#this post is about to be 20 miles long
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
Text
watchin Tex yall know what that means!! first 1/2 of tex thoughts!!
seein matt dillion go from rusty james n dallas to this is so funny to me
HIS LIL COWBOY HAT AOUGH
hmm I like masons castin. I think they got good scene chemistry already. they play good brothers.
their fridge looks exactly like mine. three things in it.
they changed the horse names. I'm sure of it. I can't remember the book ones but they definitely did. probably just cause that's the names the horses answered to but now I gotta go back n figure out the original names.
their kitchen is so cute. the tables n drapes give big dinner energy.
EMILO??? IS THAT MY GUY??? AOUGH IT ISSSSS!!! N HES BLONDE???
tex I love you man. you mean the author of my favorite book?? wrote another book?? ppl can do that??
the way he's always just shoutin HEY MACE instead of goin to get him. I'm gigglin.
OUGH he walked in n said hey the heats back on! n my stomach dropped. aough. bad. know where this is goin
the set is just so we'll done. it's in the lil things. hmm.
the way they fight is so? child like. hmm rollin around n slippin. it's so distinctly childish. knockin his brother in the face n then immediately goin to help him up. aough.
emilo n his fuck ass khakis n his joggin beside his motorcycle. aww.
the actor for Mason portrays his dry sardonic lil sarcasm so well actually. the way he delivers the line 'christ you are dumb' i shouldn't have but I giggled.
I was beginnin' to think they were makin mason a lil too. I dunno. mean. brought it WAY the hell back with that scene with him n Robert. Jesus my heart hurts for both those kids.
"get any mail?" "couple bills. I give em to ya if you're hot to pay em" "nothin from pop?" "pop'd send us bills if he thought we'd pay em" comedic timin on this movie actually shinin through so well
just when u think mason is written n behavin old for his age he's out in the woods gigglin n breakin into a house by shimmyin up a wall. God. man.
these kids are bein so loud in a house they just broke into. guys please. quiet. ur stressin me out.
Mason in this jacket?? yeah. OK. yeah. alright. he's servin I fear.
EMILO IN HIS OK STATE JERSEY N TEX IN HIS BUTTON UP WITH THE HANDKERCHIEF IN THE BACK POCKET HELLO?? WHY ARE THEY BOTH SERVIN LOOKS??
"October 22nd! I'll be uh sweet 16!" dog he's just a kid. good lord. Tex Mccormick ily. He's just so dopey man. I adore him.
Johnny in the back of that truck HAMMERED SLIDIN around. tex just standin there at the steps like đ§ââď¸ lookin at his boots. his big wet eyes. mace is SICK of his ass. but he still waited to for him AOUGH. tex huggin that pillow. MACE TAKIN HIS BOOTS OFF FOR HIM AOUGH.
mace poppin his hip n ploppin his hand down on it n then hittin the 𤨠oh so he's FUNNY I see
TEX ROLLIN OVER STRAIGHT OUTTA BED IM HOWLIN
HIM WALKIN AROUND WITH THE BLANKET AROUND HIS SHOULDERS AWUGH
mace is just always walkin around with his hands on his hips. truly tickles the hell outta me I dunno why.
"I don't think there's any psychology involved if that's what ur askin" goddamn!! unfortunately I would crack!! I could not listen to some kid say that n not giggle!! I'd lose all authority over the situation
emilo is givin Miley Cyrus stare. blonde ass hair n blue ass eyes. scary.
HIS CROP TOP HELLO???
"aw tex ur so cute" "he's so cute" "aw ur so cute tex" who are these BOYS???
theres somethin so endearin about Johnny n tex. tex sticks up for him when he bales. when tex clears the creek Johnny's the only one to come runnin after him. aough. they're kids. that's all it takes to clear up an argument.
somethin about tex sayin he ain't never held a baby but sure n mason tellin him to be careful. cause he has. Just once. his baby brother. AOUGH. Just the way mace looks at tex in that scene OUGH.
Mace took exactly ONE look at that car n said cool. so what drugs are u sellin now𤨠man didn't even last ten seconds before mace CLOCKED his ass.
mace's look of utter disbelief when lem says he doesn't have anyone dependin on him. tex in the back like let's go for a ride!! let's get some pizza!! man mace is a stronger man then me. tex HUSH N READ THE ROOM HON!!
TARGET??? THERES A FUCKIN TARGET IN THIS MOVIE??? WHEN IS THIS SHIT SUPPOSED TO BE SET??
tex's drivin is givin me motion sickness aough
tex goin double takin the gun like đ đââď¸ đŽ actually made me giggle unfortunately. he's just so funny to me. God bless this kid man.
now how tf did that cop have such bad aim he accidentally shot out the drivers side window when the guys runnin away with the gun was 50 feet from the passengers side. dog.
tex throwin a pillow at mace n missin completely n takin the lamp out. God these kids man.
#ok thats the first half#i gotta stop here cause one its late as HELL over here#n im gonna stop bein coherent#n two#this post is about to be 20 miles long#anyways#hey someonebplease gimme an excuse to talk about these kids#jesus christ man#tex se hinton#tex mccormick#mason mccormick#bros watchin
21 notes
¡
View notes
Text
Okay so Iâve seen like 20 videos on tiktok of people saying they have no idea how exy is played so Iâm gonna make a post about how I understand the rules. Iâm not really an athlete but I know a bit about sports and I also coincidentally went to the same school that PSU is based on
(I havenât read the books in like 5 years so if Iâm wrong about something feel free to correct me)
First thing, exy is played inside, not outside. The game canât work in an outdoor stadium and Iâll explain why in a minute. The stadium is like a combination basketball court and hockey rink. Wood flooring and plexiglass walls surrounding the court. There are two goals on each end.
Okay so the lineup. From what I remember thereâs 4 positions you can play on an exy team: dealer, backliner, striker, and goalie.
Backliner is pretty straightforward just classic defense. They protect the goal and focus on the other teamâs strikers. I think itâs similar to basketball where theyâre assigned a mark (opposing striker) who they have to cover during the game. That doesnât mean theyâre not free to move or check other strikers either, but basically they try to stop the other team from scoring any goals. Iâm not sure if itâs against the rules for them to make an attempt on a goal or not.
Strikers are similarly straightforward. Theyâre straight offense. Their job is to get as many goals as possible. They work against the opposing teamâs backliner and shoot at the goal
The dealer is the most confusing position but I think they basically control possession of the ball, so I think their job is to get the ball from the other team and make sure it gets to their strikers. At the start of the game or after any breaks theyâre the ones who deal the ball and try to pass to their teammates. Idk if they operate similar to backliners or not, like checking, tackling, etc.
The goalie is the same as any other sport- their job is to protect the goal. Goalies have special racket that are bigger and heavier than other players. They also wear special padding to protect them since theyâre constantly getting exy balls chucked at them and often have to use parts of their body to block them.
(Side note: if exy balls are anything like lacrosse balls they seriously hurt to get hit with. Theyâre dense and heavy, when they work up enough speed it feels like getting hit by a slightly bouncy cannon ball)
From what I can remember, at any given time there are two backliners, two strikers, one dealer, and one goalie on the court for each team. Players are subbed in and out as needed (I might be remembering the numbers wrong, maybe they have 3 backliners at a time idk)
Exy is a high contact sport similar to lacrosse, so players are free to use physical force against each other. They can check, tackle, and basically do whatever it takes to get the ball. Just like in hockey, players often get into fights. Excessive use of violence can get them flagged by referees, but itâs by no means a gentle sport. Players go into it with the expectation of getting thrown around and bruised.
Players wear padding and helmets to protect themselves, but bruises, sprains, concussions, and broken bones arenât uncommon within the sport.
There are some basic rules for how the game is played. Exy is kinda like lacrosse in that players pass the ball back and forth with their raquets. I donât know a lot about all the rules of lacrosse but I know exy has a rule about possession thatâs similar to basketball. In basketball a player has to dribble the ball while theyâre moving, if they hold it in their hands without dribbling for too many steps itâs called traveling and itâs a foul. Exy is the same, a player can only be in possession of the ball for 10 (?) steps before they have to pass it. If they carry it farther than that itâs traveling (idk if thereâs a special term for it in exy speak). There are ways for players to get around this. They can either pass the ball to a teammate after theyâve taken their 10 steps OR they can rebound it off a wall, catch it in their racquet, and keep moving. This is the reason exy has to be played inside and not outside, so that the players can use the walls. If itâs played outside they canât rebound the ball and they have to rely strictly on passing back and forth, which isnât always possible especially if a player is being heavily guarded. Iâm not positive if this possession rule applies to all players or only strikers, but it would make sense for it to be all players.
I canât remember if the books say anything about who is allowed to shoot at the goal. Obviously strikers can but I canât remember if there are any rules saying backliners, dealers, and goalies canât score points
The game is played in 2 halves, a total of 4 quarters. Iâm not sure if the book ever says how long each quarter is but itâs probably safe to assume each is 15 minutes, so a total of 1 hour playing time. However with timeouts, breaks, penalty time and other interruptions games usually last far longer.
The foxes are a unique team because theyâre much smaller than pretty much any other team in the league. They only have 9 players by the end of the year, so they canât sub players in and out as easily. Most teams have upwards of 18 people so the players are usually on court for a much shorter time and have more time to rest between playing time. In the foxes vs. Trojans game, USC decided to play with the same size roster as the foxes meaning they rarely got to sub out players, which is why they were so exhausted by the end. Throwing yourself around a huge court at top speed for an hour is tiring.
Thatâs all I can think of at the moment, Iâm not an expert and itâs been a while since Iâve read the books but I think exy is a pretty cool sport :)
#literally 2 people said they wanted to hear it thatâs more than enough for me :))#all for the game#aftg#the foxhole court#mostly I wanted to make this because I think the rule about counting steps is really neat bc it makes the sport wayyyyy harder for no reason#tfc#exy#the raven king#the kings men#neil josten#andrew minyard#kevin day#renee walker#dan wilds#the foxes#foxes#ao3#the sunshine court#palmetto state foxes#psu foxes#sorry this is so long#and also probably unnecessary because this is a made up sport from a book series but I donât care#itâs my hyperfixation I get to decide how seriously Iâm taking the rules of exy#sorry for the long post thank you if you bothered to read all that I love you :D#long post#but yeah I went to the same school as Nora that she based the books on and it was super weird because I was a student when I read them and#I did NOT realize she went there too and it weirded me out how similar psu was to my school until I looked it up#I was like âtheyâre driving on cherry road? I LIVE ON CHERRY ROADâ#help how do I make this a read more post so itâs not 20 miles long#I FIGURED IT OUT
33 notes
¡
View notes
Text
Thinking about Miles being the literal modern day reincarnation of Apollo again.

[ Apollo[a] or Apollon[2] is one of the Olympian deities in classical Greek and Roman religion and Greek and Roman mythology. The most Greek of the gods, Apollo has been recognized as a god of archery, music and dance, truth and prophecy, healing and diseases, the Sun and light, poetry, and more. One of the most important and complex of the Greek gods, he is the son of Zeus and Leto, and the twin brother of Artemis, goddess of the hunt. Seen as the most beautiful god and the ideal of the kouros (ephebe, or a beardless, athletic youth). Apollo is known in Greek-influenced Etruscan mythology as Apulu.[3] ]
The inherent beauty he carriesâ the ideal of the "kouros." The way he brings love and light and healing to every person and every thing he touches. Protector of the young; the youthful brilliance of him, his unquestionable geniusâ how he's all at once a musician, an artist, and a writer.






His magnitude and light is equal to the golden hand of the sun.


But most importantly, Miles has been recognized as the best of all the Spider-Men, the one who upholds and carries the strength of it all in the purest form: in the same way Apollo is the Greekest of the gods, Miles is the ultimate Spider-Man.

#long post#marvel#miles morales#i have MANY thoughts about this... Miles is so many things at once and i didn't even have the space to put all the pictures i wanted đđđ#tumblr please let me add 20+ pictures to a post im BEGGING#I've always seen Miles as a sun god; simply because of how bright of a light he carries at all times#the little godling#p
9 notes
¡
View notes
Text
Preindustrial travel, and long explanations on why different distances are like that
Update March 1, 2024: Hey there folks, here's yet another update! I reposted Part 2a (the "medieval warhorses" tangent) to my writing blog, and I went down MORE of the horse-knowledge rabbit hole! https://www.tumblr.com/jadevine/741423906984951808/my-post-got-cut-off-so-i-added-the-rest-of-it Update Jan 30, 2024: Hey folks, I've posted the updated version of this post on my blog, so I don't have to keep frantically telling everyone "hey, that's the old version of this post!" https://thebalangay.wordpress.com/2024/01/29/preindustrial-travel-times-part-1/
I should get the posts about army travel times and camp followers reformatted and posted to my blog around the end of the week, so I'll filter through my extremely tangled thread for them.
Part 2 - Preindustrial ARMY travel times: https://www.tumblr.com/jadevine/739342239113871360/now-for-a-key-aspect-that-many-people-often-ask
Part 2a - How realistic warhorses look and act, because the myth of "all knights were mounted on huge clunky draft horses" just refuses to die: https://www.tumblr.com/jadevine/732043691180605440/helpful-things-for-action-writers-to-remember
Part 3 - Additional note about camp followers being regular workers AND sex-workers: https://www.tumblr.com/jadevine/740604203134828544/reblogging-the-time-looped-version-of-my
--
I saw a post on my main blog about how hiking groups need to keep pace with their slowest member, but many hikers mistakenly think that the point of hiking is "get from Point A to Point B as fast as possible" instead of "spending time outdoors in nature with friends," and then they complain that a new/less-experienced/sick/disabled hiker is spoiling their time-frame by constantly needing breaks, or huffing and puffing to catch up.
I run into a related question of "how long does it take to travel from Point A to Point B on horseback?" a lot, as a fantasy writer who wants to be SEMI-realistic; in the Western world at least, our post-industrial minds have largely forgotten what it's like to travel, both on our own feet and in groups.
People ask the new writer, "well, who in your cast is traveling? Is getting to Point B an emergency or not? What time of year is it?", and the newbies often get confused as to why they need so much information for "travel times." Maybe new writers see lists of "preindustrial travel times" like a primitive version of Google Maps, where all you need to do is plug in Point A and Point B.
But see, Google Maps DOES account for traveling delays, like different routes, constructions, accidents, and weather; you as the person will also need to figure in whether you're driving a car versus taking a bus/train, and so you'll need to figure out parking time or waiting time for the bus/train to actually GET THERE.
The difference between us and preindustrial travelers is that 1) we can outsource the calculations now, 2) we often travel for FUN instead of necessity.
The general rule of thumb for preindustrial times is that a healthy and prime-aged adult on foot, or a rider/horse pair of fit and prime-aged adults, can usually make 20-30 miles per day, in fair weather and on good terrain.
Why is this so specific? Because not everyone in preindustrial times was fit, not everyone was healthy, not everyone was between the ages of 20-35ish, and not everyone had nice clear skies and good terrain to travel on.
If you are too far below 18 years old or too far past 40, at best you will need either a slower pace or more frequent breaks to cover the same distance, and at worst you'll cut the travel distance in half to 10 or so miles. Too much walking is VERY BAD on too-young/old knees, and teenagers or very short adults may just have short legs even if they're fine with 8-10 hours of actual walking. Young children may get sick of walking and pitch a fit because THEY'RE TIREDDDDDDDDDD, and then you might need to stay put while they cry it out, or an adult may sigh and haul them over their shoulder (and therefore be weighed down by about 50lbs of Angry Child).
Heavy forests, wetlands and rocky hills/mountains are also going to be a much shorter "distance" per day. For forests or wetlands, you have to account for a lot of villagers going "who's gonna cut down acres of trees for one road? NOT ME," or "who's gonna drain acres of swamp for one road? NOT ME." Mountainous regions have their traveling time eaten by going UP, or finding a safer path that goes AROUND, so by the time you're done slogging through drier patches of wetlands or squeezing through trees, a deceptively short 10-15 miles in rough terrain might take you a whole day to walk instead of the usual half-day.
If you are traveling in freezing winters or during a rainstorm (and this inherently means you HAVE NO CHOICE, because nobody in preindustrial times would travel in bad weather if they could help it), you run the high risk of losing your way and then dying of exposure or slipping and breaking your neck, just a few miles out of the town/village.
Traveling in TOO-HOT weather is just as bad, because pushing yourself too hard and getting dehydrated at noon in the tropics will literally kill you. It's called heat-STROKE, not "heat-PARTY."
And now for the upper range of "traveling on horseback!"
Fully mounted groups can usually make 30-40 miles per day between Point A and Point B, but I find there are two unspoken requirements: "Point B must have enough food for all those people and horses," and "the mounted party DOESN'T need to keep pace with foot soldiers, camp followers, or supply wagons."
This means your mounted party would be traveling to 1) a rendezvous point like an ally's camp or a noble's castle, or 2) a town/city with plenty of inns. Maybe they're not literally going 30-40 miles in one trip, but they're scouting the area for 15-20 miles and then returning to their main group. Perhaps they'd be going to an allied village, but even a relatively small group of 10-20 warhorses will need 10-20 pounds of grain EACH and 20-30 pounds of hay EACH. 100-400 pounds of grain and 200-600 pounds of hay for the horses alone means that you need to stash supplies at the village beforehand, or the village needs to be a very large/prosperous one to have a guaranteed large surplus of food.
A dead sprint of 50-60 miles per day is possible for a preindustrial mounted pair, IF YOU REALLY, REALLY HAVE TO. Moreover, that is for ONE day. Many articles agree that 40 miles per day is already a hard ride, so 50-60 miles is REALLY pushing the envelope on horse and rider limits.
NOTE: While modern-day endurance rides routinely go for 50-100 miles in one day, remember that a preindustrial rider will not have the medical/logistical support that a modern endurance rider and their horse does.
If you say "they went fifty miles in a day" in most preindustrial times, the horse and rider's bodies will get wrecked. Either the person, their horse, or both, risk dying of exhaustion or getting disabled from the strain.
Whether you and your horse are fit enough to handle it and "only" have several days of defenselessness from severe pain/fatigue (and thus rely on family/friends to help you out), or you die as a heroic sacrifice, or you aren't QUITE fit enough and become disabled, or you get flat-out saved by magic or another rider who volunteers to go the other half, going past 40 miles in a day is a "Gondor Calls For Aid" level of emergency.
As a writer, I feel this kind of feat should be placed VERY carefully in a story: Either at the beginning to kick the plot off, at the climax to turn the tide, or at the end.
Preindustrial people were people--some treated their horses as tools/vehicles, and didn't care if they were killed or disabled by pushing them to their limits, but others very much cared for their horses. They needed to keep them in working condition for about 15-20 years, and they would not dream of doing this without a VERY good reason.
â
UPDATE January 13: Several people have gotten curious and looked at maps, to find out how a lot of cities are indeed spread out at a nice distance of 20-30 miles apart! I love getting people interested in my hyperfixations, lol.
But remember that this is the space between CITIES AND TOWNS. There should never be a 20-mile stretch of empty wilderness between City A and Town B, unless your world explains why folks are able to build a city in the middle of nowhere, or if something has specifically gone wrong to wipe out its supporting villages!
Period pieces often portray a shining city rising from a sea of picturesque empty land, without a single grain field or cow pasture in sight, but that city would starve to death very quickly in preindustrial times.
Why? Because as Bret Devereaux mentions in his âLonely Citiesâ article (https://acoup.blog/2019/07/12/collections-the-lonely-city-part-i-the-ideal-city/), preindustrial cities and towns must have nearby villages (and even smaller towns, if large and prosperous enough!) to grow their food for them.
The settlements around a city will usually be scattered a few miles apart from each other, usually clustered along the roads to the city gates. Those villages and towns at the halfway point between cities (say 10-15 miles) are going to be essential stops for older/sick folks, merchants with cargo, and large groups like nobleâs retinues and army forces.
