#this is the same woman who took me out driving with other cars on the road for my FIRST TIME EVER BEHIND THE WHEEL

[gumjrop]

Abeni Jones is a writer and artist.

“Male or female?”

I’ve been “randomly” selected by TSA for additional screening — again. Each time, the agent asks me whether I want a man or woman to conduct the pat-down. But what they’re really asking is: What are you?

In 2018, I officially changed the gender marker on my passport from M to F. By that point, I had socially transitioned, undergone top surgery and been on hormone replacement therapy for years. But updating the marker didn’t make travel easier. Traveling while transgender only became more difficult.

I’m well over 6 feet tall. Unless I decide to dress extremely femme and put on a full face of makeup — to then sit for hours on a cramped, sweaty airplane — the F on my passport actually invites extra scrutiny. Because I don’t always “pass,” it frequently outs me as trans.

The U.S. State Department, in acknowledgement of the roadblocks such as these that trans, gender non-conforming, non-binary and intersex people routinely experience while traveling, recently announced that applicants for passports will soon have the option to choose X as their gender marker as an alternative to M or F.

It’s a nice symbol of support, and putting an X on a passport might really mean something to a select few. But given the trouble that often accompanies being out as non-binary, the move won’t “advance inclusion” as much as the department’s announcement claims. If the State Department really wanted to take a step forward, there’s an easier, cheaper and more powerful option: remove gender from passports altogether.

Now, the X marker could be affirming for non-binary people who do not experience or anticipate persecution related to their gender identity. It could also work for people traveling exclusively through airports that have done an excellent job training their staff about gender and the meaning of the X marker, and that have policies in place to make travel smooth for gender-diverse travelers.

These hypothetical people and places, however, will be rare. More likely, the X will cause more of the hassle trans people have become accustomed to. Every once in a while, I do “pass” with the F on my passport. If I had an X, though, extra scrutiny would be practically guaranteed. I asked a handful of non-binary friends about the upcoming change, and every one of them indicated that willingly outing themselves on their passport would mean inviting danger into their travel experience.

This is especially relevant given the waves of anti-trans legislation being passed in the United States, and even more so when international travel is considered. Trans rights are imperiled domestically, but they are in even worse shape throughout much of the world. Having an M or F — especially if one doesn’t always “pass” — can cause trouble for a transgender traveler; carrying a passport with an X on it is likely to cause more.

So why mark gender at all? Pointless gendering is a well-documented phenomenon when it comes to consumer products, but less questioned is the requirement to assert one’s gender on endless forms. Is there a legitimate reason anyone other than my doctor needs to know my gender? Does my dentist need to know? My credit-card issuer? The library? The veterinary clinic? The airline or TSA agent?

After I changed the gender marker on my driver’s license, my car insurance provider informed me that updating my records would raise my rates. I was the same person, driving the same car, with the same record. They couldn’t explain the logic of the policy – but when it comes to reporting one’s gender, logic is often absent.

Some will argue that marking gender helps institutions know how to refer to clients and customers. But the simplest and most affirming way to do that is to just ask for pronouns or honorifics instead.

The Netherlands recently took steps to remove gender from state-level legal documents; Germany and Canada have experimented with similar efforts. The United States could do the same. Stripping gender from passports would let Americans go through security or customs simply as people, without having to justify anything. Instead of classifying ever more complex slices of gender identity, we could question the primacy of gender in our lives altogether.

It might take a while. Gender is personal, meaningful and relevant to most of us; it’ll take a cultural shift to realize it can still be those things without showing up on all our documents. For now, having a passport option that reflects non-binary identity, even with the accompanying trouble, is at least better than offering only M or F. Travelers can weigh the risks and decide what works best for them.

In the future, we may live in a society that doesn’t require trans people to out ourselves at the airport. When a traveler’s gender, and that of the TSA agent who pats them down, is no longer a concern. When everyone can travel with safety and dignity. When there’s no more loaded “male or female?” — and instead, just “have a nice flight.”

Jones, Abeni. “Opinion | an X Gender on My Passport Won’t Make Traveling While Transgender Easier - The Washington Post.” The Washington Post, 10 Apr. 2022, https://www.washingtonpost.com/opinions/2022/04/10/transgender-passport-x-gender-option-risks/.

[llumimoon]

(me sitting here seething) ITS FINE its fine ITS FINE . I'LL GET MY LICENSE SOON ITS FINE

[slut4jeon]

Company (jjk)

Pairing: brothers bsf!jk x fm!reader

Sypnosis: Your longtime crush who happens to be your older brothers best friends walks into you humping your pillow to the thought of him

Warnings: 18+ smut, unprotected sex, dry/pillow humping, nudity, reader has an IUD, etc…

Note: hey yawl it’s been a while… if anything sounds off jus so yk it’s not proofread :)

You’ve always carried a long crush for your older brothers bestfriend Jeon Jungkook.

Your ages being separate by 2 years, you’ve always remembered the chicks your older brother Taehyung would sneak into his room after a night out meanwhile your parents slept peacefully in their room.

As of now, this carried onto his current college days. Attending frat parties along with his best friend since childhood, Jungkook.

Your heart ached to be seen as nothing but Taehyungs younger sister to jungkook and others known to him. Especially when after those late night outs you’d come to find a chick wrapped around Jungkook’s meaty arms. You wanted jungkook to see you as a woman who harbored deep feeling for him.

And so, your decided to attend the same college as your brother. It not being that far off your home moving onto campus was not required. Unlike jungkook whose family had moved farther off from town your parents gladly took him in. Knowing him since he was a little boy they allowed him to crash in taehyungs spacious room.

This only made your crush on him worse, you were too shy to even start a conversation with him. Despite your shyness he always acknowledged your presence, never making you feel left out or ignored. Your interactions with him were limited, and every convo was initiated by him with little teases and silly remarks. He’s such a kind guy, no wonder your lingering crush only heightened with him staying in your home.

Classes were over for you and generally Taehyung was always the one to drive you home considering he had a car. A sudden message from him vibrates your phone you carry in your palm.

3:52 pm taetae: not on campus so I asked jk to give you a ride home today

great.

pulling into the campus parking in his car was jungkook, “hey, tae asked me to drive you back home for today he’s out so he’ll be back tomorrow” he said with his silver pierced charming grin

“hi, thanks for driving me back home” you said with your typical shy demeanor as you made way into the passenger seat of his car

“don’t worry about it, sweets”

oh.

That was the nickname he’d given you many many years ago cause of the constant snacking of sweets and candys. He payed notice to that then coining you the nickname “sweets”

You turned your head faced to the direction of the window to hide the rosy cheeks he gave you from pet name

Too shy to keep the conversation going jungkook spoke, bringing up school and asking about your classes. All came to an end once he pulled into the driveway of your home.

“Your brother won’t be back today, he’s spending the night with jennie today”, jungkook said while opening the refrigerator to get a class of water.

dammit.

You thought to yourself. You’re parents are out at work and don’t arrive til 9pm. So that means it’s just you and Jungkook for the meanwhile. What a mess, you figured you were gonna stay locked in your room for the remaining time until your parents got home.

“Well, I’m just gonna work on my assignments due tomarrow…”

“Alright, I’m off to the gym. In case anything happens feel free to call me, okay?”, the tattooed man said.

The muscular man did go to the gym everyday though. Usually around 4:30pm for about at least 2 hours.

“Okay” last thing said between you two before grabbing his gym bag and making his way out the door.

“Hey Jungkook?”

“Yea?”

“Thanks for looking out for me”, this time you held onto the eye contact made between both irises. Making sure to illuminate your gratitude to him.

He offered you a grin from his silver pierced lips, “no problem, sweets”

You could not get Jungkook out of your head. It was impossible to focus on your assignments without thinking about the tall raven hair tattooed man with the bunny smile. He lingered your mind, causing stress.

Closing your MacBook and tossing it aside you decided to relieve this aching stress that invaded your mind but also the lingering ache between your legs.

You rid yourself of your clothing only remaining in your cropped tank and underwear.

Positioning your pillow between your legs in which your body hovered over you made onto your pillow searing yourself upon it.

Arching your back and you rocked your hips back and forth onto the wrinkled textured fabric of the pillow. The lacy panties you were currently wearing added to the ecstasy. Following the flow of movement adding friction and pressure to your needy clit.

“mhhpp, fuck” gasping out while you retracted your head back then forward.

The layered front strands of your mid length hair covered your face due the continuous movement of your head. Tucking them back behind your ear once again.

“j-jungkook! s’good, feels so good…” you desperate whined as you chased your high.

Gripping onto the pillow leaving your knuckles white due to the pressure of squeezing while leaning forward.

Your pillowy nipples lacked attention, your fingers latched onto the buds from the outside of your tank. You weren’t wearing a bra so the thin shirt was the only separation between your calloused fingers and hardened buds.

Getting rid of your shirt and panties you were bare entirely. Your only audience being the plushies corner of your bed watching the show you gave them.

Is what you thought, too oblivious and deep into your own world to have heard the sound of the car pulling up into the drive way, to have heard the sound of the front door opening and footsteps. To have noticed the presence of the same man whose name you constantly let slip past your moaning lips watching you reach your high on your pillow at the thought of him.

He watched your ass jiggle at the rapid movement of your hips, along with the movement of your breasts The way your face contorted into an expression of pleasure with your teeth biting onto the plump of your lips. The sight in front of him had his length twitching in the gray sweats he changed into before leaving the gym.

“g’na cum, please let me cum…fuck jungkook need it so bad!” you desperately expressed.

At the final rock of your hips you released, a shivering orgasm causing you to rip a pitched whine.

The movement of your hips lessened as you rode out your orgasm. Tired and worn out after that workout your head began to wander off.

Until.

“Quite the performance you showed off there” your heart dropped

There he was. The same man that you’d been rubbing your pussy against your pillow at the thought of watched you get off.

“Jungkook!” you wanted the ground to swallow you whole at this very moment.

Quickly grabbing into your discarded clothing at an attempt to cover your bare body. Unaware of what to say in explanation to the presence in front of you.

“I-I…”

No words could come out or your mouth as you watched Jungkook walk towards you with a darkened expression.

Removing the piece of clothing from your grip at attempt of concealing yourself. His eyes remained at your bare figure. Tempted at the sight of your hardened nipples, goosebumps covered your skin.

“Fucking hell, look at you. Getting off to the thought of me? You’re so damn cute…”

The eye contact made you aware of the glint in his eyes, a message he was trying to convey.

“Jungkook?” you quietly questioned

“You gonna let me do what I want with you, hm? Is that what you want?”

Your eyes remaining in contact with his glistening ones, you nod your head in response.

That was all it took from jungkook to commect your lips with his. Hungrily capturing your mouth, sloppily stuffing his tongue down your throat causing him to groan and you to whimper at his roughness.

“Open your legs, baby. Show me how wet your pussy is”, you obeyed and showed him your glistening folds lathered in your cum.

Taking his tattooed hand and gathering the substance on his fingers he brought them to his mouth. The taste of your discharge coated his tongue as he cleaned it from his fingers.

“Fuck, you’re as sweet as your nickname. You sure live up to it”, he said as he continue to lick clean his slick coated fingers.

Your fingers inched towards the hem of his sweats, encircling the strands of the waistline.

“What is it you want, sweets?

“You.”

“Take me out, baby” fuck, that practically confirmed to you he was hiding a big package under there.

Lowering his sweats his hardened cock sprung free from the confided layer of fabric.

Taking his length in your palm toward your warm mouth to lubricate it with your saliva. Jerking him off in a up and down motion earning you grunts and groans from him.

“Just like that, fuck…keep doing that n I’ll cum” he gritted out.

Pushing you onto the soft surface of the bed you watched as he removed his clothing. You admired his muscular physique, the gym really did pay off.

“Are you really sure about this?”

“Yes, I’m sure” confirming.

“Condom?”

“It’s okay I’m on an IUD, I’ll take an after pill tomorrow”, reassuring him

He hovered over your body, hiding in the crevice of your neck to leave a few pecks while aligning his length to your heat.

Your chest heaved deeply as you exhaled, the slight burn of his size rubbing toward your tight walls ignited pleasure.

“mhpm! j-jungkook..” wrapped arms on his back as he thrusted in you, increasing the pace as you let out more moans and whimpers.

“I know, baby…ya’ feel so good, so warm n’ tight”, he cooed.

At sudden movement his arms then wrapped around your thighs hoisting you up while the relentless abuse to your cunt never stopped.

“Ahh! f-fuck! Jungkook!”, Now in the standing missionary position, he was in deeper than you’ve ever experienced. The motion of his hips thrusting at an unforgivable pace, all that was heard was the sound of his balls smacking against your sopping pussy filling the entire room.

“shit, m’ gonna cum”

“m-me too..” your climax right on the edge.

With that both of you reached your highs, his thrusts began slowing down to ride out the climax. Both the mixture of your cum riding from his abdomen down his leg.

Laying you down on the soft surface of your bed with his cock still soft in you. Enjoying each other’s company as you laid in his embrace.

“Jungkook, are you gonna tell?” you innocently say with genuine concern written on your face.

“Now why would I do that? I’ve been waiting for this moment for quite a long while now. Why? Do you not want this?”

“No, I do! But when you say you’ve been waiting for this moment for quite a while now, what outcome do you expect to come from this? Taehyung will find out sooner or later and it’ll get messy.” your questioned further anticipated his response.

He let out a sigh, “you see sweets, I’ve envisioned this moment to occur, I’ve gotten off at the thought of you just like you showed off earlier. I want you just as bad….” he admits.

“I don’t see you as just my best friends younger sister, I see you as much more”

“Jungkook?” fuck, he’s worried. What if the feelings are mutual as what he initially believed they were? What if we only meant it to be a quick fuck?

“Hm?” Oh well.

“I see you as much more too”, you don’t know where this sudden burst of confidence came out but this weight you’ve been carrying has been lifted after your confession, you feel more at ease.

Both your gazes locked in with one another. Both leaning into each other as your mouths then mounded into one.

The kiss was deep and passionate, although you both have confessed your mutual feelings for each other, there’s something different about it. Feeling more as acceptance and comfort.

“The things you do to me y/n, you don’t get it”.

“You’re mine, all mine”

Pt 2?

[mrs-weasley-reid]

SUIT JACKET

Aaron Hotchner x bau!reader ↳ part 2 here

Sypnosis: Aaron Hotchner seems to love his suit jacket on you. WARNING: nothing besides a few curses (I think) A/N: not my gif, ctto! This was also sitting on my drafts for almost a year and barely proofread, so I apologize for the errors.

Sunday, March 11, 2:04 AM

"Thanks, unibrow." You grinned drunkenly, smiling at your boss, SSA Aaron Hotchner, as you collapsed in the cab's backseat. His suit jacket kept you cozy and covered like a cocoon while you comfortably giggled at the applied inside joke of his new nickname.

With Penelope's constant peer pressure, your inhibition has reached rock bottom eleven shots, five cocktails, and two whiskey glasses ago. You downed liquor like water, easing your stiff shoulders.

Aaron only stared at you with the same impassive face he had and shut the door before the cold caught you. He hunched in front of the driver's window, "This woman is a federal agent, and if something happens to her, I'll hunt you down. Please, drive her home safely." He straightened back up, casually tapping the vehicle's roof.

The cab took you away only after Aaron snapped a picture of the cab's plate number. He sighed as the vehicle slowly disappeared from his line of sight. He twisted on the balls of his feet, met by his other children, agents drunkenly calling his name.

Tuesday, March 27, 10:14 AM

You scurried out of the elevator, weaving through the sea of agents in the bullpen and then to the conference room where everybody was already settled in.

"So sorry! There was this son of a b—" You closed your eyes and breathed deeply, clenching your fists. Then, you exhaled profoundly with a calm smile at the end. "I got in a car accident. Go on, Pen. Sorry for interrupting." You took a seat between Aaron and JJ.

JJ turned to you, "Are you okay?" Her hand gently landed on one of yours, giving you a worried squeeze.

You gathered a smile and raised a thumb, "Thick skull and strong bones. Nothing can break me, not even this unsub... whoa—" Your eyes widened a bit.

How ironic for your case to be about an unsub who performed a craniotomy on the victims. You smiled awkwardly, the similar tight-lipped smile that Spencer would always plaster on his face.

The other agents coughed a chuckle at your reaction while Penelope continued the debrief with the same horrified look.

Upon listening to the case details, you slowly felt colder, subtly rubbing the sides of your shoulders. You were so caught up in your anger towards the guy that rear-ended you you could've sworn your body was overheating. You left your blazer somewhere and were sure it wasn't in your wrecked car.

"Alright, wheels up in 30," Aaron announced, sending everyone to get out of their seats and grab their go bags and snapping you off your trance in the process.

You rushed to collect your file copy and headed for the door but halted when Aaron called you. You pivoted on your heels, "Yes?"

He was taking off his jacket, handing it to you as soon as it peeled off his body.

"I don't think dry cleaning your suit is part of my job description, Sir." You kidded as you stared at his black jacket.

Aaron rolled his eyes. It was so rare that you had to blink twice to ensure you didn't have a concussion from your minor car accident. "You're cold." He wasn't asking, plainly stating your slight predicament.

Your eyebrows knitted, mouth slightly opened. And as if the universe was mocking you, a sudden draft slapped you in a shiver. You snatched his jacket and mumbled a small thank you.

As you walked out of the conference room, teasing eyes bore holes into your being. Each BAU team member's narrowed brows held you captive, and their loud thoughts rang in your ears. You ignored all of it, though, taming your anxiety with the warmth of Aaron's jacket.

Wednesday, April 13, 1:37 PM

"Garcia, look for old cases with one young boy as a survivor." Aaron started, listing each task that everyone was to complete.

You were so focused on the case that your next movement caught you off guard.

Your back snapped straight from the slap of Minnesota air. It was brief. An officer merely opened and closed the door, but your body was nowhere near as warm as it was a few seconds ago.

The warmth of cotton fabric soon hugged your shoulders, along with the momentary weight of Aaron's hands, before he fully let go of his suit jacket.

He continued talking as if what he had just done was normal or anything close to casualty, "Morgan and Reid, try speaking with the victim's family one more time."

Emily exchanged looks with JJ, conversing silently while you obliviously sipped your coffee.

Friday, May 2, 5:04PM

"Capital O-M-G!" Penelope squealed, drumming on your shoulders as soon as she came close.

"Garcia, breathe," JJ gently placed her hands on Penelope's shoulders, modeling a regular breathing pattern.

Emily gave you a look as she sipped her coffee, which you returned with a shrug. Penelope was ever so eccentric. You've gotten used to it over the years you've been with the team.

"Okay, okay, okay. I'm good. Just that— I was— Ugh! Look!" Penelope shoved her phone in your face.

You saw a blinding blur, forcing out a sarcastic, "Wow! I can definitely see."

Luckily, JJ took it to herself to pull Penelope's phone away from messing up your eyesight and looked at the image plastered on the screen. A smirk immediately covered her lips, "Oh."

"What is it? Let me see—" Emily walked behind JJ. Her jaw dropped not long after. "Anything you want to tell us?" She cooed as she gave you the widest grin she had ever flashed, at least for that morning.

Your eyebrows clashed, and your forehead creased, "Whatever are you on about?"

"You're telling us nothing's happening between you and a guy?" Emily's grin only widened. You wondered how wide it could get, terrifying you in the process.

JJ flipped the phone to your end. The brightness of the screen stung your eyes a bit. "Want to explain this?"

Photo: It looked like the picture was cropped because you saw Derek's arm around you, but he was nowhere to be found in the image. Aaron's jacket was around your shoulders while he was behind you, glaring at Derek's arm.

"What about it?" The confusion was solid in your voice. However, you had a bit of an idea of what the three of them were insinuating.

Penelope stepped closer to you, "Uhuh, sure," she started as she zoomed in on the picture. "You're telling me you can't see Hotch's jacket on your shoulders, let alone Hotch glaring at my chocolate thunder?"

"He let me borrow his jacket because I was cold. Doesn't he always do that with everyone?" You innocently asked, looking at each one of them.

"Still doesn't explain him glaring at Derek." Emily chimed in a teasing tone, wiggling her eyebrows.

Your eyes widened, "You think Hotch was mad at me because I took it? He offered it to me, and I was cold. You think he was just being polite or?"

Penelope rolled her eyes and aimed her fluffy pen at you, "You oblivious profiler! He's jealous!"

"Uh-no," You chuckled.

"You don't believe me? Look at this."

Photo: This photo was older than the first one and might've been your third or fourth year with the BAU team. It seemed like all of you had just ended a case. You were snuggled on the couch on the jet. Aaron was draping his jacket over you.

"Who took that picture?" You queried.

Penelope raised her hand, "I was going to check in on everyone, then the camera spotted it, and I took a screenshot because I couldn't help myself. I was going to tease you about it but forgot for a very, very, very, very long time until I saw that picture from our last team night out." She wiggled her eyebrows, a playful smile on her lips.

"Looks like our boss has a favorite," JJ sang softly, looking at you with a knowing smile.

