

However instead of walking up to him like a normal person, you turn around- stumbling to the crowd behind you with nothing but the makes for a headache and a plan. 

Pope, back at the bonfire, whispers into JJ’s ear, “Your boyfriend is drunk as hell, by the way.” 

The blonde seems completely unfazed, shrugging his shoulders and stretching out like a cat, cup teetering in his hand slightly.

“No surprise there,” he responds nonchalantly.

“He gets it from you.”

John B’s words are met with nothing but an eye roll from JJ, and a small grin from Kiara.

“Speaking of- where is he?” Kiara asks, brushing some hair out of her face as she’s finally released from the redhead’s grasp, as the random girl turns to talk to some pogues next to her. This catches everyone else’s attention, Pope speaking up first.

“Oh uh- he was just over-“ he goes to point to where you had stood a minute ago- only to pause when he sees the spot empty. His eyebrows furrow, “…there.” 

The other three turn their heads to follow the point of Pope’s finger, looking around for your missing figure. 

“Uh oh.” John B deadpans, and in seconds JJ is on his feet.

“Where’d he go?” His blue eyes scan the crowd, now searching for you in the mass of sweaty teenagers. 

“He was just there a second ago.”

Kiara stands up, doing the same as JJ. There’s too many bodies huddled in one spot to pick you out easily, everyone still gathered around the speakers, red solo cups littered about. It’s like “Where’s Waldo”, except not really. Her brown eyes shift from group to group, skimming over everyone, when she catches a glimpse of your figure.

“Guys, he’s right there.” she deadpans, now watching you as you seem to be making your way to the center of the crowd.

Her eyebrows furrow, and the others follow her gaze.

“Ok, and…what is he doing?”

No answer can be found, as all 4 now watch as you squeeze through the rowdy teens around you. 

Your mind is caught in a rush. Everything in your surroundings seems to blur, the music turning into a thrumming against your ears as you shove your way to the front. You know what you’re gonna do, impulsive plans fueling every step. All you want is to impress that hot blonde painting back at the campfire, make sure you’re the only one he’s looking at.

You know JJ, you know how he’s quite a magnet for the wandering eye. In your drunken state, you find yourself desperate to be his only focus. 

You make a quick stop at the computer connected to the speaker, changing the song cue, before continuing on your way. Some girl, who you vaguely remember from your science class, is currently barely getting out the words to “Call Me Maybe” through fits of giggles, karaoke microphone seconds from slipping out of her hand. Without a moment of hesitance, you stumble right up to the make-shift stage and reach for the microphone. 

“That’s real nice, Katy,” you murmur, putting your hand on her shoulder as she looks at you slightly confused, her poor rhythm suddenly interrupted, “‘s my turn now.”

She quirks an eyebrow at you, but makes no argument as you nudge her off the stage, stumbling back to her friends who only laugh. The sleek surface of the microphone is slippery on your sweaty palms, but you hold it firmly, spinning around and puffing your chest. 

The log isn’t exactly a perfect stage, but it’s just big enough so you can see through the crowd from a higher angle- and across the way, you catch the gazes of your friends, a variety of expressions on each of their faces. 

Pope has his eyebrows furrowed down in that classic Pope stare, his thoughts loud. “What the fuck”, would be your guess. Kiara seems to have the same thoughts running through her head, but her eyes hold more amusement. John B and JJ both sit here with open mouths. 

You don’t really process any of the confusion in their gazes, though, because the second you meet eyes with the blonde boy, your heart is racing. The beat, begins to play, and you bring the microphone to your lips.

“What the fuck is he doing?” John B asks, but again, no one has an answer. 

“This can’t be real.”

“Oh my god.”

The familiar tune of Justin Bieber starts to flow from the speakers, and Pope slaps a hand over his mouth. This is too good. 

“Everybody’s laughin’ in my mind…”

“We gotta get him off that stage-“ John B starts to stand up, only for a hand to get in his way. It’s JJ’s. 

“Nah bro” he doesn’t dare look away from you, “one more minute.”

A few cheers and shouts come from the front row, the crowd pretty divided between “invested” and “pays no mind”. You continue to sing, your voice wobbly at first, before you start to really get into it. 

“Did you forget all the plans that you made with me? Cause baby I didn’t-“ 

JJ cracks a small grin, looking back at the others as if in confirmation, before turning back, still completely lost as to what you are doing. 

“Cause that should be ME-“

Oh!

“Holding your hand!”

Kiara bursts out laughing. 

“That should be me, making you laugh! That should be me, this is so sad-“

“That’s one way to say it.” John B smirks, earning a prompt nudge from JJ.

You’re shamelessly making eye contact with him, losing your balance on the log as you make up for every crack in your voice with devoted theatrics. He might not make it through this. 

“Y’think we should go get him?” Pope asks, hiding his grin with his fingers. You start to finish up the chorus, completely invested.

The rowdy crowd has become blurry faces, a swarm of bodies dancing around you while you stumble on the log. Halfway through the second verse and it becomes clear you don’t really know most of the words to this song, glancing over to the computer and trying to read the poorly-animated lyrics off the 8 year old YouTube video you found. But finally, the chorus comes back around, and you’re coming in strong again. 

“That should be me, holdin’ your hand-“ you stare into his eyes and thrust your finger into his direction, turning heads.

“Ok we gotta get him off that log.”

“Yep, that’s enough.”

JJ stands up and quickly makes his way to where you stand- or perform, rather. Shoving through the various bodies, he pushes his way to the front, and the whole time you follow his figure with your eyes.

“This is so wrong, I can’t go on-“ you point at him, wobbling on the log, “-till you believe that that should be me, that should be m-“

“Y/n,” JJ stands in front of the log, gesturing for you to join him. You don’t, instead moving your finger to continue to wag it in front of his face. He sighs, looking at the ground to hide his smile. When he looks back up, you’ve launched into a high note that definitely is not in the original recording. 