Preindustrial armies and large noble retinues usually canât make it far past 10-12 miles per day, as denoted in my addition to this post. (https://www.tumblr.com/jadevine/739342239113871360/now-for-a-key-aspect-that-many-people-often-ask )
8K notes
¡
View notes
Text
homesick
a cowboy like me one shot
oh, i missed these two. here's a little check-in on my favorite morally irresponsible outlaws.
pairing:Â dbf!joel miller x fem!reader
summary: you spend the weekend back home in austin with joel.
warnings:Â age gap (early 20s/late 40s), twinge of angst, piv sex in the shower (beware of slippage). you know the drill with these two. part of the cowboy like me universe, but can probably be enjoyed as a standalone.
word count:Â 6.3k
series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist | follow @macfroglets w notifs on to be the first to hear when i post đ§Ą
âThis is Joel Miller. I canât come to the phone right now, so leave a message and Iâll get back to ya.â
You wait for the beep, pacing along a wall of steel cylinders. The laundromat is stifling, the machinesâ drumming deafening. Itâs eighty-something degrees out, and itâs only six oâclock.
âPick up, Miller. Hello? Hello? I know youâre there. Canât come to the ââ you clear your throat, strum the twang in your vocal cords, ââ Canât come to the ph-owww-ne right nââ
The line clicks as he picks the handset up.
âDid you call just to make fun of me, kid?â
You halt, spinning on your heel. âSo you were screening me?â
He scoffs. âDidnât notice the time. Iâve been out back with Tommy.â
âOh,â you mellow, tongue curling around your ice cream, âWe donât have to call right now, you know. Iâm just doing laundry.â
âIt is six there, right?â
âYeah, but donât let me keep you. Go hang with your brother.â
Joel sighs as he sinks back into his couch. âKeep me. He knows you were calling tonight. Heâs probably outside fraternizing with the neighbor, anyway. Wonât even notice Iâm gone. Laundry, huh?â
âMhm.â You suckle on the lip of the waffle cone. âItâs a beautiful night, and Iâm stuck being force-fed MĂśtley CrĂźe and watching a steel drum shred my panties.â
âSounds like a good time to me.â
âEnough, cowboy.â
âI like MĂśtley CrĂźe,â he chuckles. âThey got some hits under their belt.â
âName five.â
âFive,â he says. âYouâre asking a lot there, darlinâ.â
âOf MĂśtley CrĂźe or of your memory, old man?â
Joel hums. âShouldâve seen that one coming, baby.â
You boost yourself up onto one of the dryers, swinging your legs. If there were anyone else in the laundromat, youâd care to hide your fluster â but youâre here on your own, and the man just melts you. All girlish and giggly, you feel his words swirl around your stomach like sweet honey.
âTell me about your day,â you say, covering the flutter in your voice with another mouthful of ice cream.
âWell,â Joel says, âweatherâs fine, workâs fine. Almost done with that renovation for your favorite clients.â
You gasp. âThe old couple with the cats?â
He grumbles. âThatâs them. They still hate me, by the way.â
âThe couple, or the cats?â
ââŚJuryâs out.â
You snicker.
âThen, uh, I called Sarah, had some dinner, and now here I am talkinâ to you.â
âHm. Iâm your favorite part, right? Iâm your favorite part of today?â
Joel pauses, breathing for a moment. Slow, quiet, but sure, he says: âYouâre my favorite part of every day.â
The smile on your face cracks, crumbles into something more pained. Your heart sinks.
Itâs been three months since you were last home. Technically, itâs been seven weeks since you were in Austin â but Joel was out of town for the weekend, and you spent four days cleaning your dadâs gutter and watching westerns.
Itâs been three months since you were last in Joelâs arms. In his house, in his clothes, in his bed. Three months since you heard his voice not through the crackle of a thousand miles apart; since you smelled him on your skin, not on the flannels youâve stolen from him.
Three long, tough months.
And it means nothing, anyway. All this missing each other. So you tell yourselves, and so you tell everyone else. Youâre not together, youâre not committed. Youâve been seeing other people, so has Joel â even if heâs only been on two dates in the nine months since you moved away.
Spending a casual weekend together here and there is enough to get you by. Itâs easier this way, right? Itâs cleaner. There are no crossed wires, no strings at risk of becoming tangled.
Only â your entire relationship is woven in tangled strings. Messy, knotted, twisted around your fingers and threaded through your ribs. A summerâs worth of weaving yourselves closer and closer together, only to be pulled apart come fall.
It didnât take long to prove that when a knot is pulled, it only binds tighter.
It only binds sorer.
âAnyway,â Joel says, âyour turn. How was your day?â
You gulp, slipping down from the dryer to check on your wash. If you speak, youâll break, and if you break, youâll sob.
âBaby? You still there?â
âYep,â you croak. You wipe your eyes with your sleeve and shake your head. âI â uhâŚYeah, my day was fine.â
The line quietens.
âYou sure? Everything okay at work?â
Your reflection blinks back at you in the window of the machine, warped and molten. She opens her mouth and replies, âAll good.â
He can read you even three states apart. âLet me call you back. Hold on.â
The call disconnects before you can protest. Over your shoulder, another regular shuffles into the laundromat.
She smiles, skin supple and sun-spotted, looking but not looking you in the eye. She slides her full basket over one of the machines on the other side of the room, and tosses her clothes into the drum.
When your phone vibrates again, you pass by her and out onto the street.
Joelâs pixelated living room stretches across your screen.
âJoel,â you sniff, âJoel, itâs ââ
âCan you see me?â
âNo, you gotta flip your ââ
ââŚnever know why the damn thing donât ââ
âThe button with the arrows. The camera button, Joel, itâs ââ
His coffee table flips, and in place â straight, dark brows drawn tight in a frown. Crows feet, scar across the bridge of his nose. Peppered hair a little longer than the last time you called, beard a little thicker.
The only person in the world who can weaken your knees and splinter your chest, in one fleeting glance.
âHi, baby girl,â he whispers, expression softening. âLook at you.â
You slump against the warm wall, sliding down. One sight of him, and your knees give. âOh, my God, I miss you today.â
Joel laughs. His head cocks, smirk tugging at his lips. âI miss you every day.â
âYeah, thatâs â thatâs what IâŚâ you sigh, ââŚThatâs what I meant. Itâs just â some days, you feel a little further away.â
âToday one of those days?â
You nod. A car soars by, whipping hot air from the road which pours over your bare legs. âItâs justâŚbeen a day. Thatâs all.â
âWe can talk about it, if you want. Youâre hell of a lot smarter than me, darlinâ, but Iâve had my share of bad days before. Never does any harm to get it off your chest.â
He smiles. It breaks your heart.
He works ten hours straight, some days. Out at the crack of dawn, home with only enough time and energy to nuke something in the microwave. Somewhere amongst that, he fits in beers with Tommy and ridiculous DIY jobs your dad elicits his help for.
And still â he sets aside an hour or two every few nights, specially for you. He collapses into his couch, decaf in his mug, and puts the world to rights with you on the other end of the phone.
The meaningless work dramas, the paper building up on your desk. The commute, for the love of God â the traffic jams you swear will one day be the death of you. The last thing Joel needs is to listen to your problems on end, and you tell him so.
âBullshit,â he replies. He shakes his head, takes a sip of his beer. âI asked, didnât I? Talk to me. Tell me whatâs goinâ on.â
You groan. âI justâŚI wish I could turn my brain off. Just for a little while. No meetings, no call times. No helping my dad trim the trees in the yard when Iâm home for the weekend.â
He laughs. âHe rope you into that one too, huh?â
âSure did.â You tense your fist, wince at the memory of splinters you were still plucking from your palm even weeks later.
âI got nothing to complain about,â you tell Joel, âI know that. This job isâŚitâs right where I want to be. Just â sometimes, I miss being back in Austin, following you around Costco and hiding from my dad. Itâs like life was simpler then.â
Joel chokes. âI guarantee you,â he coughs, thumping his chest clear of beer, âlife was not simpler. Not by a long shot. Goddamn.â
He swings to his feet and wanders across the room to his kitchen. Past his armchair, past the guitar mounted on the wall. Past the dining chair he always hangs his coat from. You know the anatomy of his home better than your own, it feels like.
You sure as hell miss it more than your own.
âLemme seeâŚâ Joel squints over his phone. He leans over his kitchen counter. âWhatâs next weekend look like for you?â
You shrug. âMy weekend off.â
âNothing planned?â
âNothing yet.â
He nods. âIâm meeting a supplier on Saturday afternoon, but if you can stand to be without me for a few hours, thenâŚâ
His eyebrows lift.
So do yours. âThenâŚ?â
âI can look at flights,â Joel says, âget you booked tonight. Pick you up Friday, drop you off Sunday. Spend the whole weekend with your brain shut off, if thatâs what youâre lookinâ for.â
A wave of warmth floods through your chest. Relief, maybe â or simple adoration for the man on the other end of the phone. Most likely, the way it always seems with Joel, itâs both at once.
He loves you. Enough to break every rule in the book. To go behind his best friendâs back for an entire summer. He loves you enough to let you go, watch you follow your wildest dreams, and then be the safety net at the end of each long day, each hard night.
He loves you enough to scratch everything off his calendar for a few days, just to make sure youâre okay. Just to hold you in his arms, heart beating a rhythm he knows better than his own. Just to sing you to sleep, and wake you up with burnt toast and runny eggs.
You pull the collar of your shirt over your nose and weep into the material. âI ever tell you how much I love you?â
He smiles. âNot half as much as I love you.â
âGross.â
âI know.â
The laundromat door flings open.
Face now flushed and hair scraped back, the woman clocks you immediately and throws a pointed finger in your direction. âAre you coming to get your panties or what, little girl?â
She clicks her teeth and disappears again. The blind hanging over the door rattles with the force it slams closed.
âGuess thatâs my cue,â you whisper, heaving to your feet. âBetter go get my panties.â
âWhy?â Joelâs making his way back outside. âAinât like youâre gonna need âem.â
You scoff. âTalk later, cowboy.â
Austin welcomes you back with a delayed flight, a screaming seatmate, and a raging headache.
The airport is busy. Loud busy. All chittering couples, hordes of kids with nauseatingly bright backpacks. You drag your suitcase through to arrivals, careful not to trip over the wheels of the stroller ahead.
When you spot his tall, dark figure weaving between bodies, the gate hushes. You move towards him by instinct, parting the crowd as you go. The magnet in your chest senses its partner drawing nearer, and nearer, and nearer.
And nearer, until heâs reaching out. Heâs close enough that his hands land on your waist, and itâs the first time in three months that youâve felt this weight â his weight, the way only he feels â all around you.
Joel pulls you in to his chest. He locks you in, resting his chin on your head.
âHi, honey.â
You inhale his scent, breathe in the comfort of him. âHi,â you exhale.
Tears prickle at your eyes. It feels stupid. He looks down at you, thumb swiping across your cheek, and a salty droplet spills.
âHow was the flight?â he asks.
âGood.â
âYou okay?â
âPerfect, now.â
âYou look perfect,â Joel grins, âLook like the sun.â
And you could swat him away, could shrug him and his flirting off. The sun sure as hell doesnât look stewed in three-hour plane, too tired to move and too clingy to unhook from her dadâs best friendâs arm.
But thatâs not what heâs saying, is it?
You do look different. You feel different. You feel brand new. Golden â just like the sun.
These days, it feels like there are two versions of you. One, youâve spent the better part of a year polishing off â electric and vibrant, eyes wide and head spinning, moving through her day like gliding on air and then collapsing in a heap come nightfall. Chaos with a clipboard and call sheet.
And the other â slower. Steadier. Surer on her feet, simpler in her ways. Dust under her heels and a Texan shine in her smile. Honeylike; moving where her body tells her to go, drinking up the world as she pleases.
Thereâs a moment, stood under the fluorescent lights of the terminal, where you feel the first give way to the second. Safe now, in Joelâs arms, to slip back into her old, worn boots and shutter her mind â even just for this weekend.
âCome on,â he whispers, wrapping his hand around yours. âLetâs get you home.â
And there never seemed like a better idea than that.
He keeps your things in his shower caddy.
Bottom basket, strictly yours. Shampoo and conditioner and bodywash and a loofah, all exactly where you left them last time you were here. He says it as he cranks the handle, holds his palm under the flow until itâs just right.
âThe strawberry stuffâŚ?â Joel nods to the bottle, face screwed.
You gasp. âYou donât like it?â
He shakes his head. âLike it on you. I smelled like a fruit farm for a week, baby.â
âMakes a change from wood trimmings,â you mutter, peeling the shirt from your chest.
Joel glares over his shoulder. âYou wanna say that a little louder?â
âNo, sir,â you whisper, and step into the cubicle.
The water pours over your head and down your spine, breathing life back into your body. You close your eyes and let it wash down your face. LA feels so distant, so lost to the steam and serenity in Joelâs ensuite.
He lingers in the doorway, watching as you turn under the shower. He smiles when you hold your hand out and flick your fingers.
âSoap, please.â
âYes, maâam,â he says, dropping it in your palm.
You slip the velvety bar over your skin. The soap lathers in thick, milky bubbles, cascading over your chest down to your hips. Your hands lift from your navel to cup your breasts, pinching your nipples between soft fingers.
Joelâs jaw ticks. He crosses his arms, shoulders tensing. âEasy, darlinâ. Dancing with the devil here.â
It burns low in your stomach.
You pass him the bar back. âMaybe I want to dance,â you murmur. âMaybe he does, too.â
His eyebrows lift. âMaybe he does,â he agrees. He trades the soap for shampoo, tapping the bottle against your hip.
The heat grows under your skin. Having him watch, his close eye on you as you wash the suds from your hair and slick bodywash over your skin.
His eyes drift from your chest to your waist, looping up to your soaked eyelashes and dripping bottom lip, diving again between your legs.
Hungry. Starved, even.
Three months of secret photos and sexy phone calls to get you both by. Three months of imagining you, fist around his cock in the dead of night, coating his stomach just with the thought of you.
And right here, right now, in his shower: the real thing. The forbidden fruit. Body hot and skin soaked, just as desperate as he is. Just as needy.
You step forward, reaching for his shoulders. Arms around his neck, dampening the collar of his shirt, you pull him closer.
âDance with me,â you whisper against his lips, stealing a kiss.
Joelâs gaze darkens. He takes your jaw and tilts your head back. Voice like thunder rolling over you, he warns, âI told someone weâd be somewhere.â
You smile, tugging on the hem of his shirt. âWeâre running late. Somethingâs come up.â
His arms lift and you pull the cotton over his head, tossing it to the floor. Heâs the same solid sculpture as always. Strong and wide, torso scattered with hair which thickens across the span of his chest.
He rids himself of his boots and jeans, kicks his underwear off, and joins you under the water. So big that he corners you, so tall that he has to adjust the showerhead.
Pressed up against your body; warm, manly scent raining over you. Heâs hard, tucked right by your hip, rutting gently as he steals kiss after kiss.
Heâs addicted to it. To you. Has been ever since that first night, the first taste of poison. Has been, probably, since that first glimpse of you last summer. For all the wrong reasons and in all the wrong ways, for better or worse â
You break him open. You make him weak.
Joel groans when you wrap your hand around him. That familiar weight in your grasp. He glances down to watch your slow strokes, fighting back a filthy smile.
âMissed you,â he breathes, voice lost to the patter of the shower. He slips a hand between your legs. âAinât gonna last long, are you?â
âFuck,â you hiss, grinding into his palm. You toy with his bottom lip, nipping at the edges of his smirk. âWe got all weekend. Just â just fuck me.â
He hikes your leg over his hip and lines up. A blooming ache when he notches at your hole, tip teasing your entrance.
Your back curls. You wrap your arms around Joelâs neck, whimpering into his chest.
ââs alright,â he kisses your neck, âJust take it nice ân slow. Get her used to me again, baby.â
He pushes inside, two heavy hands on your waist. Always in control, always easing you in. He holds you delicately, moving inch by inch, watching the twist of your brow and bite of your lip before sinking in further.
He reaches up and tilts the downpour to the wall. Lifts your fragile body, split in two on his cock, and pushes you against the tile.
Your cunt aches as he slides out. She clamps around his tip. It hurts â but you donât want to let him go.
âStay,â you cry, nails digging into his shoulders. âStay inside me.â
He hums and presses his lips to the hinge of your jaw. âI ainât goinâ anywhere, baby. Iâm right here.â
His hips move forward. Your cunt opens for him the deeper he moves. Like welcoming him home, remembering the way it feels to be this full. The stretch of taking him, the air stolen from your lungs. The love you can never find the beginning nor the end of.
And then heâs moving quicker, sharper, one arm wrapped around your neck to cradle your head. Hips snapping against yours, slowing to a roll when you yelp.
Whispering sweet nothings in your ear â how good youâre taking him, how tight she is. How much heâs missed this, missed her, missed you. Never wants to let you go, never wants to be anywhere except right here, feeding you his cock and watching you come undone.
âMade for me, huh?â Joel grunts. He presses his forehead to yours and slips the words across your tongue. âAll mine.â
âAll yours,â you echo, weeping under him. The flame catches and curls around your stomach.
The missing piece to the last nine months. The dead-end dates, the hazy hookups. Awkward good mornings, and goodbyes that never seem to come quick enough. Sneaking off home to shower the scent of it away, to replace it with something sweeter.
Him.
Because none of them are him.
They donât make you laugh and they donât make you come. They donât see you, donât hang on your every word. They donât â they canât break your world apart and paint it something new. They donât know your every move, donât understand the most fleeting glances.
You could spend forever circling every bar and every diner; what do you do for work and where did you grow up. You could chase the tail of every flannel shirt, search all over for that twinkle in his eye.
Theyâre not him. Theyâll never be him.
Joel coaxes you where he needs you. He fucks you until youâre quivering in his arms, head rolling across his shoulder. His thrusts begin to stall, breathing turns to panting, teeth sink into any part of your skin he can find.
He moans into your neck. The sound nudges you towards the edge.
âIâm close, baby,â he grits, ââm so close.â
You look up at him through tear-soaked eyes.
Three months. Since the last time he touched you, kissed you, fucked you like this. Since the last time he lost control, came deeper inside than anyone before, or anyone since.
Three months since the last time you held him in your hands, lined your lips with his, and begged him to stay in you.
Joel laughs. âDangerous little game, darlinâ.â
But heâs fading. Heâs falling under, same as you are.
You want it. You need it. Need to be full of him â that ache when you walk, the warmth leaking down the inseam of your thighs. The feeling of being his, all his; ruined and wrecked in the sweetest way.
âStay â inside,â you plead. âI want you to â want it so bad.â
âKeep begging, honey. Sound so cute when youâre desperate.â
âPlease, Joel,â itâs getting harder to hold, âJust wanna feel you in me ââ
âI know, I know,â he shushes.
You tense in his arms, gasping. âIâm gonna â come ââ
âSo,â Joel smirks, âcome.â
And it snaps.
You scream into his chest. Your climax pulls you under, drowns you in a heavy wave of pleasure. Your hips lock, legs clamp around his waist as you cry out.
He plants a hand flat against the tile to steady himself. He holds you still as his own orgasm rolls through, pumping your swollen cunt with each rush of warm release.
You collapse against his body, bubbling and mumbling something incoherent.
He hears you, though.
He shuts the water off and rocks you back and forth. His cock slips from between your legs. âShh, shh,â lips to your temple, ââs my girl. Such a good girl, baby. So good for me.â
You hum in response and pull yourself upright. You trace the shape of his beard, soaking wet and soft under your touch, following the droplets of water to his chin.