Emily nudged you, noticing the blush on your face. "You've gotta admit that's very sweet of Hotch. I think he likes you wearing his jacket." She teased, poking your sides.

"He does that to everyone, though," You reasoned. If you recall, he had offered his jacket to many people before.

"Nope, no!" Penelope shook her head vigorously with a tight lip. "He offers it to some but gives it to you."

"We had a case where it was biting cold outside. Hotch offered to help me if I needed a jacket. I said no because of politeness and shit, but he didn't insist. He didn't even offer his jacket. He offered to give me time to return to my room and grab my jacket." Emily grimaced, obviously still holding a grudge regarding the incident.

"I've known Hotch for years. Giving out his jacket was only for emergencies. If it's the only choice he had. We've had cases where a victim was a little too exposed, and his solution was to wrap them with the newspaper he conveniently found." JJ exclaimed, sorting the manila folders on her chest.

You gave it some thought and considered every possibility, but you shook your head. "He's just being nice because he's my boss. Plus, I'm still a bit tense around the team." You straightened yourself, fixing your top.

Emily cackled, "Getting flat-out drunk with us is definitely you still a bit tense around us."

"You know what I mean," You defended, blushing.

The three exchanged looks and shrugged. If you wanted to turn a blind eye, then it was your choice. But they had a perfect theory and tried to test it out.

Aaron was heading to the elevator as you exited the bullpen. The three of them grinned.

"Going for girls night?" Aaron quipped, raising his eyebrows.

JJ frowned, "We were, but she's feeling sick. I think the cold's getting to her." She gave you a pitiful hug.

Your eyes blew wide, jerking your head behind you where the other two stood with maniac grins. You knew what JJ was doing. It didn't take a second for you to figure it out. And as if luck was on their side, the elevator dinged.

You followed their figures as they piled in in the lift. You glared at them, but Emily focused on the man beside you.

You gazed at Aaron and were met with his jacket stretched out to you. Your mouth fell open, unable to breathe.

"It's cold outside this time of night. You'll feel worse if you don't layer up." Aaron cleared his throat, "Take it."

You reached for his jacket so slowly that he took it in himself to wrap it around your shoulders. "Thank you," Your voice quivered, hesitantly stepping inside the elevator.

He followed, standing beside you. You could feel the three devils behind you, preparing yourself for their constant teasing.

Unbeknownst to any of you, Aaron was holding his breath in the hopes that none of you would notice his blushing ears.

Monday, May 16, 8:12PM

The entire day has been a drag. Besides the unsub being disgustingly great at hiding his tracks in the safety of your local area, your stomach had been giving you the worst time of your life.

Later in the evening, in Aaron's orders, everyone was sent home to get some rest and start fresh the next day.

You were thankful. You needed to rest from all the stomach-emptying vomit you did in the restroom. Your acid reflux was having a field day and didn't let you get a breath. You practically lived in the toilet. You even had to call Derek and ask him to put you on speaker so you could contribute to finding the unsub. Luckily, they didn't question it.

Emily retracted away as she exited your hug, "Are you sure you don't want me to give you a ride home? We practically live in this building. I don't think they'd mind you leaving your car here for a night."

A warm smile brightened your drained face, "Yes, I'm sure. Thanks for the offer." You bid her one last goodbye before heading to your own car.

Your head was down as the day's exhaustion finally caught up. Your senses were off. You walked as if time stopped. You wondered if you should've taken advantage of Emily's offer.

With your loud thoughts and vulnerable senses, a heart attack almost killed you when a sudden cage of warmth engulfed your body. For a moment, your body wanted to fight, but it didn't take long for you to remember the familiarity of this warmth.

"What took you so long?" His voice was gentle and comforting enough to put you to sleep immediately.

You looked up at Aaron, who refused to unwrap his arms around you, "I didn't know you were waiting. I thought you went home already. Isn't Jack waiting for you? It's movie night."

Aaron smiled, "I'm taking you to the hospital to get checked. Captain Jack's orders."

You couldn't help but smile as well. He held the door for the passenger seat before jumping to the driver's seat. As you watched him go around, you noticed his scent lingered on your shoulders.

Aaron placed his jacket on yours.

"You ought to be careful," A chuckle passed your lips, "The gals are onto you."

"Why?" Aaron looked at you with a confused expression. His face made you giggle. The genuineness of his expression made you wonder his reaction if you had said the same thing two years ago.

A grin glistened on your face, "They say Agent Hotchner has a crush on me." Your voice danced with playfulness.

Aaron copied your grin and shrugged, "I'm surprised they haven't figured it out after all these years." He turned his body to face you, "So? Do you like him back?"

If only the BAU team knew how their unit chief, the SSA Aaron Hotchner, was a lot friskier than they perceived him to be, Aaron wouldn't last a day from all the teasing.

Then you wondered how the BAU team would react if they found out you and Aaron have been dating for the past two years and successfully kept it a secret from everyone except Strauss and Rossi.

Or the number of questions you'd be bombarded with when they learn that you recently moved in together with Aaron and Jack. You knew well enough that the ladies would be interrogating you like a serial killer.

You shrugged, "I heard he's got a fiancée." You fished the necklace well hidden under your shirt. A golden ring band shaped like vines with an oval-cut blue moon diamond dangled on the chain.

"Yeah..." Aaron held your hand and placed a soft kiss on the back of it, "You wouldn't want to be in the way of that." He smiled widely, an ever-loving expression you indulged yourself with for the past two years and soon... for a lifetime.

[someone-will-remember-us]

A young vineyard worker accused of raping Gisèle Pelicot on six occasions over four years when she had been drugged by her husband also proposed drugging and raping his own mother, a court has heard.

Charly A, 30, is one of 51 men on trial over the rape of Gisèle Pelicot, whose then husband, Dominique Pelicot, crushed sleeping tablets and anti-anxiety medication into her food and invited dozens of men to rape her while she was unconscious over a nine-year period from 2011 to 2020 in the village of Mazan in Provence. Dominique Pelicot has admitted the charges, telling the court: “I am a rapist.”

Gisèle Pelicot, 72, a former logistics manager, has become a feminist hero after insisting that the rape trial of her ex-husband and the other men be held in public to raise awareness of the use of drugs and sedation to rape women, having said: “It’s not for us to have shame, it’s for them.”

Charly A, a vineyard worker who later packed lorries for a cement company, is accused of driving to the Pelicots’ home on six occasions between 2016 and 2020 to rape Gisèle Pelicot in her bedroom alongside Dominique Pelicot, who had drugged her into a comatose state.

On the first occasion, Charly A was aged 22 and Gisèle Pelicot was aged 64. Charly A and Dominique Pelicot are also accused of raping Gisèle Pelicot in her bed on the night of her 66th birthday.

Charly A denied rape, saying: “I never had the intention to rape.” He said Dominique Pelicot, whom he had met online, had invited him to the couple’s home and told him that Gisèle Pelicot would be “pretending to be asleep”. He said: “I was told it was a scenario in which she was asleep. In that scenario, she was consenting. For me, I didn’t intend to rape. I didn’t want to rape her, I didn’t want to do something bad to that family.”

Charly A had spent part of his childhood in Mazan and lived a 30-minute drive away.

Video evidence showed a whispered conversation in Gisèle Pelicot’s bedroom between the two men, in which they discuss a plan to drug and rape Charly A’s mother in the same way. In the footage, Charly A says he will give an address and date for this to take place. Both men told the court this conversation took place, but said they did not rape Charly A’s mother.

Charly A’s mother, a personal care assistant and mother of three, had lived in Mazan and in different parts of the Vaucluse area of southern France.

Charly A was asked in court why he had suggested he and Dominique Pelicot rape his mother. He said he was afraid of Dominique Pelicot, who had asked him if there was another woman in his family or entourage who he would like to rape or see raped.

Charly A said he suggested his own mother “because it was the only woman who came to mind”. He said Dominique Pelicot was “insistent”, so he gave him a photo of his mother. Charly A told the court he had never intended to go through with it and kept making excuses. He said: “I gave the excuse that my little brother was home and my mother had to look after him, so he couldn’t come. Because I wasn’t OK with it.”

Dominique Pelicot gave Charly A three sedative tablets wrapped in silver foil in order for him to sedate his mother, explaining that he should crush them into her food. Charly A told the court that he threw the pills out of his car window that night and never used them. Dominique Pelicot contradicted this, saying that Charly A had instead returned the drugs to him.

Asked in court if he was angry with his mother or hated her, Charly A said he was not. He told the court: “I love my mum as any son loves their mum, nothing special.”

Police testing on a hair sample from Charly A’s mother showed a very low presence of sedatives consistent with a sporadic or single use of sedatives. She told police she had never used that type of medication. “I don’t know how it could be in my body. I don’t understand,” she said.

A court psychiatrist who interviewed Charly A said his “very intense use of pornography” from his early teenage years – including what the psychiatrist called pornographic cliches about mothers and older women – had played a role in his objectification of women.

The psychiatrist said the fact that Charly A regularly went to the Pelicots’ home in December, around Christmas time and in January, could have been related to his depression at having a dysfunctional family, affected by divorce and separation, around the holiday period.

Other accused men have said they were lonely at Christmas. One 63-year-old who is accused of raping Gisèle Pelicot but denied it, said he was “lonely” as “Christmas was approaching and I was going to be on my own again”. Another man, 37, who is accused of raping Gisèle Pelicot one New Year’s Eve and also denies it, said he “had nothing else to do” because his brothers hadn’t invited him to their New Year’s party.

The trial in Avignon continues until 20 December.

(archive)

[lixies-favorite-cookie]

Pink lemonade

— Felix had always dreamed of the day he could finally gather enough courage to kiss you. Even in his wildest dreams, he never imagined it would be mid-sip of your pink lemonade.

@velvetmoonlght I'm so sorry this took so long to get out 😖 I tried to make it as amazing as possible but I kept finding faults in the telling and eventually just said fuck it and posted it soooo if this isn't particularly what you wanted feel free to let me know and ill try and redo it!!

xxoxo

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠・felix x best freind!reader

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞𝐬・fluff, a sprinkle of angst if you squint, best friends to lovers, first kiss, unrequited requited pining, one silly little old couple, request.

��𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬・1.3k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬・literally nothing honestly

Felix is early.

Twenty minutes early to be exact, arriving on your front steps with a soft knock and a jingle of his car keys. He peaks his head into the sidelights, his freckled skin streaked by the incipient hues of the sunset he stood beside.

He flashes you a smile in greeting, and the one you return is sincere but muted, as if it pains you to move, to exist. You're sliding your shoes on when he lets himself in, announcing his presence with a palm clasping over your shoulder, drawing your tilted gaze up. There's a certain tightness to your lips, a labored rise and fall of your chest that lingers in his vision long after you slip into the leather seat, your head leaning against the car window, his worry trails him far into the arbitrary drive to nowhere.

"Which way?" he asks, laying a finger on his turn signal.

Slowly, weakly you manage to mutter "Left."

This is what you do when your hectic schedules have kept you apart for far too long: drive down random streets until the gas tank runs empty. You could end up anywhere—and maybe that was the thrill for you—but to Felix, it didn’t matter where the roads led; all that mattered was that you were there. And for him, that was enough.

"Bad day?" Felix finally asks, flicking his eyes to you.

"The worst," You return with a weak smile, lifting your head off the window.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No, not really"

And with that, the silence returned. Setting your cheek against the car door, you watched as the sun kissed the trees, its lips settling upon the horizon's line. Your mind was in a relentless state of chaos—so loud, so distracting—that you almost didn't notice the road becoming bumpy beneath you, violently rocking your seat back and forth. Felix pressed his palm onto the steering wheel, swerving onto a familiar dirt road, slightly your shoulders softened.

Many moons ago, during one of the same late-night drives, you stumbled upon this very cafe, stopping mid-conversation to sprint out of the car at the sight of the words "fresh pretzels" posted in bold letters at the front window. It was on that day you discovered Felix's left cheek twitched when he tasted something he enjoyed—and that you were completely, irrevocably in love with him.

Your heart does backflips when he jogs to your side of the vehicle, pulling open the door to guide you out. You don’t see how his cheeks warm when your pinkies interlock, footsteps in tandem as you stroll into the café. The lounge is deserted, save for a single old couple whose wrinkled hands hold each other's on the table beside the window, sipping a large coffee from two straws. It is so sickeningly sweet that you almost forget about your horrendous day. Felix traces your line of sight, chuckling when he realizes what has you getting so teary-eyed.

Felix bows when he reaches the counter, ordering two pretzels and one large pink lemonade with two straws. The barista nods before slipping her pen between the cuff of her ear and walking into the back room. No sooner does she waltz in than she is waltzing right back out, this time with her hands full of food. Felix thanks the woman before gently taking your snacks to the booth right across from the couple, who are currently too lost in each other’s eyes to acknowledge that you’ve sat down. You don’t know if you want to form heart pupils and collapse in a heap of “awws,” or cry and throw up—hey, maybe you could do all three.

Felix's grin is lopsided and silly as he punctures the lid with two straws, simultaneously sliding your pretzel across the table. You gladly take it, sinking your teeth into the soft bread with a delighted moan. It’s truly unbelievable how quickly your mood changes from wanting to jump out of the car going 100 miles on the interstate to wanting to hop up and start dancing. You don’t, obviously, but the excited jitters are still there.

"Oh my gosh, Felix, this is the best thing I've tasted in my entire life! I don't know how to thank you!" you squeal around the pretzel half-stuffed in your mouth.

He smiles, bowing his head to take a sip of the lemonade. It is only through the barrier of the straw that he doesn't blurt—A kiss would do—though as the fruity liquid splashes across his tongue, all he can say is,

"Holy shit, this is delicious!" Felix gasps, the straw falling from his mouth. "Here, try it!" He urges, shoving the cup in your face. You blink, swallowing the remainder of your food. It can't be that good. Your lips wrap around the straw, and oh my gosh, how the hell have you gone your entire life without ever trying this?!

"Holy crap, you are so right! This is incredible!!" You take a greedy gulp of the lemonade. "Ooooh, Lix, you're the best—"

Nothing could prepare him for what you said next.

"I could kiss you right now!!" In your peripheral vision, you notice Felix's lips separate, emitting a soft gasp. Confused, you lift your gaze, and it takes you exactly one blink's worth of time to understand his bewilderment.

Somewhere between pressing his mouth to his straw and the present moment, you have drifted dangerously close to him. Close enough that you can feel the heat of his lips, that you can watch the warmth rise to his freckled cheeks—so incredibly close that you’re mere breaths away from erasing the line between friendship completely.

His heartbeat lodges itself firmly in his throat, and his eyes go so wide that they're all you can see. Felix couldn't count how many restless nights he spent imagining this moment—I could kiss you right now—it replays in his head like a broken record, over and over and over, and you're just sitting there, looking so effortlessly breathtaking; and he can't take it—he just can't take it anymore.

Mid-sip of your pink lemonade, Felix does what he's spent years aching to do. With trembling hands, he cups your cheeks, and with the intensity of a starved, desperate man, he leans in—finally, finally pressing his lips to yours.

First, you gasp. Then, you melt—oh, how you melt, melt like the drops of water slipping down your cup of lemonade, melt like thawing snow. For a minute, as the world reduces to liquid in your vision, you feel yourself sliding in and out of time, but you seek out his forearms, then his biceps, and then you settle upon his cheeks. Felix kisses you like you were his only outlet to breathe—you were. You so, so were.

He planned on savoring your lips until the sun arose, until the owner kicked you out for inappropriate behavior. But instead of the disgruntled grumbles of an annoyed manager yanking him out of the moment, it was the sound of... clapping?

Puzzled, you pull away, much to Felix's dismay, and it takes you about three seconds to find the two pairs of hands loudly applauding was the old couple from earlier?! They wear matching toothless grins, giggling about "young love" and the reminiscence of when "they used to kiss like that in diners." Felix turns his head, eyes wide and awkward, catching yours; his cheeks are flushed red, lips rolled firmly in between his teeth. Despite the heat that flares up your neck, you laugh—laugh with so much lighthearted carelessness that your freedom feels alien even in your own ears. Felix blinks once, twice, before eventually giving in and laughing with you—laughing like nobody's watching.

Even with the old couple in the back, the staff staring at you like you’re insane, and your lone pretzel sitting cold and half-eaten in front of you, he still hooks his finger underneath your chin, drawing you impossibly closer. His smile curves against your lips as he presses them to yours again and again and again.

Lifetimes—that is how long he has spent longing for you; and as you share one final shuddering breath, he can't help but notice you taste like lemonade. It was then that he knew he would spend a million more loving you.

cookie owns this don't steal my stuff, please. thank you.

[latenightdaydreams]

https://twitter.com/jorgez86/status/1786091450238926874?t=qpE0itH41pxOOlJjXdrfNg&s=19

Can you write about Konig who can't stop touching his girlfriend's boobies?

I know I'm sending a lot of requests at the same time but I had to hold myself back to not text you because I know request closed for a reason. Please don't feel obligated or overwhelmed, I just send it and it's okay if you ignore my request, because you're a just human being!❤️❤️❤️

That woman is blessed with the sorest of all backs😮‍💨 Never feel bad for sending them! 🥰🥰

Just a Few Hours (fem)

MDNI 🔞

Master List

>cw: fem/afab, groping, dirty talk

1.1k word count

💒

.

.

Big breast was never a requirement for dating. Sure, König loved watching porn with big breasts, but he’s found all breast sizes have their perks. Plus, he can’t exactly be picky. Tall, awkward, and not exactly handsome; he had trouble pulling anyone.

When home from deployment, König tried to find some sort of peace. He would go to the local park early in the morning before it became crowded with kids and cheerful people. It was one of the few moments in his life where things felt okay. The chaos could just stop.

Little did he know you, this big breasted goddess, also felt the same way about early mornings in the park. From the corner of his eye he saw you approaching, the slight jiggle from your breasts noticeable to him. Turning his neck to see you head on, his jaw literally dropped. Underneath your loose-fitting band t, your breast bounced so perfectly.

“Hallo.” The words fell out of his mouth before he even realized it.

You looked over to see the most beautiful icy blue eyes gazing up at you as he sat on the floor by a tree.

“Hi.” You smiled so sweetly his way.

One impulsive hello sparked a full two-year relationship. König genuinely fell in love with who you are as a person, your breasts just being a massive perk imaginable. No matter the situation, König can’t keep his hands to himself.

Normally, you wouldn’t mind, but today is your friend’s wedding. König drives the both of you as he sulks about the time he has to spend away from you. One hand on the steering wheel, the other cupping your breast.

“Schatz, I’m going to go crazy being without you for a whole day.” This middle finger lightly flicks over your nipple through the fabric of your evening dress. The dress required you to not wear a bra. König, of course, didn’t mind; but now he would be a fool the whole time.

“König, I’m literally going to be right next to you the whole time.”

“Ja, but I can’t touch you.” He glances over at his hand on your breast, softly jiggling it.

“You’re too much König.” You laugh, shaking your head.

“Can you blame me? You’re perfect.” He reaches his hand behind the fabric and pulls out the breast he’s been playing with. “Other one too.” He demands you to take it out.

“König, you’re driving. Someone could see.”

“I’ll drive safe…plus the windows are tinted. Come on.” He doesn’t take no for an answer, so you oblige and take out your other breast.

“Mein Gott…” Every time seeing your breasts is like the first time again.

He moves his hands over and squeezes both of your breasts before his fingers play with your nipples. He gives attention to both of them equally. You let him continue until you got close to the venue, pushing his hand away to slip your breasts back into your shirt.

“Liebling,” Köing sounds so pathetic as if you took a toy away from a whining dog.

“Stop, act normal.”

“Act normal? I always act normal.” He mumbles under his breath as he pulls into the parking lot and searches for a spot.

Once the car is parked, he unbuckles his seat belt and turns his head to you. He watches your breasts move as you take off your own seat belt. Your eyes meet his and you can see that he is just paying attention to them.

“König, my door?”

“Oh!” He gets out of the car quickly and rushes over to the other side to open the door for you. He playfully bows, “My lady…”

You laugh and step out of the car. He holds his hand out for you to grab. You both walk forward to the wedding venue. The whole wedding was hell. König was not only forced to meet new people, but he was also expected to keep his hands to himself. As the couple exchanged their first kiss as husband and wife, everyone around began to cheer.

He watches you stand, and takes the lead. You all cheer as the couple leaves the room. König leans over and whispers in your ear, “Maybe we can have a quicky before they start the reception?”

“No.” You whisper back quickly.

König rolls his eyes and just keeps clapping. Once the bride and groom leave, slowly the rows of people begin to file out of the door. With everyone clearly not minding the both of you, he wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you back to him. Slowly his hand crept up to grasp your breasts. His fingers pinching your nipple before you swat his hand away.

He looks down at you before inching back up towards your breast, squeezing hard so you can’t move him so easily. You try to suppress your laugh by nudging him with your elbow.

“Stop!” You hiss playfully.