“-meeeeEeEEEee-“ 

“Oh god,” he mumbles to himself, not entirely sure what to do. You’ve never been this wasted before- and even more, he’s not used to being the designated caretaker friend. The roles are completely switched, yet he’s not even sober! He does the first thing that comes to mind- reaching for you and tugging you into his arms. You fall with a small gasp, dropping the microphone into the sand, slight feedback echoing through the shitty speaker as he literally drags you away from the crowd. 

“What’re you doing-?” you demand, though blushing slightly at how close you now are to his chest. There’s a few snickers and curious remarks within the group behind you, not that you really pay attention. And they quickly go back to their own business anyways, leaving you to be dragged away to the side of the party.

JJ is supporting your body with his, as if you’re injured instead of just wasted, but with your uneven steps and his own tipsiness you both end up just stumbling off. Your arm slung around his shoulder and his hand keeping you close to his side. He’s even prettier up close. 

“Man, how drunk are you, babe?” He asks as you come to a stop, moving to stand in front of you, your hands now on his shoulders. 

This scrambles your mind a little bit. “Man” and “babe” used in the same sentence? Wild. 

“‘M not that drunk.” You retort, eyes peeking up to take in his features once more. You don’t even think about how obvious you’re being- dazed eyes raking over his face, morphing into an expression with so much awe you’d think his face was made up of the stars above. 

He notices the look, just as your eyes not-so-subtly flicker from his eyes to his lips. It makes him flush slightly. 

“Mhm- and that talent show, huh?” There’s a hint of amusement in his tone this time, you can tell, “what about that?”

“Why, did you think it was hot?”

JJ’s grin starts to grow, the cogs in his brain turning. Was this really all for him?

“…were you trying to impress me, baby?”

That one sends a small rush of butterflies through the pit of your stomach- not really mixing well with the alcohol. 

You feel as a grin starts to spread on your lips, cheeks hot. 

He called you baby. 

“Maybe. Are you single?”

It’s really ‘no think, just do’ at this point, your thoughts becoming words in a matter of seconds. This visibly catches JJ off guard- that was not where he thought that was going. He pauses, and if you were to look hard enough you could see the throbber of a loading screen on his forehead. 

“What?”

You’re starting to lean into him a little bit, subconsciously. 

“Do you have a boyfriend.” You restate the question, and it all starts to click in his head. The singing, the pointing. 

‘My boyfriend just drunkenly sang Justin Bieber to me as a way of flirting.’

A giant smirk takes over his lips. 

“Wait wait wait,” he starts, looking down for a second, “let me get this straight- you went up there and sang that whole song as a way of…as a way of flirting?” He looks back up at you, finding this whole thing quite humorous. 

“Maybe,” you say again, “did it work?”

JJ cant stop the chuckle that escapes his lips, the laugh rumbling in his throat. You furrow your eyebrows, “what’s so funny-“

He shakes his head, “nothing, nothing, don’t worry about it.” He looks you up and down, a glimmer in his eyes that you notice but can’t name in this moment. But it doesn’t answer your question. 

“JayJayyyyy-“ you groan, and it just makes his smile grow. It becomes clear he’s just gonna play into this. He places his hands on your hip, leaning into you, so now you’re both close enough to smell the alcohol lingering on both of your tongues. He chuckles again, swaying slightly.

“Do I got news for you.” Is all he says, and it’s clear he’s gonna have a field day with this one. 

[atrwriting]

epilogue – a jackson j. maybank story

hi everyone

****major obx season four spoilers ahead****do not even thinkkkk of pushing past this line if you have not seen the latest season

ok now that only season four viewers are here -- holy smokes. i will never recover. wtf. literally wtf. i had to write this because i needed closure. im hurting all over and i dont even know what to say. here is how i deal with the death of this very sweet boy who deserved so much fucking better

summary: jj meets his mother in the afterlife.

warnings: mentions of death, depression, loss of hope, anxiety, the afterlife

here's epilogue:

He didn’t realize it was supposed to feel like this. 

This… whatever this is. 

Fucking shit, he thought. He didn’t even know where he was.

The last thing he remembers is Kie.

There was an ache in his chest. 

A real ache. One he hasn’t felt since he was a kid. The type of ache that he felt when his – old? first? fake? – dad would kick him around. Busted lip and cheek, whatever he felt like should be on the menu that day. He realized then that he wished he would’ve been with Luke rather than Groff in his last few moments, because at least he could walk off whatever Luke had in store for him that day.

Groff, he scoffed in his head. 

The ache of missing Kie and his friends was beginning to mingle with his anger for Groff, his real dad.

It curdled in his chest – mixing with bile, blood, regret, guilt, shame, and anything else in his chest that would never get the chance to leave nor heal. It was grotesque and poisonous – spreading like sickness throughout his body – the only that reminded him that he was sentient.

Right, the present – where the fuck is he?

He whipped his head from side to side, like a scared animal in the forest. He had his legs spread shoulder width apart, defensive stance, and he had his elbows bent in front of him – he wouldn’t be bested twice, no – not after Groff, not after he already lost everything. 

This was different than when he was destroying the storefronts of that one street – he thought he had nothing to lose then, but he was wrong. So fucking wrong. He had never been so wrong before, and his friends had never been so right.

It was then that JJ Maybank realized that if he had just listened to Kie or any of his friends a little bit more… Maybe… Just maybe…

There was no “maybe.” Groff’s blade was the killing blow, but his recklessness had been the beginning of his own end. 

The end of his relationship.

The end of his friendships.

The end of any possibility of saving his business or home. 

The end of being a Godfather. 

The end of his own happiness. 

The end of any fucking chance he had in a world that never stopped to remind him that he was fucked from the beginning. 

All of that – and for what? For fucking what?

He died the exact way everyone said he would – because of his own stupidity.