He kisses the tips of your fingers. âI love you,â he says. Chants it like a prayer, leaning closer and closer until his lips are against yours. âLove you more ân anything.â
You giggle. âYouâre tickling me.â
Joel nuzzles his nose into your neck. He wriggles his fingers under your ribcage. âCanât get enough of you,â his tongue swipes across your hot skin, âSwear to God, baby, youâre killing me.â
âJoel,â your head falls back with a clap of laughter, âJoel, stop â oh, my God, you have to stop, please â Joel!â
He hoists you onto his hips and turns. Hands still exploring, still pinching and squeezing everywhere they shouldnât be, he carries you out to his bedroom and drops you onto the mattress.
âHere,â he chuckles, wrapping a towel around your body. He knots it over your chest and rubs your waist, before flopping down onto the bed with a sigh.
You roll over on top of him and fix the dripping hair from his forehead. âMissed you,â you whisper, trailing kisses along his collarbone.
He smiles. His heart flutters beneath yours. âMissed you more,â he says.
His semen drips between your legs. Heâs softening against the inside of your thigh. The bed is soaked, sheets thatâll need changed before you sleep tonight. Youâre tired, spent, pussy throbbing from the loss of him â and itâs all so perfect.
Being here, with him. Seeing him, feeling him on your body. In your body, for crying out loud. Holding him, kissing him, loving him up close.
Itâs fucking perfect.
âWhat are we running late for?â you ask.
Joelâs eyes flutter open. He cocks his head, frowning.
âYou said we had somewhere to be,â you clarify.
âOh,â he winces, âUh, your dadâs. Heâs havinâ us for dinner.â
âOh,â you echo. âWhen is he expecting â?â
He glances at the clock. âHalf hour ago.â
âNice.â You push yourself up, slipping from his grasp. âWell, this is about to be awkward.â
Joel folds his arms behind his head. He tracks your flurried movements: lugging your bag across the floor, tearing through it for an outfit that doesnât scream, Your best friend just fucked me senseless in his shower.
When you straighten and lift your arms, eyes wide, his lips turn.
âYou said you wanted to dance, baby. I was just following orders.â
The sun filters through the leaves, breathing back and forth with the sway of the trees.
Youâre horizontal in a deckchair, feet in Joelâs lap, blanket around your shoulders. Full on burgers and baseball talk; if it werenât for your dadâs riveting conversation about his new lawnmower, youâd probably be asleep.
âRide-on,â he tells Joel, nodding. It makes gardening a real thrill, apparently. He flicks a hand over the span of the yard. âWhole thing done in less than twenty minutes. Hank says heâs half a mind to make an investment himself.â
Joel purses his lips. He strokes your ankles soothingly. âSounds like a good buy,â he placates.
Your dad drums on his armrests, admiring his yard some more. He mumbles something about raking the leaves, painting the fence, then â with a vigor that makes you jump, he taps your arm.
âHowâs work, kiddo? Still rockinâ ân rollinâ?â
Your eyes flash across Joelâs. The hell does that even mean?
The corner of his lip twitches. Your guess is as good as mine.
âYep,â you lie. âLiving the dream, Dad.â
Joel says nothing. He hasnât told your dad why you came home â hasnât even mentioned the tears outside the laundromat. Your secret is safe with him, you know that. Some puzzles are easier to figure out, the less eyes that are on them.
He hasnât even brought it up with you yet. Granted, youâve been home all of four hours, and a solid quarter of that time has been spent naked with him back at his place â but heâs waiting for you to make the first move.
This weekend doesnât have to be about work. Hell, it doesnât even have to be about you feeling homesick. It can be as simple as you hadnât seen your dad for a few weeks, or you heard the news about the damn lawnmower and just had to pay a visit.
Itâs what youâve always loved so much about Joel. Itâs what reeled you into him in the first place.
He just lets you be. No questions, no pressure, no worries. He knows youâll figure it out â you always do. And if he knows that, then it makes you believe in it, too.
Dad sinks back into his chair with a sigh. âWhatâs on the cards this weekend, then?â
âJoelâs down San Antonio way tomorrow,â you yawn, âSome supplier meeting.â
âYou donât feel like a road trip?â
Your eyes roll to Joel. Heâs already staring back. You cock an eyebrow, smirking into your glass.
His shoulder rolls in a shrug. âYour call, chief,â he says, tipping his drink to you.
The minute he mentioned the meeting last week, you knew youâd be tagging along. Two hours each way and an hour in between is too big a chunk of your weekend together to miss out on.
That â and youâve missed Joelâs front-seat singing.
It doesnât matter what you planned on doing â rolling around his bed for three days straight, driving to San Antonio and back. Hell, trimming your dadâs trees and cleaning his guttering.
As long as youâre doing it with Joel, itâs enough.
Itâs what you came home for in the first place.
The drive passes quickly enough. Joelâs truck doesnât have Bluetooth, and he only keeps three discs in his glove compartment: Don McLeanâs American Pie, a Guitar Classics compilation album, and a blank disc with SARAH MILLER, SECOND GRADE scrawled in Sharpie.
He whips it from your hands when you fish it out of the compartment.
âListen, listen to this,â Joel says, slotting it in the tray. âFound it a couple weeks ago. I listen to it when Iâm drivinâ to work.â
Her squeaky, seven-year-old voice punches through the cabin. âWelcome to my presentation ââ she roars into the mic, pausing when a voice picks up in the background. âHuh?â Sarah asks.
âYouâre holdinâ the mic too close,â Joel murmurs, almost fourteen years younger. âFarther. Farther,â he says, and then â âAlright. Go.â
âWelcome to my presentation on Amelia E-Earhart,â she resumes, clearing her throat. âSheâŚOh, Daddy, we gotta restart. I forgot to tell âem my name.â
Joel covers his laughter with his fist, reciting it line for line. âTommy said heâs gonna make her a copy for her birthday,â he says.
âOh, my God. Sheâs gonna hate you guys, you know that, right?â
He nods. âIâm countinâ on it.â
Sarah rounds off a few facts about twentieth century air travel before Joel swaps her for the radio. He hands you the disc and you place it safely back in the glove compartment.
You curl up in the passenger seat, swinging your legs over to his lap.
He rubs your calves and glances over, smiling. âYou okay over there?â
âIâm more tired than I was when I landed,â you reply, and he laughs.
You havenât had much of a chance to catch up on sleep. The second you made it home last night, your dress was on the floor at the foot of Joelâs bed. He woke you this morning with his lips on your thighs, your underwear around your ankles.
He was midway through cooking breakfast when you floated into the kitchen to return the favor. The toast burned, the eggs shriveled to a crisp, and your knees bruised.
Fuck it, right? Youâll miss him when youâre gone. When all thatâs left are the memories, and the sound of his climax through speakerphone.
An afternoon spent on the road is good recovery time, then, for all thatâs waiting for you when you make it back to Joelâs tonight.
A few off-key covers of fifty number ones from the last fifty years later, youâre pulling into a barren lot headered by a beige trailer. The supplier springs out â a beefy guy with a full head of thick, white hair. He crosses the lot as Joel parks up.
Joel rounds the truck, pausing when he spots you lingering at the tailgate. He curves a hand around your neck, thumb circling over your pulse point. âYou cominâ?â
You twist the hem of your tee around your finger. âMaybe Iâll stay out here and wait. Itâs a nice night, and you ainât gonna be too long, right?â
He shakes his head. âBe as fast as I can. If it gets dark out, you come inside, alright?â
You shuffle into his embrace. âPromise.â
He kisses your head and steps back. âHere,â he slips the flannel from his shoulders, âIf youâre sittinâ out. Got my phone if you need me.â
He disappears inside and the door falls closed. A cluster of moths twirls around the light on the trailerâs side. You hop up on the bed of the truck, crossing Joelâs shirt around your frame, and nestle against the back window.
The sun pulls down towards the horizon, sending dregs of daytime in ripples to the stars. Sheâs still alight just beyond the trees, still burning a hole in the sky. She winks at you from a distance.
The world looks different from Austin. Bigger, like the view from your bedroom window. Thereâs always more, just beyond the horizon. There has to be more, right? More than four pink walls and a chest of drawers. More than Salâs store, more than Ritaâs cross stitch.
You chased that more halfway across the country â only to realize it was in your hands the whole time.
Him and his lazy smile, sarcasm as thick as the accent he speaks it in. Rolled up sleeves and messy collar; a half-empty cup of coffee and a cracked watch face.
Heâs all the more you could ever need.
Youâre still perched on the tailgate, staring skyward, when Joel finishes up.
He swaggers across the lot, tan arms speckled with dry dirt, boots kicking up dust. He tosses a fistful of papers in the front seat, then drifts around to settle between your knees.
âHi,â he whispers, tucking his nose under your jaw.
âHi.â
He plants his hands either side of your hips and kisses your neck. âHome time, sweet girl.â
You glance over your shoulder.
This time tomorrow, youâll be on your flight back. Row twelve, seat C. Joelâs flannel over your shoulders, slowly forgetting the scent of him, mile by mile. Youâll sleep with it tucked under your chin until it no longer smells like oak or pine, or the mint bodywash he uses.
Youâll miss it the way youâll miss him. Holding onto every last moment. Deep morning voice, warm, safe embrace. The rumble of a laugh in his chest, the glimmer or mischief in his eye. The touches he saves just for you; the words he whispers when the lights turn out.
You wrap your arms around his neck.
âCan we go watch the sunset somewhere?â
Joel glances off behind you. His eyes flit back to yours, sunlight catching their ochre and setting him ablaze.
âGet in,â he pulls you down, âI know just the spot.â
Itâs almost dusk by the time you reach the outlook.
A twisty dirt road which opens up between some trees, halfway out of the city. Joel reverses the truck and parks in the clearing. The two of you slide onto the tailgate, sharing a bag of fruit gums he had stored alongside Sarahâs CD.
The stars turn one by one, dotted across deep indigo. The last of the dayâs blush still lingers where the city meets the sky. Tucked between trees and twilight, it feels as though youâre the only two in the world.
Joel holds the bag out, and you pinch a couple pieces of candy. âHow you feelinâ?â he asks, looking out to the skyline.
âOkay, I guess,â you mutter. âThis has been a nice reset. I wish I could take you back with me.â
Joel laughs. âI donât.â
âNo?â you suckle on the sweet fruit, âI think youâd fit right in.â
âOh, Iâm sure.â He shakes his head, pinching your chin. âNaw, LA is yours. Itâs something you did, all by yourself. I am so proud of you, honey, do you know that? I mean, I miss you like hell, I really doâŚâ
He glances back down, rustling the bag in his hands. Heâs hiding, you know him well enough. Staring at his lap instead of in your eye. When he looks back up, thereâs a glimmer along his waterline.
ââŚBut the way I feel any time you call, and I knowâŚI know youâre out there doinâ something you actually give a shit about. You ainât stuck here, too big for your own bedroom, too comfortable for anywhere else.â
He slips a hand over your knee and squeezes.
Itâs infuriating, how right he always is. Youâre working your fucking ass off, and for good reason. Austin was always too small for the world inside your head. Missing each other is a price youâre both willing to pay, for the luxury of not missing out on every dream youâve ever had.
But â
âWhat if it keeps getting harder?â you sniff, âWhat if I need you more?â
Joel clicks his teeth. ââs always gonna get harder. Thatâs life, darlinâ. But the hard times wonât last forever. And when it feels real tough, and you feel like you canât do it no more, you call me. You jump on the next flight. You switch your brain off, and you let me take care of you for a little while.â
You shake your head. Tears break loose, rolling down your cheeks. âI canât ask that of you, Joel, you got your own shit to worry about ââ
âBaby.â He sighs. âIâm old. Iâve done everything I think I oughta do. You know, the days I know youâre gonna be callinâ at eight oâclock â itâs all I can think about. Iâm at work checking my watch every five minutes.â
You giggle, turning into the crook of his arm.
âItâs true,â Joel snickers, âIâm like a goddamn teenager. Thatâs what you do to me.â
He catches you and pulls you against his chest.
âWhat Iâm saying is â there ainât nothing that matters more to me in the world than you. My own shit to worry about? You mean â you?â
âShut up,â you scoff, spitting tears into his shirt.
âYou call,â he says, resolute, âand Iâll be there.â
âIâm calling,â you whisper. âIâm always calling.â
âThen Iâm always here.â
You sit back, bracing yourself on Joelâs thighs. He wipes the wet from your cheeks and fixes his shirt over your shoulders.
âYou know, one day,â you tell him, âyouâre gonna get a call, and itâs not just gonna be for the weekend.â
He smiles. âI know.â
âOne day, Iâm gonna come home forever, Joel.â
âI know,â he repeats. âAnd Iâll be on the front porch waitinâ.â
#joel miller#joel miller fic#joel miller x reader#the last of us#tlou#tlou fic#joel miller smut#dbf!joel miller#dbf!joel#fic: cowboy like me
2K notes
¡
View notes
Text
Herb Guide: Deaf Warriors and Hearing Disabilities
UPDATE 1: Added more harshness to the lipreading section based on initial feedback; minor rewording of some lines!
A reference for Warrior Cats fans creating characters with hearing loss, blending human advice with cat biology, written for an in-universe perspective on living with and managing such disabilities.
AKA Bonefall casts Spell of Stop Being Weird About Snowkit on all amoebas in 500 mile radius
[ID: A headshot of three cats, a brown tabby with a shredded ear (Strikestone), a solid white cat with blue eyes (Stonewing), and a gray cat with a mane (Dovewing).]
In the five Clans, hearing loss is both one of the most common sensory disabilities, and one of the most intense to adapt to. Through any mix of simple infections, birth abnormalities, or even just getting older, any given Clan can expect at least 1 in 4 of its cats to have some form of hearing loss.
Hearing loss is any impaired ability to hear, defined as not being able to hear noises under 20 decibels. Deafness is "profound" hearing loss, which means their hearing STARTS at a noise that is 81 decibels (ex: motorcycle, middle-distant clap of thunder) or louder. Most deaf people can still hear slightly, but sound is "muffled" and they can only hear VERY loud noises.
Hearing loss = Any impaired ability to hear. Normal hearing is 20 DB or lower.
Hard of Hearing (HOH) = Mild to severe hearing loss; starts between 21 DB and 95 DB.
Deaf = Profound hearing loss at 95 DB or higher; a clap of thunder is a quiet whisper.
MOST hearing loss will affect one ear more strongly than the other, and the cat will be HOH. The vast majority of cats with a hearing disability will still be able to understand their Clanmates, if they're just spoken to louder and more clearly. Cats who are born deaf (congenital deafness), however, tend to have profound hearing loss which affects their ability to understand speech.
Cats rely on their hearing and sense of smell much more strongly than they do on their eyesight. With hearing that's 4x more sensitive than a human's and can differentiate between 1/10th of a pitch, a Clan's healer would recognize hearing loss as a disability long before humans would even notice a problem.
Since hearing loss starts with the high-pitch noises that prey makes, like squeaks and chirps, hearing loss is a major reason for a senior warrior to begin to consider retirement. However, with proper support and accommodation, ANY warrior could adapt to this disability; Especially cats born deaf and younger HOH warriors with lots of time to re-learn.
This guide covers;
Common Causes
Traits and Challenges of Hearing Loss
Communication: Signs, lipreading, and more
Unique Challenges Clan-by-Clan
Sources are linked in a separate post, here, and linked again at the very bottom!
(note: this guide doesn't cover devices of any kind, but one of many reasons why cochlear implants are controversial is because an implant will destroy that remaining hearing. They aren't hearing aids; hearing aids amplify sound. Aids and implants are two different things)
Common Causes
There are DOZENS of ways to destroy the incredibly sensitive ears of a cat. ANY infection or injury can lead to permanent damage. That can include,
Injury gone sour, from battle, hunting, accidents, etc
Concussion, or a hard enough blow to the ear
Ear Mites, especially if the cat can't stop scratching it
Swimming in cold or dirty river water
Fungal or bacterial infections
Allergies, which can lead to sinus infections. Even an infection in the mouth or throat can spread to the ear!
There doesn't even need to be an infection. Around the ages of 7 - 11, a senior warrior may begin to gradually lose their hearing. Sometimes, through genetic factors or degenerative disease within the ear, an even younger warrior will lose it for "no reason."
It just happens, and it's incredibly common. They will usually begin to notice it when they stop being able to hear and hunt small rodents, because hearing loss will start with high-pitched noises.
Healers can do very little about this, besides attempting to clean any wax out of the ear canal with flax oil and a dab (such as moss, wool, or cloth). There are SO many ways for it to happen and so little in the way of treatments, that it's practically inevitable.
The majority of hearing loss is from infection or disease, but the most predictable way to see deafness in the Clans is in kits born white with blue eyes. In fact, ALL pure white cats are more prone to being born deaf!
Pure white without blue eyes: 17% to 22%
White with a single blue eye: 40% (and usually on the side of the blue eye)
White with two blue eyes: 65% to 85%
In an afflicted kit, the inner ear will rapidly degenerate. They typically lose most of their hearing by their 4th day, and will only be able to faintly hear extremely loud noises.
Of course, there's also various other birth defects that can result in deaf and HOH kits, even if they aren't white with blue eyes. The ear canal and hearing organs can just not form correctly! Any kit could be born with hearing loss, and they can have any type!
If the loss came from injury or severe infection, chronic pain in the inner ear is also common. Nothing can be done about this besides painkillers such as poppy seeds. This condition is rare in born-deaf cats.
Most cats with hearing loss will also permanently hear a repetitive, single-note sound. For most it's a faint, tinny "ring," but others can hear hissing, crackling, or humming in high or low pitch.
At first, this constant noise can be distracting or even debilitating, preventing them from focusing or sleeping, until... you just get used to it.
There is no way to turn the noise off. It can get worse or better, but it's forever. Sleeping and not being stressed out will help, but over time, they typically learn to tune it out. Being reminded of it is usually annoying, just like when someone reminds you about manual breathing.
(We call this condition tinnitus. It is up to you what you would like your cats to call it, the same way they refer to pneumonia as greencough. Tinnitus is a LOT broader than this little snippet, but this is not a guide about tinnitus, this is about hearing loss)
So to summarize that,
There's a billiondy-million ways to damage one's hearing.
Losing your hearing from age or disease usually results in being hard of hearing (HOH) as opposed to deaf, and is likely to affect one ear more than the other.
It starts with high-pitched noises like rodent squeaks.
Cats born white with blue eyes have a massive chance of being born deaf; their inner ear degenerates.
But, any kit could be born with any type of hearing loss, not just deafness.
Most cats with hearing loss will hear a distracting, repetitive noise. They just learn to tune it out.
Traits and Challenges of Hearing Loss
Hearing impaired cats are LOUD.
Even warriors who have mild hearing loss will often end up speaking much louder so they can hear themselves, or not notice the sounds they're making as they shift around in their nests, scuffle sand at the dirtplace, or trample through crunchy leaf litter.
If one of their ears is better than the other, they'll usually try to stand with their "good side" facing any speakers or other sources of noise. They might appear to be constantly standing at an angle, with their head turned towards the sound. It might be so second nature that they don't realize they're doing it.
Plus, a cat with hearing loss in only one ear will lose their hearing's "distance perception," the ability to pinpoint a sound's location. EXACTLY like how losing the sight in one eye causes the loss of "depth perception," they will have difficulty telling how far away a noise actually is.
Warriors who lose their hearing later in life typically have years of experience in knowing how prey behaves and what sorts of actions make noise; but cats born deaf have to be taught this.
Instead, born-deaf cats tend to associate "sound" with "vibration." Echoes, rumbles, and the sensation of their own humming or laughter can feel very pleasurable. Their whiskers are so sensitive that they can even feel drafts of air from someone speaking in front of them! Because of that, cats with impaired hearing do better with low, rumbling "sounds" rather than high-pitched ones; even when they can't hear either. They can feel lower pitched noises.
(NOTE: Decibels are the measurement of volume, and Hertz are the measurement of pitch. These are different things, NOT interchangeable. HIGH pitch and LOW volume are lost first.)