“Liebling, I can’t stop.” He chuckles under his breath, squeezing once more before letting go so you can exit the venue.

Walking outside, on your way to the reception König keeps his arm over your shoulder. His eyes watching your breasts bounce out the corner of his eye.

“You know, weddings are a celebration of love. I don’t see why I can’t just carry you into the bathroom and show you how much I love you.” His fingers dance in small circles just above your cleavage.

“Their love, not ours.”

“I still don’t see the issue.” His voice laced with desire as he looks around to make sure no one was looking. He slowly slips his hand into your dress and cups your breast in his hand again.

“König!”

He quickly withdraws his hand due to your tone. “Sorry…” a small smirk forms on his lips, he loves it when you get like this.

“You really can’t keep your hands to yourself for one second?” You stop talking and look up at him.

“Wha-…” König tries to hide his smirk. “I can.”

“You’re so annoying.” You huff as you turn to continue walking.

“And you’re so sexy.” He pulls you back to him. “Stop being grumpy. You never have an issue.”

“We are never at a formal occasion, König.”

He lets out a deep sigh before leaning down to kiss your lips. “Fine, I’m sorry for not listening. I’ll keep my hands to myself.”

“Thank you…” You smile up at him, tapping your lips for another kiss.

Happily, he brings his lips back to meet yours. His muscular arms wrap around your body and grip you against his body. Feeling your breasts press against him.

“When we get home, I want you to suffocate me with your breasts.” He whispers in your ear.

“How about, I let you fuck them. Only if you’re a good boy.” You match his energy.

König’s eyes light up as they open wide, a goofy look of excitement crosses his face. “I’ll be the best boy for you.”

[artsninspo]

FORGIVELESS - IV - YOU DON'T MIND SECOND FIDDLE, THAT'S WHY YOU A BITCH 🎻

Full Masterlist

PREVIOUS CHAPTER

RIO MASTERLIST

IV - YOU DON'T MIND SECOND FIDDLE, THAT'S WHY YOU A BITCH 🎻

Pairing: Rio (Good Girls) X Reader

Word Count: ~2.4K

Warning: Messy, mature themes & 🌶️ implied, a bit of a domestic situation.

Summary: The rendezvous with Rio continue causing James to spiral. only women are better cheaters. Rio proposes something outside of his previous boundaries. Japan is revealed while you get to keep your secret about Rio a little longer.

Sitting in front of the mirror pleased with your makeup you go over excuses in your head. You’ve set up the perfect situation. You’ve overheard James whispering and arguing on the phone. Japan’s been blowing his line up. You already know your husband is suspicious of you but everyday you care a little less. Your own indiscretions with Rio let you know how much work it is to be dishonest. Chasing the highs of being a well off young professional has your husband thinking too much of himself and now he’s paying with his eroding marriage. It’s Rio who’s been consistent for a man who doesn’t think he's the relationship type. Looking yourself, you smile, feeling sexy. It’s become a familiar feeling again with Rio.  Heading downstairs you find James sitting on the couch which is a rarity for a Friday night. Usually he has some more important plans than spending time with you.

“Where are you going?” He asks.

“Friends bachelorette” you smile.

“Which friend?” he asks.

“Marlène from yoga, I was invited.” you tell him.

“Marlène” he says trying to register the name. “I can drive you there and pick you up” he offers.

“No need babe, I don’t drink” you remind him.

“How late?” he asks.

“Maybe 2 or 3 the latest” you tell him.

“Okay, maybe we should keep a calendar so we can keep up with each other's schedules. In case I want to surprise you” he suggests.

“Sure, I’ll see you in a bit” you smile waving.

“Hold up, we were invited to the wedding?” He asks standing as he makes his way over to you.

“I declined the invite. I know how busy you get.” You respond. 

“Next time, ask me first. I love you and I want to do what it takes to make you happy. I know it’s been hard since the move but I’m here and I’m in this and I miss you.” He says. All it took was some distance for him to shape up and pay attention.

“Ok” you nod pecking his lips and when he deepens the kiss, it's all wrong. The passion isn’t there, or if it is it doesn’t mix well with his lies and betrayal. You’re relieved when he pulls away. Your heart isn’t racing, there's no tingles or butterflies. Your heart settles a little knowing the sun has set on your marriage. You force a smile heading out to the car. Standing there James is struck with panic, sure now more than ever he’s losing you.

Heading out you meet a new group of friends at one of Rio’s clubs. It’s a bachelorette party. You remember yours. You’d been too young to be considered someone’s wife and so excited to do whatever James asked of you. It’s bittersweet memories. Had you known then what you know now you wouldn't have walked down the aisle. A cheater, a liar, a coward and your husband. Mentally you decide to file the next time you have some free time or at least get the papers. Once the liquor starts flowing between the girls you call Rio as planned. The thrill is still there, it’s how you're making it through this tough time. Reclaiming your agency as a woman. Rejecting the treatment you once settled for. Doing James just as bad. It’s dark when Rio rolls up to the back entrance of his establishment. It's only been fifteen minutes since you made the call, he gets out his G-Wagon matching it in all black. His hands go into the pockets of his black denim jacket as he waits against the passenger door. You dont waste any time heading to him. His smile is the same as always as his eyes look you over in appreciation. Rio never misses the details. Stepping aside he opens the door helping you into the truck. 

“You good?” He asks and you nod as he pulls off. 

“You?” You ask.

“Mhm” he nods. The silence is comfortable and Rio keeps a hand on your thigh possessively as he drives to his place. You notice he’s not here with you and somewhere else in his thoughts when he passes the exit to his place.

“Rio, you missed the exit” you tell him.

“I’m taking you to my place” he mutters looking over at you. You swallow feeling the new reality between you has changed. You're no longer on quicksand, you're in it. You don't respond feeling comfortable with the decision. You place your hand over his on your thigh.

“I gotta go out of town for a few days,” he says, breaking the silence.

“How long is a few days” you ask.

“Three, I was hoping you could come with me,” Rio says, shocking you. It’s what had been on his mind. If he left it would give James the opportunity to slither his way back into your good graces and probably lead to a reconciliation. Something Rio didn't want to even entertain the possibility of for his own selfish reasons, among the principal of things.

“Come with you?” you ask.

“That’s what I said, what I fuck you so good you cant hear now?” he remarks and you hit him playfully.

“Shut up” you laugh.

“You coming or what?” he asks and you look him over.

“Where are you heading?” you ask.

“Mexico for my cousin's wedding. I have a plus one” Rio says casually.

“I would love to but with all I have going on it’s not the right time” you sigh.

Rio’s nostrils flare in frustration “So what?”

You sigh, “Rio, leaving the country to be your date looks bad.”

“Fuck everyone who would question you after you say he stepped out” Rio snaps.

“Rio you’re being unreasonable” you respond.

“What about me gives off reasonable?” he responds and you smile. He’s right from day one he’s been a handful.

“Rio” you start.

“Tell him whatever he needs to hear, then bring your ass to Mexico with me.” he demands like it's not even a question.

“You want me held up in your room like a sex slave for a few days” You scoff.

“Shit the roleplaying might get you off” he shrugs still upset that you aren't jumping up and down like most women. Rio doesn't like having to compete for your time with the ego of a man that doesnt deserve you even a little.

“You’re being an ass” you smile, rolling your eyes at him playfully. He comes in for a kiss and your phone rings. You look at the caller ID and see it’s James. Rio sighs and you follow suit. You let it ring out but he calls again. After the third ring Rio turns on his sound system to mimic the club before hitting the answer.

“James?” You say.

“What time are you getting home? It's after one” he says.

“I don’t know I’m having fun” you lie.

“I’ll come meet you” he offers.

“No, go out with your friends. Don’t wait up.” You shout.

“No, I miss you and I want to make love to my wife tonight.” The thought alone is off putting. When your eyes re-open from the disgusted shudder you find Rio watching you pissed.

“Sorry I can’t hear you, I’ll see you in a bit. Bye!” You shout hanging up.

“You’re gonna have to tell him you know,” Rio says.

“I’m not ready to play pretend with my family or his. It’ll take time away from you and I'm having fun.” You explain knowing how it’ll work. Women were expected to be distraught, hurt or psychotic after infidelity from their husbands. Your callously orchestrated revenge will be vilified and used as justification for his indiscretions in the beginning. You’ll be burned at the stake for not lying down and taking disrespect.

“Think he’s shitting himself now? When he knows you know and sees you riding around with me, me taking you out treating you right. Then what?” Rio says onto your lips kissing you. The thought of James getting his just due is desert for the both of you. Your moans are audible as his lips kiss you down your neck. His hands hold you there firmly.

“Are you listening?” He asks.

“Yes” you nod.

“Good” his voice softens his dark eyes holding yours.

“He doesn’t get to touch you, doesn’t get to sleep beside you, doesn’t get to see you undressed, nothing. His time’s up mama.” His words are slow and deliberate. He’s placed his claim. His possession is all in his eyes. “Handle it, Love, or I will” he warns, incapable of sharing. You don’t even make it to the bathroom. Rio has his way with you on the couch talking you through it. He fights for control over what he’s feeling and channels all his jealousy and possessiveness into making you feel good enough to want him. Enough to forget about the feelings of a man that did not consider yours or upkeep his vows. You spend the night christening his home and the morning is everything you hoped morning’s with James would be like in this new city. Slow and full of comfortable silences based on quality time. Rio typically did not talk too much, not needing to but today was different. He wanted to put an end to Jame’s hold on you. To James being a two timing fuck waling around like he owns the world. He wanted James to pay for blowing up your life. By the time you leave Rio’s place it’s 9am. That’s how little fucks you have left to give. You don’t expect James to be waiting at the house when you arrive but he’s sitting in the living room fuming mad. His eyes go to your rings first. When they are located he calms down just a touch.

“Where the fuck have you been!” He snaps through gritted teeth, standing and closing the distance and sniffing you like a dog. It’s how you should treat him.

“Don’t talk to me like that!” You shout triggered.

“You’re not walking out of this house again to go anywhere without me. Matter of fact, give me your phone!” He snaps grabbing your purse from your arm. He finds your phone unlocking it with Face ID and going through it. Instead of fighting him you go for his phone on the island knowing you’re in the clear. You search to find the messages have degraded into arguing instead of steamy exchanges. The blue flame between James and his mistress has faded into contention with him trying to be more present in his marriage. It’s against everything the mistress wants to hear. Little miss Japan is pulling out the stops. Her revised attempts at luring your husband away from you flip a switch. You clear the counter throwing two vases at him in succession. He fails to duck away from the first one hitting him in the chest. The other douses him with water before shattering on the ground.

“I should’ve known you were cheating!” you scream, snapping him out of his rage. Fear flashes in his expression. “All the accusations! Neglect, no sex, it was all here” you snap holding up his phone. Tears well as you release the secret you’ve been keeping in for the past few weeks. You send the phone flying at him too. The device hits him in the chest and you snatch yours from him. “That’s how you’d let some women speak about me and talk to you. You dirty low down fuck!” You add feeling your hands and face heat from the rage.

“Baby” he panics “It was a mistake.”

“Don’t call me baby, matter of fact don't call me anything! Don’t call me!” You cry getting your keys and heading out. “Japan, Japan, Japan, whole time Japan is a fucking woman that you’re seeing!” you continue your tirade.

“Y/N!” He snaps. “I’m sorry. I can explain, listen to me.” His words mean nothing and you keep on heading to your car. He grabs you violently.

“I said I’m sorry!” he asserts with a mixture of anger and panic.

“You are and I’m done with you” you pull away but he grabs you. You try to free yourself but he’s too strong. You struggle against him as you and him exchange unheard feelings at a high volume. He wins the struggle.

“I said I’m sorry! I made a mistake but I love you!” He shouts, shaking you and your heart races as you see all the threads you’ve been picking at are loose. You want to stick the nail in the coffin but you don't. Instead you look at him with all the hate you feel for the predicament his actions have created. 

“I hate you and you’ll regret it I promise” you snap, turning to face him as you open the garage. Fear turns from panic to rage again at your threat. He grabs your arm unlike ever before. “Get out my face and let me go. Go be where you’ve been with her.” you snap pushing him off. 

“Don’t walk away from me and don’t threaten me!” He snaps as you get to your car. Before you get in he grabs your hood, yanking you back.

“What’s going on here?” An officer interrupts. Just the way his eyes fall on you it’s clear he’s been sent by Rio. James steps back and you readjust your neckline.

“I’m trying to leave and he won’t let me” you speak frankly. You hear James gasp in shock at your betrayal.

.

“She’s my wife. Officer I just want to speak with her” James says. You look him over and see he’s all wet. It definitely looks like a domestic dispute.

“Do you want to speak with him?” the officer asks you.

“No” you respond and the officer opens your car door. You get in.

“Y/N!” James shouts.

“Keeping her here against her will with force is something I can charge you with” the officer informs your asshole soon to be ex-husband.

“It’s a marital disagreement,” James says, trying to turn on the charm. It doesn’t work on the officer who gives him a final glare before walking out with you. 

“Stay put” he snaps at James. “Are you alright?” he asks and you nod, adjusting your sweater and clothes. 

“Yes”

“Did he hit you?”

“No officer he didn’t” you confess honestly.

“Go see Rio” the cop whispers before closing the car door. You’re a little startled at how perceptive you are and pull out of the driveway to head to Rio’s place. You find him pissed and pacing. His eyes go to your stretched out collar but he keeps his thoughts to himself offering you comfort and a hug. He ignores his phone ringing and you ignore yours until James stops calling and it’s your mom. you already know. James is in damage control mode.

Thanks for reading my loves, theres more mess to come - I promise. Keep on, liking, commenting and sending over ideas. I hope those of you who send some in liked seeing them integrated in the story. What was your favorite part?

NEXT CHAPTER

TAGS:

@meadows5 @wnbweasley @becauseimher @ariiaeltheedonn @woahthatshitfat @miniaturehideoutmentality

[hearts4golbach]

Hey can I request y/n surprising Billie at the Grammys? Thanks

Double-Winner.

Billie Eilish x Fem!Reader.

a/n: sorry this is so short, i had no clue how to fulfill this tbh but i tried my best! hope you like it x

"bil, for the last time," I sighed heavily, "im not going to be able to make it. I'll make it up to you, I promise."

billie whined on the other end of the phone, "it's not the same, ma."

I continued packing my suitcase. "I know, babe, but you know I have a huge meeting that I can not miss."

she grumbled, "I know." I heard water running and movement. "Wish me luck." she muttered as she began to brush her teeth.

"i'll be manifesting for you," i joke, walking to the bathroom to prepare my toiletries. "You're going to win the grammy." i reassure her.

i could hear her take a deep breath and sigh. "Yeah, hopefully. i think i should go to bed, big day tomorrow." she cheesed.

"Alright," i say dramatically. "If you have to."

she made a kiss noise, "i love ya."

"i love you too. Text me when you're up." i kissed her back before she hung up.

i checked the time on my phone, silently thanking billie for hanging up at the perfect time. i zipped up my suitcase and threw on my slides before walking out of the house. i double-checked to make sure the door was walked before i drove off towards the airport.

the cool winter breeze caught me off guard as i stepped out of my warm car. i dreaded all of the airport security traffic. it took me forever to get through everything, but i had finally made it on the flight that would take me to surprise billie.

i found out 3 hours before she called me that the meeting was canceled, and i decided i was going to surprise her. i booked the fastest flight and sound one that was perfect. i was surprised it was still available.

i sat peacefully on the plane, drinking Sprite and eating the iconic honey roasted peanuts. of course, i spent the whole time worrying over billies' reactions. would she be mad that i lied to her? i pondered back and forth, defending each argument for yes and no over in my mind.

the loud, robotic sounding woman over the speakers awoke me from my sleep. i rushed to get off the plane as i only had 2 hours to make it in time to see billie. i went to the nearest airport restroom and changed into my stunning dress that i had been saving for a really special occasion. it was a long, ruby red silk slip dress. it had a slit in the right legs and was long enough to trail behind me. i had straightened my hair before i left, and it had managed to stay intact. i did quick but elegant makeup and called my Uber.

the wait for the Uber was spent getting cat called by older men while waiting for billie to text me back.

me: How's your morning going, babe? i miss you

billie ❤️: it's going good, just doing hair and make up

billie ❤️: you?

billie ❤️: i miss you sm mama

me: just been thinking about you

billie: i gotta go get dressed, text you after ❤️

me: sounds goood

the Uber arrived and took me to my hotel room, which i had to rush to get ready since i was running late.

i basically threw on the dress that complimented hers, so i had enough time for makeup. luckly, i didn't like to do heavy makeup.

whenever i was finally done, billie texted me.

billie ❤️: god everything reminds me of how much i wish you could be here.

billie ❤️: theres an extra seat at the table for some reason

me: hm thats weird, dont worry, though i have the live video pulled up right now

i lied as i climbed into the Uber. i told the man my destination, and he began driving. butterflies were building up, and i couldn't wait to see her reaction.

i made it right in time, making it in time for the music related awards. i chatted with Lizzie Grant, one of my favorite music artists, as i waited for billie to leave the table so i could sneak in.

whenever they finally announced the first award for "what was i made for?" she got up and walked onto the stage.

i slid into my seat quietly, waving to finneas and claudia, who were in on the surprise.

i admired billie on stage. i was so proud of her. I couldn't contain it. a stupid smile spread on my face as i saw her bright smile on stage.

"Thank you so much. i really couldn't have done it without y/n and finneas. i love you too, and im so sorry you couldn't be here, baby." she blew a kiss to the camera, which i knew there'd be edits of later on.

she walked back, thanking all the people who congratulated her as she walked by.

she was only a few feet away whenever she made eye contact with me. her face lit up, and her smile grew. she ran towards me, pulling me out of my chair and capturing me in a tight hug. she peppered my face in kisses before finally meeting my lips. she held her lips on mine, and i didn't want her to pull away.

"You actually made it!" she exclaimed, wrapping her arms around my waist.

"How could i miss it?! my meeting got rescheduled, but i was planning on surprising you anyway. so everything worked out in the end." i explained.

"When did you get here?" she asked, her smile never fading.

"literally 2 and a half hours ago." i laughed, my arms snaking around her neck. "im so proud of you, bil."

"Thank you, mama." she pecked my lips once more, "i love you."

"i love you more." i smiled, "youre amazing. you deserve this so much."

billie went on to win another grammy. needless to say, we celebrated a lot that night.

[uniquedinosaurdreamland]

Ingrid Engen & Mapi León x Reader

-Annoying-

yay (kind of hate the ending but lol)

Ingrid Engen & Mapi León x Reader -Annoying- 🩷

🌸

“Who pissed in your coffee this morning sunshine?” Lucy smirked as she caught sight of you walking into the change room with a scowl covering your face. “Where are the other two, thought you guys were attached at the hip.” Lucy continued to tease.

“I can’t deal with Mapi right now, so I am going to stay far away from her otherwise I will kill her.” You said to your national teammate trying to control your emotions and stay calm. The morning started like any other waking up between your two girlfriends, engulfed in warmth until you all had to get up and get ready for training.

You don’t know why but Mapi had woken up in an extra annoying mood and her sole purpose was to make you want to pull your hair out. She knew how much you hated to be poked and tickled so all she had been doing those exact things, in the bathroom, when you were making coffee, when you just passed each other in your morning routines and even when you were walking down the stairs causing you to almost slip as well as lose your shit. Mapi had also turned to making fun of your height, you were only a few centimetres shorter then the older women but that was enough for her.

You had grown up with three older brothers who took pride in how ticklish you were and who sit on you and poke and prod until you couldn’t breathe. They had traumatised you so much that you hated anyone even making the movement of poking or tickling as it made you squirm. Yet Mapi didn’t care, loving your pouting face when she did it.

She had riled you up so much you had decided to drive yourself to training instead of getting driven by Ingrid. “You're an idiot.” Ingrid directed to Mapi, shaking her head as she watched you pull out of the driveway.

“Come on, it was just a joke, Corazón.” Mapi said, trying to defend herself.

“You know how much Y/N hates you poking and tickling her, and yet you continued.” Ingrid replied, grabbing her keys from the counter to take the other car to training since you had taken the main one.

“She’ll get over it.”

You in fact did not ‘get over it’ instead you worked hard to ignore your Spanish girlfriend through the entire training session, moving away when she stood too close, ignoring her calls from across the field, deciding to only speak to the older woman when you were placed on the same team for a game at the end of training.

Ingrid watched from the sidelines with Frido and Keira sat on either side of her, she laughed lightly as you scored a goal moving to high five your team members except for Mapi who had her hand up for you only to get brushed. “What's up with your girls?” Frido asked.

“Mapi was annoying Y/N and now Y/N won’t speak to Mapi so I’m just leaving them to sort it out, like always.” The three watched as Mapi ran by you pushing out a finger to hit your side, you scowled, hitting her hand away while Mapi smirked back winking.