That’s all folks, he thought. That’s the show. Most predictable fucking ending on this planet.

He felt the hot brew of emotion well from his chest rise into his throat, burning his esophagus like acid. It choked him. It beat his pain into his skin, blood, bones, organs, and psyche until it was the only thing he felt and knew. 

He didn’t have any fight left in him. He usually flipped off any fucker that would dare demand authority – but he was done. He had lost everything besides the pain that plagued him in life – and he thought that was the worst punishment of all. 

“…Jackson?” 

He looked up then. 

He realized he was surrounded by – well, he didn’t know. He just knew it was bright. Really fucking bright. He could hear wind somewhere – maybe flowing through trees, maybe making small boats sway in the waves, or maybe in the grass in the marshes. He really didn’t know – he couldn’t place anything. The sounds were familiar – he knew those sounds. His eyes were adjusting, blurred by tearsandpainandregretandshame and everything and anything in between. He knew those sounds – but not that voice.

However… he felt like he should.

“Mom?” he gushed, voice breaking. “L-Larissa?” 

“Hi, sweetheart,” a voice whispered. 

Her voice so sweet, like a flower petal. Soothing like getting out of a sticky situation that Pope yelled at him about prior. Warm like a beach day. It felt like everything he had been searching for and everything he couldn’t find all at once.

He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know how to feel. He didn’t know –

Tears. That’s what he could do. That was all he could do. 

“No, sweetheart –” warm hands were beginning to cup his cheeks, soft thumbs pushing away tears like they didn’t belong on his face. His cheeks were stinging hot with every emotion that welled within his chest, but the hands were a type of warmth that made him realize he was actually cold. So cold. Cold, lonely, and full of grief. 

He realized then what all of those asshole adults were talking about all of his life.

His anger was a mask. Something he hid behind, something he used as an excuse to be reckless and a nuisance. What he really felt… what his real identity was… was grief.

JJ Mayback was full of grief. 

He crumbled then – falling forward and wrapping his limbs around the woman – his mother – before him. 

“I’m sorry,” was all he could say, tears flowing down his cheeks and onto her sweet-smelling silk shirt. “I’m so fucking sorry –"

“Shhh, sweetheart,” she cooed. “Everything is okay now. I’m here.”

Sobs racked throughout his chest, attacking the inside of his throat. His voice grew hoarse, unable to keep up with every emotion that exploded out of him. He had pushed it down for so long. So, so long. He didn’t even know It existed, much less that he could feel it for himself. He thought when people described this feeling they were lying or being fucking dramatic. They had to be lying. How could they be telling the truth about this? How could they live with this How could they fucking get through this without fucking killing someone or themselves?! Only kooks had the luxury of crying about their feelings or missing people who weren’t there anymore or expecting assholes to change when they had always proved they would never change. It hit him all at once. Over, and over, and over, and overandoverandoverandover. It hit him worse than anything Luke could’ve thrown at him, or any knife that Groff could’ve plunged into his stomach. Every tear… every fuckingtear…

He wanted to say either of his dads, fucking any of them – they didn’t deserve his tears. That’s what he would tell anyone that asked, and that’s what he would tell someone if this was happening to them.

But right now? Right fucking now? When he had lost everything? For real, no way of getting it back? No final card up his sleeve? No Pope to save him, or Kie to talk some sense to him? 

Right now… all he could do was sob. Fucking sob. 

“It hurts,” JJ cried. “It fucking hurts so bad.”

“I know, baby,” the woman wept. “I know. I’m so, so sorry…”

“I fucking hate him,” he spat into her shoulder. “I fucking hate them both…”

“I know…” she continued to weep, obviously overtaken with her son’s hurt. 

He didn’t know what to do with this. By all accounts, he was a fuck up. Parents, teachers, and, frankly, no adults liked him. If he wasn’t consumed by grief, he would’ve pushed her away – as this feeling was foreign to him. However, even if he wanted to, he couldn’t – her grip around him was too tight and her embrace felt too warm.

“I can’t give you what you lost…” she spoke, wiping his tears as she pulled away to face him. “They will be here one day – your friends, and that sweet girl that I would love to meet – but hopefully not for a long time. I hope you can agree with me on that, sweetheart. Until then – there are so many people that want to meet you.” 

He laughed then – almost akin to a scoff. “Bunch of people I don’t know? Bunch of people that would probably look down on me?”

“No, son –” she insisted. “Don’t speak like that ever. Not about yourself – not about the thing I am most proud of for creating. Do you understand?”

For whatever reason – he nodded then, but he unable to meet her eyes. He didn’t believe her – but how could he? Who had ever wanted to meet him? He would’ve scoffed at her, told her to fuck off like the rest of the people in his life – but he didn’t have the energy. Plus, something was different about her. Her face. Her voice. The look in her eyes when she was actually insulted when he had spoke down about himself. He couldn’t help but stare at her then, wondering why she felt differently about him compared to the rest of the people in his life who were supposed to protect him, love him, care for him – but didn’t. Would she be different? Could he trust her? 

He stare at the rest of her face then. Soft, fair skin. Blue eyes. Blonde hair. Skin that never had time to wrinkle. Hair that never had time to gray. Bones that never had time to get old. However, the one thing she couldn’t shake, and bothered JJ immediately… was the look in her eye. Pain. Hurt. Grief. Shame. Guilt. All mingling into one. All twisting and turning like the snakes in the garden that hurt them both. JJ knew that look. It was the same look he saw in the mirror, and the same feeling he felt in his chest.

He knew what type of person she was then. 

Her life was taken from her… just like his was taken from him. 

“I understand,” he spoke, voice breaking. 

“I know you do,” she spoke, and the allusion was not lost on him. It didn’t have to be specified – JJ was not quick in life, as he could rely on Pope for that, but in death and purgatory or heaven or hell or wherever the fuck they were – he guessed he was. “Take us for a boat ride, son – and we’ll go home.” 