This is why hunting is so difficult when cats begin to lose their hearing. Their sense of smell and sight can be perfectly intact, but a lot of how a cat hunts is in listening for delicate little sounds and balancing them in both ears to figure out prey's exact location. So, when a cat is learning to hunt without their hearing, they have to rely on their other senses and keep their whiskers low, dusting the ground with their chops and front paws, in hopes of their quarry making a vibration they can feel.
IMPORTANT: Don't forget that cats have carpal whiskers! They are short whiskers on the front paws of a cat, used primarily for "grappling" with other cats and struggling prey. They are less sensitive than facial whiskers, but still very useful for a hearing impaired warrior.
"Dusting," keeping the face low, is still more effective than relying entirely on "Sweeping" movements with the paws.
The younger the cat is, the more time they will have to practice and master this. Cats born deaf, who have never relied on hearing before, are usually better hunters than older warriors learning completely new techniques.
But. Clan cats aren't the only danger in the forest.
A warrior who is deaf or hard-of-hearing will not hear danger approaching, and is easy to sneak up on. Even if they keep themselves completely quiet, an intelligent fox or an enemy warrior can launch an unexpected attack on their unsuspecting target. The wilderness is dangerous, and it's not feasible to keep one's whiskers pressed to the ground at all times, even if vibrations did carry far enough to detect such danger before it's too late.
So, it would be recommended for warriors with hearing loss to not wander too far without a hearing Clanmate capable of alerting them to sounds.
They also will have a VERY difficult time acting as part of a "battalion," in large-scale battles.
In fights with dozens of entangled warriors, while they're focused on fighting the cat in front of them, they will have a hard time hearing commands. Even if well-trained in visual cues like tail signs, deaf and HOH warriors might fail to respond to yowled orders like, "RETREAT" or "SECURE THE ENTRANCE."
Even if the warrior isn't fully deaf, battles are loud and chaotic! It's very likely that such orders would get lost in the clamor of hissing and screeching cats, if the cat has any difficulties with hearing at all.
In summary,
Cats with hearing disabilities are loud.
Hearing loss in one ear will cause the loss of distance perception, and they will often stand at an angle with their good ear facing the noise.
If they were born deaf, they have to learn what makes noise.
Highly tactile, they tend to rely on whisker-sense to "replace" their hearing.
Keeping their facial whiskers low to feel for vibration, "dusting," is a very useful technique.
"Sweeping" with the carpal whiskers is also useful, but less so than "dusting."
They are in increased danger from things sneaking up on them, and shouldn't go anywhere unsafe without a buddy.
Following battle commands in large-scale battles will be difficult or nearly impossible, making them bad "team players."
Communication: Signing, lipreading, and more
(psst! @twiigbranch has a free-to-use version of pawspeak if you credit them!)
Since the majority of these cats lost their ability to hear later in life, most warriors with hearing loss will speak "normally." By "normally," that means they will talk the same way they did their whole lives, just louder so they can hear themselves better.
Over many years, they may begin to stop enunciating their words, 'slurring' their sentences, and their pitch may be a little off. Even then, it's rare that a Clanmate would be able to "tell" they have hearing loss just from their cadence.
But, meanwhile, cats who are born deaf will have a very complicated journey with speech.
It's PIVOTAL for the kit's development that the family and the Clan takes an interest in trying to communicate with them. Deaf children often become isolated from communities that don't seem to care about them, the same way any other alienated child would. This can result in trauma, lack of self-confidence, and behavioral issues.
Even if your project doesn't have Pawspeak (or doesn't have it yet!), kittens WILL find ways to communicate with their family and Clan. Sign language can evolve organically from home signs, unique gestures that will rise for a deaf child to speak with their family. BUT, the sooner they're introduced to a true sign language, the better they will be able to communicate.
Sign languages can also die naturally, simply fading away if the next few generations don't keep them alive. It's possible for the Clans to have gone through a few, over the years!
(Note: Sign languages are full languages, not just "physical versions" of a spoken one. American Sign Language and British Sign Language are from totally different families, even further from each other than English and Russian!)
It is also possible for cats born fully deaf, who have never heard words, to learn how to speak verbally... but, this takes a LOT more time and effort than using a sign language.
Teaching a deaf warrior how to say words is not quick, or easy, and is a very physical process. It involves a lot of dedicated practice time back-and-forth, with the apprentice placing their paw on their mentor's throat to feel their voice, and being coached on how to mimic the exact inflections of every word. It can be very repetitive, and very boring.
Even with lots of training, speakers born deaf have a noticeable "accent." They pronounce consonants better than they do vowels (aeiou), and often lack tone and inflection. Each warrior is an individual, and using a speaking voice is a skill some will be better at using than others.
Lipreading is very difficult. Most warriors born deaf will never learn how to do this, or even want to, as it takes an immense amount of time, effort, and tutoring. It will be more common for cats with more moderate hearing loss, especially if they lost their hearing later in life.
These are REQUIRED for a proper lip reading;
Clear view of the face. If the speaker is too far away, moving around, covers their mouth, stands in a dark place, or has their back turned, their lips can't be read. There are many ways that the view of the face could be obstructed.
Slow, clear speaking. If they're talking too quickly and mumbling their words, it will be extremely difficult to catch all of what they said. A better lip reader will be able to read faster.
Mental awareness. A cat who is tired to exhaustion, unable to focus, or not expecting to be spoken to will not be able to process what's being said. Lipreading is an action that takes brainpower.
MOST IMPORTANTLY: A single speaker, not overlapping with others. Lip reading is nearly useless during clanwide arguments. If there's tons of cats talking over each other, shouting out and interrupting, responding to unseen lips in the crowd, or even if an important speaker is just at a bad angle for the deaf warrior's line of sight to catch, they will not be able to catch everything.
Lipreading is also an action that takes focus. If the cat is tired, unable to concentrate, or isn't expecting to have to read lips, they won't be able to process what words the mouth was forming. It works best one-on-one, in clear lighting, looking straight ahead at the speaker... and even then, the BEST lipreader might only catch 40% to 50% of the words said.
So, it's truly reading. Interpretation. It isn't straightforward like language is. From, "I see a herd of deer, all of them are bucks" they might only catch, "...a... deer... of them... bucks." They will have to guess the meaning based on context!
(Look into a mirror. Quickly chant "Red right wrong" three times. Do you see how similar your lips look to form those words when you're not trying to clearly enunciate them? That's what lipreaders deal with.)
So, while there are other options, a sign language is absolutely the best choice if possible in your setting. Especially for cats who were deaf from birth, sign language is the ideal solution.
VERY IMPORTANT TIPS FOR WRITING A HEARING DISABILITY:
Please avoid them speaking with broken grammar, in third person, or with overly simplistic vocabulary, as if they are a toddler or a caveman. If a deaf cat is taught to speak, they will also learn grammar. BAD: "Examplefur go hunt. Me catch mouse good." OK: "I'm going hunting. I'm good at catching mice."
They will not suddenly "forget" how to speak if they lose their hearing, unless they have another condition such as brain injury.
Lip reading is inferior to signing.
They cannot perfectly catch every single word spoken in all conversations via lipreading, especially when the speaker isn't making an effort to include them, or it's during a disorganized group argument.
In ideal conditions, 30% to 40% of the words spoken will be picked up, and the reader will "fill in" the missing vocab with guesswork.
Teaching a deaf cat to speak verbally is a dedicated process, not something they easily "pick up."
Cats born deaf will almost never pick up lipreading, it is more common in milder forms of hearing loss.
Showing hearing clanmates making an effort to include hearing-impaired warriors, like doing translations or just making sure they understood everything, is massively appreciated.
A good culture around hearing loss is the best thing in the entire world for these cats. Support, respect, and acceptance are sincerely the most important factor in how well a hearing impaired warrior adapts with their disability.
So with that in mind, let's also explore the unique challenges in the terrains and culture of each Clan.
Unique Challenges Clan-by-Clan
Because of the nature of this disability, certain Clans are going to be more difficult for a hearing impaired warrior to function independently in, both in terms of environmental hazards and of culture.
Deaf and HOH warriors will not hear the sounds they're making if they step on noisy terrain or accidentally rustle nearby plants. Some enemies also rely more on stealth to attack their targets than others, and some territories will provide more places for prey and predators to hide. Water-related hazards will naturally cause there to be MORE disabled cats in some Clans more than others, which could mean that there will be less stigma and better community.
Environment means a lot to a cat with hearing loss!
RiverClan
Because this Clan is notorious for swimming in the river, they would have a massively higher rate of hearing loss (and scent loss) than other Clans; ESPECIALLY in late autumn and winter. This also means their healers would be MUCH more experienced with treating ear problems in general; but that's a subject for another guide!
(to answer a stray question before I eventually make that guide: RiverClan can make primitive earplugs out of beeswax to protect their hearing, but may need to trade with ThunderClan to acquire that.)
The important thing to note is that compared to other Clans, RiverClan has the highest rate of having HOH warriors. This means that there would be better support systems for hearing loss than in other Clans, and a cultural "bank" of techniques and knowledge to be shared.
They still have the same proportion of kittens born deaf compared to other Clans, but apprentices without hearing in RiverClan would have a bigger pool (heh!) of mentors who have experience with accommodating their disability.
Plus, you don't need to hear fish to catch them. While they'd still have issues hunting water voles and other wetland-loving rodents, fishers aren't at a significant disadvantage when it comes to providing food to the Clan.
Advantages--
High concentration of cats with similar disabilities provides community, and influences the broader culture to be more accommodating
Healers would have lots of experience with the injuries and illnesses that lead to hearing loss, leading to better treatment
Hearing is not necessary for catching fish, and thus has almost no bearing on how skilled a hunter would be.
Mentors would have better techniques for teaching deaf apprentices
Disadvantages--
Will not hear drowning cats. If you drop into that water you're on your own, bucko
Winter will be even harder than usual, when the river freezes over and fishing becomes more difficult.
Overall, RiverClan is THE best Clan for a deaf cat to be part of.
WindClan
With wide open spaces and lots of hills that offer a good vantage point, sight and vigilance is much more important for survival in a moorland than hearing. There's even an advantage to Pawspeak here; you can communicate from across the open moor without screaming out your location to all the prey!
On top of that, moorland has low-laying vegetation. It isn't a grassland, or filled with splashing water, or covered in crunchy leaf litter. There's not a lot of things TO accidentally make noise on, unless the warrior is trying to hide in a gorse or common heather bush, and WindClan is notorious for relying on speed over stealth anyway.
The one drawback to being a deaf moor-runner is that they will not hear baying hounds. Dogs are extremely common in moorland, either as sheep herders or as companions to human hunters shooting grouses. That said, the fact that hounds are the ONLY big predator they'll need to worry about immediately makes WindClan's moor safer than any woodland territory.
Badgers, boars, and foxes hate open spaces like moorland. It's just dogs that are a big concern, and hawks for smaller cats. There are very few "sneaky" predators in this area; most rely on speed.
So being a moor-runner is one of the best jobs that a warrior with hearing loss could have in the Clans... but the minute that they start to have problems listening to any orders, a tunneler should stop working underground immediately.
Deaf apprentices should be excused from their mandatory tunnel training, except to learn how to do evacuation drills.
There is no light underground. Even if they're capable of creating rushlights or are willing to sacrifice glowworms, that light will be dim at best, and could snuff out at any moment. Communication will become impossible with a deaf cat, and even moderate hearing loss will endanger any warrior who gets separated from their team.
If something as drastic as a cave-in or a flooding happens, they will be in extreme danger. They can't be properly warned unless they're pushed by a fellow digger, and they will not be able to notice anything that isn't rumbling. If they DO end up getting trapped under rubble, they will not hear a rescue party calling their name.
It's not just themselves they have to worry about, either. Not being able to warn or coordinate with their excavation team will put ALL of them in danger.
Advantages--
Moorland requires sharper eyes than ears to begin with.
Lack of ambush predators makes this territory particularly safe without hearing.
Quiet terrain makes sneaking less neccesary in the first place
Pawspeak is especially useful across wide distances
Disadvantages--
Hounds are still a massive danger; they could get very close before they're noticed, if they're upwind.
Will not receive a warning cry in case of any hawks or approaching predators.
Tunneling would be profoundly dangerous with a hearing disability; should be heavily discouraged.
Overall rating is that this is the second best Clan for a cat with hearing loss. RiverClan's sense of community still gives them the top seat imo, but if the attitudes of their Clanmates are good, WindClan's moor is an easy territory to adapt to.
ShadowClan
This one is going to depend on what version of ShadowClan the Erins feel like writing that day, or which one you've chosen for your own project. Do they live in a dry pine forest? Or a wetland?
If you're using the idea that ShadowClan lives in a dry pine forest, especially if your project exists in Britain where spruces, firs, and larches are non-native and thus the territory is a timber plantation, refer to the new growth section in ThunderClan below.
I do not abide by that idea, because Aengus the Prize Winning Hog did not emerge from a cranberry bog for me to disrespect him in this way <3 love ur local wetland <3
(quick note: a swamp is a wooded wetland, a marsh is an open wetland, a bog is acidic, and a fen is neutral/alkaline. Wetland is the general term here.)
Wetlands are rich with soggy ground, muck, and microbe-ridden stillwater. Though ShadowClan cats don't swim for fun, they would end up with more ear infections than most Clans through accidentally falling into the swamp. It's likely that they have the second-highest rate of hearing loss in the 5 Clans, but still significantly below RiverClan.
The lush, thick ferns and reeds provide lots of cover to the notoriously stealthy Clan, but to a warrior who can't hear, this terrain is loud and frustrating. The squish of mud under your paws and the rustle of undergrowth is very hard to adapt to if you can't hear it. ShadowClan's prey of birds, frogs, and water-rodents will respond to any accidental noises by fleeing, quickly, making hunting difficult.
Plus, ShadowClan doesn't rely on one, large, deep, stony body of water like RiverClan does, which seems to be sedimentary rock and open marsh all around. Predators are lurking everywhere in wooded swamps, and could sneak up on a warrior who can't hear them. Foxes, badgers, and boars are a danger in this territory.
All that said; ShadowClan still doesn't seem to rely on just rodents. They eat a lot of amphibians and reptiles, which are not hunted by sound. Most of the techniques they use to catch them can just be taught verbatim to a deaf apprentice, or continue to be used the same way by a warrior who has lost their hearing.
Advantages--
Concentration of warriors with hearing loss from falling into dirty water may provide community and support.
Has a good selection of prey that doesn't rely on listening to be hunted effectively.
Disadvantages--
Swamps, wooded wetlands, are dangerous and attract predators.
Lush foliage and soupy ground make moving quietly difficult for a deaf warrior; but not as difficult as leaf litter.
So, this Clan would be firmly middle-of-the-line in terms of its accessibility to a cat with hearing loss. It would depend a lot on how you plan to approach ShadowClan in your own project; such as if you plan to build out more campbound activities, see them as being social or antisocial with their Clanmates, and what kind of territory you choose for them to have.
SkyClan
As of the time of writing this guide in 2023, when the only decent description of SkyClan's new territory is from a single chapter of Squirrelflight's Hope, it's very difficult to figure out what sorts of terrain challenges a warrior with hearing loss would face at the lake.
Hopefully I can come back and update this later!
But it's most likely is that they have a diverse, varied territory, involving the climbing of steep hills and gorges. Even at the "gorge" territory, a lot of hunting would need to take place outside of the rocky parts of the ravine, in the sparse woodlands and countrysides nearby.
For hunting on sparse woodland, see the advice for ThunderClan. Most hunting in British countrysides is going to look very similar to WindClan's open fields, so refer up there for that.
Because of how close they are to humans, both in the Gorge and at the Lake, it's HIGHLY recommended that warriors with hearing loss avoid twolegplaces. ESPECIALLY towns. Between cars, crowds, and grabbing hands, these places are already dangerous (and sensory hell) for warriors with great hearing, but outright lethal for a hearing impaired cat who won't hear these things coming.
So while the majority of the Clan is jack-of-all-trades and regularly mixes up the particular terrain they hunt in, this is going to be harder for hearing impaired warriors. They have to invent brand new, unique techniques for ALL of these different environments, some of them more difficult than others. Because of that, it will naturally be easiest for a deaf warrior to "specialize" in a particular type of terrain.
This could result in some pretty intense feelings of alienation, as their hearing Clanmates regularly mix what sorts of places they tackle. Without even intending to, they could end up making the warrior feel very left out!
In terms of the culture though, SkyClan seems notoriously accommodating. Between the part-time-kittypet daylight warriors and the way they invented an entirely new mediator role for a cat who didn't enjoy hunting and fighting, it would likely be one of the BEST Clans in terms of supporting a hearing impaired warrior, even in spite of having a "standard" rate of hearing loss since their territory is not particularly wet.
So, it's very likely that they would WANT to fix the fact they've accidentally made their Clanmate excluded, and seek solutions that work for everyone. If any Clan besides RiverClan had a Pawspeak interpreter translating Leafstar's words, it would probably be these guys lmao
Advantages--
Varied terrain means there will be at least a few places that aren't too hard for them to adapt to
Sparse woods, open fields, and even gorges, the three most common terrain types, are at worst decent for a deaf cat to hunt in.
VERY accommodating culture, the absolute best outside of the Clans with a high hearing loss percentage.
Disadvantages--
Generalist training, where every warrior handles vastly different terrain types, will exponentially increase how much training a hearing-impaired warrior must learn.
Being unable to join with their Clanmates in hunting across the entire territory could feel isolating
Rating: Close to top tier, but variable. It's going to depend somewhat on the personality of the warrior. While SkyClan will likely make a big effort to include them, the reality of needing to learn several sets of parallel skills and the way they might feel like an "outsider" for specializing could cause extra distress. Especially for a warrior losing their hearing later in life.
ThunderClan
Because of their collaborative culture and hunting style, described as snobbish and bossy by other Clans, it's very likely that ThunderClan would struggle the most with a specific type of ableism. Since they value group cohesion, it follows they may force Assimilation onto a disabled warrior rather than Accommodation.
As mentioned earlier, Pawspeak is the best thing for the comfort of a deaf warrior... but it might not occur to this Clan to encourage the majority of the Clan to adapt to a minority of warriors.
But it gets worse. Forests are AWFUL terrain to hunt in if you can't hear. Imagine walking in a field with a bunch of invisible landmines, and if you step on one, it broadcasts your EXACT location.
It's difficult to tell if your mouse is running away because you crunched a leaf and made a sound... or because a bird in a tree SAW you and is now raising up an alarm cry. If you can't actually hear what the noise was that scared your lunch away, you might blame yourself for being clumsy as a fox barrels towards you!
When it comes to forests, there are significant differences between an old growth forest and a new growth forest. BOTH of them are going to be extremely difficult for a disabled warrior to adapt to, but old growth is harder.
OLD GROWTH
In both, ground litter is a challenge, but especially so in an old growth British forest. Natural forests there are primarily mixed oak, which drop twigs, leaves, and acorns all over the ground.
These areas are bountiful, productive, and brimming with life. Both in terms of prey and predators. The varied canopy of natural, mixed-age trees allows sunlight to filter through and create an "understorey," providing lots of food and cover to lots of different animals. Unfortunately, foliage is not a deaf warrior's friend.
As previously mentioned, a mix of areas for animals to hide in and a surrounding of rattling plant life is the worst possible combination for a cat who can't hear. Worse, hunting rodents depends massively on hearing them through the leaf litter, thanks to those high-pitched chirps and squeaks which are the first thing to vanish when a cat loses their hearing.
This would be so bad that it's likely ThunderClan "works" its youngest members much harder than its seniors, assigning apprentices and young warriors to significantly more hunting patrols. Since hearing loss is so common that it's practically inevitable, and the security of a Clan allows these wild cats to live to such old ages, it would be "common sense" to ThunderClan to structure things this way.