“At the World Cup Ella and Alessia tried to tickle Y/N, she almost killed them. Lucy can vouch for me, she was the one having to hold little miss sunshine back from strangling them.” Keira said remembering the time you had been napping on one of the couches at national camp and Ella and Alessia had woken you up by tickling you under your arms and around your neck.

“Mapi needs to learn when to stop and she will learn her lesson once she takes it too far. Y/N did grow up with three older brothers.” Ingrid said shrugging her shoulder, she’d seen enough of Mapi teasing you and she knew you always got the last laugh.

Not even a minute later Mapi had snuck up on you and proceeded to tickle you, you let out a scream as you tried to get out of her tight grasp. You had finally been pushed over the edge and once you finally got out of her grip you turned around using all your force to tackle your Spanish girlfriend to the ground. Mapi wasn’t a typically ticklish person but you knew of the one spot on her neck that was very ticklish.

So with Mapi’s arms pinned under your knees your hands made their way to that spot that made the defender laugh and squirm underneath you. Mapi begged you to stop, being too weak from being tickled to throw you off. After a few moments she finally mustered the strength to get her arms from under your knees to grab your waist and flip you over onto your back.

“Calm down mi amor.” Mapi laughed as she now had your hands pinned down.

“I hate you.” You said through gritted teeth.

“I am sorry I have been annoying you. I will stop now if you calm down.” Mapi said looking down at you with her signature smirk plastered on her face.

“I hope you know I will get you back.” You stared back up at her as she got off you offering you her hand to be pulled up.

“I’m sure you will Cariño.” The slightly taller woman said, pressing a soft kiss to your hairline, smirking as she noticed you trying to hide your smile at the action. The whistle had been blown to end the game without you two realising so you both started to walk to your other girlfriend who stood talking with Frido and Keira waiting for you both.

Mapi stopped to talk as you grabbed a water bottle to drink from, before you made your way to the locker room you had one last plan. Turning to Mapi once again who had her back faced to you, you put your foot up and pushed it into the back of her knee successfully giving her a dead leg. You laughed loudly as her knee crumbled, with the mix of the dead leg and the hard training session her leg wasn’t working.

You weren’t sticking around to deal with Mapi’s annoyance, ignoring her colourful language and laughing as Ingrid hit her on the back of the head running to fall into step with Lucy. You were quick to move to the shower once you got back to the locker room. You had finished getting dressed in your (Ingrid’s) hoodie and some shorts.

“You are annoying.” Mapi said as the three of you said your goodbyes and moved to the parking lot to head home.

“I know.” You smiled back. “But I’ll go get some stuff for dinner on the way home, so you can’t stay mad at me.” You said as you walked to the car you had taken while Ingrid and Mapi walked to the other one.

Starting the car and pulling out, sending light smiles to the fans that were hanging around the entrance. Your shopping trip was quick, grabbing the last few things to make your mum's famous soup recipe before making your way back home. Quickly grabbing your training bag and shopping bags from the boot you unlocked your front door and headed into the kitchen.

Blowing a kiss to Ingrid who sat on the couch reading a book, not knowing where your other lover was but just figured she was in your shared room somewhere. Not having to start dinner for another two hours you put all the groceries away before moving to the couch flopping down so your head was sat on Ingrid's lap.

“Hei Kjære.”(Hello Darling) Ingrid smiling down at you moving to press a soft kiss to your lips, you smiled against hers as she pulled away to continue her book. You smiled as Bagheera jumped up onto your lap, your fingers threaded themselves though his fur getting a satisfied purr from the cat.

You were too focused on Bagheera to notice Mapi finally made her way from the bedroom to the lounge. The older woman smiled at the scene in front of her before moving to take Bagheera away. “Hey, give me my precious boy back.” You whined as Mapi moved the now sleeping cat to his bed.

“No cause you need to hug tu novia.”(your girlfriend) Mapi smiled, moving to lay down.

“You're annoying though.” You looked up at her teasingly.

“Lástima.”(Too bad) Mapi said before running full speed ahead to launch herself on top of you. Immediately burying her head into your neck, your hands made their way up her hoodie to scratch her back lightly.

“Why can’t you get along like this all the time.” Ingrid said, looking down at the two of you.

“Because my love, Maria is like a child she needs attention all the time and she thinks in order to get the attention she wants she has to poke and tickle.” You smiled up at your Norwegian lover, Mapi didn’t seem to like your comment as she grabbed onto your sides and dug into them with her fingers.

You immediately tried to get her off and you did which meant that Mapi was now on the ground. “I take it back.” Ingrid mutters under her breath as she once again watches the two of you get into a play fight. Which ends up with you over Mapi’s shoulder as she pokes you in the stomach over and over.

“STOP PLEASE STOP.” You yelled.

“Say I am the best most amazing person ever.” Mapi said, stopping her movements for a moment.

“No.” You squealed again as Mapi started to poke you again, not letting you move down from over her shoulder as you banged on her back. ��Fine, you are the best most amazing person ever. Happy.” And with that you were placed back on your feet.

“Very.” Mapi looked down at you, as you moved to get out of her grip and return to your position on the sofa she pulled you in and connected your lips. Mapi moved to deepen the kiss, your legs feeling weak as she squeezed your hips, but before she would get carried away you pushed her away gently.

“I have to get dinner ready.” You said simply pecking her lips one more time before moving to the kitchen, Mapi happily making her way over to Ingrid to cuddle into her side.

You spent the rest of the night eating and watching a new movie that Ingrid had picked out, you were first to call quits and head to bed finishing your night routine before hopping into bed while your lovers finished the movie. An hour later the movie finished and Ingrid and Mapi headed up to bed, catching sight of you snuggled into the sheets made their hearts flutter.

Ingrid climbed into her side on the left after she was finished, closely followed by Mapi who took her side on the right on either side of you. Ingrid and Mapi’s hands intertwined over your waist as Ingrid snuggled into your neck and Mapi pulled your head gently to rest on her chest, the three of you now in a deep sleep tired from the fun but annoying day you had.

[doctorbitchcrxft]

Roadkill | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader (Eventual ? ;) )

Warnings: canon violence, canon gore, mentions of smut

Word Count: 4772

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“Alright,” Dean began, cruising down a darkened road. “Tell me about Highway 41.”

You leaned your head on your arms between the shoulders of the two boys on the back of the front seat as Sam began to talk.

“Twelve accidents over fifteen years,” the brunet explained. “Five of them fatal; all of them happening on the same night.”

“So, what are we looking at— Interstate dead zone? Phantom hitchhiker? What?” Dean questioned.

Sam shook his head, continuing to flip through his notes. “Not quite. Year after year, witnesses said the same thing made them crash. A woman appearing in the middle of the road, being chased by a man covered in blood.”

“Two spooks?” you asked.

“Sounds like it,” Sam responded.

“Any idea who this chick is?” 

“I think I might,” the brunet said, handing you a clipping from an old newspaper he’d printed off online. “Molly McNamara. Killed in a car crash fifteen years ago tomorrow night. She took another guy out with her; Jonah Greely. Farmer who was out in the road, and Molly couldn’t slow down in enough time to stop.”

“So, what? She haunts the road now with Greely chasin’ after her?” you questioned.

Sam shrugged. “I guess.”

“I say we go talk to the husband. Only survivor of the crash.”

And that was just where you went. You discovered she hadn’t been buried; she’d been cremated.

“So, what’s keeping her here?” Sam wondered aloud as you left the survivor’s house.

“I don’t know,” you replied. 

*** The next night, you, Dean, and Sam headed down Highway 41.

“Please don’t run into the bitch and kill us all with your stupid driving,” you implored Dean, who shot you a look in the rearview mirror.

“I’m a great driver, what are you—” He cut himself off as something in the road caught his attention. “Holy—!”

You braced yourself on the back of the front seat as Dean slammed to a stop in front of a young blonde woman with scrapes and bruises littering her body. “You have to help me!” she yelled, crying.

“Dean, I don't think she knows she's dead,” Sam realized.

Molly started banging on the window of Sam’s door. “Open up! Please!”

Sam obliged, holding his hand up to try and create some distance between the two of them as he opened the car. “Okay, okay! All right, all right. Just calm down. Tell us what happened.”

You hung back with Dean while he parked the car as Sam walked ahead with Molly. 

“What is he gonna tell her?” Dean asked quietly.

“Knowing Sam? Probably the truth,” you replied.

“She's gonna take off running in the other direction,” Dean sighed.

“Yeah, I know.”

“I— I swerved,” Molly was telling Sam, sitting against a tree stump, “ A-And we crashed. And when I came to, the car was wrecked and my husband was missing. I went looking for him, but that's when the man from the road, he- he started chasing me.”

“Did he look like he lost a fight with a lawn mower?” Dean questioned.

Molly looked up at Dean, shocked. “How did you know that?”

“Lucky guess,” he shrugged.

You played dumb, keeping what Dean had said earlier in mind. “Hey, what's your name?”

“Molly. Molly Mcnamara,” she said.

Sam looked over at you knowingly. “I think maybe you should come with us. We'll take you back into town.”

“I can't.” The blonde suddenly panicked. “I have to find David. He might have gone back to the car.”

“We should get you somewhere safe first. Then the three of us will come back. We'll look for your husband,” Sam tried.

“No. I'm not leaving here without him. Would you just take me back to my car, please?” she begged.

Sam hesitated a moment. “Of course,” he said finally. “Come on.”

The four of you clambered into the Impala, and Molly directed Dean toward the crash site. You were incredibly uneasy with a spirit just casually sitting next to you in the backseat, and every instinct was screaming at you to pump her full of rocksalt. However, you knew better and fought your gut feeling.

“Stop,” Molly told Dean. She was jumping out of the car before he’d fully come to a stop. “It’s right over there.”

She led you to where she thought the car would be, but there was nothing there. 

“I don't understand. I'm sure this is where it was. W-We hit that tree right there. This— This doesn't make any sense,” she rushed out, running a hand through her hair. She started to head further into the woods.

Not willing to let her out of your sight, you followed. “Molly, wait!”

She turned around. “I know it sounds crazy, but I crashed into that tree. I don't know who could've taken it. It was totaled. Please. You have to believe me.”

“I do believe you,” you said. “But that’s why you gotta get outta here.”

“What about David?” she protested. “Something must have happened. I have to get to the cops.”

Dean came up behind you. “Cops! That's a great idea. We'll take you down to the station ourselves. So just come with us. It's the best way we can help you and your husband.”

“Okay,” she replied.

You shot Dean a look and headed back to the car.

As the four of you drove, Molly spoke up. “We're supposed to be in Lake Tahoe.”

“You and David?” Sam asked.

“It's our five-year anniversary,” she nodded.

“A hell of an anniversary,” Dean muttered, almost making you laugh. However, you were too focused on keeping a hand on your gun in case she made one wrong move.

���Right before, we were having the dumbest fight,” she sighed. “It was the only time we ever really argued; when we were stuck in the car.”

Sam laughed. “Yeah. I know how that goes.”

Dean scowled at him, making you smile.

“You know the last thing I said to him? I called him a jerk. Oh, god. What if that's the last thing I said to him?” she cried.

The younger Winchester turned to face her. “Molly, we're gonna figure out what happened to your husband. I promise.”

Suddenly, the radio started flickering. Its whirring and crackling soon turned to the opening notes of “House of the Rising Sun” by the Animals.

“Sam, you didn’t—?” you started.

He shook his head.

Dean sighed. “I was afraid you'd say that.”

“This song…” Molly trailed off.

“What?” you questioned.

“It was playing when we crashed,” she breathed out.

The radio crackled again, and settled on another disturbing station. A voice began to fill the car coming over the radio. “She's mine,” the voice taunted. “She's mine. She's mine.”

“What is that?” Molly asked.

Jonah Greeley suddenly appeared in the middle of the road.

Dean began flooring it straight at him. “Hold on.”

“What are you doing?” she shrieked as Dean drove into Greeley, who disappeared in a puff of smoke.

“What the... What the hell just happened?” Molly breathed.

“Don't worry, Molly. Everything's gonna be alright,” Sam coaxed.

“I wouldn’t hold your breath,” you quipped as the Impala began to shudder. It coasted to a stop on the side of the road.

Dean tried to start it again, but the ignition sputtered. “I don't think he's gonna let her leave.”

You got out of the car, hand still on your gun. 

Dean put a hand on the small of your back, cooly saying, “Relax” into your ear. A shudder went through your spine at the contact, but you did your best to release the tension you were holding in your body.

“That’s my girl,” he said, more to himself than you. 

Your heart swelled with pride just as Molly started to panic on the other side of the car. “This can't be happening.”

“Well, trust me. It's happening,” Dean remarked. He moved to the back of the car and started pulling weapons out of the trunk.

Molly came around and noticed the arsenal, immediately backing away. “Okay. Thanks for helping, but I think I got it covered from here.”

“Wait. Molly, Molly, wait a minute,” Sam begged, chasing after her.

“Just leave me alone.”

“No, no, no. Please. You have to listen to me,” he told her.

“Just stay away!” Molly started walking faster.

“It wasn't a coincidence that we found you, alright?” Sam told her.

“Oh, here we go,” you told Dean.

“What are you talking about?” the blonde asked defensively.

“We weren't just cruising for chicks when we ran into you, sister,” Dean snarked. “We were already out here. Hunting.”

“Hunting for what?” Molly questioned.

“Ghosts.”

“Don’t sugarcoat it for her,” you deadpanned.

“You're nuts,” she laughed in disbelief.

“Really? About as nuts as a vanishing guy with his guts spilling out. You know what you saw,” Dean pressed.

“We think his name is Jonah Greeley. He was a local farmer that died fifteen years ago on this highway,” Sam explained despite Molly begging him to stop. “One night a year, on the anniversary of his death, he haunts this road. That's why we're here, Molly. To try and stop him.”

It seemed like this was starting to make sense to her. “Now, I suppose this... ghost… made my car disappear, too.”

“Crazier things have happened, huh?” Dean replied.

“You know what? I'm all filled up on crazy. I'm gonna get the cops myself.” She started away.

“Not to be harsh, but you’re not gonna get far,” you called after her.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she scoffed, turning back.

“Means that plan A was trying to get you out of here. Obviously that didn't go over too well with, uh, Farmer Roadkill,” Dean informed.

“Molly, we're telling the truth,” said Sam. “Greeley's not gonna let you leave this highway.”

“You're s— you're serious about this, aren't you?”

Dean nodded. “Deadly.”

‘No pun intended there, I’m sure,’ you thought.

“Every year, Greeley finds someone to punish for what happened to him. Tonight, that person is you,” Sam told Molly.

“Why me? I didn't do anything,” she cried.

“Doesn't matter. Some spirits only see what they want,” Sam shrugged.

“So you're saying this ... Greeley, he took my husband? Oh, god,” she wailed.

Sam caught her gaze again. “Molly, look, we're gonna help, all right? But first, you gotta help us.”

“Help you?” she questioned. “How?”

*** Molly led you over to a deteriorating hunting cabin where she saw Greeley. You walked in behind Dean, only slightly unsettled by the numerous blood-stained tools scattered around the room. Hunting ghosts, chopping them up— sure, no problem; Animals? They were off-limits in your mind. 

“Huh. Seemed like a real sweet guy,” Dean commented upon taking in the bloodstained metal table.

“No markers or headstones outside,” Sam told you and Dean.

“You're looking for Greeley's grave?” Molly asked.

Sam nodded.

“Why?”

“So we can dig up the corpse and salt and burn it,” Dean responded nonchalantly.

“Oh. Sure, naturally,” the blonde scoffed.

“It's a way to get rid of a spirit,” Sam told her.

“And that'll save David?” Molly asked.

“Well, this is what'll help both of you, provided there's a corpse to be found,” Sam replied. You could tell the truth was burning on his tongue.

“So how do we find it?” Molly continued.

“I'm not sure. After Greeley died, his wife claimed the body. And that was the last anyone saw of her. So good guess she brought him back here. But they had a thousand acres. He could be buried anywhere on 'em,” Sam said.

“So this is really what you guys do? You're like Ghostbusters?”

“Minus the jumpsuits,” you remarked.

Briskly, Dean started, “This is a fascinating conversation and all, but this highway is only haunted once a year, and we got till sun-up to wrap this thing up. What do you say we move it along, okay? Great.”

You followed Dean outside to search for Greely’s corpse or his house.

“Can’t say I’m enjoying babysitting Casper,” you whispered to Dean.

“Me neither,” he chuckled.

“Any thoughts on what’s got her stuck?” you asked.

“Probably the fact that she doesn’t know she’s dead,” he shrugged.

“But… why would that matter?” you questioned.

“I guess you can’t move on if you don’t even know you have to,” he said.

“Makes sense,” you considered. 

“David? David? David!” you suddenly heard Molly screaming behind you. She then yelped in shock, and you immediately raised your shotgun loaded with rocksalt and shot above Molly’s head at Greeley, who was holding her above the ground. He disappeared upon the round’s impact and dropped Molly.

“Nice,” Dean told you.

“Thanks,” you grinned.

“Hey! Are you alright?” Sam asked Molly.

“What has that son of a bitch done with my husband?” Molly shrieked.

“Just take it easy, alright? You're gonna see David again. You will,” Sam told her.

You noticed uneven cobblestone starting under your feet. “Hey!” you called to them.

Dean jerked his head in your direction. “Follow the creepy brick road.”

You followed closely behind Dean, blocking out Sam having to recap how ghost hunting works to Molly.

“You know, just once I'd like to round the corner and see a nice house,” Dean commented as you turned toward a slowly decaying house. It was similarly built to the smaller hunting cabin you’d first stumbled upon. You stumbled around the house, searching for any sign of Greeley or his body.

Molly and Sam stuck together at the back of the pack, and Dean stayed outside to look around. You headed up the stairs to look around. Upon doing so, you found a slew of papers strewn about. You searched through a few of them, only finding receipts, scrapbook pages, and to-do lists; nothing about a potential burial site. 

Sam and Molly soon made their way into the room and you tuned out their conversation about vengeful spirits as you poked around a wall that seemed strange to you. 

Dean appeared at the doorway. “Sammy's always getting a little J. Love Hewitt when it comes to things like this. Me, I don't like 'em. And I sure as hell ain't making apologies for 'em. There's nothing downstairs. You find anything?”

“Uh, just about every piece of mail or receipt they ever had. Looked through a couple, but nothing about a grave so far,” Sam explained.

“There’s somethin’ back here, though,” you said, referencing the wall. You tossed your flashlight to Sam. You dug the balls of your feet into the floor against the adjoining wall and shoved the cabinet in your way over a bit. You revealed a small hidden door, and you dusted your hands off on your jeans as you crouched to it. “It’s locked from the inside,” you announced.

“Move over,” Dean told you. When he saw you were clear, he threw a back kick at the door. You were surprised to see the door still upright. So was Dean, to your amusement. He gave it yet another kick, and it finally fell inward.

You crawled through the opening with Dean hot on your heels. “It smells like old lady in here,” he grimaced. 

You stood, shocked to see a woman hanging by her neck from the ceiling. “Jesus, that explains why,” you cringed, covering your nose with the back of your sweater sleeve. 

“Well, now we know why nobody ever saw her again,” Dean commented.

“She didn't want to live without him,” Molly cooed sadly.

Sam found a chair the woman had assumedly knocked from under her feet when she passed away. “Dean, give me a hand.”

“Really?” Dean scoffed.

“What are you gonna do?” Molly questioned.

Sam gave his brother a scolding look. “We can't leave her like this.”

“Why not?”

“She deserves to be put to rest, Dean.”

You gave Dean a look as well, and he reluctantly agreed. He moved toward the woman’s body as Sam cut her down, cursing under his breath when it dropped into his arms; either at the smell or the fact that he was holding a corpse.

You helped the boys dig a grave for the woman, and Dean gently laid her in it.

“So... So, if you manage to put Greeley to rest, too... What happens to them?” Molly asked. 

Dean chuckled. “Lady, that answer is way beyond our pay grade.”

“You hunt these things, but you don't know what happens to them?” she pushed.

“Well, they never come back. That's all that matters.”

“Agreed,” you chimed in, but you knew the answer wasn’t satisfying her. “Look, once we get ‘em to let go of whatever’s keeping ‘em here, they just… go. Honestly, I hope some place better, but I don’t know. No one does.”

“What happens when you burn their bones?” she continued.

“Well,” Sam began, “my dad used to say that was like death for ghosts, you know? But… the truth is, we still don't know. Not for sure.” He looked over at Dean. “Guess that's why we all hold on to life so hard. Even the dead. We're all just scared of the unknown.”

“The only thing I'm scared of is losing David. I have to see him again.” Molly paused for a long while. “I have to.” ***

You stood next to the two brothers after you left Molly in a room next door to the one you were in the house. Sam said he needed to talk to you both. 

“I think we should tell her about her husband,” Sam sighed.

“Oh, hell no,” you told him. 

“(Y/N), it's cruel, letting her pine for him like this. I don't like keeping her in the dark.”

“It's for her own good.” Dean got up from the chair behind you. “Man, I know you feel guilty, all right? But let's just stick to the plan. Let's get her out of here. Then we'll tell her.”