He would never go home – at least not to the one that actually felt like home, the one he yearned for. He didn’t even know what his mother meant – much less wherever the fuck it was. 

“I know you have doubts – and that it’s hard for you to trust –” she began, voice breaking as she fit her fingers in between his. “–but I’ve been hurt, too – by the same people that hurt you. Can you trust me? Just once?”

After all he had been through – he didn’t know how he had the strength to even lift his gaze to reach hers. Her eyes were glassy and red, almost raw. He didn’t like the look of it. He found himself wanting to wipe it way with a towel – anything to get it to go away. The same raw look in his eyes was the same raw ache in his chest, and he knew that she had felt the same way. They were mother and son, bound by the same curses and people that trapped them in death. The hurt those people inflicted – it opened and hurt – festering like an infected wound – demanding to be felt, and demanding to spread, demanding to infect everything in its fucking path and leave no survivors. There was no fight left in him, nor his mother. He didn’t have the energy to keep up his walls. His defenses. The things that kept him alive for so long in a world that wanted to crush him. He needed safety. He needed salvation. He needed a place to rest his head because for once in his fucking life he could admit that he wasn’t strong enough to even turn his nose up at the thing that only wanted to kick him down and keep him there. He needed… he needed… he needed –

“Just this once,” he spoke, squeezing her fingers back.

She led the way, and JJ Maybank embarked on his last ever adventure: getting to know the woman that had waited his whole life to meet and love him. 

And he couldn’t wait to tell his friends when he saw them next. 

---

love you guys lmk what you think xoxox

[kingdoms-and-empires]

Adoriel's Tears Review

I recently had to go travel and read a few works that I never got around to reading but was interested in.

PLEASE REMEMBER THIS REVIEW IS DONE BY ME AS A READER AND IS MY OWN OPINION.

This means I will review in accordance to my own tastes, how the game caters to me, and what I feel. Do not take my word as gospel, what I may not be interested in or dislike, may be what YOU are interested and love!!!

@adoriels-tears-if

Synopsis:

Adoriel's Tears are a gift.

A light offered to the inhabitants of Terrybiël to end the conflicts that oppress the Four Peoples and eradicate the evil that was crawling on the continent.

But every light has its shadow and sometimes gifts are poisonous. For if magic comes from the heart, it takes a soul to master it, and fortunate are those who manage to find it. Without a counterpart, without a familiar, a Tear is nothing.

Just a curse. A child of madness. The darkness on Terrybiël. What must be destroyed before they destroy you.

Adoriel's Tears are a gift. At least for the others.

You're long past the point where your heart and soul should be singing together, and yet you're gifted. That's what made you lose everything you had as a child. Now, an opportunity presents itself. Should you take it, is it the right thing to do?

Without a soul and with a magic you can't control, the journey will be a risky one.

Especially since the smell of madness and blood is getting heavier and heavier on Terrybiël. Will you be able to fix everything, to find what you're looking for? Nothing is less sure.

And yet, this voice is calling you, whispering:

Come ! Come to me ! Come to me and don't be afraid.

Review:

The Good: Tobias is Ken, do not fight me on this.

Also, i wasnt aware what Snow was until i looked it up:

SO FREAKING CUTE!

Anyways, I had a lot of fun with this one. It lures you into a false sense of security and wholesomeness only to abruptly show the player and MC the reality of the world. That their mother had been protecting them for a reason. The family dynamics, relationships between characters, and drama crafted got me in my feels enough to care! I also got to name my plushie rabbit Optimus Prime, which was fucking hilarious:

Also i had alot of fun with the parental drama the MC can have with their father

Ashleyn:

And with his fuckboi bros:

Adoriel's Tears does that thing really well, that thing that lets the reader fill in the blanks and make up their own assumptions for the characters until we actually meet them. Plus it lets us act out and be brats so we can break the hearts of all the adults around us that try their best!

Also there's moments like this:

That honestly just adds that bit of humor that works without cause friction for the rest of the tone.

There was also a specific passage that felt emotionally charged and intense. Youll know what im talking about once you reach it, because it is very memorable. Without spoiling, it feels like justice coming forth to smite those that have wronged you.

The Bad: I know that Chapter 1 is a transfer from the original Choicescript, and it shows. The author has already expressed wanting to polish and clean it up, which i think is the right step as the second chapter and onwards have a clear jump in quality. There were numerous spelling and grammatical errors, but given that chapter 1 is four years old, and that the author is not a native English speaker (is French) that can be excused and fixed. I was able to submit errors I came across, so the author will be able to fix what i found in a future update. I do recommend that those who play any IF out there to submit anything they find as authors need us to beta test! Their eyes literally begin to glaze over the words theyve seen for the thousandth time lol.

The Ugly: I encountered moments where the MC feels very sensitive and too friendly, or the opposite where the choices can give an extreme negative reaction in response. I'd like for the inclusion of a more middle ground MC. In addition to that, there where times where my immersion (self insert, remember) broke as my boy MC felt too "feminine" without letting us choose to act it or not. Idk how to describe it other than that lol, but it stood out to me.

The Aftermath: I would recommend this to anyone that wants a good family dynamic/drama, and if characters and their relationships with each other are important to you. There's a lot of promise, potential, and "oh shit" moments that can/will happen (18+ tag, remember?) that only leaves me wanting more. The worldbuilding done allows for some really gripping story telling, and from what we see so far, itll impact the story. Seriously, the worldbuilding here is unique, and WILL stand out as we keep seeing the same ole same ole elsewhere in this genre. It's a fantasy story that keeps itself grounded by using likable characters who have realistic flaws that provide entertainment for us.