Old growth patches are practically food pantries for Clan cats, but hearing impaired warriors will have a HELLISH time trying to hunt in them.
NEW GROWTH
When a forest is new and all of the trees in a stand are about the same age, they create a uniform canopy. Like a continuous tent. This means they're so effective at blocking out sunlight that there's virtually no understorey.
No understorey means no food. Or very little food. But it also means no cover. And, usually, significantly less leaf litter. This is because in Britain, most of these types of forests are non-native conifers. Sitka spruce and douglas fir are the two biggest offenders-- and that's significant because nothing here has evolved to EAT the products of those trees.
In ThunderClan, Tallpines is an example of this, but this type of terrain could pop up anywhere that's seen massive destruction.
No understorey to feed prey, no products of the trees which native animals can eat, a silent floor covered in pine needles which offer no hiding places, almost chilling uniformity of the strange trees in evenly-spaced rows...
All of this to say that there's an irony here, that the hearing impaired warrior will be best at hunting in the most barren parts of the forest.
There's much less things to trip up on, or rustle. Prey can be plainly seen out in the open. Gray squirrels are the most significant prey that can utilize these areas, and they DO make a hearty meal for a Clan cat. Additionally, these areas are particularly silent because they're so barren, which might make them seem "creepy" to hearing warriors, but that wouldn't bother a deaf warrior one bit!
Advantages--
Cultural sentiment of "all for one; one for all" may lead to more dedication from the Clan as a whole in connecting to the hearing impaired cat
Which could be a blessing or a curse, depending on the individual warrior's feelings.
Ability to work efficiently in the most barren parts of the forest
Disadvantages--
Cultural emphasis on collaboration in group hunting likely leads to deaf cats being encouraged to adapt to the patrol rather than their own strengths.
May result in more emphasis on teaching lip reading and 'speech therapy,' rather than the adoption or implementation of Pawspeak.
Very difficult to stay quiet in a forest if you can't hear the crunch of leaf litter and twigs.
Lots of cover means random bullshit can spring out from any corner; abundance of ambush predators.
Cover also means there's a lot of places for prey to hide, and hearing can't be used to pinpoint the location.
Lots of rodent prey, which relies on hearing high-pitched noise to catch.
Rating: F MINUS, SEE ME AFTER CLASS. By FAR the worst Clan for a warrior with hearing loss to be part of, for both practical reasons, AND cultural reasons. Awful awful awful, absolutely abysmal, failing grade. Dark Souls for deaf cats
Though remember! This part of the guide is a suggestion. You do not need to include ableism in your own projects if you do not want to, and I hope with the information that you now have, you know how to better avoid it!
"Sources?"
Right this way~
#Deafness#Hearing Loss#Herb Guide#Clan Culture#warrior cats#deaf warriors#This is not BB but I feel like I should tag it just for the cover art#Since Stonewing and Dovewing don't have hearing loss in canon#BUT I SAY THEY DO#Better Bones AU...ish. kinda#Bonefall's Herb Guides
4K notes
¡
View notes
Text
hunted ⢠yunho



itâs all a game, he says. youâre desperate to play.
yunho x fem!reader
words: 4.7k
warnings: extremely dark kinks, heavy consensual non consent (cnc), dubcon at some points though you have a safeword, internet hookups (donât), unprotected sex (donât), the word ârapeâ is used, hard dom!yunho, fear play, glove kink, choking, impact play, knife play, under-negotiated kink, size kink, painful sex, sir kink, youâre referred to within the scene as a victim and a sex slave, explicit threats of bodily harm and death in the context of cnc, mind break possibly, aftercare, crying etc
youâve been appropriately warned of the content ahead. click out if you are uncomfortable. this is not safe to do irl. hate is blocked.
-
You donât know where else to turn.
Itâs been on your mind for a whileâ this fantasy. This game. You donât know why, or how, and youâd never, ever admit it, but it plagues your thoughts, day after day, haunting your dreams night after night without respite. Youâre too ashamed to even say it.
You never told any of your previous partners; youâd hint, maybe, suggesting weaker, milder things to nudge them the right direction, but they always shied away, got scared about three miles south of what you actually wanted, and ran screaming. You know itâs wrong. If anything, the fact that they ran away should have been a green flag. But it wasnât. Not to you.
You make the account around 3am. Your username is nondescript, profile photo grainy and blurred, showing just enough to attract someone who might be able to do this for you. You write the post with trembling hands; the words come easier to you than youâll ever admit.
I want to be forced. I want to be raped. I want to be punished for resisting. I imagine a stranger, maybe one Iâd only seen in passing. He canât get enough of me. He needs me. Heâll have me. He follows me wherever Iâm going, lying in wait. It doesnât matter how much I resist. Iâm going to be his. He. Will. Have. Me.
As expected, your phone is blown up by the time you check it. Hundreds of old, gross, sleazy men desperate to get a taste of your â shudder â young pussy, as one called it. You hadnât given a specific age, just that youâre in your 20s, but they all seem content to run with the idea of you being on the lower end, rather than the higher. Perverts.
You scroll through the messages. each one confirming the rational part of your brain that says this is a stupid, dangerous idea and you should forget you ever even had it.
Itâs the one at the bottom that stops you. Sent not long after youâd gone to sleep, but theyâd liked the post almost instantly. The profile picture is like yours â grainy, blurred, but suggesting a toned, young-ish, large body â and he too is in his 20s, if heâs telling the truth. His message is short and respectfulâ a breath of fresh air.
youknowme: Nice post. Do you really want that, or do you just like imagining it?
You bite your lip. You donât know why, but this person feels⌠different. Exciting. You want to know more.
rosedepths: i really want it. can you give it to me?
youknowme: I could. Would you take it all?
You chuckleâ you know what he means, but you figure youâll have some fun. See if heâs expecting a sweet, scared little doe whoâll be quick to submit; or if heâs expecting a fight. If heâs expecting you.
rosedepths: nope.
The typing button appears and disappears a few times. You assume he doesnât like your response, and heâs not as exciting a match as youâd hoped, until his next message comes through.
youknowme: Yes, you will.
Oh, fuck. You feel yourself leaking as you read it over and over. Youâre desperate to know more.
rosedepths: have you done this before? raping a stranger?
youknowme: I hope youâre talking about CNC, Rose. If you are, then yes. I have.
rosedepths: you any good at it?
youknowme: Iâve subdued much feistier things than you. I can give you what youâre asking for. Do you want it?
The need in your stomach is so profound you think you could keel over. Youâve never found it easier to type something out.
rosedepths: yes.
You talk until you sleep, and youâre optimistic about this guy. Heâs careful and meticulous with your kinks and limits, guiding you through the details while still retaining the mystery and allure youâre craving. Despite your protests, he insists on a safeword, but assures you that thatâs âthe only thing in the world that will stop him.â
As you become more familiar with this site, designed solely for this purpose it seems, you see this man is⌠popular. To say the least. He even has what looks like a review section from other women heâs fucked and oh, thereâs pictures. Not of himâ but of the deep bruises and stinging cuts heâs left behind. You click through the reviews, pupils dilating the longer you stare the screen down.
He fucked me so good.
He put me in my place.
Heâs brutal.
No oneâs ever made me cry like that. Or cum.
When he proposes a meeting, you donât think twice.
By the time next Friday rolls around, the knot in your stomach is a constant; it follows you around, heavy and aching as it trails behind every step. You know itâs just nerves, excitement, the thrill of knowing youâre about to do something very, very wrong. But some part of you does wonder if itâs doubtâ are you being stupid? Is this a bad idea? Well, yes. You are and it is. But is it⌠too bad? You donât know. As the clock ticks slowly towards your âappointmentâ, you feel more and more anxious to find out.
You clock out at 5, hurrying down the stairs of your office building to dash home. Youâd prepared your bag already, shaved this morning and placed your fanciest, laciest set of lingerie under your work clothes. You take a second to freshen up, touch up your makeup and dump your work bag on your bed before youâre hurrying out the door again.
The hotel heâd booked is downtown, shiny and new and well beyond your price range. You wonder for a moment what this man does for work. Your knowledge of him is very, very limitedâ by design, of course. This whole game, this whole exercise hinges on him being a total stranger. But still, you canât help but be curious. The one clue you have is the name the room was booked underâ Yunho. You must have said it to yourself a thousand times; trying it out, the sound, the feeling. It tastes tantalising on your tongue and youâre bubbling with need by the time you make it to your room.
You hesitate when you reach the door. Heâd told you heâd arrive later, at an undetermined time, but you canât help but wonder. Is he in there, lying in wait? Will you open the door to find him sat on the bed, or hidden behind a corner, or, your heart races at the thought, right there on the other side? You breathe, in, out, in, out. You can do this. Thereâs nothing you could find on the other side of the door that you wouldnât beg for another day.
Youâre almost disappointed when you walk into the room to find it totally empty. You check the bathroom, the corners, the cupboards, half hoping to find him looming there, waiting to strike. But you donât. You sigh, sitting down on the bed and sliding off your shoes. Youâre not really sure what to do now. You suppose you could touch yourself, you doubt heâd blame you for being excited, but over the past few days, without realising youâve found yourself almost saving yourself for him; each time your hands had wandered down there, youâd stopped yourself. Heâll take care of it.
Sighing, you decide to turn on the TV, flicking lazily through the channels until you find something that entertains you until he arrives.
With every unexplained noise, every creaking of a neighbourâs door, you look up eagerly, hoping to see Yunho looming in the doorway. But you donât. Hours go by, your hope fading more and more, until you accept that heâs just not coming tonight. Tomorrow, maybe. You hope.
By the time youâre ready to sleep, youâve passed several hours in front of the mindless reality show you ended up settling on. Trying to ignore the crushing disappointment that Yunho hasnât shown up today, and the fear that he never will, you turn the TV off and settle into the sheets.
Heâll come tomorrow. He has to.
Eyes adjusting to the darkness, you make yourself comfortable in the cool, fresh sheets. The only sounds in the quiet room are your slow, steady breaths and the low hum of the air-conditioning. As your eyes begin to droop, you feel yourself relaxing into the memory foam, wondering and hoping heâll be there when you wake upâŚ
Click.
Thereâs a hand on your mouth. The lights are on.
Your eyes snap open and your body jolts, adrenaline flowing instantly. The hand is large, covering your mouth and nose and you canât breathe.
As you adjust to the light you get a good look at him, and youâre so shocked that for a moment you forget youâre supposed to struggle. Yunho is gorgeous. Fading blue hair, dark enough to seem black from a distance; features gentle, eyes dangerous and all blending perfectly together. Heâs wearing a white shirt and pinstripe waistcoat that struggles against a broad, toned chest that seems to be trying to escape and his large hands are covered by a pair of thick, leather gloves.
Fuck. Youâd beg for this man any other day, happily and eagerly. But you canât do that now. You have to fight. You thrash against him, legs flailing but his body holds you down, pinning you in place and oh, heâs large, too. He could incapacitate you now and be done with it, but it seems he wants to play.
âWell, arenât you sweet.â
His voice is low and rough and addictive, dripping with want and danger. He stares you down, eyes narrowed, blank, burning.
âGonna be a good girl for me?â
The pressure of his hand has eased enough for you to breathe and you lie still for a moment, gauging your next move. You nod, slowly. Iâll be good.
He smiles, not really believing you, and then his hands are off you. For one second, theyâre off of you and you take your chanceâ you jump up and bolt out of the bed, dashing in the direction of the door. You hear him curse, but you know heâd chosen this room, large enough to practically count as a suite, specifically to give you more room to run. And run you do; youâre still half-asleep â youâre not quite sure if you did fall asleep, in the end, or if he got to you just as you were drifting off â but the adrenaline pumping through your veins is enough to carry your feet towards the exit.
You hear him on your tail but heâs not runningâ no, his steps are leisurely, like he knows heâs going to catch you and is merely amused by your idea that it would end any other way.
He lets you get to the door and pull it halfway open, just enough to think youâll make it out into the hall, before it slams shut in your face, only just missing your fingers where theyâd lingered in the doorway. Then thereâs strong arms on your body, slamming you with full force, your body colliding painfully with the heavy wood. You struggle pitifully in his hold and as the lock clicks shut above you, you hear the barely restrained anger in his voice.
âAnd where the fuck are you going, bitch?â He growls. He grabs your hair and tugs your head backwards, sending a painful sting through your scalp then slams your head back against the door. âYou tryna get away, pretty girl?â
You grunt, pushing back against him as hard as you can, but with his firm grip on you all you manage to do is push your ass back against his crotch. He groans, the grip on your hair tightening. âFucking tease,â he mutters. âBet youâre wet already.â
He spins you around, holding you by the neck against the door, his body caging you in as his other hand roams across your breasts, squeezing them just short of painfully. You struggle fruitlessly but youâre completely trapped and you know it.
You feel his knee nudging at your closed legs, clenched together to keep him away from your heat as if itâs not aching for him already. âOpen,â he says.
âNever.â
âFine.â His leg draws back and lands a kick between your knees and you yelp, legs forced apart; he shoves his thigh into the gap, holding your legs open and your pussy exposed as his hand runs up your bare thigh and slips beneath the silk slip you curse yourself for wearing to bed. Could you have made this any easier for him?
His fingers tease the edge of your cotton panties, pulling it back and slapping the elastic against your skin and all you can do is stay in place, held under his weight as he toys with you. But youâre not done and this isnât over. Youâre just biding your time. You just need an opportunity; a moment of carelessness for you to slip away.
He runs a finger softly across your covered pussy, and the smug expression on his face tells you exactly what he finds there.
âFor someone who doesnât want this,â he says, âyouâre awfully fucking wet.â
âFuck you,â you spit.
Heâs quick to react; a heavy slap lands on your face, turning your head forcefully to the side and leaving a lingering ache.
âWet and mouthy,â he says. âI wonder how quickly youâll break.â
Your stomach twists but you give nothing away; youâre enjoying the back and forth, the game, too much to give up yet, no matter how desperately you want him to just fuck you alrady.
âIâll never fucking break,â you snap.
âOh, youâll break.â He leans in closer, enough for you to feel his breath on your face as he speaks. âThey always do.â
You can hear your heart beating wildly, pounding against your ribs and your breath stutters. âAnd if I donât?â
âIf you donâtâŚâ He lets the words hang in the air, gaze flickering across your shivering form. His mouth curls into a thin smile. âIâll just have to hurt you real, real bad.â
You swallow thickly, tension caught in your throat. You wish that didnât sound so enticing.
âNow,â he says. âOpen your mouth.â
You force yourself to laugh, amused despite your terror by the notion that youâd just give in and obey. You purse your lips, sealing your mouth shutâ directly defiant. His eyes flash and his hand tightens around your throat, cutting off your airflow as he presses down on the sides of your neck. You manage to hold out for a few seconds until you feel your eyes bulge and you gasp, mouth opening in a desperate bid for air. He loosens his grip, grabbing your chin and pushing his thumb in just far enough to hold your mouth open for him to spit into it. The saliva lands on your tongue and he pushes your mouth closed, pressing his hand over your mouth and nose again. âSwallow.â
Knowing he wonât let you breathe until you do, you swallow the spit; it feels disgusting and degrading sliding down your throat but the humiliation burns with pleasure and youâre desperate for more.
âGood girl,â he smiles. âNot that hard to listen, is it?â
You scowl, squirming under his hold. Yes, it is that hard. You manage to wring your arms free enough to grab at his arm, trying to pull his hand off of your face. In the panic one of your nails digs into his forearm and he growls, pulling you forward just to slam you backwards again. Your ears are ringing and his hand is pressed even tighter across your mouth and nose.
âDisobedient little bitch,â he hisses, âyou want me to fuck you up?â
Yes, fuck, please, your mind says. But you keep that on the inside, and instead of begging or submitting or doing any of the things your body is screaming and pleading for you to do, you bite down. You bite down hard.
The taste of blood is a small victory as he shouts, snatching his hand away from you but this time he doesnât give you the chance to get away; you make it a few steps before he grabs your wrists, clutching them easily in his injured hand, forcing them behind you back and twisting them painfully to hold you in place so he can backhand you againâ and again, and again. You scream in pain, but if he notices, he doesnât care. His expression is livid, eyes black and burning with rage. âFucking. Little. Bitch.â Each word is punctuated by a hard slap, knocking the wind out of you over and over.
âSomeone needs to put you in your fucking place,â he growls. âDumb little sex slave.â
The word hits you somewhere deep, stomach twisting into knots as wetness pools. Slave. Fuck.
âIâm not your fucking sex slave,â you bite back and he laughs.
âYou donât know what the fuck you are. Stop squirming.â He twists your arms a little further, teetering on the edge of too far. You whine, straining against him and he cooes. âHurts, baby?â
âYes it fucking hurts,â you snap.
He snorts, amused. His eyes darken again as he leans in closer. âAny more attitude and Iâll fucking break them.â
You canât help the gasp that escapes you, fear pushing through your veins again. His grip on your arms is iron and you know he could snap them with ease. But would he really? You say nothing, staring up at him with wide, pleading eyes. He grins.
âDonât think I wonât,â he laughs. âIâll break every bone in your body if itâll keep you pliant.â
âIâll do it one by one,â he continues. His grip on your wrists tightens again but he doesnât twist any further; still toeing the line. âNice and slow so you feel it all,â he smiles, and you know heâs imagining it as he speaks. You wish you could say you werenât. âLet you hear the crack of each bone snapping in half until youâre completely destroyed. Youâd like that, wouldnât you?â
You shake your head, voice quivering. âNo.â
âGood.â
You scowl, squirming again to show your displeasure. âLet me go, Yunho.â
He hadnât told you what to call him, but you decide to take a gamble that he doesnât want you using his name and youâre rightâ he grabs your neck, pressing down hard enough to make you dizzy. âCall me that again,â he hisses, âand Iâll slit your fucking throat. Got it?â
You catch the whimper before it leaves your throat but you canât stop your pussy from leaking even more than it already was. You didnât know you could be so terrified or so horny. But youâre not giving up yet.
âYou call me sir,â he says, âis that clear?â
You smile thinly. âYes, sir,â you say, so sweet and polite that he sees right through it. He raises an eyebrow, waiting for your next move and it comes in the form of a wad of spit, landing like a bullet between his eyes.
Then youâre on the bed. Youâre landing on the bed, shoved down and heâs crawling over you, holding you down with his weight andâ thereâs a knife on your throat.
Your eyes widen, all your blood rushing to your head at once. A knife⌠heâd never mentioned a knife. On your profile youâd said you were open to knife play, but he was so meticulous when he went through all the kinks he was planning that you thought⌠Well, you didnât think heâd have a knife.
âOh, that got your attention, didnât it?â He grins. Thereâs a fire, a dangerous gleam in his eyes that hadnât been there before and you feel it in the deepest parts of your body. You feel something else, too, and it burns just as brightly as your arousal. As he presses the knife down just enough to sting, you realise you are genuinely, truly afraid of Yunho. And yetâŚ
Yunho sees it too; âfucking gushing,â he spits. âYouâre more sick than I am. Donât act like a victim now.â
You whine, squirming slightly and he hums thoughtfully.
âOr do,â he decides. âActually, Iâm sort of hoping you donât do what I tell you. Iâd love to watch the light leave your eyes when you finally stop struggling.â
Your breath hitches, caught in your throat. You donât⌠you donât know how you feel about this. You knew heâd be intense; the reviews had painted a clear picture of just how much he feeds off of fear. But thereâs a wild, uncontrolled look in his eyes as he threatens your life so casually, so smoothly, that makes you wonderâŚ
No. You know itâs fake. Itâs all fake. You know itâs just a game and you know heâd stop if you said the safe word he gave you. But the knife at your neck is real. The darkness in his eyes is real. The fear is real. And he sees it in your eyes, his lips twitching into a small smile as though he can tell the exact moment you accept it. âGood girl,â he purrs. âAre you ready to listen?â
You say nothing, glowering up at him. He smiles, tilting his head.