Molly suddenly appeared at the door. “Tell me what? What aren't you telling me? It's about David. You know what happened to him.”

“Molly—” Sam began.

Dean cut him off. “Sam, don't.”

“Don't what? Don't tell me because I'll mess up your hunt? You don't care about me or my husband,” the blonde angrily said.

“That's not true.”

“Really? Then whatever it is, tell me, please.”

The younger brother swallowed, hesitating. Before he could say anything, a radio distantly went static. Then, it played “House of the Rising Sun.”

“Oh, great,” you grumbled.

“Stay with Molly,” Dean told Sam. He jerked his head at you to get you to follow him toward the sound. You followed the sound toward the living room, getting louder with each step. Dean stooped next to the radio and picked up a frayed, broken power cord. You heard another noise and headed to the door. It frosted over, revealing the words “She’s mine.”

You heard a scream and ran back to the room you left Sam and Molly in.

“He's got Molly!” Sam pointed out the broken window.

You jumped through it, running through the woods. You ran for a few minutes before you cursed under your breath, chest heaving. You returned to the house and started flipping through a scrapbook.

“This guy is persistent,” Dean said, coming up beside you.

“We gotta find Molly,” Sam huffed.

“We gotta find Greeley's bones,” Dean added. “And, uh, no pressure or anything, but we got less than two hours before sunrise.”

You noticed something in a picture of the hunting cabin with the Greeleys standing in front of it. “Hey.”

“What do you got?” Dean questioned.

“ 'February 6, 1992’,” you read aloud.

“That was, like, two weeks before the accident, wasn't it?” Sam chimed in.

“Yeah, but… something seems off. I swear there’s a tree right where they’re standing.” You tapped the picture.

“I should've thought of it,” Sam scolded himself.

“What?” you and Dean asked in unison.

“It's an old country custom,” Sam explained. “Planting a tree as a grave marker.”

Dean chuckled. “You're like a walking encyclopedia of weirdness.”

“Yeah. I know,” Sam deadpanned somewhat bitterly.

You broke off in a sprint toward the hunting cabin with a shovel in hand. You immediately began digging around the tree. You suddenly heard a scream as the brothers came up beside you. 

“Go get Molly,” you instructed Dean, who nodded and headed inside.

Sam began helping you dig around the tree. You dug in silence feverishly until Sam said, “Hey, I got something over here.”

“Hurry up, guys!” you heard Dean distantly yell.

You looked into the spot where Sam was digging to discover a set of bones carefully laid in an open grave. You ducked down to the duffel bag beside Sam and handed him a container of salt as you searched around for the kerosene. Quickly, you stood back up and emptied the kerosene on top of the body as Sam finished salting the bones. Sam lit a match he’d grabbed and dropped it on top of the bones which immediately ignited into a roaring fire.  

Dean came out of the house with Molly, and you noticed a deep gash on Dean’s cheek. You ran to him as Molly continued ahead to Sam. You gingerly touched the wound, and he hissed in pain.

“When this is over, I need to patch that up,” you told him.

“I’m fine, (Y/N),” he insisted.

“Stop being so hardheaded. I need to fix it up before it gets infected,” you argued.

Dean grumbled, “Fine,” and followed Molly and Sam to the Impala. He patted the hood of his car lovingly. “Oh, baby, it's been a long night,” he cooed, dropping his bag in the backseat and climbing into the driver’s seat.

You rolled your eyes at him, and got down into the seat behind him.

You saw Sam arguing with Molly outside of the car, but couldn’t quite make out what they were saying. You then saw her smile in relief before eagerly climbing into the car next to you.

Wordlessly, Sam and Dean exchanged a look. You figured Sam told her he’d take her to David. Dean then drove a route you’d taken before to the man’s house. You pulled up to the lovely suburban home, light emanating from it into the dark night.

“He's in that house, right there,” Sam told Molly.

Her shoulders dropped and formerly cheery expression changed. “I don't understand.”

“You will.”

You got out of the car and stood next to Dean. 

Molly’s breath quickened. “That's— not— It can't be.”

You watched the woman carefully, and for the first time, felt bad for a vengeful spirit. You watched as David stood dressed in a bathrobe holding a steaming cup of liquid, sipping it before a woman came up to him and pecked him on the lips.

“What's happening?” Molly questioned. “Who is that?”

“David’s wife,” you answered. 

She turned back to the house, confused, before turning back to you and the Winchesters.

“I'm sorry, Molly,” Sam began softly. “Fifteen years ago, you and your husband hit Jonah Greeley with your car. David survived.”

“What are you saying?” The blonde’s voice wavered.

“We're saying there isn't just one spirit haunting Highway 41,” Dean added. “There are two. Jonah Greeley and you.”

“For the past fifteen years, one night a year you've been appearing on that highway,” explained the younger brother.

“No, that's not possible. It was our anniversary… February 22nd—”

“1992,” you cut her off.

“Yes,” she responded, looking at you like you were stupid.

“It’s 2007,” you finished.

“Oh, god,” she cried. “And Greeley?” 

“Each year he punishes somebody for his death... ah, chasing them. Torturing them. And each year, that somebody is you,” the brunet explained.

“But I don't remember any of it.”

“Because you couldn't see the truth, Molly. Some spirits only see what they want,” Sam told her.

“So that's why he won't let me off the highway. Because... I killed him. I killed us both.” Molly shakily moved over to the front steps of the house. You followed her over as she inquired, “Why didn't you tell me when you first saw me? Why wait until now?”

“You wouldn't have believed us,” Dean replied.

She looked up t0 Dean, stating accusingly, “And you needed me for bait.”

“Well, we needed you,” Sam chimed in.

“David,” she breathed out.

The younger brother sighed. “Molly, we brought you here so you could move on.”

“I have to tell him—” 

You cut her off. “Tell him what? That you love him? That you’re sorry? I’m sure he knows that. You go in there, you’re gonna scar him for life. He’s already grieved you. Let him move on.”

“David's already said his goodbyes, Molly,” Sam continued. “Now it's your turn. This is your unfinished business.”

“What am I supposed to do?” she sobbed.

“Just... let go. Of David. Of everything. You do that, we think you'll move on,” he explained.

“But you don't know where.”

“No, but that’s okay,” you said. “You don’t belong here.”

“Haven't you suffered long enough? It's time. It's time to go,” Sam finished for you.

She nodded sadly, then slowly stepped away from you and the brothers. She moved down the road toward the rising sun, and allowed herself to become absorbed by the light dawning. 

“I guess she wasn't so bad... for a ghost,” Dean remarked. He turned to his younger brother. “You think she's really going to a better place?”

“I hope so,” he shrugged.

“I guess we'll never know. Not until we take the plunge ourselves, huh?” Dean quipped.

“Doesn't really matter, Dean. Hope's kind of the whole point.”

“Alright, Haley Joel.” He smacked Sam on the shoulder. “Let's hit the road.”

You and the brothers decided you needed to get some sleep a few towns over before searching for another case. These periods of down time between hunts were always bizarre; driving with no particular destination would always feel foreign to you no matter how many times you had done it.

***

You forced Dean to come to your motel room to let you patch up the few wounds he’d sustained from fighting Jonah Greeley’s ghost. 

“I really don’t think this is necessary,” he grumbled.

“I think it is. So, tough,” you said firmly. 

Dean looked like he wanted to protest, but he thankfully said nothing. You set to work bandaging his cheek, standing between his spread legs as he sat on the bathroom counter. “How’s your shoulder?”

“What?” he asked.

“The gunshot wound, maybe?” you remarked.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, ‘oh’,” you giggled, half-mocking him. 

“It’s fine. Barely even feel it,” he shrugged.

“Then I guess it won’t be a problem if I give it a once-over,” you challenged.

Dean cut his eyes back at you, but decided against arguing. He shrugged off his leather jacket, then his canvas jacket, then pulled his undershirt over his head. No matter how many times you’d seen Dean shirtless, the sight would always make your breath catch in your throat. He seemed to note your reaction, smirking at you wantonly.

You rolled your eyes, fighting an amused smile as you unwrapped the wound on his shoulder. It was getting better, but you were still concerned about the wound becoming infected. The bullet had lodged in him several inches deep, and it was certainly going to take more than a month to fully heal. Gingerly, you touched the skin around the wound, and Dean hissed and grabbed your wrist.

You looked up at him apologetically, but still mockingly said, “ ‘Barely even feel it’ my ass.”

He rolled his eyes at you and released your wrist. When you had it completely wrapped up, your fingers lingered over the edge of the dressings. Dean grabbed your wrist gently once more, bringing it to his lips and kissing the inside near your pulse point. Your breath hitched as he did so, and he stared at you intently. You shrank under his gaze, heat spreading through your cheeks, and his self-satisfied smirk returned to his face.

“There you go again,” you joked quietly. “Always cheapening the moment.”

He smiled, using his free hand to wrap around your waist and bring you closer to him. He took the wrist he’d been holding and wound it around his neck and leaned forward to kiss you. You responded eagerly, pushing him back down onto the bed. You grinned against his lips, getting lost in the feeling of his body against yours. However, the two of you didn’t have sex that night. It was just enough to be with each other. The idea of that was foreign to the both of you— especially Dean— but you were grateful all the same.

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @chervbs @simpingdeadcharacters @nesnejwritings @stillhere197 @tearsforhan @take-it-on-the-run @iloveyou2mia @maxinehufflepuffprincess @ohgeehowdigethere @seninjakitey @berarenado @s0urw00lf @princessleahorgana @quarterhorse19 @isla-finke-blog @silverdoragon @karacaroldanvers @gayandfairycore @examishbookwyrm @star-yawnznn @real-sharena-h @fandomloverrr @metalmonki @onlyangel-444 @yu-winchester @benniwiththefanni @daisychaingirl @immagods @missmieux @yoongi-holland @littledebbieinabigworld

[magics-neptunes-things]

La Comedia del Amor

Hi guys!

I miss Alexia so this is an Alexia fic. I hope you will also like it, it took me quite a while to write. Also I don't know how I feel about this one.

Have a good read!

Resume: Someone tries to interfere in your relationship, making your girlfriend believe that you are unfaithful to her. Spoiler, you are not.

TW: Mention of deception, manipulation

______________________________________________________________

Since the beginning of your relationship, you have made a habit of picking up Alexia at the airport when she returns to Barcelona. This is a precious and important moment for you, allowing you to find the woman you are in love with as quickly as possible.

At the beginning of your relationship, you waited wisely in your car, a little behind the crowd not to get caught. But since it’s now public knowledge that you are together, you don’t hesitate to go and wait in the arrivals hall. Alexia’s teammates don’t even tease her anymore, as they are used to your little routine.

With Alexia away from you for an international match, you salute Ale’s Spanish teammates playing for FC Barcelona. So like half the team. Alexia taking time to pass the security doors, you exchange with pleasure a few words with Ona and Cata until your beloved blonde finally arrives.

Smiling, you spread your arms for a hug and you are a little surprised by the strength with which she almost throws herself in them once arrived at your height. You let go of an amused little laugh and tightens her against you, smelling her hair, your previous interlocutors having left to leave you your intimacy.

"Hola mi Amor" you whisper before gently kissing her cheek.

"Hola" she responds quietly before smiling when you hand her the bouquet of flowers that you brought for her.

Mix of red roses and lemon blossoms, your mother being a florist she would risk disinheriting you if you didn’t pay attention to the flowers you choose. The lemon blossoms having the meaning of being a messenger of perfect union and eternal love, it seems to you rather well chosen. As for the roses, they are simply Alexia’s favorites.

"Is everything okay?" you ask Alexia once in your car.

Even though Alexia isn’t the most talkative person in the world, she has hardly spoken a word since you left the airport. On the other hand, you surprise her several times looking at you from the corner of her eyes. When you turn in her direction this time, she seems to be studying your face carefully.

"Yes, I’m just tired"

You give her a compassionate smile and gently place your hand on her thigh. A second later, you feel her hand on yours, squeezing it gently.

"I missed you" you tell her, looking at her again, your eyes passing from the road to Alexia’s face while driving.

"I missed you too" says the player before turning her head to look out the window. "How’s the movie going?"

"Good for now. But we just tried our clothes and made the readings for now"

Alexia hums, letting her gaze glide over the city as it passes before her eyes. You are an actress, it was at a charity event organized by FC Barcelona that you met Alexia. Being a pure Catalan product too, the club has tried several times to invite you for this event, but it never fit in your calendar. Except that that year, you got to go.

And we can’t say that you had the impression to make a good move with Alexia during this evening. Struck by the beauty of the captain, you tried for a long time to have a conversation with her. Realizing she was obviously not interested, you finally gave up and went sadly sip your drink somewhere else. Well, that was before she slipped into your DMs to apologize for her behavior the same night.

You’ll learn later that it was Jenni who forced her to write to you, having seen your interactions during the evening. And much, much, later that Alexia just panicked about the love at first sight she had about you too.

********

Gone all week for the profits of your film, it’s with great relief that you come out of Uber taking you back to the apartment you share with Alexia. Arriving early in the morning, it’s barely 8am when you push the front door. You didn’t ask Alexia to pick you up. Her hours of recovery are precious and you have a strong tendency to put her before the rest. Because of the time difference since you were in the States, you couldn’t talk to Alexia as much as you would have liked.

You knew she’d be up when you arrived, her morning routine never changing. What you certainly didn’t expect is to be welcomed by a real fury. You didn’t even have time to open your mouth as you almost got knocked out by a phone that crashes against the wall, a few inches from your face.

"What the…?"

"Did you cheat on me?" a shout goes up.

"What?"

The vision of your girlfriend is terrifying. First because she is visibly very angry, second because her green eyes you love so much are red and swollen, meaning that she must have cried for a long time before you arrived. And thirdly because she seems to be at the end of her nerves when she resumes speaking while shouting.

"You heard me. Did you cheat on me? Did you sleep with her?"

"Alexia, what are you talking about?"

You have been getting rid of your backpack and suitcase for a long time at this point, even if you didn't step further into the apartment. Leaning forward to grab Alexia’s phone that almost knocked you out, you mechanically glance at the screen. By miracle the phone only has a slight scratch, but that’s not what catches your attention. When you see the image open, you feel your stomach fall in your heels. Immediately looking back at Alexia, you hurry to talk.

"It’s not what you think"

"Don’t you have better than that?" Alexia laughed coldly.

The image certainly is disturbing. It shows you in a car with one of the actress with whom you share the movie poster. You just bend over to kiss her on the cheek and say goodbye, like two friends. Except that with the pixels left on the picture, we can wonder if it’s a kiss or a kiss that you are exchanging.

"Alexia I swear..."

"Don't touch me!"

You moved in her direction and reached out to touch her, but she retreats from you as quickly as if she had burned herself.

"First I get messages that tell me to beware of her and that you are far too close for it to be normal and then this? Don’t take me for an idiot Y/N"

"Who sent you messages?" you ask with a frown.

"It doesn’t matter! Fuck! I can’t believe you’re doing this to me!"

"But I did nothing!"

You raised your voice too, mixed between the panic that the situation inspires you and the annoyance of not being believed. You know Alexia doesn’t tolerate betrayal and lying. If she doesn’t change her mind, there are big risks to your story ending quickly.

"Stop lying!"

Alexia shout a last time at you before rushing to your bedroom and slamming the door, leaving you standing there with her phone still in your hand. Your heart break when you hear her crying behind the door. Deep and long sobs.

You wait a few seconds before knocking on the door.

"Ale?"

But no answer comes back to you, except a "fuck off" whispered a few seconds later. With a heavy heart, you will finally fall on the sofa of your living room. You impatiently wipe the tears rolling over your cheeks, wondering how you could switch to loving words exchanged on the phone before taking off at that, in just 16 hours.

Yes, well, you know. That famous picture. Your phone rings and a message from the other actress in the picture, Alicia, asks you if you arrived home, but you don’t answer her for the moment. The messages that Alexia mentioned to you come to your mind and you hesitate a split second before unlocking the screen and looking for them.

This is the first time you’ve searched in Alexia’s phone, even though you exchanged your codes a long time ago. Until now, you have always had blind trust in each other. You end up finding what you are looking for and the date of the messages tells you that they were send the night before Alexia returns from her international match.

From : Unknow Hola Alexia You have to keep an eye on Y/N Your precious girlfriend seems to get along too well with Alicia to be honest At the same time I understand it, you are constantly away She probably has physical needs, she’s Spanish after all, right? And Alicia is kind of hot ;)

Alexia never answer to this.

You’re nauseous just reading this, so you can’t imagine the state Alexia must have been in when she received these messages. Yet she didn’t tell you anything. You don’t know if it’s because she decided to trust you, if it’s because she found it unimaginable or because she was too afraid to talk to you about it. Unfortunately, the only person who can answer you is locked in your bedroom and refuses to speak to you.

After a few minutes of ruminating, you return to the door of your bedroom and knock again, more slowly this time.

"Alexia? Baby open to me please"

When the silence answers you, you sigh and let yourself go against the door until you find yourself sitting on the ground. Tired and suffering from jet lag, you lose track of time, lost in your thoughts. It's only when the door opens and you fall backwards that you come back to reality. Dressed to go out, Alexia has her gym bag in hand.

"Ale…" you start slowly, but you are quickly interrupted by your girlfriend’s cold voice.

"I have to go to the game. I don’t have time for your bullshit right now."

Within a few steps she got her phone back and got out of the apartment. After a few seconds, you grab yours and dial the number of the only person who can help you. A few bells ring before Jenni picks up.

"I’m not sure I want to hear from you, Y/N."

Alexia told her about the situation, you were almost sure of it. But she’s the only one who can make Alexia at least listening to you.

"I can imagine, but I swear this is all wrong, Jenni. I beg you, you have to help me…"

A silence answers you and you don’t know if Jenni is touched by your despair or if she can’t imagine you cheating on Alexia. Anyway, she finally sighs before answering you.

"Okay, I’ll be right there."

********

Jenni being injured and unable to train with her team, she is in Barcelona to see her relatives. It’s therefore only about twenty minutes later that she rings at the door of your apartment. You open the door and don’t even wait until she gets in to get back on your couch. Jennifer almost takes her feet in your bag that still hangs in the entrance, but you don’t react otherwise than by bringing your legs against your chest.

Sitting in front of you, Jenni looks at you for long seconds before speaking.

"Alexia is one of the most important people to me. I'll help you, but i need you to tell me only the truth."

With your throat knotted, you just nod your head, looking at your feet.

"Do you know who sent those messages?" Jenni asks.

"No" you whisper

"Did you cheat on Alexia?"

"No!" you answer louder.

"Are you interested in this Alicia in a way you shouldn’t?"

"Of course not!" you answer, frankly annoyed this time." You know I’m crazy about Alexia, why would I risk losing her that way? When we started dating, I promised you I would never hurt her and I really meant it. I love her. There’s only her."

Jenni looks at you thoughtfully for a few seconds, her face framed by her long black hair. Then she nods before resuming speech.

"Okay, sorry I had to ask. Now we’re gonna have to find out who’s behind this, or it’s not gonna stop and even get worse."

********

Alexia didn’t come home tonight after her game. You waited a long time for her after Jenni left, who assured she knew someone who could find the sender of the messages. You don’t know who she went to, probably Mapi. She's one of her closest friends.

You sent Alexia several unanswered messages, despite the notifications that she read them. You took the opportunity to repeat to her that you had nothing to reproach you, that you love her and ask her to come back home. Even if she didn’t answer it, you’re hoping that repeating those words will make her believe you.

It's by receiving a new message from Alicia that you realize that you haven't replied to her since earlier. So you simply answer her that you have arrived well and that you will see her again soon. You leave her message unanswered again when she offers you to go for a breakfast tomorrow morning. It's out of the question to leave the apartment and take the risk of missing Alexia’s return.

Despite your fatigue, you have been struggling all night not to fall asleep, going for a cool shower when you feel that your body can no longer fight against sleep. The day goes by without news of your girlfriend, despite the messages you continue to send her regularly. Alexia continues to read them, without answering you.

It’s only on Monday that you finally left your apartment, accepting a new proposal from Alicia to go for a coffee. You agree, as long as it’s close to your apartment. You really don’t want to mingle with the cheerful crowd of the people of Barcelona today, all you want is to keep the entrance of your building within sight.

You don’t know if Alicia heard about the photo or the article, if so she doesn’t mention it and you’re grateful for it. You really don’t want to talk about it. As you sit down at the table, your phone starts ringing, making you hope it’s Alexia. You can’t hide your disappointed face by seeing that it’s only Jenni’s name that appears. You pick up, however, hoping you can get some news from her. Apologizing to Alicia, you get up from the table to answer outside the café.

"Jenni?" you just say by leaning against the wall at the entrance of the establishment.

"Hola Chica. Where are you?"

The noise of traffic next to you isn't very discreet, you are not surprised by the question.

"At the coffee shop downstairs the apartment with Alicia."

"Okay. Get out of there quick."

"What? Why?"