[wonjns]

particular — i.cy

pairing. im changkyun x male reader

genre. smut

summary. another long day of work leads to a horny mood, thankfully you have a (slightly odd but extremely sexy) boyfriend who's always willing to help you out.

includes. car sex, semi-public sex, slight voyeurism, masturbation, cum eating, unprotected sex ( dont irl !! )

WC. 1.7k

°A/N. . . ok this is literally so random it was just an old draft i started literally last year ?? but i just had to finish it bc wow i forgot how much i love chankgyun and i hope u guys like this !!

everybody usually labeled your boyfriend as a bit of a freak, but you just liked to think of him as selective about what he liked when it came to sex.

despite his horny tendencies, changkyun had never done anything outlandish or unheard of before with you - shit, he was hardly even open to trying new things. he simply knew what he liked, despite how specific some of his turn ons were. you understood that, and he always appreciated how open you were to his desires.

just like now, as you sat in the passenger seat of his car – your pants long discarded as you palmed your exposed member while he watched you with intense eyes.

you woke up in an uncharacteristically needy mood today, dropping hints as soon as he picked you up from your barista job. changkyun could feel the desire radiating off of you in waves the minute you laid your eyes on him, the way his fitted black gym shirt up clung to his chiseled torso stirring a fire in your gut. it was unlike you, but you practically begged to have him before he could fully drive down the street. and who would he be to tell his favorite boy no in that moment?

he just wanted you to do a thing or two for him first.

for some reason, changkyun loved to fuck you after seeing you reach your climax first. something about how spent you would be just ignited him in a blaze, pounding into you extra passionately afterwards... every single time. 

so you didn’t hesitate for a second when he asked to see you pleasure yourself until your first orgasm, then he would touch you. you obliged, immediately throwing your head against the seat rest from a couple strokes to your cock. 

but before you knew it, you had been at it for 10 minutes, unable to get yourself climaxing despite your needy state. your hands simply never felt quite the same as changkyuns larger, warmer, and much more experienced ones. your wrist was starting to cramp after putting in so much effort to no avail, groaning out of frustration when you saw changkyun begin to palm himself over his gym shorts.

you were sickeningly turned on at how aroused he was getting at your frustration. you had always needed his help with nearly everything, especially when it came to sex, so you were always so pliant and obedient — and fuck did it turn him on.

“kyun, i need you so bad, please.” you whined, feeling overwhelmed with the hunger that he stared at you with as you played with your throbbing length.

changkgun’s jaw clenched for a second before he slowly licked his bottom lip, watching your hands run along your cock. he didn’t even want to blink and risk missing a second of the beautiful sight before him.

“you’re doing good, baby, keep going.” he sternly encouraged, voice so deep it caused you to whimper with more want. his eyes shot up to yours for a second, darker than ever. “are you close?”

“mm mm,” you mewled in response, gaze dropping to his erect nipples poking through his dry-fit shirt. you stroked yourself deeper, remembering what he looked like underneath the thin fabric. “let see your abs, please.”

the ever-so-cocky grin that you were used to grew across changkyuns face. and as annoying as it was, you fucking loved it.

he’d been working out so much at home lately, and it showed more as the days went on. you would always watch in perverted silence, eyes fixated on his back muscles as he did pull ups on your bedroom doorframe. the way his round shoulders were forming, tan thighs growing more muscular, and of course that torso being shaped by the gods - there was hardly a time that he’d be doing his sit ups in the living room that wouldn’t end in you two getting some extra cardio in on the couch after.

changkyun complied to your request all too easily, reaching down to drag the hem of the shirt slowly upwards. the material slid up and bunched around his broad chest, bronze chiseled abs glaring right back at you.

he must’ve just finished working out before picking you up from work, as there was still a thin sheen of sweat reflecting off the grooves of his muscles. you just wanted to cum all over them right then and there, and to lick it off after without a care in the world.

and that was all it took. the thought alone activated a long whine out of you as you squirted all over yourself, ropes of your white essence shooting up onto your stomach and thankfully missing your uniform shirt by a smidge.

you felt a little out of breath already, but the marveling in changkyun’s eyes gave you all the boost you needed. you didn’t bother discarding your shirt as you scrambled into his lap, back accidentally honking the horn in the process. you’d didnt give a damn.

“there, will you kiss me now?” your voice sounding much more desperate than you wanted it to.

changkyun offered you another smirk before slightly lifting your shirt and scooping some of your arousal off your stomach with two fingers. you didn’t need any instruction as you opened your mouth, excitement stirring in your bones.

your boyfriend’s eyes struck in a trance as he rubbed his fingers along your tongue, spreading your salty love liquids around to his liking. his free hand held you firmly in place by your neck. you took the opportunity to suck on his digits for just a moment before he pulled them away.

your tongue protruded out to show chankgyun his work, prompting a deep groan out of him.

“that’s my boy…” he finally mumbled before surging forward, finally soothing your aching lips with his own.

the kiss was deep, full of hunger as changkyun wasted no time in slipping his tongue in to mingle with yours. he took his time tasting you, collecting the smeared essence off your tongue to take for himself. he was so noisy today, as another one of his moans shook you to your core, and you were thankful to be perched on his lap... otherwise your knees would’ve given out immediately.

you were growing drunk on his sloppy open mouthed kisses, feeling along those godly abs before you forced yourself to pull away - unable to hold in your final request any longer.

“changkyun,” you huffed, “please fuck me.”

the dark haired man laughed at your already desperate state, warm hands encasing both sides of your hips securely as he looked you up and down.

“i don’t know, prince, right here and now? you’re already so sensitive, i’m not sure if you could handle it.” he mocked, experimentally rolling his hips up into you.

the thin material of his workout shorts boldly exposed how rock hard his bulge was already. he felt so, so big and it sent your mind reeling. your eyes rolled back when you rocked your hips down into him in response, clutching his broad shoulders.