âOpen your mouth.â
Fuck no. This isnât over. You meet his eyes with your mouth firmly, resoundingly shut. You purse your lips for good measure, determined to disobey.
His hand collides with your face again; the back of it, this time, and the feeling of his knuckles against your cheek makes you cry out before you can stop yourself. He seizes the opportunity of your parted lips and plunges two gloved fingers into your mouth. You choke, spluttering and he tuts, looking disappointed. Even with fingers in your throat, you feel like a naughty, scolded child beneath his firm gaze.
âSee,â he says, his voice low, âI could make this so much worse for you. Itâs in your best interest to do what I tell you.â
His fingers push in deeper and you feel the bile rising; you thrash and panic in his hold and he snorts, finally easing up. As you gasp for breath, he pulls his fingers away, a string of drool following him from your mouth and coating his fingers. He wipes them down on his pressed pants, looking disgusted. âFucking mutt,â he spits. âLetâs put you to good use.â
Before you can register whatâs happening, his dick is pushing into your mouth and fuck heâs massive. You can hardly hold him in your throat and your vision blurs with tears even before he starts to moveâ when he does, he wastes no time starting slow; he goes straight to fucking your mouth with hard, deep thrusts and you feel your tears and saliva cascading down onto your chest. You must look disgusting, but youâve never heard anyone sound as feral as he does.
Just as youâre getting used to the feeling, he pulls out. His cock slaps against your face before he flips you over, bending you painfully over the edge of the bed. He doesnât waste time prepping you â not that he needs to with the way youâre dripping â before forcing himself into your tight hole. You scream, feeling yourself being torn apart and he laughs, pushing your head into the mattress. âFucking bitch,â he growls. His low voice is barely heard above the slapping of his skin on yours and the lewd squelching of your sopping pussy. You burn with humiliation but you can hardly think of anything but the pain of being stretched open and the force of his thrusts. You sob into the sheets but he doesnât care, only getting rougher each time you cry out.
âTake it,â he barks, âyouâve been waiting for this dick your entire fucking life. So fucking take it.â
âS-sir,â you gasp. You thrash as much as you can under his iron grip, dizzy with pain and pleasure.
He snarls, hand landing hard on your ass. âDrop the act, bitch,â he growls. âI know you fucking love this. Clench.â
Still sobbing, you do your best to obey, clenching your pussy around his dick and it sends a jolt of electricity through your body. He groans, movement stuttering slightly under the new pressure on his dick.
âFuck,â he grunts. âSuch a pretty little victim. With a tight fucking hole.â
You feel his orgasm approaching; all the pent-up energy and frustration of fighting and subduing you pulsing through his dick as it pounds against your walls. His grip tightens on your waist, other arm coming to wrap around your neck, holding you in a chokehold as he finally releases inside you.
He grunts and moans through his orgasm and you feel the warmth of his cum filling you up before he finally collapses on top of you, pulling out quickly.
âGood girl,â he breathes. âItâs over, baby.â
The dam breaks. Your low, desperate sobs give way to full blown weeping, your whole body shivering with each cry. A million emotions, previously drowned out by pain and fear and pleasure, are suddenly at the surface, pushing against your skin and desperate to break through. You couldnât name or number them if you tried but you donât have to, because Yunho is thereâ his hands are on your skin, voice in your ear as he soothes you with whispered words you canât comprehend.
âIâve got you,â you finally make out. He says it again and again, over and over. It forms a familiar rhythm you can follow and cling to as you come back down to earth.
Iâve got you.
Iâve got you.
Iâve got you.
Heâs there when the fog clears, cradling your aching body in his arms. His smile is soft and fond but thereâs a concern in his eyes as he looks you up and down. âHow do you feel?â He asks.
You open your mouth but no words come; you make a soft, content-sounding noise, the best you can do for now, and he chuckles. âIâll take that as âyouâre fineâ, then.â
He shifts slightly, adjusting you to hold you closer to his chest. You follow his heartbeat as it thuds lowly in his chest. You hadnât expected this, really; heâd said aftercare was a non-negotiable for him, so you knew he wasnât going to just fuck you and dip, but the care and tenderness with which he cradles and soothes you is almost as electric as the brutality of before. Itâs as funny as it was, you suppose, inevitableâ this man has violated you in every way, and yet youâve never felt more safe than you do in his arms. Two separate faces; opposing but inseparable.
A while later, he asks if he can give you a bath and you nod. Youâre strangely embarrassed as he lowers you into the hot water, quietly soothing you when you hiss as it touches the wounds on your ass and thighs; maybe itâs the tenderness of his care or the knowledge that every mark on your body was put there by him, but you feel oddly exposed.
Still, heâs careful as he holds you still, letting your aching joints soak as he cleanses you of the remnants of what he just did to you. When he lifts you out, wrapping you in a soft towel and carrying you back to bed, you feel like youâre floating on a cloud.
Your voice returns soon enough, and quickly something pushes through to the front of your mind. Still slightly in the haze of subspace as the last drops of adrenaline dissipate, it seems like a reasonable, if not pertinent question.
âYunho,â you say. He makes a âhm?â noise, squeezing your thigh in recognition. âWould you really have broken my bones?â
He laughs, and you feel his body shaking slightly. It feels⌠warm. Familiar. âNo,â he says. âThatâs just part of the game. My favourite part, actually.â
âWhat part?â
âMaking you wonder if itâs really a game.â
Through the aching pain of your pussy, you feel a slight twinge, making you clench unconsciously. Oh.
âYou had a safeword,â he says. âSo I knew I could push you. But I didnât do anything I wasnât sure would make your little pussy throb.â
You canât help but blush at his words, mewling slightly as you snuggle further into his hold. You could stay like this, wrapped in his strong arms and held securely against his chest, for a long, long time. You wonder if he could, too.
âYunho,â you say softly.
âWill you stay?â
You glance at him nervously, afraid of his answer. He smiles, holding you closer. âAs long as you need,â he says.
-
thank you for reading! comments/feedback/reblogs are appreciated! requests are open! loveđ¤đ¤đ¤
taglist open!
#ateez smut#ateez hard hours#kpop smut#ateez hard thoughts#jeong yunho smut#yunho smut#dom yunho#yunho hard thoughts#yunho hard hours#mulloey writes
1K notes
¡
View notes
Text
Summary: Being raised by a survivalist father meant learning two things: endure at all costs, and trust no one. And you lived by those rules, even after he was gone, surviving alone in a world that never gave second chances. But enduring becomes far more complicated when a familiar face returns, burdened with a fierce young girl and a mission that was never meant to include you. When you're forced from the only home youâve ever known, survival is no longer just about the next meal or the next breathâitâs about who you become when thereâs no way back. Youâve spent years believing your fatherâs lessonsâthat needing people is a sign of weakness. But as the miles stretch on, as survival becomes more than just a fight for the next day, one truth becomes harder to ignoreâyou canât live by your fatherâs rule of trusting no one anymore.
And one man makes following that rule damn near impossible.
Themes: Joel miller x reader slow burn romance, post-outbreak, grief, healing, angst & longing.
Warnings: canon-type violence, death, depictions of grief and trauma, age gap romance, suicide (referenced, not graphic), intimacy and eventual smut. 18+ only MDNI, but I can't control what you do so discretion is advised.
Other: reader is afab, long hair (enough to grab, put up in a ponytail) may be mentioned. no other physical characteristics. graphics do not reflect character description, only used for vibes. Follows Season 1 of The Last of Us. Blend of show and game canon. Picture Joel as you prefer, but I will be mentioning Pedro Pascal's brown eyes. No use of Y/N. In the beginning of the story, time hops are not canon.
mood boards: Bill's Daughter | The Road So Far | You & Joel | A Lonely Day | Her Peace | Teaser Trailer
Prologue
Before: 5 Years Old
Before: 10 Years Old
Before: 15 Years Old
Before: 18 Years Old
Before: 20 Years Old
Before: 23 Years Old
Now: 25 Years Old
Chapter 1: Joel and Ellie
Chapter 2: Escape
Chapter 3: The Envelope
Chapter 4: Fungus Ain't That Smart
Chapter 5: Kansas City
Chapter 6: The Climb
Chapter 7: Turret
Chapter 8: Strangers
Chapter 9: Spotlight
Chapter 10: Into the Water
Chapter 11: The Suburbs
Chapter 12: Fight and Flight
Chapter 13: Breaking Point
Chapter 14: One Month Later
Chapter 15: Jackson
Chapter 16: Thresholds
Chapter 17: Thinking of You
Chapter 18: Betrayal
Chapter 19: On the Road Again
Chapter 20: The Basement
Chapter 21: David
Chapter 22: Capture
Chapter 23: Blood and Fire
Chapter 24: What Comes After
Chapter 25: Waterways
Chapter 26: What Was Lost and What Was Taken
Epilogue
Ever After
Four Years Later
more coming soon
Hey, you beautiful, amazing people.
I donât even know where to start, but thank you. Seriously. From the bottom of my heart: to everyone who read, liked, reblogged, screamed in the tags, sent me messages, or just silently followed alongâyou made this story so much more than I ever imagined.
Every comment, every reaction, every little freak-out over a scene made my day (and honestly fueled me to keep going). The way you connected with this story, these charactersâit means everything. Writing this was one thing, but experiencing it with all of you? That was the best part.
So, to everyone who stuck with me, whether from the beginning or just recentlyâthank you for being here. Thank you for caring. Thank you for making this so special.
I love you all. Truly.
#the last of us#the last of us fanfiction#the last of us fanfic#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller and you#joel miller#tlou joel#joel tlou#joel x reader#Joel miller x you#Joel miller x reader#Joel miller and you#Joel miller and reader#reader insert#no use of y/n#All That Remains#the last of us fic#joel the last of us#joel miller tlou#ellie tlou#ellie the last of us#ellie williams#bill tlou#bill the last of us#Frank the last of us
618 notes
¡
View notes
Text
A Thousand Miles đ˘Ö´ŕťđŐá°áŠ (cl16)

sypnosis : Due to your different careers, You both have been in a long distance relationship for quite some time. Charles has been nothing but supportive of you and got himself into a habit of mentioning you nonstop in interviews which sparks the attention from the media.
request : yes! from this request âË.ŕź
AU : Mixed AU (smau + written au)
genre : fluff
an : first post since 2023 ! I changed my layout and tried to be more aesthetic (kinda..) lmk your thoughts on that! anyway, i hope u guys enjoy reading this as much as i enjoyed making it hehe :3 pls don't be shy to request, I'll definitely try to answer them all đ anyways, have fun reading this and don't forget to like, comment and reblog!
yourusername posted .á

liked by charles_leclerc , lilymhe and 160k others
yourusername home đŤđď¸đ
view 150 comments â
charles_leclerc mon cĹur, i miss you
⤡ yourusername ahh Charles, tu me manques aussi bebe
(i miss you too bebe)
lando we miss you here, y/n! đ
⤡ yourusername landooo!! missing you guys toođđ
°ââ.ŕłŕż*:シ
The paddock is buzzing with excitement as fans from all over the world arrive to watch the 2025 Imola gp. Meanwhile, in the Ferrari garage, Charles is on the phone with his lovely girl, y/n.
"Charles, isn't qualifying starting soon?" asked the girl, interrupting her boyfriends ramble about an inchident that happened the night before. "Huh? shit! it's starting in 20 minutes!" replied the monegasque frantically while quickly gathering all his stuff.
Confused, she raised an eyebrow, "Are you going to end the call, or do you want me to do it?". Charles' panicked face contorts into a pout "Do we really have to end the call?" he asked with a soft tone. On the other end of the line, y/n chuckled "yes, yes have to mon amor. I'll talk to you later yeah? Promise me you'll do your best okay?, good luck". He smiles softly at her "Promise, je t'aime" while clicking the 'end call' button. All he could do now is just hope for the best as he wants to get pole to make her proud.
°ââ.ŕłŕż*:シ
"POLE POSITION BABYYY" echoes through the entire paddock as Charles crossed the finishing line with the fastest time amongst all 19 drivers. As the crowd errupt with cheers from the tifosi(s), Charles makes his way to the post qualifying interviews.
interview .á

still feeling giddy, Charles decides to call y/n to tell her about the qualifying even though she was probably watching the entire time. *ring ring ring* -voicemail "huh?" confused as he can be, he started worrying about the sudden voicemail so, he called her again. twice. thrice. no answer. 'What is she up to?' Charles thought to himself.
Without any warning, Carlos barged into his room to congratulate his teammate. Noticing the monegasque's unhappy face "Carino, you okay ?" asked Carlos with a careful tone. "Yeah, im alright, its just y/n. She's not picking up my calls!". Understanding the situation, the spaniard comforted his teammate "Ah, maybe her device died or, I don't know? She took a nap or something.. theres endless possibilities, don't worry about it too much."
Nodding, "Maybe you're right.. thanks mate" "No problem!Now time to celebrate!!" Still full of adrenaline from the pole position but not feeling like celebrating, he decided to just head back to the hotel to rest "You celebrate, I'm going back to the hotel" said the monegasque. Walking to his car, he thought to himself 'Maybe she's asleep, I'll just call her again when i get back to the hotel' while trying to ignore the constant feeling of worry.
twitter .á

As upon his arrival at the hotel, Charles still couldn't shake the feeling of a pit forming in his stomach so, after reaching to his assigned room, he quickly calls y/n again.*ring ring ring*
"Y/n are you there?" furrowing his brows while trying to make sense the black screen on his phone. "Charles! Congratulations on the pole, I'm so proud of you, knew you could do it!" said y/n with excitement filling her tone. Charles commented "Thank you! amor, I don't know if its my phone but I cannot see your face". A few moment of silence passed and Charles keep hearing commotion on the other end of the line.. "bebe? are you there? are you out right now..?". Finally, the girl answered short and sweetly "Sorry, got to go, talk to you tomorrow amor! bisous" and the call went dead.
Now he's even more confused. While trying to decide wether to investigate or not, tiredness washes over him. Finally deciding to ignore the paranoid feeling, Charles decides to get ready for bed and bother the girl with more questions the following day.
°ââ.ŕłŕż*:シ
As Charles wakes up at the crack of dawn, all his worries about y/n seems to disappear and he decides to just focus on his race today. While getting ready, he receives a notification on imessage from her wishing him luck on todays race, and that alone is enough to make him smile from the words of encouragement.
As soon as he arrives at the circuit, Charles was quickly rushed to the Ferrari garage to get prepped for the race at Imola. Todays goal was to win, make y/n proud and oh! win again. Meanwhile, unbeknownst to him, Y/n is on the plane flying a thousand miles away to get to the Imola grand prix in time.
Y/n arrives just in time as there were 2 more laps to go. As she quickly rushes to the Ferrari garage, Charles zoomed by the checkered flag in first place. The entire garage was filled with screams and cheers of joy celebrating another win for Ferrari. Outside, y/n could hear the grandstand booming with celebrations as the tifosi(s) celebrate Charles' victory. She couldn't believe it, it was her first time witnessing his win in real life and was feeling overjoyed. Her heart was full of love and admiration.
Charles parked his f1 car behind the '#1' sign and jumped out of the vehicle while doing a celebratory pose. He was feeling so pleased with his results and all he could think about was telling y/n.
As the post race interviews were held, y/n was hiding in the McLaren garage to avoid spoiling the surprise and bumping into her partner.
interviews .á

"Charles Leclercc!!" echoes through the entire circuit as they announced the winner of the race. Charles walked to the first place of the podium, full of pride and a huge smile across his face. Y/n was standing amongst the crowds watching him stand on the top of the podium filled with excitement and proudness. 'I knew you could do it' she thought to herself, smiling like an idiot.
As the national anthem of Monaco ended, the top 3 winners sprayed each other with champagne and that marks the end of the ceremony.
As Charles makes his way to his motorhome, y/n was hiding in his drivers room with a bouquet in her hand. Other than Charles, his teammate, Carlos was walking alongside him to the motorhome secretly recording the surprise that was about to happen. "Mate, why are u following me to my drivers room?" asked Charles and he twisted the door knob. While still looking at Carlos with a puzzled look, he decides to ask the spaniard again. "Mate???" All Carlos could do was point his head towards the drivers room and there she was. Standing with a huge smile spread on her lips while holding a huge bouquet of red roses.
"Surprise?" said the girl. Charles mouth dropped agape while he stared at her in disbelief "y/n??" as he snaps back into reality, he quickly ran towards his lover and hugged her tightly. "Woah woah! I can't breath Charles" she chuckled. "I can't believe you're here! When did you arrive? How come do I not know? Why didn't you tell me??" Bombarding her with questions. "Mate, calm down" Carlos interjects , which was replied with a glare from his teammate. "Oh you can't believe how much I miss you."
yourusername posted .á

liked by charles_leclerc , lando and 221k others
yourusername hardest secret to keepâ¤ď¸đť
view all 57 comments â
charles_leclerc Can't believe you're actually hereâ¤ď¸â¤ď¸
⤡ yourusername im literally right next to u rnđ¤¨đ
lando not u hiding in the McLaren garage haha!!!
⤡ yourusername CHARLES IS SO BLIND HAHA
⤡ charles_leclerc ??????
â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â â âââââââ â â â âfin.
an : tysm for reading!! I hope you guys liked this!! lmk your thoughts on it as this is my very first time writing. I love to read your comments and dont be shy to ask away in my inboxđ dont forget to like, comment and reblog áśť đ đ°!
taglist ⤡ @xf4iryx
#f1 fanfic#f1 imagine#f1 fic#f1 one shot#f1 social media au#formula 1 x reader#f1 x reader#f1 x you#charles leclerc x female reader#charles leclerc x you#charles leclerc fluff#charles leclerc fanfic#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc#cl16 x reader#cl16 imagine#cl16#f1
852 notes
¡
View notes
Text
dashboard simulator
mutual 1: [this post contains filtered tags]
mutual 2: [this post contains filtered tags]
mutual 3: [this post contains filtered tags]
mutual 4: [this post contains filtered content]
mutual 5: cool art of something you do not care about
mutual 6: thesis essay level analysis of something you do not care about
mutual 7: [this post contains filtered tags]
mutual 8: post about something that seriously upsets you but itâs not filtered cause no one bothered to tag it
mutual 9: gifset about some random white men youâve never heard of in your life
mutual 10: 30+ reblogs of the same post about something you donât care about
mutual 11: [this post contains filtered tags]
mutual 12: one sparse reblog of something you do actually care about
mutual 13: fairly normal and unassuming post reblogged with an addition from someone you blocked for being a terf
mutual 14: reblog of a mildly funny tiktok
mutual 15: [this post contains filtered tags]
mutual 16: [this post contains filtered tags]
mutual 17: today i had a sandwich for lunch ^_^
mutual 18: i thought about killing my mother today
mutual 19: [this post contains filtered tags]
mutual 20: 90 mile long fearmongering post from 2013 full of deactivated accounts telling you youâre a terrible person if you donât reblog
mutual 21: [this post contains filtered tags]
365 notes
¡
View notes
Text
I live for Damian and Lois similarities that I wrote a whole thing about it
This is now posted on AO3 by the way!
ââââââââââââââââ
Clark watched. He simply watched as his son was getting yelled at by the tiny creature known as Damian Wayne.
The boys were what? Both in their 20s now? He thought, and it never ceased to amaze him just how long Jon and Damian had been in each other's lives. If he was being honest with himself, he didn't think they would have lasted this long at first. He remembered them absolutely hating each other when they first met. How Damian had basically kidnapped his own son and how Jon would go on complaining about Damian being arrogant and bossy, only for that to turn into Jon talking about how Damian was probably the strongest, most loyal, and caring person he knew, and Damian basically declaring how he'd protect Jon with his own life. It surprised him to say the least, but it was very much welcomed.