"Don’t be as stubborn as Alexia and obey me for once, for God’s sake you’re unbearable, both of you!"

You are surprised by the striker’s outburst, but your surprise is quickly erased by another voice you hear grumbling behind her. You’re sure it’s Alexia’s. Your heart is racing and you’re peeling off the wall you were leaning on.

"Is that Alexia? Is she with you?"

"Madre mia. Yes. Now obey, go away from there, without turning back."

"Ok fine, I’m going home" you sigh softly.

Without hanging up, you do what she tells you. Maybe she’s half-crazy, but she has the advantage of being with Alexia. If she asked you to walk in on your hands, you would do it as long as you could talk to your girlfriend. However, as you enter the elevator of your building, Jenni surprises you once again.

"Ok, I’ll hang up now"

"What? No Jenni wait!"

Despite your attempts to call her back, she doesn't answer and it's by dropping a "Joder" that you finally open the door, after giving a punch in it.

"What a language for a young lady like you"

You jump when you realize that someone is in your apartment, relaxing when you realize that it's Jenni with an amused smile. Then your gaze quickly travels in search of a head with blond hair, only to fall on the head of thirty man with hair as dark as Jenni's.

"He's not Alexia" you mumble by crossing your arms on your chest.

Jenni rolls her eyes but cannot hide her amused smile, seeing the many feelings passing on your face.

"No, this is my cousin Mario."

"I want to see Ale" you whisper, your voice breaking on the last syllable.

Your despair is more than visible and you even hesitate to get on your knees to beg her. The disappointment is equal of the hope that you had to see her again, even if it lasted only two seconds.

"Not now" Jenni replies in a soft voice, as if hoping it hurts you less.

You sigh and close your eyes, trying to swallow your tears. You’ve been crying enough these past few days not to burst into tears in front of your girlfriend’s best friend. You don’t see the hesitant look that she exchange with Mario, nor the look of the brunette who flickers towards your bedroom, where Alexia has entrenched herself for the moment.

You didn’t wonder how Jenni got into the apartment because you’re so lost, but she’s the one who let them in. Sitting against the door of your room, Alexia listens carefully to your conversation. She too has gone through a thousand emotions in recent days and she is not sure she can face you until everything is settled in this story. Still, the urge to come and hug you is not what it lacks.

However, the four of you are surprised in your respective thoughts when your phone starts ringing.

"Who is it?" Jenni asks

"I don’t care" you pout like a teenager.

Sighing softly, Jenni grabs your phone and displays a satisfied look when seeing who is trying to reach you.

"Alicia. Perfect."

If you arch an eyebrow, Alexia tightens her jaw by hearing the name that she hates with all her soul now. And the fact that Mario has the same smile as his cousin loses you even more.

"I need you to answer the phone, tell her you had to rush back to your apartment but she can come to you. I’ll explain to you later."

You understand less and less what is happening, but you obey quickly, not wishing to attract the wrath of the brunette once again. The call only lasts a few seconds but you see Mario working on his computer at the same time.

"She’s coming" you mumble, widening your eyes when Jenni takes your face in her hands.

"Perfect. Now listen to me carefully. Mario managed to trace the personne who send the messages to Alexia and connect to his phone. This is the same person who contacted the journalists to take a picture of you in the car and it's still her who contacted journalists to come and take a picture of you right now."

"I don’t understand. Take a picture of what?"

"You and Alicia"

"But there is nothing to take pictures of!" You start panicking again "We would have just had coffee and I would have come back here right after… without her!" you suddenly add by realizing how can be taken your sentence. "I didn’t… I never…"

"Y/N focus please" says Jenni, spanning her finger behind your eyes.

You close your eyes and take a deep breath, trying to relax the ball that is your current nerve.

"I never cheated on Alexia" you repeat for what you feel is the hundredth time, desperately.

"I know chica. That’s why I need you to talk about the pictures with her, about Alexia seeing them and breaking up with you because of it. Which is not the case!"

Your panicked look didn’t escape her. Nothing seems to escape her these past few days, not even your innocence. She should have been an investigator.

"How’s that gonna prove to Alexia that I didn’t do anything?" you ask while arching an eyebrow.

But the doorbell rings and Jenni gives you a menacing look before running away to your room dragging Mario with her, almost crushing Alexia against the wall. You take the time to take a deep breath before opening the front door. You don’t need to put on a fake tortured face, your stress can be the case in the circumstances described by Jenni. You’re an actress after all, and you can act to save your relationship.

"Is everything okay?" Alicia asks, worried, the door barely open.

You nod and make her come in, absolutely unaware that Mario has installed a camera allowing them to follow the action from the bed of your room, where he's installed with Jenni and Alexia. She gradually becomes aware that the betrayal she thought she was suffering is not real, but if she needs video proof Jenni and Mario will give her.

"Not really" you mumble quietly before waving her to settle on the couch.

"What is happening?"

Alicia puts her hand on your knee with a sympathetic look, but the gesture fully make Alexia’s body tense. You don’t really realize the move yourself.

"Alexia saw pictures of both of us that can be confusing. She didn’t take it very well. She just left me"

"Oh... I'm so sorry"

The voice you use to speak doesn't have to be changed, despite you the memories of this fight remain deep in you. You still don’t know that your girlfriend now believes in your innocence.

"I’m going to slit her throat alive" Alexia mumbles between her teeth as Alicia discreetly approaches you on the couch, her knee against yours.

"Not now" Jenni mutters in return, putting a hand on Alexia’s mouth to silence her, without leaving the screen with her eyes.

The place you chose on the couch to sit doesn't allow them to have the best angle of view, but at least they can perfectly hear what you say and have a complete view of Alicia’s face. Yours is sometimes half masked.

"The worst is that I have nothing to blame myself about. I don't understand how she can imagine that I want to be with someone else"

"Well maybe she doesn’t deserve you, if she doesn’t trust you"

Surprise, you look up at Alicia. She and Alexia never really met, the times when Alexia is accompanying you for the first visits with the producers for example, Alicia was never around.

"What do you mean?"

"Nothing more. Trust is the cement of a couple, if they don’t trust how you want it to work? Maybe you should find someone who can offer you more than that"

You blink several times while looking at her before frowning. Your vulnerability almost made you forget the role Jenni asked you to play. If Alexia doubted, it was only because of the machinations of the person wishing to separate you and her.

It’s only when you feel her putting a strand of your hair back behind your ear before leaning towards you for the obvious purpose of kissing you that the pieces of the puzzle come together.

"It was you" you whisper, breathless because of the surprise.

"What?"

A little unhappy, she backs away as you jump off the couch, hands trembling.

"The messages to Alexia, the fake photos, it was you! How could I be stupid enough not to realize it before?"

Alicia also got up to get closer to you again, grabbing your arm in the process.

"Of course it was me! I knew we needed a little help to get together. I’ve been crazy about you since day one Y/N. I knew Alexia would stop us from being together, all I had to do was get her away from you. And it worked pretty well."

You’re so stunned that you waste three seconds wondering if you were the victim of a hidden camera or something. Unfortunately, Alicia takes advantage of these three seconds to get dangerously close to you, once again hopping to kiss you.

"Let go of my girlfriend!"

Alexia’s voice resounds with as much force as the sound of the slap she addresses to Alicia a few moments later. It’s definitely too much information for your brain these last few seconds and you have the impression that it makes a reset while watching Alicia leave your home under the insults of Alexia.

You see from the corner of the eye Mario who seems to have a lot of fun and Jenni with a satisfied smile displayed on the face. But you focus instead on Alexia, who you didn’t know was there, who suddenly turns to you.

"And you!"

She points her finger at you and keeps talking loudly, making you back up to the wall behind you. But Alexia follows you, stopping only a few inches from you, her finger now leaning against your chest.

"Never again dare to make me live a period like this."

Her voice is just a whisper and you can finally look into her for the first time in an eternity. Her eyes are bright with fatigue, the dark circles below testify to the lack of sleep she suffered. You sigh of relief when she lets her forehead go against yours and passes your arms around her waist to finally feel her against you.

"Never again" you promise

She nods several times before letting out a small sob and burying her face in the hollow of your neck.

"We’re leaving" Jenni speaks and you turn your attention on her. "Mario turned off the camera so if you want to practice your makeup sex on the couch, you can. But please, have a conversation before."

Alexia has a wet little laugh in the hollow of your neck and once the door of your apartment closes, you gently take her chin in your hand so you can look at her. You have a lot to discuss and you will be much more comfortable on the sofa than against a wall.

********

A few hours later, you are in bed and not on the couch as Jenni had suggested. You got all of Alexia’s explanations about how things have been going these past few days. She did sleep a few nights at Mapi and Ingrid’s place, although Jenni has indeed often been in the equation. You then gave her your vision of the facts, even if you don’t have much to tell her. You just waited to hear from Jenni while harassing Alexia with messages.

You took a long time to celebrate your reunion and now you are simply lying, enjoying each other. You have your head resting on Alexia’s chest, listening to her heartbeat. Finding back her scent makes you feel good too, you always found that she smelled like the sun and flowers. One of her hands is playing with your fingers and the other is simply placed in the hollow of your back.

"I have one more question"

"Mmmh?"

Alexia’s voice, although very sweet, breaks the silence between you. You start drawing shapes on her belly with your other hand, smiling when you feel her muscles contracting under your fingers.

"Why didn’t you ask me to pick you up at the airport when you came back from Nevada?"

"So that you can rest as much as possible and be ready for your game. And I thought that maybe we could have lunch together before I came to see you at the stadium."

"Oh."

Alexia’s response makes you face up in her direction. She has slightly furrowed eyebrows and bites her lip and you are suddenly curious to know what makes her ask you this question.

"Why?"

Alexia looks embarrassed and carefully avoids your look when she answers you.

"I told myself that it was simply to gain a few more minutes with her"

When she turns her eyes towards the window, you realize that they are wet with tears and you feel your heart break.

"Oh Mi Amor…" you whisper as you climb up to have your face in front of her. "I just wanted you to get as much rest as possible. I know the game days are tiring."

"I wasn’t lying to you when I told you it was the worst time of my life, nothing to do with my ACL last year. It was like…"

"As if your heart was constantly being crushed? I know"

You are not the only one to have cried and suffered these last days, you realize it. And even more so when Alexia nods, relieved to know that you can understand her without her having to formulate her sentences entirely.

"It's over now. I'm here and yours. Only yours, as long as you want me."

You put several kisses on her lips, savoring each of them.

Until Alexia grabs your neck to prolong the next one and imprisons your lips in a long and sensual kiss, announcing the second round of the night. After all, you’ll have plenty of time to talk a little later.

[annewithaneofthegreengable]

CHAPTER 1: Baby Miracle My Masterlist

Author’s note: I imagine her to be born in 2009-ish! Requests and ideas are always welcome in my inbox! 

Taglist: If you would like to be added to the taglist please comment down below for me to know!

Sebastian Vettel was many things. A son of Heike and Norbert Vettel, a younger and much more annoying brother to Stephanie and Melanie, an older brother to Fabian, a Formula 1 driver (now retired), an inspiration to many young people, and now he is the one who has rewritten the whole history in Formula One by winning his first Grand Prix in a Toro Rosso’s car no less. This was finally his time, that’s what he thought when he set foot on that top-step podium alongside Heikke Kovalinen and Robert Kubica. He was over the moon at the party they threw for him, drink after drink, the music was blasting louder than the V6 engine at some point during the celebration. On the dance floor, sweaty people were having fun and swaying together. Honestly, Sebastian couldn’t remember much about that day, just that he was leaving with a girl and spending the night together.

Much to his information, three months later a woman reached out to him and told him that she was pregnant with his child. At first, he panicked and worried about how he would balance his promising racing career with the responsibilities of being a parent. But when the woman showed him the ultrasound picture, everything changed. Seeing that tiny blob on the screen stirred something deep within him, and he knew that he wanted to be a father. Sebastian never thought that he would be a young father at the age of 21, but as he looked at the ultrasound picture, he felt a sudden rush of excitement and determination. He knew that this child was his responsibility, and he was ready to do whatever it took to be a good father, even if it meant juggling parenting with his career in Formula One. As he held the picture in his hand, he couldn't help but feel a sense of disbelief and wonder at the miracle of life.

The weeks that followed were filled with a mixture of emotions for Sebastian. On one hand, he was looking forward to the arrival of his child, eagerly preparing the nursery and buying baby clothes. On the other hand, he was also nervous about the challenges that lay ahead. He knew that being a father would mean making sacrifices and putting his child's needs ahead of his own. But despite the challenges, Sebastian felt a sense of purpose and excitement for the future. He was determined to make things work, both as a racing driver and as a father. With the announcement of his impending fatherhood, Sebastian also faced the public scrutiny and media attention. Suddenly, his personal life was put under the microscope, and people were eager to know every detail about the mother of his child. But Sebastian remained tight-lipped, determined to keep his private life out of the spotlight. He wanted to shield his child from the cameras and the paparazzi. Despite the curiosity from the media and the fans, Sebastian maintained his focus on his racing career and preparation for fatherhood. However, Sebastian was heartbroken when the mother left just one month after the birth of their baby without so much as a word or goodbye. Now Sebastian was left alone to raise his child, feeling hopeless and confused. He struggled to cope with the intense emotions and the constant stress of being a single parent, while also trying to maintain his racing career and deal with the press and media attention. It seemed like every interview and press conference he attended, there were always reporters who tried to bring up the subject of the mother of his child. Sebastian had grown weary of repeating himself and explaining the same things over and over again, and he was starting to feel like it was a never-ending cycle of intrusion and speculation.

Despite the challenges and distractions he faced as a young father, Sebastian managed to win the Formula One driving championship with Red Bull when his baby girl, his Mein Häschen was just few months old. Sebastian Vettel stood on the podium, clutching the winner's trophy tightly in his hands. The sound of the crowd cheering echoed in his ears, and he couldn't help but feel a rush of emotions coursing through him. It was a moment he had worked so hard for, and now it had finally arrived. As he held the trophy aloft, he felt a sense of accomplishment that he had never felt before. But then, his eyes caught sight of something in the stands that made his heart skip a beat. It was his mother, holding his baby girl in her arms. Sebastian couldn't help but feel a sudden wave of relief and pride wash over him as he saw his mother holding his daughter. At that moment, all the stress and pressure of his racing career seemed to melt away. Seeing his child in the arms of his mother, who had been such a huge source of support and stability in his life, brought a deep sense of peace and happiness to Sebastian's heart. Despite all the challenges he had faced as a young father and a racing driver, seeing his daughter and his family together on the biggest day of his life made everything worthwhile.

As the cheers from the crowd began to fade, Sebastian's thoughts turned to the future. He knew that this victory was just the beginning and that there were still many challenges and obstacles ahead. But as he held his trophy aloft and posed for the cameras while soaked in champagne, he felt a renewed sense of determination and confidence. He had already proven that he could balance his racing career and his responsibilities as a father, and he was more determined than ever to keep doing so. He wanted to be a good role model for his daughter, someone who could juggle the demands of his profession without sacrificing his family for the sake of his career. As Sebastian approached the garage, he was greeted by a throng of well-wishers congratulating him on his victory. Reporters and cameramen shoved microphones and cameras in his face, trying to get a quote or a comment from the man of the moment. But Sebastian was focused on one thing - getting back to his team, his friends, and most importantly, his family, his Mein Häschen.

Finally, he spotted her - his little girl was wide-eyed and alert, her gaze fixed on her father as he approached. Sebastian felt a rush of relief and happiness wash over him as he reached out to take his daughter from his mother's arms, holding her firmly and close to his chest. Despite being just eight months old, she seemed incredibly alert and observant, her gaze always focused intently on the faces of the people around her. Her tiny hands were grasping at the fabric of her father's shirt as he held her, and she let out a soft coo of contentment as she snuggled against his chest. He whispered softly into her ear, "Papa's got you, Mein Häschen," using the nickname he had given her. He stroked her soft hair and looked down into her wide, curious eyes as she gazed up at him, her tiny hands grabbing at his shirt. Despite feeling physically exhausted, he knew that holding his child in his arms gave him the energy and strength to keep going. Sebastian gently rocked his daughter back and forth in his arms, taking in the sweet smell of her baby skin and the warmth of her little body against his chest. Despite the chaos and adrenaline of the race and the celebration that was still going on around them, he found himself feeling incredibly calm and centered in this moment.

He whispered softly to her, "You're Papa's little miracle, you know that, right? You're the best thing that's ever happened to me." The baby girl looked up at her father with a wide, gummy smile, her eyes seeming to light up at the sound of his voice. She let out a soft gurgling sound that might have been a laugh, and her tiny fists clutched at the fabric of his shirt. Her small body seemed to relax even more in his arms, her head resting comfortably against his chest. Despite her young age, it was as if she already understood the love and affection that her father had for her, and she responded to his words with a sense of contentment and joy.

Taglist: @tammyfortis @pear-1206 @tammyfortis @gaypoetsblog @formula1-motogpfan @clearwolfbatrebel-blog

[miraclewoozi]

DRIVE. - l.c

DRIVE -- or, the night you realise it's actually very hard to stay mad at the guy who shows up at your house, throwing stones at your window on a Thursday night, to try and fix something that was your mistake in the first place.

pairing : chan x fem reader. content : fwb > lovers. angst, smut (MINORS DO NOT HAVE MY CONSENT TO INTERACT), fluff. more or less in that order. they’re both dumb as hell. not explicitly put in any detail but this was written with a more 70s vibe in mind so feel free to bear that in mind when thinking of the car/tech/styles etc if u like. w/c : 7.8k warnings : lots of swearing. it’s all a big fuckin misunderstanding because i am a whore for that. weed & alcohol mentioned (neither party is drunk or high at the time of this taking place). mentions of past cheating (neither mc or chan are the cheater). some pov switching because i said so. let me know if i've forgotten anything. proofread exactly once so if there's a typo, no there isn't. SMUT TAGS UTC.  notes : dino. get the fuck off my ass. i’m so serious i am not strong enough to handle the very real feelings i have for you. go away.  notes 2.0 : i listened to halsey’s drive for some inspo for this & took that as the title, so feel free to give it a listen if you want!

SMUT TAGS : dom!chan. car fuckin', making out, hair pulling, grinding/dry humping, fingering, finger sucking, dick riding, marking/scratching, unprotected sex (make good choices), overstimulation, multiple orgasms. praise. chan calls reader ‘baby’ & ‘sweetheart’. he’s a BIG talker during sex (sorry).

You’re not stupid. You heard his car pull up outside your house almost an hour ago. 

Since then, at random intervals ranging anywhere between thirty seconds and five minutes, there have been clinks of a thrown stone at your bedroom window, a piece of the gravel that lines your driveway. Each time, it makes your jaw tense, makes your fingers tighten in the bedsheets you pulled all the way up to your chin in a foul mood at 8pm. It’s been the same now for almost two weeks — you’ve been getting home from work, showering the day away, eating your dinner and retiring to your room as early as you possibly can. Your roommate tried to find out what was wrong around day three but you very promptly shut her down — she’s since learned that the best she’s getting out of you currently is a dismissive wave of your hand or some kind of a grunt. She joked one evening that it was like she’d adopted a teenager; you scowled so violently that she went to her room. 

Hardly any of your other friends have seen anything of you, either, despite the fact that several have come knocking to check if you’re all right. 

You’re very much not all right, as it happens. This is perhaps the most upset you’ve ever felt, and that’s going quite some way. The angriest, too. It’s worse than when that middle aged woman threw her entire bucket of popcorn at your head when you gave her salty instead of sweet, and you were picking kernels out of your hair for the rest of your six hour shift. It’s worse than when your nasty supervisor ‘forgot’ you were in the bathroom and ended up locking you inside the cinema overnight, because you didn’t have your own set of keys to get out and the people whose numbers you remembered weren’t answering their phones. 

It’s somehow even worse than when a summer crush from a few years ago broke things off by telling you that he already had a girlfriend back home and that you were basically just a means to pass the time and get his dick wet. God, and you thought that was the lowest you could possibly be.

Here you are, though, so far beyond all those things it would be comical, if it didn’t hurt. Chan has really done a number on you, and you’re not sure how you ended up getting so emotionally involved in your situationship with him that this is what you’ve been reduced to. For days now, you’ve been swallowing back tears of frustration (both with yourself and with Chan), rolling around in your bed night on night, unable to get to sleep because all you can think about is him.

Him, and the way he sounded genuinely horrified when his friends asked about the ‘movie girl’, and he laughed, ‘God, no – we’re just friends. That’s never gonna happen’. It was impressive, how quickly your face fell, in no way aided by the squealing giggles that rang through the house as a very, very drunk girl came running out of the living room and shut herself in the toilet, drowning out a chunk of the conversation you were listening in on. Somehow, it hurt even more when he went on to say ‘besides, there’s… someone else’. 

And when you have managed to drift off after hours of staring at the walls and the ceiling, hearing those words on a loop on your fed up brain? Of course he’s been in your fucking dreams, too.