“let me try.” you cried out, reconnecting your lips before he could form a reply.

after the two of you shared a hot, needy make out session for a couple minutes, changkyun skillfully removed both of your clothes before you could notice.

his teeth ran teasingly along the column of your neck before he passionately sucked on your adams apple, flipping you over and lowering the seat back. you moaned as you ran your hands down the expanse of his exposed melanated back, the valleys of his toned muscles sending you into a haze.

chankgyun made sure to leave an array of pretty little marks all over your neck before finally ridding himself of his underwear and fishing the small bottle of lube out from the center consul.

he laughed to himself, realizing that normal couples probably wouldn't keep something so vulgar brazenly in their car. but the man learned quickly that he had done it to himself; after corrupting you for the first time, you had become such an insatiable little thing.

when both you and he were finally prepped, he teasingly prodded his thick head against your entrance.

“i’m going in, baby boy. hold on tight.” he spoke.

his teasing actions caused you to already clench around nothing, but you tried to will yourself to relax. he slowly pushed in, and you couldn't even attempt holding your noises in. not like he would want you to anyways.

changkyun's ego would always skyrocket every time he heard how good he made you feel. his favorite would be times just like this, when you were in your most fucked out state just babbling over how much you loved him and his huge, skillful dick.

you clung to your boyfriend tighter as he ground his hips into you rhythmically, taking you to the stars and back right there in his driver's seat.

it didn't take much for you to announce your second orgasm, the sensation hurdling towards you as changkyun relentlessly pounded into you with a starved passion.

when the blissful relief washed over you, once again coming all over you and changkyun's stomach, he couldn't even warn you of his own climax as the fluttering of your walls began milking him dry as well. he wanted to bite down on your collarbone but refused to look away at how cute your scrunched up face looked, loving that he was the reason for your ecstacy.

changkyun tried to still his head from dizzying, groaning as he watched his own come begin leaking down your leg. he went to grab napkins from his consul, but you stopped him immediately, pulling him back on top of you for one more deep kiss.

you just wanted the both of you to rest in that moment, so fucked out that you didn't feel like moving despite the stickiness forming between the both of you.

your boyfriend chuckled as he lowered himself to your ear, pecking your cheeks a couple times.

"ok, 5 minutes babe. but then we have to get out of this parking lot, your job has cameras."

© 𝐟𝐥𝐰𝐫𝐛𝐨𝐢 — all rights reserved

[tonyspank]

CHAPTER ONE | GET ME

Jenna Ortega x G!P Reader

Warnings: 18+ smut and idk what else sooo

Words: 3.1k

A/N: Tell me if you guys like this series so far. Also I re-wrote this chapter and changed readers age in the prologue.

series masterlist | main masterlist | previous chapter | next chapter

"You didn't have to drive me. I could've walked or taken the bus." You tell Jenna from the passenger seat, but you gotta admit, the heated seats in her car felt amazing. She smiled and said, "It's no problem. I wanted to make sure you got here safely." You thanked her and looked out the window, feeling grateful for her kindness.

"And what kind of babysi-" You cut her off, a playful serious look on your face. "Stop." She laughed, a warm and genuine sound, and enjoyed it a bit too much. Your phone began vibrating in your pocket. You try to ignore it but it continues. You reluctantly take out your phone, it shows multiple messages from your best friend.

eli - WHERE ARE YOUUUUU

eli - I'M OUTSIDE AND MR. ALLEN KEEPS EYEING ME FROM HIS CAR

eli - I TOLD U HE LIKES BOYS BRO

eli - BRO TEXT ME BACK RN.

you - im like 5 mins away chill

eli - DON'T TELL ME TO CHILL

eli - ure always rushin me, it's time u get the same treatment.

you - i rush u bc ur honda civic needs to speed up a bit

eli - are u...

eli - are u poor shaming me?

you - you're not poor so

you - yes.

You put away your phone and it immediately starts to vibrate again, but knowing who it is you ignore it. You smile a bit as you remember your own joke, and also the lie you told. You weren't five minutes away from the school, you were ten. You knew that you'd be late, but you didn't want to tell Jenna that and make her feel bad. So, you decided to keep it to yourself in order to keep Jenna from worrying.

"You could plug in your aux if you want." Jenna smiles, sparing a quick glance at you. "Nah, that's okay." She hums, "Okay. But me personally I can't survive without listening to music. I always have a pair of headphones on me. Sometimes I don't even listen to music, I just wear the headphones."

She laughs, shaking her head. "It's like my security blanket. It's just a habit now." You grin, "Lowkey... me too, I have about three pairs of headphones in my bookbag."

She smiles. "It's nice to know I'm not alone in this. We can be headphone buddies." You let out a chuckle. "Sounds like a plan."

Before you knew it ten minutes were up and Jenna was parked outside your school. "I expected more people to be outside." She chuckles taking in her surroundings. Her eyes widen as her mind connects a few dots. "Wait, are you late?"

"Yes, I'm late," you admit. Jenna sighs and shakes her head. "Shit, do they notify your parents?"

You nod. "Yeah unless either of them excuse me in the office." Jenna takes a deep breath before turning off the car, "Here, I'll tell the office. C'mon." Jenna takes her keys out of the car, opening the door.

You hesitate before grabbing your bookbag and following Jenna inside the building. Upon walking in, the receptionist smiles warmly at you. Jenna explains the situation to her and the receptionist nods in understanding.

As you turn around to leave the office you see a familiar face in the hallway, Eli. His eyes widen as he stares at you in disbelief. You shake your head while exiting the office, Jenna right behind.

Eli walks away as Jenna stops in front of the door, sending you a slight frown. "Sorry for making you late," you wave her off with a small smile on your lips. "It's okay. It's not a big deal."

"I'll be here to pick you up." You nod and smile as Jenna turns and walks away. You take a deep breath and feel a presence behind you. You turn around to find Eli standing there, his eyes fixed on something behind you. He looks at you for a few moments before speaking, his voice low. "She is so fucking gorgeous."