At some point, those admirations turned into affection. Clark remembered very vividly the day when a 14-year-old Jon bashfully admitted that he thought Damian was pretty; Clark nearly choked on his coffee, and Lois just smiled.
"Since... Since when was Damian pretty???" Clark was very confused, because sure, Jon would go on about how he admired Damian from time to time, but pretty!? Where was this going?
"Look, objectively speaking, Damian is a very pretty child. Look at his parents, his mom."
Lois said that last part with emphasis in her tone.
"I think it's pretty normal for Jon to start finding some of his friends attractive at this age. He's 14, and it's not Damian's fault that he takes mostly after his mom."
And it really wasn't, and perhaps Lois was right. Jon was 14, and so was Damian; it didn't have to mean anything other than an observation.
Clark relaxed a bit. Just because his son had said one little thing about his best friend's appearance didn't mean he was developing a crush on Damian Wayne...
Bruce Wayne's son...
Talia Al Ghul's son...
A bat...
"Oh my god..."
Clark was only relaxed for a good three minutes before he started spiraling again.
And Clark was right to spiral because, come two years later, at the ripe age of 16, Lois had the unfortunate luck of walking in on Jon defiling Bruce Wayne's youngest son on their family couch.
Jon froze, his eyes making contact with Lois's own, the sternness in her gaze basically reading 'Really? You should know better.' And he really should have. Jon should have heard her from miles away, should have heard his mom the second her car pulled into their apartment complex, but no, he was a bit distracted with his hands traveling up Damian's shirt and being straddled by the smaller teen as they made out.
And now here he was, staring at his mom with her arms crossed in the middle of their living room, with Damian still on top of him.
He should really move him.
"Mom... You're home early..."
"I texted you that I was coming home early."
"... Maybe call next time?" Jon said with an awkward smile, hoping that he could maybe charm his way out of this one.
"Oh, you are bold for thinking there is going to be a next time."
And with that, both boys were subjected to sitting at least five feet apart from each other, supervised until it was time for Damian to go home.
From that day on, Jon was not allowed to have Damian in his room with the door closed anymore.
And so here was Clark, staring at his 20-something-year-old son being yelled at by his significant other of at least eight years.
"I told you you didn't have to come for me! It was dangerous!! I'm not worth you getting hurt when I'm basically indestructible! How many times do we have to have this argument?!"
Jon was frustrated, if it wasn't obvious enough. Something about their mission going off track, and of course, Damian was willing to risk his life just to make sure that Jon was okay. Though Clark didn't understand why Jon was frustrated, because he was pretty sure, without a doubt, that Jon would do the exact same thing if it was Damian.
"We will have this argument as many times as it takes for you to understand that I don't care. I don't care that you're indestructible. I don't care that you can fly and have super strength and can shoot lasers from your eyes. I. Do. Not. Care. Because you, Jonathan Kent, are worth everything to me, and for you to say that you're not is the most idiotic thing you can say to me. And trust me, you've said a lot of idiotic things to me."
Clark thought that for someone so short, Damian sure had a lot to yell about. All valid, though; Damian was definitely keeping his word when it came to protecting Jon no matter what. In fact, Clark was pretty sure if this had been him and Lois, she'd yell at him all the same.
And then that's when it hit him.
Clark watched his son make his way towards him, still frustrated. Damian had already walked away after saying what he needed to say.
"Tell me, please, am I in the wrong here? Like I get where he's coming from, but does he understand that I don't think I can live with myself knowing that he'd get hurt because of me..." Jon looked at his dad with genuine concern and worry.
"You know... Damian reminds me a lot of your mom."
Jon's expression quickly went from worry to confusion.
"What?"
"Pretty sure your mom would have yelled at me the exact same way. I think she would have yelled at you the exact same way too."
"I'm so confused..."
"I'm saying that right there was your mom."
Jon watched as his dad said that last part with a bright smile on his face.
And then it hit Jon.
It had always been there, and Jon knew; he'd always known that Damian reminded him of someone. The way that they both were so independent and strong-willed, determined and persistent, intellectually curious, instinctual, and intuitive. Both so passionate about making the world a better place. And their unconditional love for him. Damian was so much like his mom, and Jon couldn't believe he didn't recognize it sooner.
"Looks like you and I have the same type."
Clark chuckled, putting an arm around his son.
"Dad, please, I really don't want to hear this right now."
"Like father, like son!"
"Daaad..."
Jon groaned into his hands.
#told myself I was going to go to sleep early but no! because this hit me randomly and I couldn't let it go#damian wayne#jonathan kent#Jondami#damijon#clark kent#superman#bruce wayne#batfam#batman#dc comics#jondami#batfamily#batman fanfiction#Writing#ghosttalk
169 notes
¡
View notes
Text
johnny x fat!reader based off of this post i did a while back
cw: unprotected sex, minimal prep, kind of public sex, johnnyâs a biter, fat fem reader. itâs just 2.5k of fucking like idk what to say
you winced as you read over the messages once more, feeling your stomach drop at the most recent one sent.
> who am i speaking to? iâd like to be able to make a complaint
you hesitated for a second, wondering if youâd get away with giving a coworkerâs name, specifically claire, the coworker that always gave you shit on shift. but as much as the thought tickled you, you knew management would only figure out it was you when they realised claire wasnât covering for you today.
you typed and sent back your name and apologised again, hoping he didnât really want to send in a complaint for your slip up. you needed this job and itâd been hard enough to get it despite being over-qualified.
you knew you were a sort of diversity hire for the gym, every other worker there looked like they modelled for gymshark and liked to run a couple miles every morning before breakfast; whereas you cringed at the idea of the friction burn itâd inevitably cause between your thick thighs after the first five minutes.
the rest of the staff were nice enough, friendly; though a few of them couldnât help but throw comments your way about your weight. it was something youâd had to develop a thick skin to after the first month working there, spending your lunch breaks or the drive home in tears, your self confidence the lowest itâd been since high school.
once you figured out how to let their shit roll off your back like water on a duck, it all became a hell of a lot easier again. though your confidence had taken a hit you were still recovering from. and your current dry spell in the bedroom hadnât helped.
you worked behind the welcome desk, admin primarily but you covered the IT side of things too, what little there was of it.
the little local gym had started to gain a bit of traction online on social media and the owners had decided to exploit the opportunity and create workout clothes with the gymâs name and logo on it. regulars seemed to like it and people online had started buying when youâd posted that theyâd get 20% off their next order if they posted online wearing and using the gym-wear.
it was all going great; you organised the orders and got them sent out on time, arranged any returns or customer service questions without a hitch.
or you did until today.
youâd just been taken aback when you saw the photo the customer - soap141 - had sent in. youâd typed without thinking and now? now you might lose your job because that customer looked to be about five seconds away from busting the seams on his workout vest.
and what a sight that would be.
shit, fuck. you needed to concentrate. itâs been far too long since you last hooked up with anyone and you were always too tired to deal with your pent up energy after work so it had⌠been a while. you were rightfully and understandably flustered at this photo.
you clicked back on the photo and bit your cheek as you zoomed in on his hands.
you closed the tab with a shake of your head, desperate to clear it, and started working on replying to the emails of the day.
youâd gotten through the majority of them when you were interrupted by a knock on the front desk gaining your attention.
it was just before lunch, and most newcomers either tended to start early morning or in the evening after work, and everyone else was able to go through with their membership qr code with no need to speak to you. this visit was unexpected and not in your usual routine.
you looked up at the unfairly handsome man before you and smiled.
âhi, can i help you?â
âi hope so, hen,â he said and his eyes dragged over your soft body appreciatively before landing on your name tag and growing sharp. âneed to make a return, vest i got was too small. lass i spoke to online was, uhh, nae so helpful.â
you flushed.
the name badge pinned on your chest suddenly felt like it weighed a ton as you did you best not to let your eyes flicker down or you hand rise to cover it. heâd spotted it already, you could tell by his meanly satisfied look that was pinning you to your chair.
âiâm so so sorry, sirâ.â
âjohnny.â
âjohnny. i can get that return sorted for you immediately,â you said, visibly flustered. he watched you for a moment, seeming to revel in your nervous energy until you sent a wide eyed, skittish look over your shoulder, hoping none of your co-workers were near by enough to overhear how much free merch you were about to offer for him to not make a complaint.
johnny however thought you were looking for a way out, a coworker to back you up.
âhey now, thereâs no need tâmake a scene, ey?â he interrupted, his head tilted to catch your eyes quicker when you turned back to face him. âiâm sure you can find a way to make it up to me.â
oh thank god, you were on the same page, he just wanted a fucking bribe. that you could do easily.
âof course, definitely. follow me,â you said and stood up. you waved him behind the desk and pointed to the storage room behind you. âi can process your refund before you leave, and you can have a look at the sizes of the other items we have in stock. maybe a free vest and t-shirt for all the trouble?â
he winced.
âthatâs not exactly what i had in mind, bonnie.â he crept closer, his fingers dancing along the surface of the desk, playful in a way you couldnât relate to at that moment. âwas real unprofessional what you said, but i have something in mind that you can do for me that might get me to forget it ever happened. would take my mind off it, if you catch my drift.â
close enough to touch, he let his hand drift up to cheekily tug at the hem of your shirt, his fingers making light work of burrowing beneath to find your soft, warm skin.
âare you fucking with me?â you demanded after letting his words sit in the air for a moment, holding his wrist still. youâd been a bit forward on the chat, sure, but if he was going to be a prick about it youâd rather face the consequences with your managers instead.
his face grew serious for a moment, all teasing sharpness gone. âwould never,â he said earnestly. you looked at him and saw the genuine arousal he held in the lick of his lips, the puffed up breadth of his chest; genuine unbridled want.
fuck it.
your own shoulders relaxed and you nodded.
âwell, first thing weâre taught in retail is that the customerâs always right,â you said as you walked back towards the storage room, your eyes flickered to the gym behind you but no one was looking your way. you kept his hand at your waist so he followed closely. âmaybe i could show you something more exclusive back here, you can try it on for size.â
âi think i already know itâs goinâ tae fit jusâ right,â johnny grinned and kicked the storage door closed behind him.
he hooked his fingers under your shirt, dragging it up until he could take in his fill of your thick waist, warm and malleable beneath his rough palms. he was none to gentle but determined in keeping you close. he dragged his nose down your cheek and breathed heavily for a moment as you clung to his biceps.
âwhat do you want?â you asked shakily. youâd experienced your fair share of one night stands but itâd been a while since someone had been so openly wanting with you, it left your hands a little jittery at how quick everything was moving.
âwhat are ya willing to give?â he shot back, letting a wet kiss land next to your ear.
âcustomer satisfaction is high on my list of priorities, iâll have you know,â you hummed, trying to calm down and let yourself enjoy it.
johnny laughed, a little too loud for the small room, and pulled back enough to wiggle his eyebrows.
âah bet it is,â he snickered. âbut ye cannae deny that happy workers keep a place running, and iâm all about giving pretty workers their due benefits.â
he tugged at the waistband of your sports leggings, dropping to his knees so quickly you felt lightheaded at the sight.
âtake thaâ off.â he nodded up to your rumpled shirt and you moved without hesitance despite the bright, unflattering light in the centre of the glorified cupboard. you shed your bra without waiting for instruction next, letting it drop to the floor where johnny had haphazardly piled your shoes and clothes. he was currently mesmerised by the hang of your belly, and the wobbling clench of your thighs as you shifted in front of him. he ran his hands and lips ever so lightly from your knee to your hip before baring his teeth.
âhey, no biting!â you were quick to say, your hands going to frame his face, fingers tilting up his jaw so you could both hold him back and make eye contact to show him you were serious. you had a feeling he was the type to push boundaries and ignore you if you werenât careful.
âaâright hen, not this time,â he agreed and delicately kissed the stretch marks there instead and then turned to kiss one of your palms. once youâd let go, he stood and bent his head low to kiss and suck at your tits, his hands unable to stay still as he plucked at a nipple before it roamed further down to squeeze at your arse or rub at where the thin cotton of your knickers dug into your skin.
you tilted your head back and let him explore freely for a moment before a heavy hand was dragging you forward by the back of your neck and his lips found yours.
you keened into his mouth as he kissed you deeply; licked at his tongue and lips lazily in turn. you pulled back feeling throughly ravaged and yet barely touched.
âyouâre staying clothed? that doesnât seem fair.â you pouted as you looked down at the shirt you held in clenched fists.
âfuck fair,â he panted into your mouth, grinning. âbut maybe if you ask nicely iâll tek it off.â
âplease?â you begged immediately, delighting in the surprise on his face. âplease take it off, want to see you. please.â
he snorted, eyes blown wide and nodded.
âok, pretty thing,â he said indulgently and made quick work of his shirt and trousers. you gawped at his bare, hairy chest and the swollen cock trapped in his boxers. âcâmere.â
he tugged you forward again and kissed down your chest, light presses of his lips to soften the scratching trail of his beard, before dropping to his knees. you leant back unsteadily against the small table you used to put orders together, crammed against the wall.
his eyes flickered up to yours and you recognised a flash of mischievousness a second before he lent in and bit at your plush hip. his hands squeezed at the fat of your thighs as you gasped out a sharp moan, he hissed as he let go when you pulled at his mohawk in shock and slight embarrassment.
âcouldnae help it, hen,â he said with a dopey grin. he wrapped his hand around yours in his hair. âdo that again though, yeah?â
you barely gave yourself a moment to recover or think too hard about his blatant disregard of your earlier wishes and instead tugged lightly, a little hesitant now that it wasnât instinctual, at his hair. you were spurred on by the pleasured crease in his brow as he pulled down your knickers and his groan from both the hint of pain and the sight of you bare before him.
âthink ye might just be made for me, such a perfect body and yer not so sweet as ye let on after all,â he mumbled. unceremoniously he sucked on two fingers before trailing them between your thighs, bullying your left leg up onto one burly arm so he could gain better access to your slick pussy. you tried to balance on one leg and less so on the table but the feeling of johnnyâs tongue on your clit, lavving like a needy dog, had you slumping back.
he let out a heady groan at the taste of you and knew just what to do to keep you dripping like he had you on tap.
âremind me ta get yer number after this,â he panted, fingers stretching you quickly and clumsily.
his words were the final nail in the coffin that confirmed he wasnât just fucking you for the shock value or to tell his friends thereâs an easy fat girl that works at the gym. his attraction was genuine and he didnât seem ashamed of that, was eager with it even.
showed it in the messy way he ate you out, licking between his fingers and lavishing in the wet, sticky noises he pulled from you; hidden only when either of you moaned too loud. you tried to hide it behind your hands but johnny seemed to pull back purposely to keep them loud when your nails scratched along his scalp.
it wasnât enough to get off though, and he knew it, didnât care actually as he had wasted no time once his third finger was fitting snug inside your cunt to pull them all back out, deeming you stretched and prepped enough.
he kissed you, too open mouthed and all tongue - far from the best kiss, but one youâd not soon forget - once he was stood up and turned you around so you could bend over the table.
âyeah?â he checked in quickly, freeing his cock and giving it a quick tug with his sticky fingers.
you nodded eagerly and reached back to hold one arse cheek to the side, letting him look at your holes from the back.
âfuck me,â he swore, whistling until you let go to swat at him with a laugh.
âmy fucking co-workers,â you hissed, biting back a feral grin. the idea of them catching you now seemed less daunting than it had at the start, not when the promise of johnnyâs cock was so close.
âif they havenât heard us by now, bonnieâŚâ he slapped your other cheek and bit his lip as it sent a ripple across your body. âbeautiful.â
he tapped his cock at you pussy, hissing at the tease of the wet heat he was seconds away from.
âjohnny,â you groaned out as he lingered.
you winced as he pushed in a moment later, just this side of too tight given the rushed prep but you whined through it until he bottomed out.
âperfect fit,â he hummed.
you felt every inch of him, only exacerbated when he leant forward to lean on your back, kissing at your neck.
âsteaminâ jesus, i can feel you clenchinâ âround me,â he huffed. he ran a hand down your side before shifting, starting a steady pace he seemed to lose himself in as the pleasure your body brought him had him seeing stars.
you gasped at an especially hard thrust, your breath knocked out of you even as you felt yourself grow ever closer to your orgasm. you knew itâd be a doozy after going so long without, but as johnnyâs spongy head knocked passed your g-spot like he was being paid to make you cum in under two minutes flat, you knew you werenât going to be able to be quiet about it.
christ, it felt like he was nudging at your cervix, something you knew wasnât true but the thought had you clenching and creaming around him either way.
âh-harder,â you whispered. âgod, harder.â
johnny complied immediately, readjusting his grip on your hips to get better leverage to fuck into you harder and deeper.
âgonna cum already, hen, can feel you pulsing around me so good,â he warned.
âlet meâ i wanna, i want,â you struggled to get the words out but the thought of johnny leaving you high and dry after getting his own, when you were so close, had you panicking.
âi know, beautiful, donât you worry. youâll get yours,â he promised, hefting you both back a step from the table, just enough so he could slip his hand around and let his middle finger rest over your throbbing clit.
you tried to stifle your moan at the welcome and necessary attention and knew johnny was grinning like a mad man behind you.
âThere you go, wanna hear you so bad, sâfucking hot,â he encouraged. âfuck yer coworkers.â
you rolled your hips along with his thrusts and steady pressure on your clit until you felt your vision white out and your cunt clench viciously. you felt johnny huff and slap his hips into your forgiving arse until he moaned, not at all muffled like yours had been.
he slumped over you, doing his best to balance on shaking arms so he didnât crush you against the table.
âyou tell your managers that this customer is definitely satisfied,â he said, eliciting an unattractive snort from you. you giggled as you lightly shrugged and batted him off until you were able to peel your sweaty skin from the table and stand back up straight, rubbing delicately at the imprint of the table that ran across your stomach.
he winced and ran a gentle palm across it alongside yours.
âwanâ me tâkiss it better?â he offered, the look in his eye only half as teasing as you were expecting.
without a care, he grabbed one of the shirts off the shelf and wiped you down, keeping his touches efficient and tender when they drifted between your legs.
he passed you your clothes, smiling at your shy thanks and busied himself with getting dressed as you struggled back into your own clothes.
it shouldâve felt awkward walking out into the gym; you were almost certain your coworkers would be waiting outside ready to catch you, or worse some of the gym users. but johnny made it seem normal.
as you went to take your seat behind the desk he slapped your arse one last time, giving you a cheeky wink when you hissed at him.
âprick,â you huffed with a smile, rubbing at the smarting spot, but he only cooed and leant in to steal a chaste kiss before rounding back to stand in front of the desk.
he leant his hip against it as he looked down at you, suddenly shy when he held his phone out.
âonly if ya want, hen. no pressure if this was just a one time thing.â
you glanced at his hopeful puppy-dog eyes and reached for the phone.
fuck it, maybe he could be your morning workout.
#this feels like it was written very britishly like a some of the wording#usually i err towards writing faux american but with cod i canât help myself#johnny soap mactavish x reader#iâve also never felt more ace than when describing this sex#like âthis is how it goes right?â âright.â just an idiot nodding to themselves with no clueahdjsjdjsjs#johnny mactavish x reader#soap x reader#fat reader#johnny soap mactavish#johnny mactavish x fat reader#soap x fat reader#soap smut#johnny mactavish smut
444 notes
¡
View notes
Text
Title: Unexpected View
Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader
Word count: 5,900 (genuinely not sure how that happened)
Warnings: none!
A/N: Inspired by a post on @hotchnerssmile blog, originally from @greg-montgomery As always, enjoy!
â-
âYouâre staring again,â Emily whispered and nudged you.â
âWhat? Huh?â You cleared your throat and shifted in your seat on the plane. âOh..come on..stop.â Emily had been picking on you for weeks about your crush on Hotch. Youâd let it slip during a girls night and they wouldnât let it go.