In your defence, all you were trying to do was use the mirror in the hallway outside the kitchen he and his friends were standing in, readjusting your top to cover the hickey that he had so kindly left on your collarbone just the night before. It wasn’t as though you sought him out to listen in; it was a coincidence. And okay, fine, maybe you should have walked away when the conversation turned to the topic of Chan’s love life. Maybe you should have not crept closer and held your breath to be able to hear them all better. Maybe, even, you should have stayed around long enough to ask what he meant by it then and there instead of hopping in a taxi and going home without saying goodbye to anyone. 

Hindsight really is a beautiful thing.

Never gonna happen. Well, Chan seemed quite happy to ignore the fact that it already had happened. Several times. At least four of those being in the very car currently on the street outside your home. The car he’s used on countless occasions to drive you up to lovers’ lookouts in the dead of night, letting one of his many mixtapes play through the tinny speakers, where he’d kiss you breathless and cradle your face between his palms, as his fingers would delicately explore beneath your clothes, as his broad shoulders would slot between your thighs, as his hips rol–

And maybe you aren’t stupid, but Chan seems determined to prove that he sure as hell is. He came to pick you up from work the day after the party like nothing had happened, and couldn’t figure out why you said you would rather walk home in the rain than get in with him and stormed away without any further explanation. Then, he showed up on your doorstep on the morning of your day off with your favourite coffee and a breakfast bagel, asking if you could talk. He still didn’t realise what he’d done to upset you, so you slammed the door in his face. Finally, just earlier today, he ran after you in the mall, persistent as you’ve ever known him to be, and laid a hand on your shoulder when you didn’t turn around to just the sound of his voice calling your name. 

You pushed him off so hard he almost fell over. 

“Why can’t you just leave me alone?!” You had barked, shrugging your shoulders to try and realign your jacket. “I don’t want to talk to you. What’s not clicking?”

His face resembled that of a scolded pet when he took a step back and frowned at you. “I just wanted to–”

“I don’t care what you want, Chan,” you spat. “Give it up. I’m done.”

You could see the desperation swimming in his eyes as he scrambled for what to say and your heart felt like it was being weighed down all the way into your stomach. You supposed that was the part of you that was causing all this ache in the first place, and further that it was to blame for your current state of misery. But you steeled yourself and stood your ground nonetheless. He wasn’t going to win you over with puppy eyes and a pout. Not this time.

In his silence, you only then noticed how hard your breaths were coming, each slow and long but still dangerously unsteady. You lowered your voice, top lip curling at him as you muttered, “You’re embarrassed of me enough to lie to your friends? Fine. I don’t give a–… but shit, next time, tell a girl that to her face instead of behind her fucking back.”

It’s been seven hours, and you keep replaying the last thing he said to you as you stormed away (how his voice got quieter when he realised you weren’t turning back; how he sounded so hoarse, so sorry). 

‘I’m sorry if I hurt you - I— I never meant to.’

If. If. If. Were you not making it completely fucking obvious that he had, most definitely, hurt you? Part of your brain is even now starting to go down the route that he’s doing this on purpose, that it’s some twisted sort of damage control, that he hopes maybe if he plays dumb for long enough, you’ll forget what you were mad about or maybe start to second guess what you heard. But if that’s what he thinks, he obviously doesn’t know you very well at all. That’s never going to happen. 

Hell, for someone you were being so careful to keep in the appropriate lane in your head, Chan really has you thinking yourself in circles. You’re sick to your back teeth of him, and his stupid voice and his stupid smile and his stupid –

Clink.

Stupid. Fucking. Stones.

A groan loud enough to definitely catch the attention of your roommate sounds from deep within your chest at this interruption to your spiral and you finally, finally concede. Whatever argument he’s so clearly longing to have at 11 o’clock on a Thursday night? Fine. He can have it. If it means he backs off for good, you’ll give him his one last ruck.

You pull the window open none too gently and lean enough through it that Chan comes into view. He isn’t even looking up, you realise, too busy sifting through the driveway trying to find his next little projectile, and you hiss his name to get his attention. It startles him so much that he drops the indiscernible bundle in his right hand. He blindly scrambles to pick it up, those big, earnest eyes gazing at you as if you’re floating in midair before him.

“What the hell are you doing?!” You ask him, trying not to raise your voice too loud but at the same time, needing to generate enough volume for him to hear. He holds the bundle in both hands, now, and they catch the light of the lamp by your front door. Flowers, you register, squinting to try and make them out, your brows furrowing so much that your forehead hurts. 

Black dahlias.

You choke back a laugh. Ah, the joys of fooling around with the son of a florist. Are they all so damn dramatic? (Or does he just know that they’re your favourites?)

Whichever it is, you tell yourself that’s not going to work. You won’t let it. Through gritted teeth, you say, “go away. I’m serious. I’ll call the cops on you.”

He shakes his head, begging as he steps just a little closer so his face is more visible in the amber light too. “Please–” he hurries, biting his bottom lip. “Please, don’t– just… tell me what I did. I want to make it right. Please.”

He never begs like this. In all the time you’ve known him, you swear Chan has said ‘please’ to you fewer times than you could count on your fingers. Which is by no means a bad thing — that’s just always been the very comfortable nature of your friendship, and later, the -with-benefits tag that you ended up sticking on the end. 

“Why are you doing this?” You ask, pinching the bridge of your nose and fighting not to shiver in the cold nighttime air. Note to self: don’t do a Romeo and Juliet in the middle of the fucking winter without layering up, first. “What does it even matter?”

“What do you mean, what does it matter?” He asks, looking down at the bunch of flowers in his hands, then back at you. “I-... you know I’d never hurt you. Not on purpose. Please, just… if I did something–”

“There’s someone else,” you echo, fed up with his pretending. He’s a fair actor, you’ll give him that – he might even have been able to convince you, if you hadn’t already heard the other half of this tale he’s doing his best to spin in his favour. 

His face screws up, thinking he’s misheard. It’s his turn not to understand now. If you’re telling him you’ve met someone else, he’s got questions, because you’d promised to be open and honest with each other if that ever happened, so that you could call things off and go back to being just friends without it becoming a big deal. That was always supposed to be a calm conversation, not… whatever this is. You talked about it, right at the start. But… those are the words you’re saying, aren’t they? And why would you be mad at him if you were the one whose circumstances had changed? 

“What?” he asks, finally. “What do you mean?”

“God, no – we’re just friends. That’s never gonna happen. Besides, there’s… someone else!” You raise your voice without really meaning to, before swallowing hard and glancing back inside your room. “You said that, Chan. Don’t piss me off by coming here and pretending like you didn’t.”

Chan starts to look like he’s trying to figure out an algebraic equation in his head while only having half the required information; his eyes fall down to the gravel, his lips move without any sound coming out of them, his features tighten until there are definite lines between his eyebrows. Then, it clicks. The lightbulb moment. He slaps one hand to his face and shakes his head furiously, and you just know he’s going to wake up with an ache in his neck tomorrow because of it.

“Oh fuck,” he curses. “No, no, no, no, no – that’s not–”

“What did I just say?” You spit down at him. “Don’t piss me off–”

“Listen!” He shouts, and you gesture with your hand for him to lower his voice, interrupting his flow of thought and rendering him silent for a moment. “Fuck, please. Come down here and talk to me. That’s not what you think it is.”

You’re in every mind to slam your window shut and leave him out there in the cold. It would work if you got out your headphones to drown out the sounds of him trying to get your attention, which you have absolutely no doubt in your mind that he would do. And maybe then he’d get the hint; maybe then he would understand that you’re not just some pushover who he can just pick up and play with when it suits him. 

But he’s still holding those fucking flowers like they’re a lifeline, still looking up at you without a single lick of anger on his face. Not stress at having been discovered, which you would have expected him to be swimming in right about now. He looks… kind of beside himself, as if nothing could possibly be worse than what you’re threatening to do.

All this, for you? It just doesn’t make sense. 

“Please,” he says again, quieter, weaker. For the first time, you pick up on the hint of a shiver in his voice, and you swallow. Whether you’re gulping back your pride, or your resolve, or the last remnants of your sensibility, you don’t know. 

Does he deserve for you to hear him out? You’re not sure.

But does he deserve to be stuck out in the cold in just his stupid leather jacket and a pair of jeans? 

With regret, you think, no. He doesn’t.

All you give him is a scowl before you disappear from view entirely, pulling the window closed and drawing your curtains again. Faster than you think you ever have before, you throw on a sweatshirt over your pyjamas, grab your keys, and hurry down the stairs as silently as you possibly can. 

He’s stood in exactly the same place when you edge outside and pull the door closed behind you. Up-close, you can see the tiredness on his face: this is a man who has exhausted himself in worry, you think, and yet he still smiles a little when he sees you in full. He still holds the flowers out for you to take. He still purses his lips and blows out a stuttered cloud of air. Nervous, and not in the way you think he ought to be. So when you walk straight past him and don’t take the dahlias out of his hands, instead standing by his car and waiting for him to unlock it for you, you start to feel overwhelmingly guilty. 

Chan is many, many… many things. But he really isn’t this good of a performer, no matter what you’ve been telling yourself all week. For God’s sake, why is it so much easier to be angry at him when he’s not standing right in front you?

You slip into his passenger side as he fumbles to set the flowers down on his backseat again, and he joins you up front just a few moments later. His hands are shaking when he sets the keys into the ignition. His whole body is. When you cast a real look over at him, the tips of his fingers are pale and his lips are lacking their usual rosy, pink hue. Your own teeth are chattering despite only having been truly exposed to the cold air for a matter of seconds; you dread to think how frozen he must be.

“Are we driving?” You ask to break the silence. Since he got into the car and fiddled with the heating settings to try and warm things up a little, he hasn’t said a word. It’s awkward. It’s horrible. You already miss the comfortable way you’ve been able to sit for hours together, barely talking, just watching the lights of the city and the cars travelling through it. 

You already miss him. Which is a strange thought, seeing as he’s only about ten inches away. 

“If– if you want,” he says, stuttering through the frost in his lungs. “We can go—...”

“Drive, Chan,” you say. It’s not just because you want him to stop falling over his words – which, to be fair, you do. Chan has always been very confident, carrying himself with the air of someone who knows exactly their worth. It’s one of the things you treasure about him. So this? Is fucking weird. But a big part of it is that you know his car will heat up faster if it’s in motion, and right now, you think maybe he’s at risk of losing a finger or two if he doesn’t get some circulation back.

He steps on the gas and the car pulls away from your home. It’s the first time you’ve ever been in his car without there being some sort of music playing, whether that’s historically just been the radio or a tape he put together with the help of one of his older friends. (The tapes that always had your first initial on them. The tapes that he never failed to ask your opinions on when he dropped you home – as if he’d compiled them with only you in mind.) The silence feels jarring and you can hear every rumble of the engine, every squeal of the brakes he definitely needs to get serviced. 

But the car does warm through, and you sigh out relief as the bones in your hands move a little easier, as your fingers curl and uncurl to less resistance from your taut muscles. Chan feels it, too; his body relaxes, his breaths stop coming out in fractions, his face gets some colour back. The timing feels a little less awful when you finally say, “go on, then.”

Chan glances over at you as he drives down an unlit street. Only for a second, like he’s checking you’re still there, before his eyes train back on the road. He’s going to one of your favourite spots. It isn’t a lookout – it’s somewhere completely shut off from the rest of town, hidden by the trees near the railway tracks, somewhere you’ve never had to worry about being seen or heard. Maybe he’s anticipating a screaming match. Maybe he’s expecting something else. Maybe, even, he just cares about how much you love it there. 

“I didn’t know you heard that conversation,” he starts, sheepishly. You want to roll your eyes, reach over and thump him, ask if that makes what he said okay, but you don’t. You stay looking out the front windscreen too. Waiting. “I… all right. I was out of my ass drunk.”

You click your tongue, pressing it afterwards against the inside of your cheek, but again, you stay quiet.

“I don’t think you heard what you thought you heard, though,” he goes on to say. “‘Cause– ‘cause it wasn’t…”

But you can only be quiet for so long in the face of this mess. Especially when he’s apparently working towards a doctorate in beating around the fucking bush. “I heard you tell your friends that it was never gonna happen with ‘movie girl’.”

Chan’s face brightens, and you can’t help but wonder what on Earth is wrong with this man. Why does he find that funny? Why is his chest moving like he’s trying not to laugh?

“And you… thought you were movie girl,” he says, nodding. “Okay. Okay – shit. I’m sorry.”

You look at him properly, now, as he indicates to the right and takes the turn that leads him down the lane to your spot. “What are you talking about?”

“I get it,” he says. “You work at the–... but you’re not movie girl. Not that movie girl.”

“Stop talking in riddles before I get out of this car, Chan. It’s too late for this shit.”

He holds a hand up as if to apologise and settles back against the head cushion, suddenly looking far more comfortable than he did thirty seconds ago. He clears his throat, running his tongue over his lips, before sucking in a breath and letting himself go on.

“You’re not movie girl,” he says again, successfully clarifying nothing. “There’s this chick I used to dance with — years back, before… God, when we were in school, like, forever ago. She moved away when we were sixteen.” As he talks, he reaches your destination and sets the car into park, before he unfastens his seatbelt and turns to face you. You do the same, shifting your weight to tuck one leg up beneath you, and with your undivided attention, he goes on. “I ran into her recently. She’s back in town now, I guess. It was like, two weeks—?”

“I’m gonna be all-over grey by the time you finish telling this story,” you interrupt, raising an eyebrow. “Can you please give me the short version?”

“Not if you want it to make sense,” Chan shrugs. Begrudgingly, you let him keep talking. “She said it would be cool to hang out, maybe catch a movie or do lunch or something — and look, I didn’t know she was asking me on a date, I thought she was just being nice, y’know? Trying to be friends, but… you weren’t working that day, it was when you had that… that stomach thing going on? And I brought you the soup my mom made, remember?”

You nod; of course you remember. At the time, you wondered why on Earth this grown man’s mother was making you food — you asked yourself whether he’d told her about you, or if she thought it was for someone else. In the end you decided he must have just been bringing you leftovers. But you’d been too worn out to start asking questions; instead, after you’d eaten, you let yourself fall asleep with your head in his lap as he patted your hair and hummed his favourite songs. You hadn’t let yourself think too deeply about it since. 

“Anyway. We were sat watching the movie and she, uh,” he glances down at his lap, tips of his ears burning pink. “She put her hand, sorta, on my thigh? And then I was like, shit, I didn’t read this right, like… at all. So I moved it off and she took the hint — and after it ended I said to her, you know, I was flattered, right? But I wasn’t interested. And then I went home and got that soup and—… yeah.”

He came straight to see you. To look after you. Hell, you didn’t even fool around that night; in retrospect, it was all uncharacteristically domestic. And slowly, the pieces you’ve spent days struggling to fit together start to fall into place. It makes sense. The only question that remains is do you believe him?

Well, tell a lie. 

There is one more. 

“You said there was someone else,” you add quietly. 

You’ll die before you admit it, but this is secretly the part that was hurting you the most. 

You can’t even look him in the eye, right now; your cheeks are burning with the embarrassment of even caring. As much as you want to tell yourself that the only reason you’re pissed is just because of the dishonesty, you can only stare at yourself in the mirror and point-blank lie so many times. Someone else. You hate it. 

Just the thought of him seeing somebody else, taking them out on dates, smiling at them, laughing with them, kissing them the way he kisses you, touching —

A shiver runs the length of you and you cross your arms, thrusting your sleeve-covered hands under your armpits. 

Chan takes a deep breath in and exhales it slowly, like he’s blowing smoke out of his lungs. “There is,” he admits, nodding slowly, avoiding your eyes, too. “There is someone else.”

“When were you going to tell me?” You ask. 

Chan doesn’t respond straight away. You don’t notice, but eventually his eyes do land back at you; it’s only when he clears his throat to get your attention that you look at him long enough to realise he’s quite deliberately staring. His lips are lifted on the right in a lopsided smile, his eyes soft as he reaches across the seats towards you. You stare blankly down at his hand until he wiggles his fingers, and you think briefly that this is the most fucked up ending to a situationship you’ve ever been through. 

You drop one of your hands down and let him hold it, though, staring at his face as his thumb brushes over your knuckles and you wait for him to finally say it out loud. For him to announce that he’s fallen for somebody and that he can’t see you anymore. To put the nail in the coffin. Don’t tell me their name, you think. I don’t want to know anything about them. Please, just don’t.

“For someone so frustratingly smart, you’re really fucking dumb,” Chan says, finally, swallowing around his words and squeezing your fingers. Whatever stoic expression you had forced onto your face at the start of this conversation dissolves into irritation and you snatch your hand away from him again, letting his own fall and collide with a thunk against the handbrake. 

“Oh, sorry that I didn’t realise you were sneaking around behind my back when that’s the one thing we promised we wouldn’t do,” you snap. “God. The only stupid thing I’ve done here is get involved with you in the f—”

“You’re the someone else.”

Oh. 

Oh.

“I’m—?”

“You.”

The admission hangs heavily between you, as does your nonsense, unfinished insult. Neither of you really know what to do with yourselves except sit perfectly still and try to somehow deal with your increasingly dry throats. When Chan moves, it’s only to turn down the heating dial when his cheeks burn a bit too hot; you appreciate it, in part due to the bead of sweat currently running down your back, but you don’t say so. 

“You could have started with that,” you say weakly, wrestling with all your strength to keep even some of your cards close to your chest. It’s not working though. Your attempt to conceal your elation is a bit like throwing a single leaf on top of a bison and calling it camouflage. 

Chan commits to laughing, finally, your sentiment breaking him too. Now, you do crack that smile, albeit mostly just at the sound that comes from him. It’s bright and airy, lighting his whole face up as he drops all the way back and leans against his car door, pushing his fingers through his hair. “I was trying to build to a moment! It’s not my fault you hit every branch of the anti-romantic tree on your way down.”

“I am not anti-romantic,” you scoff in protest. 

“Yes — you are.”

“Am not!”

“Are too.”

“No, you’re just an idiot.”

“Says she who didn’t realise her fuck-buddy had feelings for about six months, Jesus.”

“Chan—” You start, your voice laced with a playful warning. 

“Here I was thinking I was making it completely obvious,” he rambles on. 

“— oh my God, just shut up and kiss me.”

“Dropping hints left and r—” … “Huh?”

He stops short a fraction of a second after you finish, stumped and silent, frozen with everything but a little buffering symbol above his forehead. Kiss me, you said. Chan, […] just shut up and kiss me. All right, you’ve asked him to do that before, but not like this. Not as if you’ll wither away should you not get a taste of his lips this instant. It takes him some time to process it, but he does move in first, eventually. The way he always does, closing the distance between you like he’s been shot out of a cannon, one hand either side of your face, crashing feverishly against your mouth. 

Every now and again, he’ll be happy to let you take charge and set the pace: mostly just if he’s feeling lazy or especially generous. Tonight isn’t one of those times, however. He holds you and kisses you possessively, like you’re his, like this is how he finally gets to lay claim on you, licking between your gasp-parted lips after he moans straight into your mouth. He’s spearmint sweet, edged with that one cherry flavoured chapstick he stockpiles as he grins up against you, rolling his body fluidly with every separation for air, every changing angle. 

He pulls your sweatshirt up over your head and throws it down into the footwell on the passenger side, straight away hurrying to kiss you hungrily again, hands cupping your neck. His tongue is in your mouth once more, there’s no way you could possibly differentiate your breaths from his: you’re one, in every way you can be with your clothes still on, but it’s not enough. 

“Want you,” you whimper as he nips at your bottom lip and pleasure rushes through you from head to toe. 

“You’ve got me,” he groans with his eyes still closed. “I’m all yours.” 

“No,” you insist, whimpering when his cute little nose drags across your cheek until he’s pressing hot kisses to your jawline. “I— fuck—”  He suckles on the sweet spot below your ear and your spine tingles, head tilting to give him better access. “Chan, I want you.”

Chan settles back from you, his usually bright, sparkling eyes now darkened with desire. All he gives you is a singular glance sideways, but you know exactly what he’s suggesting. You nod, breathing deep, biting the inside of your cheek; he turns off the headlights and it’s all systems go. 

There’s a rush to scramble into the back of the car. Chan takes the keys out the ignition and climbs through the gap in the seats; you opt for the less hazardous approach of getting out of the vehicle entirely and re-entering it instead. Not that it bothers him — no sooner is the door closed behind you, Chan’s hands are on your hips and he pulls you on top of him, your leg knocking the dahlias off the leather and onto the floor in the process. You gasp and glance down but he averts your attention with two fingers under your chin, guiding you to look back at him. 

“What? You think this is the last time I’ll bring you flowers?” He asks, capturing your lips as he leans up to you; at the same time, his hands drop low and he starts to slide open the buttons down the front of your pyjama shirt. “Baby, m’gonna get you so many more.” 

You sigh at the affectionate name, at the change in its use; until now, Chan has only called you baby while he’s buried inside you, bruising you inside and out with sharp thrusts and rough-gripping fingers. But as much as you can feel him growing hard against the inside of your thigh while you try to get comfortable, one knee planted either side of his hips, you can’t help but feel as if this time, it means something different. 