You roll your eyes at your best friend walking toward your class. Eli follows behind and you begin explaining what happened the night before. As you finish you stand outside your classroom door and Eli furrows his eyebrows holding up a hand. "Wait. You're telling me that you're mad that you have a young and attractive woman living under your roof with you without any adult supervision?"

You shake your head, "She IS the adult supervision." Eli stares for a moment and then shrugs. "She's still young. You said she's what, 24?" You pull on your bookbag strap, responding immediately in the same tone as the brown-haired boy. "She's what, married?"

"And you also said what, her husband is out of the country?" He mocks back, a smirk rising from his lips. "She's going to be super lonely and she's living under a roof with an actual godd– you..."

Your eyes and eyebrows raise in surprise. He was actually about to compliment you. "I know you wanted to compliment me there." You smile, Eli shakes his head frowning his lips. "If I had finished that sentence I would've dropped down to my knees and died."

You laugh, amused by his comment. He grins, shaking his head. "Anyway. I'm just saying that your nanny, Jenna, is absolutely breathtaking. Can I come over today?"

You feel a twinge of jealousy. Weird. But you ignore it. You roll your eyes and give him a stern look. "No, I don't think that's a good idea. I have to ask permission now." He responds with a shrug of his shoulders. "If I show up uninvited don't be surprised." He jokes, letting out a small laugh.

"Oh, and Olivia was looking for you this morning." He adds on, you furrow your eyebrows scratching your neck. "Rodrigo?" You ask confused. "No. Olivia Mcfuckingfartface. Yes, Rodrigo." You roll your eyes, "She's been looking for me for weeks now." You sigh, "What does she want this time?"

"You know she wants. She wants you!" You shut your eyes, taking in a deep breath. "I told her multiple times that I'm not ready for a relationship."

He laughs, "It goes in one ear and out the other," he continues, "I don't know what else you can do. She's persistent and won't back down easily." You open your eyes again, sighing. "Alright. Go to class."

Eli salutes to you, standing up completely straight. "Yes, ma'am!" Then turns around heading to his homeroom class. You laugh and open the door to your classroom. Mr. Anderson, an older teacher stops speaking, staring at you. "Nice of you to join us Y/N." You give him a tight-lipped smile before finding a seat.

Jenna had stuck to her word. She had texted you mid-day asking what time she should come to pick you up. You informed her that you had basketball practice and six would be an ideal time to come, and here she was. It was six on the dot when you recognized the car parked right outside the school.

Jenna waved at you as you walked out of the building and opened the car door, a smile on her face. She remembered your request and was here right on time. You thanked her and got in the car, relieved that she had kept her word.

"How was practice?" You sighed leaning back before replying, "Tiring." She giggles reaching over you to open the car vents on your side. You can't help but take in her smell, vanilla and a bit of citrus filling your nostrils. You turn to her, your eyes meeting as you take in her beauty. Her bottom lip was tucked into her mouth as she bit on it, and her hundreds of freckles that you wanted to reach out and trace them.

You felt as though you were in a trance, suddenly forgetting how exhausted you felt after practice. You leaned a bit closer, taking in her scent and admiring her features.

Fuck. Eli was getting into your head.

You snap back to reality, quickly leaning back away from her. She finally gets the vent open and then turns on the A/C for you. You felt like a true passenger princess. She asked what had happened during practice and you filled her in on the details of the drills and the scrimmages. She listened intently, an understanding smile on her face.

"I made chicken and rice. Your plate is in the microwave," Jenna says, holding the front door open for you. You smile and thank her, quickly taking a shower before heating up your dinner. You sit down and enjoy the meal she made, appreciating the effort she put into it. It tasted pretty damn good too.

As you're washing your dish out you hear the doorbell ring. Jenna furrows her eyebrows raising her head from her laptop as she sits at the kitchen island. "I'll go answer the door," you say, putting down your plate. Jenna nods in agreement as you make your way to the door. You open the door to find Eli standing there, a large smile on his face.

Your eyes widen. "Eli! I told you, don't come over." Eli ignores your protests and steps inside, looking around. "Bro. That joke is getting old now," he says, obviously not understanding you were being dead serious. In his defence, he normally comes over without warning and your parents let him inside with no protest. Jenna appears in the hall. Her face is a mixture of confusion and surprise.

You take a deep breath and try to keep your voice even as you explain the situation to Jenna. Eli takes a step back as he realizes he has overstepped.

Jenna shakes her head and says, "I have no issue with your friend but you should've told me first." You nod and start to apologize but Eli cuts you off, "I am so sorry, I came uninvited. It's not her fault."

Jenna stares at Eli, her face neutral. Eli looks at Jenna, his face full of regret. Jenna sighs and says, "It's alright, I understand."

"I'm Elias Cooper the third by the way," you furrow your eyebrows side-eyeing the brunette boy. "He's not a third." You tell Jenna. She laughs and gives Eli a small smile and the tension in the room dissipates.

"Behave." She teases as she points to you. You smile and she turns walking away.

Eli watches her go with a look of relief on his face. He takes a deep breath and turns to you, offering a sheepish smile. "She has such an intense stare bro."

You sigh out walking into the kitchen. Eli follows behind you closely. He places his arms on your shoulder as he leans into your ear whispering, "She made me mad nervous man."

You turn towards Eli, a slight smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. "I could tell. She had your ass gagged badly." You whisper back, Eli's face scrunched up in a grimace and he laughed. "Yea, she did."

"Are you hungry?" Jenna asks Eli, "No ma'am. I'm good." Jenna nodded in understanding and focused back on her computer. Eli watched as Jenna focused on her computer, her eyes flickering rapidly as she typed away. He felt a pang of admiration, and he smiled to himself.

You notice this and push him. And maybe with a little bit too much force because he stumbled back, catching himself just before he fell. He quickly glanced back up at Jenna, embarrassed, and saw that she hadn't noticed. "Dickhead." He mouths, not really meaning it.

"We're going to go watch a movie, Jen." Jenna looks at you with a smile, "Okay. Have fun." You smile back at her, pulling Eli into a headlock and dragging him into the living room. "Jen, huh?" He mutters laughing as he tries to escape your headlock.

You let him go and he shakes his head laughing. "Alright, alright," he says. You both laugh and sit down on the couch, "Hey, did you ever talk to Olivia?"

"No, not yet," you reply. "I couldn't find her." He smiles, "Or you didn't try to find her." You laugh, "Potato, Poe-ta-toe!" He laughs as well and begins discussing about a movie to watch. Eli beat you in rock paper scissors, so he got to choose the movie. And you wanted to cry. He chose an old Western movie that wasn't even in color.

After about thirty minutes in a warm blanket covered you and you began to drift off to sleep.

You woke up, walking into the kitchen. Eli was gone, which Jenna had informed you once you were in the kitchen. You hum in response, crossing your arms as you lean against the counter. Jenna feels your eyes on her and she looks up from her MacBook, smiling at you. "What are you staring at?"

You shrug, a smile on your face. "You. You're so pretty." Jenna blushes, averting her gaze. "You don't have to say that," she murmured, but her lips curled into a smile. She returned her attention to her laptop, but with a contented sigh.

It's silent for a moment until you speak up, "It's the truth. I was thinking about it in the car."

Jenna looked up again, her cheeks still slightly pink. She looked him in the eye, her gaze intense. "Thinking about what exactly?" You scratched your chin, not knowing where this extra confidence came from but you were glad you had it.

"Your lips. And how I wanted to be the one biting down on it," Jenna smiled, her blush getting brighter. She suddenly stood up and moved closer to you and said, "So what are you waiting for?" You lean forward and kiss her, your lips meeting in a passionate embrace.

Jenna's hand holds your face as you deepen the kiss. You can feel her heart beating just as fast as yours. Jenna pulls away, her face still close to yours, and whispers, "I've been wanting to do that for so long." You smile and kiss her again, this time softer and slower. You both stay in that embrace, not wanting to let go. Her hands leave your face, resting on your clothed abs.

You pull away for a slight breather, immediately kissing her again. The force causes Jenna to groan, and you take the chance to slip your tongue into her mouth. Jenna's hand slips under your shirt examining you as you deepen the kiss.

You can feel her body trembling with pleasure as you explore her mouth with your tongue. You eventually break the kiss, both of you out of breath.

Jenna looks up at you, her eyes filled with desire. She then begins to crouch down, her hands moving to the waistband of your sweatpants. She pulls your sweatpants down, her eyes never leaving yours.

She slowly moves her lips toward your inner thigh, and you can feel the heat of her breath as she starts to gently kiss your skin. You let out a soft moan, and she looks up at you with a mischievous smile.

Fully on her knees, she pulls your underwear down as well, you press a hand against the counter, stabling yourself. Jenna finds her mouth watering at the sight in front of her, your perfect hard cock fully hard swollen and pink. She licks her lips as she moves closer, her hands cupping you before she takes your length into her mouth.

She swirls her tongue around you, exploring every inch. She looks up at you as she starts to suck and you can't help but moan in pleasure. "Shit..."

Her mouth is hot and wet, and her tongue feels amazing as it slithers across your skin. As she takes you deeper, her lips wrap tightly around your shaft and her tongue strokes the underside with each lick. She increases her suction and you can feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge as her hand moves up and down your shaft.

Her gaze makes the experience 100x better, those dark brown eyes look anything but innocent. "You're so hot, Jen."

She only breaks it when her eyes roll back in pleasure when she feels you start to quiver in her mouth. Her tongue rolls around your shaft as if it were a delicious lollipop. To her, you were.

Your left-hand leaves the grip on the countertop, moving to grip Jenna's tied-up hair. You pull her away slightly and hear her hum at you, her eyes still closed. With your other hand, you caress her face, tracing her delicate features. You can feel her smile around you, and your heart skips a beat.

She opens her eyes and your back in her mouth as if it pained her for you not to be. You were addicted and so was she, her head bopping fast as loud breathing and sloppy noises are heard throughout the kitchen.

She pulls off with a pop and starts to lick your head, her tongue swirling around and around. She looks up at you with a mischievous glint in her eye as she takes you back into her mouth and starts to suck again. You can feel yourself about to reach the brink.

"I'm about to cum, Jenna." Jenna smiles and quickens her pace, her tongue and lips working together to bring you closer and closer. You can feel the pleasure coursing through your body, and you scream out as you finally reach your peak.

Jenna swallows your seed and looks up at you with a satisfied smirk, before running her tongue along her lips. You lean back, exhausted and satisfied, and Jenna smiles up at you, opening her mouth to speak. "That was amazing wasn't it —"

"—Y/N." Your eyes snap open, and you can barely see Jenna in the dark room. You sit up quickly, realizing you were in the middle of a dream. Jenna has a hand on your shoulder, her thumb caressing your shoulder. "You okay?" You nod and take a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart. And trying to get yourself to relax as you feel the hard-on pressing against your shorts. Thank God for the blanket and the night.

You feel Jenna's hand leave. "Yeah, I'm okay," you say, and she smiles in the darkness. "It's late. Elias already left. I didn't want you sleeping on the couch." You place your hands on your lap. Think of something bad! You say to yourself, you really didn't wanna make Jenna uncomfortable.

"Thank you, I uh... I'll be upstairs soon." Jenna nods, "Okay. Goodnight." Jenna turns and makes her way up the stairs. You sit in the darkness, thinking about the events of the night. You eventually make your way up to bed, your thoughts still lingering on the wet dream you had of Jenna.

You lay in bed, unable to sleep as images of Jenna flood your mind. You look at the lotion on your nightstand. "Fuck me, man." You mutter to yourself.

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