(He’s had feelings for six months: it always meant what it does, now. You know that, deep down.)

Somewhere in amongst the never-ending sloppy kisses and constantly travelling hands, you manage to strip both his jacket and T-shirt off him and you’re pressed bare-chest-to-bare-chest with Chan, feeling every little hitch of his breath in his lungs, every thump of his heartbeat, every tiny increase in the temperature of his skin. Your desperate search for friction between your legs has you rolling your hips down against his hard-on, drawing grunts and making him squeeze at your tits when you rock against him the right way. His head eventually drops to your chest and he replaces one hand with his mouth, freeing his fingers to slide down the front of your pyjama bottoms. 

It’s honestly rarer for Chan to get straight to the point than it is for him to tease you a little first, so when he flattens his palm against you and brushes his fingertips over your already aching clit, you let out a squeak of surprise. He shivers, releasing your nipple from between his teeth for a moment; once he’s collected a little more arousal to ease the friction, he continues to rub at the bud, slowly building the pressure inside you.

“No panties?” He asks, struggle clear in the roughness of his voice. 

“I was in bed,” you gasp, eyes rolling back. It’s for the best that it happens out of pleasure, really, because you’re not sure you’d be able to stop yourself rolling them in exasperation at his remark otherwise. You shuffle a little, lifting yourself up on your knees more, breath hitching when he uses the newly granted space to dip his hand lower and press a finger against your hole. “Please, Chan — this can’t be comfy— just…”

“S’fine” he argues, shaking his head, despite the fact that the angle of his wrist is actually kind of painful, right now. The truth is that he can’t bring himself to care: not when he can smell your fabric softener on the shirt still hanging off your shoulders, the shampoo in your freshly washed hair, all so pretty mixed with the damp scent of your desire. Not when you clench around him as he slides his finger in and out of your cunt. Not when he could get you to soak all the way through these pretty satin pants. 

Your arms snake around his neck as he dips a second finger inside you to join the first. The way your thighs tighten around his hips could — should — be embarrassing, the fact his sturdy lap holds you open enough for your pussy to be toyed with even more so. You almost always do this too music, too — for what might be the first time ever, you can hear every single wet sound your body makes, every hitch of your own breath, every grunt he gives even though he’s not the one being pleasured. 

You don’t even realise how you’re rocking up and down against his hand until Chan licks from the base of your neck to your jaw, smirking over your pulse point and says, “gonna ride my cock this good too, baby?”

And if it was anyone else talking to you like this, you would be embarrassed. Mortified, at being so needy you’re here doing all the work for him. At the cry you give as he splits and scissors his fingers to stretch you out. But instead? You feel another rush of arousal drool out of you as you press your nails into his shoulders and nod, bouncing harder and watching how his bicep tenses up solid with the effort of keeping his arm steady for you to use. 

“Wanna,” you gasp. “Want it so bad, Chan—”

Despite your pleas for this to move further, when his hand pulls back out of the elastic of your waistband, you feel like you could throttle him. The urge ebbs away when his soaked fingers press to your lips and he quirks an eyebrow at you, though — you end up suckling them clean, licking up every trace of your own slick. You lock eyes with him as you do, slumping on your thighs so your drenched core sits right over his tweaking length, the seam of your pants giving just enough friction to your clit for it to feel good as you grind down on him again. 

“Get those off,” he instructs, trying to sound hard and dominant. Which would work, perhaps, if his voice didn’t crack in the middle of the sentence. “Now.”

Even though you’re overcome with a need to tease him, the desire you have to be split open on his length outweighs it, so you do as you’re told and hold it in for later. It’s not easy, but you manage to manipulate yourself in his lap to work the satin down your thighs and past your knees. He helps you tug them the rest of the way past your ankles and feet, shoves them onto the floor — Chan’s hands settle back on your hips and yours skim down his stomach at the same time, fingers grazing over the little hairs that trail from his bellybutton down into his jeans. 

“Can I?” You ask, playing already with his belt buckle. 

He hums assent and you slip it all the way open, tugging as he moves his hips underneath you so you can pull it free from the loops. Between you, you manage to get his jeans unfastened, to pull both them and his boxer shorts down over his ass and to his knees; finally, fucking finally, his cock sits pretty and leaking and free between your stomach and his. It’s getting cold in the car now the heating isn’t on, but you’re already burning up in anticipation for him to ruin you; the way his abs ripple as he takes his shaft into his hand and strokes himself a couple of times to prepare tells you he’s in the same boat. 

It’s like clockwork, from here. You shift into position as easily as you settle into bed after a long day. Chan rubs his tip through your folds, feels the warmth of you and hisses through his teeth with fluttering eyes. Just like always. This never changes. He can’t ever get enough of that first feeling of his cock against your pussy: it’s like the first hit of a blunt, like the first sip of a cold beer, the first full-body stretch early in the morning. He’s sure it’s what arriving at the gates of heaven must feel like. 

You sink down onto him slowly, fluttering around his tip and stilling to give you both a moment to get used to the feeling. He’s thick inside you. Thicker than his pretty, dainty fingers have ever been able to stretch you enough for. Even as wet as you are, you still need to suck a deep breath into your lungs before you can relax your hips further and let your heat swallow him all the way to his base. 

Chan’s head is tipped back in pleasure, he’s biting his lip at the sting of your nails pressing hard into the back of his neck. He loves it, though — loves how the pain shoots in waves down his spine, how it tingles in his brain, how he knows you need to anchor yourself this way or you’ll lose control. He kneads at your ass as you sit against his thighs, listening to you whimpering at how deep he is inside you.

“So fucking tight around me still,” Chan groans, focusing all his willpower into keeping his hips down on the leather beneath him. “Shit, baby — you feel so good…” His neck softens and his head drops forward again as you start to move, rising and falling over and over. He kisses your throat and down to your collarbones while you work up to a rhythm, sliding his palms up your back, hugging you close to him. 

He isn’t even the one putting in the hard work, but within minutes of this, his soft, fluffy hair clings to his forehead. A light sheen of sweat makes him radiant under the moonlight breaking through the trees. He’s breathing heavily, the top of his toned chest painted a soft pink — you don’t think he could possibly look prettier. Not until he cups your jaw with his hands and you look upwards: you land on his smiling face, those plush, swollen lips, his devilish but sweetly glittering eyes. The sight of him, looking at you like you’re some kind of Goddess, makes your pussy tighten and your tiring hips stutter. You slip your pyjama top all the way off your arms and curl your fingers into his hair, meeting him in an open-mouthed kiss, through which you’re both just beaming. 

You’ve never kissed him this much. When it all started out, you sort of had a rule against it, but now? Neither of you can stop. As he starts to fuck up into you, taking the reins and letting your burning thighs rest, he keeps your face steady with his hands and freely allows his lips to slide against yours. It’s not refined. It can’t be. Not with how hard and fast his movements quickly become, not with the onslaught of curses and moans and babbled praise coming from the both of you. One particularly sharp thrust makes you yelp out a squeak of his name and he just swallows it down, making a point to keep aiming for— and hitting— that same spot inside you. You’re a mess. 

He could do this all night. When your orgasm bubbles inside you and he starts pinching at one of your nipples, sending you over the edge, he’s nowhere near finished. Even though your cunt massages at his length, throbbing and pulsing through your climax; even though your voice is so high by now that only dogs can hear you; even though you nearly collapse on top of him with almost all your weight in his lap, and he has to work twice as hard to keep this going, he barely slows. He definitely doesn’t stop. 

“You can gimme one more, right sweetheart?” He asks, grunting into your neck. “Always feels so fucking good when you come.” You choke up an ‘mhm’, to which he responds by slipping a hand between your bodies and down to where you’re connected. His thumb presses against your clit again — not moving, just applying enough pressure to make you stutter when you say his name. 

Your thighs are still twitching when you try to lift yourself a little, try to meet his movements as he chases his orgasm too. The “problem” with Chan is that his stamina is otherworldly. You couldn’t keep up if you wanted to. 

“Relax,” he says, tensing his jaw, doing the opposite himself. “Fuck — lie down.”

It’s pretty cramped and hard to move, but you lift yourself off him and only slightly lament at the sudden emptiness between your legs. There isn’t time to get too upset, however: moments after you get comfortable on your back, Chan shoves his jeans the rest of the way down and stands with one knee planted on the seats, lifting one of your ankles up to rest it on his shoulder. He slips back inside you easily then, gripping around your calf to keep you both steady. From the word go, his pace is relentless. You scrabble around for something to hold onto but the entire car seems to melt away; you ball your hands into fists at your sides instead, your eyes squeezed tightly shut. 

“Mm-mm. Look at me,” Chan hums, tightening his grip on your leg. “Wanna see those pretty eyes.” 

You obey, opening your lids to look up at him while he pounds into you hard enough to make the car shake. Over, and over, and over, and over. Rougher. Faster. For how long? Who even knows. All you’re truly aware of is how good it feels. How the windows grow foggy with the  steam of your laboured breaths. How his sweat mingles with your own. 

When his fingers on the other hand get reacquainted with your clit, when he bites down on his bottom lip, when his thrusts start to get messier and more erratic and the veins in his arms start to bulge out, you know he’s getting close. He doesn’t need to tell you out loud. The smirk he wears speaks for itself. 

“Where d’you want it, baby?” He asks you, pressing a kiss to the inside of your ankle. 

“In— mmh, in-…side me—” you stammer, hips jolting as you near your second orgasm to match his first. “Please, Chan — want it all…”

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah—”

Well, he must’ve been holding himself back something spectacular, because a few thrusts later you watch all of his muscles contract as he tips over the edge, and you go hurtling with him. It’s all so much. All your nerve endings feel like they’re on fire and your vision starts to blur at the edges; it’s not long before you have to close your eyes to shut one of your overworked senses out, completely. Your muscles are sore. Your throat hurts. Even your lungs ache. 

God, he hasn’t gone that hard in so long, you don’t know what to do with yourself. You can barely speak — it’s going to take you a week to recover from this, minimum. 

He stills deep inside you, feeling his cock throb with the last pumps of his release. Your leg slips off his shoulder and your foot lands down with a thud onto the car’s (thankfully clean) floor; he bends forward to kiss you, still breathing heavily against your lips. You’ve come over completely boneless and reaching up to thread your fingers into his hair again feels like running a marathon at sprint pace. You’d fall asleep right here, right now, if you could, but with sweat cooling rapidly against your skin, you know that’s probably not up there as one of your finest ideas. 

“You really think getting involved with me was stupid?” Chan asks, nudging your nose with the tip of his own. He’s never been less serious than this in his entire life, which stops you feeling too bad when you lightly slap at his rock solid chest and try to push him off you.

“Yes,” you lie, attempting to reach to the ground for your pyjama shirt while he grips your chin and attacks you with tiny little pecks all over your face. “Stupidest thing I’ve ever done.”

(Chan chuckles to himself and thinks that he’s quite happy to be the stupidest thing you’ve ever done, really. He can stay that way, as long as you promise never to stop.)

thank you so much for reading. i hope you enjoyed it - likes, feedback, comments, reblogs are all so appreciated.<3

[derehono]

24.02.2022.

The day that changed my life forever.

24th of February 2022 should have been my usual day. No, not usual. A wonderful day. I should have been checked with a doctor, gave notice to teachers in high school of my absence, and then fly away on vacation, my parents wanted it so much.

On 23rd of February 2022 I felt happy. I had a secure, happy life, preparing to finals, hanging out with my friends, already having an offer from university.

Until 5AM 24.02.2022.

I had not a single class in my school since then.

I haven’t seen my friend group in 2 years.

I didn’t have my finals.

We did not have that vacation.

“Daughter, wake up. This old psychotic man attacked us. We are leaving.”

That was my first photo of the day, trying sarcastically keep myself normal. I remember that actual emptiness, reading my classmates texts about how their windows were shaking because of explosions, the sky was orange. They sent that video.

He called it “a special military operation”.

I collected random clothes, some hobby stuff just to keep my sanity, grabbed my pet, emptied my safety locker. I was scared that russians would intrude into our home and steal all my savings, so I throw away key to that lock. This key became my symbol of war, I have never found it even after return.

When I with my parents and pet got out of flat to car we heard for the very first time air raid siren. We would hear so many more of them, we would learn to differentiate them, but then we were confused.

It was my second photo. People were going away. Foot, cars, bicycles. I remember such a surreal picture. Some moms were carrying their toddlers, one woman was carrying a bucket of water with turtles, other people were carrying cages with parrots, with dogs, with cats, with exotic pets despite air raid siren, temperature, rain. Everyone was so confused and scared.

Few days later the road we were riding was occupied. Bridges destroyed. Factories burnt. Supermarkets demolished. Houses in ruins. Road in holes. On the side of the road burnt cars with “DO NOT TOUCH, POSSIBLY EXPLOSIVE”. That gut wrenching feeling seeing photos of dead bodies and recognising the place.

But back then it was still lively, not a road of death. I remember reading news then. First victims, first shelling. Invasion from East. Invasion from Kharkiv region. Invasion from Crimea. Invasion from Chernihiv. Invasion from Zhytomyr. And we were in Zhytomyr region at that moment. Explosions in Kyiv. The border was destroyed.

I felt nothing. Just emptiness.

This precious girl was keeping my head cool all the road. She was also scared and irritated, but she was so strong, such an amazing girl. I am so proud of her.

We were heading to my grandparents who lived closer to West Ukraine, so we would be safer. The road that takes usually just 4 hours but that time it took 13 hours. 13 hours of driving exhausted and nerved. We saw soldiers, trucks, jets, how barricades were built, signs were removed.

But we made it. We were lucky. Lucky to be alive, to have family alive and mostly close to West, further from russia. Even though, part of my extended family still was under occupation in Chernihiv region, suffering from such close border with belarus.

When we arrived, we were just silent. Then collected mattresses for shelter, asked grandpa to grab some patrol (we knew that they would definitely destroy reservoirs and literally next day the started doing that), and just fell asleep in something that we arrived in, being so scared.

That day I also cut ties with russian friend who I am shamed to admit having. He was proving me that this is just a military operation, no one would be harmed.

Then, arrived spring that I will never forget but at the same time never remember. I remember 10 people in one floor house. I remember the whistle of rocket that woke us up. I remember sirens. I remember news. I remember losing hope. I remember first photos after deoccupation of Kyiv region. I remember how forgotten friend of my dad suddenly called him saying that his city is fully destroyed, his neighbour right on his eyes was exploded attempting to get into the car and evacuate.

I remember my first mental breakdown. How I was crying in the darkness, but quietly so no one would notice.

We were able to return home three months later. But we are just lucky. Someone would never return. Someone is not even alive to see their home again. Someone’s home is forever destroyed.

I was lucky that I have secured my place at foreign university before war, but my whole family is still in Ukraine.

War is not over at all. 20% of Ukraine is occupied. So many displaced civilians, so many deaths. No one could even count, we do not have any access to bodies. Only way to identify is to deoccupy and find mass graves. No other means. Children are suffering from PTSD even in such a young age. Almost in every city, big or small, you would find graveyards covered in Ukrainian flag, grave of the soldier.

Maybe media does not talk that much of us, but it doesn’t mean that everything is alright. Avdiivka is destroyed, right now operation searching for people under debris of the civilian house after attack is undergoing.

And this is happening all the time.

Who was punished for Olenivka? Who was punished for destruction of Kakhovka Dam? Who was punished for all fully destroyed cities? Who was responsible for all that absolutely atrocious videos torturing Ukrainian soldiers?

Please, remember, Ukraine is still on fire. People are still dying. Soldiers cannot even counterattack because they do not have enough ammo, just for protection. Information war is also waging, sharing all that misinformation, Nazi narratives, russian propaganda.

Remember.

Help.

Share.

russia is a terrorist state.

Glory to Ukraine.

Glory to the Heroes.

[captainhotch]

This Love | Roy Kent

note; random ted lasso imagine for the girlies who are in love with roy kent (me). not proof read as per usual

masterlist

There was no such thing as right person wrong time, you reminded yourself for the twentieth time in the past two months as you turned off your tv— absolutely tired of seeing your ex boyfriend blasted all over the football channels.

You had broken up about mid way threw his last season— well, he had broken up with you. You had been together for about a year and a half. A beautiful, really happy year and a half. Sure the man was an absolute grump, preferring more to groan than talk half the time, but he had the largest heart of any person you had ever met. His love was so pure and so kind.

The breakup was a bit of a blindside. He had been playing poorly, slowing down as a consequence of his age catching up. He was making mistakes. And Roy Kent did not make mistakes. So he did what only made sense to him in that moment and cut out all distractions. And you, well you were the biggest distraction of them all.

So you packed all of his things in a cardboard box and marched through the halls of the Richmond FC clubhouse, heals echoing across the lithium floor. Your head was high but your heart was in your stomach as you willed the tears to wait until you were safely back behind the tinted windows of your car.

You smiled at Higgins as you passed him outside of the locker room doors, receiving a sheepish wave back. You didn’t realize it at the time, but your smile paired with the dead look in your eye was absolutely terrifying. Next thing you knew you were dropping the box down on the floor in front of him, whipping your hair over your shoulder, and walking away with a sway of your hips that you know had his eyes glued to your admittedly amazing ass.

It was, of course, an act, cause there you were two months and a retirement later, heart still aching every time you saw the unfortunately handsome man across your screen.

Apparently Roy Kent did, in fact, make mistakes. Maybe not on the pitch, but literally everywhere else. Going home to a bed that didn’t have you in it? A mistake. Not having you by his side through the most difficult decision of his life? A mistake. Watching as you laughed along with Jamie’s flirting across the bar? A horrible, terrible fucking mistake.

Roy Kent was an angry man, but my god did he think he was going to explode in that moment. He wouldn’t be surprised if steam was comically coming out of his ears. He could only be brought to tear his eyes from you at the sound of the seat beside him being pulled out, and an insufferable American accent ordering a whiskey from the bar tender.

“You know Roy— you’re about as subtle as a hot pink convertible driving through a south Georgia suburb.” Ted nodded, eyes following Roy’s to you standing beside a smirking Jamie. “You know you breaking up with her hurt more than my own divorce.”

“Fuck off.” Roy muttered, throwing back the rest of his own whiskey.

“I’m serious man. Y’all two love each other— and no amount of pretending like your don’t will change that. That right there,” he paused, pointing to you—“that is a mighty fine woman. One who loves you. You don’t let something like that slip away if you can help it. Take it from me.”

You couldn’t help but to laugh at Jamie’s jokes. It was a good distraction from being in the same room as Roy for the first time since you had dropped off your stuff. Still you could feel him watching you without even glancing in his direction, like he’d never left. You had to be begged by Keeley to even show face, your dear friend insisting that everyone missed you loads. You had a feeling that she was just testing her theory of the two of you not being able to stay away from each other once you took away the distance.

The back of your neck burned, the same way it would when he’d kiss it in passing. Your stomach, once filled with butterflies, was now heavy with lead. You knew Jamie was only speaking with you to piss Roy off. You didn’t care. Or maybe you did, and that’s why you let it keep going.

You watched with confusion as Jamie’s eyes grew wide peering over your shoulder, “I’ve got to run now love.” He muttered, his thick accent mixed with both of your alcohol intake leaving you in confusion.

You could feel that burning feeling getting worse, palms slicking with nervous sweat. You turned around to to met with a wide chest clad in all black, tipping your head back your eyes danced over a familiar bearded chin up to a set of dark eyes that set you on fire. The familiar, gruff man grabbed your wrist, taking your drink and throwing it back himself before dragging you out to the porch.

Your feet were moving faster than your brain, still struggling to process if this was that recurring dirty dream you kept having, or a much more frightening reality. The cold nipping at your bare arms answered that one quickly— you were always on a beach in that dream.

Before you know it Roy had your back against the railing of a porch, body warmed from where it was trapped against his own. He brought his head down against yours, eyes screwed shut like he was in physical pain. You brought your hands against his chest, fists closed tightly around the material of his overpriced black suit jacket. He smelled familiar, like the cologne you had gotten him for his birthday.

“I’m such a fucking prick.” He muttered against your hair, bringing his hand to cradle the back of your head.

“Damn right.” You responded through a teary laugh against the side of his neck. “Proper fucking idiot you are.”

He let out a gruff laugh, hands coming up to cradle your face— pulling you back gently so he could look at you. His eyes were soft, that special look that he saved just for you painted across his face. You loved him so much that it physically hurt. Even after he took a knife and stabbed you in the chest.

Right person wrong time didn’t exist, because even through everything, Roy never stopped being your right person.

“I will spend every last day of my fucking life making this up to you. If you’ll have me back.” He muttered, eyes scanning your face with such sincere regret you might’ve fallen over if he wasn’t holding you up.

Maybe it was stupid to take him back, but you hadn’t realized until that very moment that Roy Kent owned a very large piece of you. And standing there in his arms, you had finally gotten it back.