âCareful,â she teased. âEventually heâs going to know. He can spot an unsub a mile away, but a woman getting lost in her thoughts staring at him? Youâd need to straddle him to make him notice.â
You looked over to him, suddenly the idea of crossing the plane, pushing his papers away, and lowering yourself into his lap was the only thing you could think of.
âOh I know that look,â JJ said as she walked to the table. âWhatâs the fantasy this time?â
âStraddling.â Emily laughed and looked down at her files. JJ joined the laughter and caught Reidâs attention.
âWhatâs going on?â
âNothing,â the three of you said in unison.
Emily was right, Hotch was pretty oblivious to women hitting on him. Youâd seen it happen on cases a time or two. But in your case, you were grateful he never noticed.
On the flight home you sat alone on the couch, curled up under a blanket.
âSomething on your mind?â
You jumped slightly as Hotch sat next to you, leaning back and letting his legs fall open slightly. It took everything in you to keep your eyes on his face and not wander.
âUm, nothing anymore,â you laughed. âWe got our guy and donât have another case right now. My brain has some room to finally relax. Sort of.â
You adjusted your position so you were sitting upright next to him. Hotchâs eyes studied your face. After a very long moment he seemed to snap out of his thoughts.
âWell,â he rested his hand on your thigh. âFind something to focus on that will hold your attention. Unfocused minds are a dangerous thing.â
Emily called over her shoulder, her chair facing the opposite direction, âsheâll be fine finding something to focus on.â
Hotch has turned his head to listen to her and thankfully missed the mortified look on your face. When he turned back to you, you gave him a weak smile. âIâll be fine, I promise.â
He studied your face again before giving your thigh a slight squeeze before standing up.
About 20 minutes later JJ ended the phone call she was on. âWell, we got another one.â
âYouâre joking,â said Morgan.
âNope. Sorry. Iâll get things together and send it to your tablets.â
While you started to read the information, Hotch turned around, leaning over the side of his seat. âGoing to join us, Y/N?â
You walked over, and rested your arm on the headrest of his seat. As you looked down at his lap, your heart started to race.

The thoughts of straddling him came rushing back, and you knew it wasnât just the gathering of his pants that made it clear he was more than equipped to please a woman.
Garciaâs voice snapped you out of your thoughts. âHello my favorite crime fighters, your fabulous source of all knowledge has arrived.â
As Garcia began sharing what she had found, Hotch looked up at you over his shoulder. He took in the sight of you standing over him. Almost looking commanding and like you could make him give up control in a single glance. He adjusted his posture to lean forward slightly and cover his lap with his torso.
Emily and JJ were having a silent conversation with their eyes that screamed, âholy shit he just noticed her!â
Once the case had wrapped up, the team decided to split up and take a few days off. Reid went to Vegas with Rossi so he could see his mom and Rossi could hit the casino. Morgan went to the Bahamas to unwind in the sun. Emily and JJ decided on a girls trip to Hawaii. It was just you and Hotch for the plane ride home.
You chose the couch again so you could lay out. Hotch chose a chair facing you so he could occasionally look up and see you. He watched your face scrunch up as you scrolled through your phone and then quickly turned to raising your hand to your mouth to stifle a laugh.
âWhatâs got your focus?â
âGroup chat with the girls. ItâsâŚchaotic. I think thatâs the best word for it.â
Hotchâs phone buzzed and saw a text from JJ. âHave fun focusing on the ride home ;)â
Hotch immediately looked to you to see if you had also received a message. Your face was expressionless so he texted JJ back.
âItâs hard to focus with such a captivating distractionâŚâ
JJ was one of the few he confided in like this. You shifted in your seat as the group chat notifications came through.
Emily said, âgirl do it!â
JJ added, âhe wants it!â
Garcia was the last to respond, âmile high club honey, mile high club.â
Hotchâs phone went off again and this time you looked up to try and read his face. You could swear he was smiling, but trying to hide it, and he shifted in his seat.
âWhatâs got your focus?â You teased.
Hotch hesitated. âA new group chat. Something about âshe wants you to do it.â âShe wants it.â And âmile high honey.â Any ideas on the references?â
Taking a deep breath you pushed your blanket to the side, set your phone down, and stood up, slowly crossing to him.
âFrom what I understand, by trusted sources,â you laughed. âWe both want it. I should do it. And we should join a new club.â
His eyes got lost trailing up and down your body. When you were finally within arms length his eyes were focused on your chest. Using one finger you rested it under his chin, tilting his head up to look up at your face.
âEyes on meâŚsir.â You paused and slid your hand to cradle his face. âI do like this angle, looking down at you.â
Without a word Hotch grabbed your hips, guiding you towards him to finally straddle him. As you let him bring you down onto his lap, his grip tightened on your hips and you could feel him between your legs.
âI knew it wasnât just the fabric gathering.â
âThese pants are already getting tight.â
âI should help you with thatâŚplus Iâve always wanted to see what the view looks like with you standing over me.â
âThen drop to your knees.â
#aaron hotchner#aaron hotchner fic#criminal minds#criminal minds fic#hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner smut
1K notes
¡
View notes
Text
I'D RATHER PRETEND

CHAPTER FIVE
tags: @angryflowerwitch @avvwritesstufff @melpthatsme @rebecca-woso @bueckersg1rl @l0verl4ne @clouded-whispers @dolliest-thena @katemartinlvr @numberonepartyanth3m @glamourdaya @pbbucks @unadulteratedcyclepaper @paiges-1vur wc: 6.3k notes: masterlist ahead? uh yeah i sure hope it does! decided last minute i didn't really care about any real plot action this chapter outside of tess and paige so if you are disappointed by that, sorry but it's better this way, tess and paige are the plot nowđ¤ accidentally made this chapter kinda important, it lowk got away from me, but i hope you all enjoy đŤś
âThis Month in Review - The Cutest Sports Couple Since Megan and Sueâ
Whether youâre a sports fanatic or a casual watcher, there is no denying that Paige Bueckers and Tess Kennedy have taken the sports scene by storm. They are a topic of conversation in every room â and for good reason. Bueckers and Kennedy were top recruiting prospects out of high school, with Bueckers leading the pack as the #1 recruit and Kennedy following close behind as the #2. They are the current leaders of two superstar programs and despite not having played their full collegiate careers, Bueckers and Kennedy have already cemented themselves as players that will go down in history as the greatest to play college basketball at their institutions.
Bueckers and Kennedy are a power couple through and through, and while neither of them have made anything official, it is clear that they have spent this entire offseason together â even several hundred miles apart. Fans have pointed out that their recent TikTok reposts make references to missing a long distance lover or are largely relationship focused. Their Instagram stories often feature each other. From Kennedyâs Instagram, a recent story showcased a short clip of Bueckers holding a LEGO rose, winking as she blew a kiss to the camera. From Bueckersâs Instagram, a recent story included a FaceTime screenshot of Kennedy, grinning as she threw a thumbs up for the photo, and it was affectionately captioned, âMy duo đŽ.â
Additionally, they have been noticeably active in each otherâs Instagram comment section:
[IMAGE TRANSCRIPTION: MAY 30, 2023 | BUECKERS IS PHOTOGRAPHED WEARING A LEG SLEEVE, BLUE AND WHITE PATTERNED BASKETBALL SHORTS, AND A BLACK LONG SLEEVED SHIRT ROLLED UP TO HER ELBOWS. SHE IS MID-JUMPER, LEFT ARM EXTENDED AND RIGHT WRIST BENT. USER PAIGEBUECKERS: âTUNNEL VISION ON A MISSION âłâ | USER TESSKENNEDY25: âI AM LOOKING RESPECTFULLY đď¸â END TRANSCRIPTION.]
Their galavanting didnât end there. They made their relationship known through TikTok live one night, featuring Bueckers, Kennedy, and some of Bueckerâs UConn teammates including Aaliyah Edwards and Nika Muhl. The TikTok live was a source of endless laughter, jokes, and games. Again, nothing was officially confirmed, although many viewers posted various screen recordings the morning after, and all fans can agree on is that Bueckers and Kennedy are not slick.
Many are comparing their relationship to Sue Bird and Megan Rapinoe, and we have to admit, the similarity is there. Bueckers and Kennedy are both standout athletes and leaders on dynasty teams. Fans are eagerly awaiting the hard-launch, if only just to confirm what we all know is true.
-Penelope Lancaster, Bleacher Report
JUNE 20, 2023
âDo you have everything, piccola? Brace, heating pad, charger?â
Making a conscious effort to fix her face, Tess resists a sigh and responds, âYes, mamma, I have everything.â She knows that her mother is just looking out for her, but sheâs been through all of her belongings three times now and she knows for a fact that she has everything. If something was missing, sheâs certain Paige would have an extra or sheâd be able to buy a new one in Massachusetts.Â
She got the call from Amaya only a few days ago. To no oneâs surprise at all, the media was eating up her and Paigeâs fake relationship. Their brand deals were feeling secure in their investments once more and the tabloids were far more concerned about Tess & Paige than they were about Tessâs month-long crash out. With everything aligning once more, Bose actually wanted to sign a joint deal with her and Paige and get them to advertise a new product â standard NIL endorsement stuff, but the icing on the cake was Amayaâs cheerful, âYouâre married now!â that nearly made Tessâs heart fall out of her ass.
Tess doesnât make a habit of being a gullible person, but she genuinely thought Amaya was going to make her and Paige scrap the whole âsoft-launchâ idea and just come out at the altar with wedding rings. Amaya was quick to clarify it wasnât actually like that (Thank God), but the Bose representatives wanted to do something corny, monopolize on their traction as a duo, and Tess and Paige would henceforth be named Mrs. and Mrs. Bose.
It was pretty stupid, but a little funny, and as soon as Tess saw her payout, she couldnât really complain.
âAnd Paige is getting you from the airport? No Uber?â her father asks for the second time, mostly to clarify.
Tess canât stop the flush from spreading across her cheeks like sheâd been caught red-handed. Truthfully, her parents werenât haters by any means. They were oddly invested in her and Paigeâs ruse â which made lying to them about it so much more difficult, but the both of them seemed to genuinely like Paige despite never speaking to her. Theyâd been begging for weeks straight for Tess to bring her home so they could meet her since itâs âgetting serious,â although they were pleased to know sheâd probably be around by Christmas. She and Paige had this commercial to film, then Paige would have to return to Storrs for summer practices (Tess wouldnât be returning until the semester officially started â she wants to work as much as she could with Terri, no hate to Craig), then Paige was set to spend early August in Europe with her teammates. Both of them would be extremely busy in the coming months, especially once the season started, so they werenât expecting to see each other all too much outside of FaceTime.
âYes, Paige will pick me up,â Tess confirms, zipping up her backpack one last time. âShe flew in this morning.â Tess tactfully leaves out the part where Paige had completely rearranged her flight schedule for her. Paige argued that it âwasnât safeâ to put her safety in the hands of a random Uber driver given her knee and that she hated late flights anyways. Tess knows that Paige truthfully doesnât give a fuck about flight times, but arguing with her was near impossible.
Her father gives an approving nod, and much to Tessâs well-hidden anxiety induced annoyance, the three of them do one last check of her belongings before they load up in the car to drop her off at the airport. Tess tries her best to tune into the conversation, although part of her is still nervous about flying. Sheâs been cleared to travel for a week or two now. Despite that, she canât help but anticipate the worst going wrong. Amaya splurged on first class so sheâd have plenty of leg room and sheâs flying on a very reputable airline. She has to remind herself that realistically, sheâll be perfectly fine.
Itâs a quiet morning at the airport as her father pulls into the drop off lane, putting the car in park. âText us as soon as you land, okay, piccola?â her mother tells her.
Tess flashes the both of them a comforting smile, leaning forward to give them quick hugs. âOf course.â And with that, she grabs her suitcase and her backpack, says her goodbyes, and waits for her parents to pull off before she walks through the airport in search of her gate. Sheâs only stopped a few times by fans asking for photos, which she dutifully poses for, then she makes her way to the counter to check in. She only has to wait a few more moments to board the plane. Amaya set her up with a secluded seat in the back. She snags a quick photo of the tarmac and sends it to Paige, whose response comes quickly.
Tell your pilot to take a shortcut or sum I miss you
you use that line on all the girls back home?
Is it working?
maybe a little
Then no All my lines are for Tess Kennedy and Tess Kennedy only
good
đ¤ Are you forgetting something?
miss you too pb đ
I know đ
so modest gtg weâre about to take off
Iâll be waiting đŤś
Tess simply reacts to Paigeâs last message with a heart, unable to wipe the smile off her face. She shuts her phone off and settles in for the hour long flight.
When the plane touches down in Framingham, Massachusetts, Tess is full of restless energy. Itâs equal parts relief and excitement; however, after spending the morning traveling, sheâs ready to get back to the hotel and get a nap in before she has to be productive. She hauls her bag over her shoulder and exits the plane with the other passengers as she waits for her phone to power back on. When it does, she sees that a text from Paige is already waiting for her.
I got your suitcase Iâm like right in front of the gate
Tess sends back a thumbs up, something sheâs sure Paige is annoyed by, and slides her phone back into her pocket. She follows the crowd out. Her heart thrums with anticipation, even as she tries to shove down those complicated feelings. Friends are allowed to miss each other, but her longing feels different somehow. She and Paige were practically inseparable for the month they were apart. Knowing that theyâre about to reunite in person leaves her giddy with anticipation.
The crowd clears. Paige stands tall and proud in the center of the boarding area, an easy smile on her face and her arms hiding something behind her back. When Paige finally spots her, her smile widens and she begins taking swift steps towards her. Tess matches her strides, falling into her embrace with a soft laugh and overwhelming relief. One of Paigeâs arms loop around her waist, squeezing her gently. âMissed you,â Paige murmurs, her cheek pressed to her head, and Tess doesnât bother fighting the flush or the enamored upward curve of her lips.
âMissed you too, P,â she confesses. Paigeâs arm tightens around her waist and she can feel the smile the blonde presses to the crown of her head. She pulls back, uncaring of the way the crowd clamors or the phones pointed at them, fully focused on Paige. Her hair is pulled back into a wavy ponytail, her face bare (yet sheâs still undeniably beautiful), and sheâs dressed in a UConn hoodie and a pair of grey sweatpants. Simple, but Paige is good at pulling just about anything off. With a mischievous grin, Paige displays the bouquet of flowers sheâd been hiding behind her back, and Tess canât quite hide the surprise on her features. âPaige â what?â
Paige carefully pushes them into Tessâs hands. Theyâre roses and in shockingly good quality, as if theyâd been plucked directly from a garden rather than purchased from a grocery store. âSaw âem and had to get âem for you. Figured you deserved a little better than that LEGO flower after these past two months, yeah?â
Tess is speechless, her mouth opening and closing much like a fishâs. No one has ever gotten her flowers before, high school graduation aside. Paige did this completely on her own whims, and that thought alone makes a fresh blush creep up her neck. She glances at Paige, a soft smile spreading across her face. âThese are beautiful, P. Thank you.â
Paigeâs grin turns tender, her face clearly pleased as she pulls Tess in by her waist once more, careful to not squash the flowers. ââCourse, ma,â she says like itâs the easiest thing in the world, which, for a girl like Paige, it probably is. That thought alone is sobering and Tess remembers where they are, adrenaline rushing into her mouth as Paige releases her. âReady to go, Mrs. Bose?â
âSo fucking corny,â Tess groans, but Paigeâs joke is enough for the tension to melt away, for Tess to forget all about the sudden sadness sheâd felt as Paige hugged her. âLead the way, Mrs. Bose.â Paige cocks a wry smirk at her and does just that, her left hand reaching for the handle of Tessâs suitcase. Her free hand brushes against Tessâs, a silent question in her eyes. One glance at the crowd makes her heart race, but Paigeâs eyes are soft, understanding, and all the convincing she needs. She links her fingers together with Paigeâs, relishing in the squeeze Paige gives her in reassurance. Tess tries not to think too hard about how well their hands fit together â the blondeâs are just slightly larger, enveloping her own in a way that should not be as comforting as it is, and her thumb mindlessly brushes against her knuckle.
Paige leads them through the busy airport, the crowd parting for them, and Tess hardly pays it any attention as she gets lost in her racing thoughts. Theyâre just friends. Sure, no one in her life is as close to her in the way Paige is right now, but they just have their own thing going on right now. Pretending to be each otherâs girlfriend requires a lot of commitment that neither of them have otherwise experienced. Tess was never one for romance â it wasnât in the cards for someone like her. Growing up, she was taller than most other girls â and boys â her age. A lot of people werenât into that. Then she realized she didnât even like boys, which never bothered her, but she felt as though she was missing out on some crucial part of girlhood because she wasnât desired or yearned for. Sheâll be the first to admit it sounds stupid. Thereâs many people out there with issues far more serious than whether or not they were somebodyâs crush in high school. Sheâs out of her element in so many ways, and she canât help but think back to that initial burst of anxiety she felt as soon as the severity of the situation finally hit her. Sheâs in way over her head, sheâs realizing it now, and she fears that it wonât be long until people realize she has no idea what sheâs doing.
But Paige? One glance at her, at the easy expression on her face, the slight furrow of her brow as she scans the airport signs for the exit, and Tess can tell sheâs not freaking the fuck out like she is. Paige is vastly more experienced in this situation than Tess is and they both know it. Paige said she could do casual. This is essentially what this was, right? All of the romance without the intimacy. Tess should have told her right then and there that she was not built for casual. It always spins out of control, and Tess is probably living proof of that.
This is all physical, she tells herself, unsure of if she even believes it. You donât actually like her. Sheâs attractive â thatâs all there is to it. And for now, that explanation is good enough for her. Sheâs going to do these commercials with Paige, hard-launch their fake relationship, and then theyâre going to be far too busy to see each other until the holidays when they visit each otherâs families to, again, hard-launch their fake relationship and tell the biggest lie to the people closest to them. That time apart will be enough for Tess to get her head back on straight and realize there's absolutely nothing going on between her and Paige that should be of any (reasonable) concern.
She almost believes that. At least until Paige smiles at her as she loads her suitcase into the trunk of her rental, opening the passenger door for her. Tessâs heart swells and she realizes just how unfathomably fucked she is.
JUNE 21, 2023
After a calm night spent watching Greyâs Anatomy â Paigeâs request, obviously â Tess and Paige were up bright and early Wednesday morning to drive out to the Bose main office for filming. Paige entrusted her with the aux and promised to not complain about her music choices as long as Tess bought breakfast, which was a deal Tess was all too happy to make as she directed Paige to the nearest Dunkin. She made sure to snag plenty of pictures for the Instagram hard launch they planned to post before they went their separate ways. Her personal favorite was the one of Paige sitting in the driverâs seat, legs wide and pressed against the door and the center console, sunglasses perched over the bridge of her nose as she held both of their coffees. The blonde sported an easy smile with her hair in her game-day braids and her thin, black fleece jacket was unzipped, showcasing the UConn shirt she was wearing under it. Paige made sure to get one of her, too, but it was less presentable and far too candid â Paige had swiped whipped cream across her nose and photographed her mid-gasp. Tess begged her to delete it, but Paigeâs infectious laughter caused all of the indignation to drain from her body.
With breakfast and coffee secured, Paige drives the rest of the way to their filming location as Tess hums along to Omar Apollo. The silence in the car is calm, both of them comfortable in simply sitting next to each other as the music plays. Paige shifts, her elbow resting on the center console as she drives with her left hand. Her fingers mindlessly twirl the straw in her cup. The movement catches Tessâs eye and sheâs suddenly overcome with the urge to grab her hand.
Itâs domestic, in a sense â sitting next to Paige in the car as they drive down the road with the windows down. The weather holds a gentle bite, not overbearingly cold, but chilly enough that it makes Tess feel a little more tethered, that sheâs exactly where sheâs supposed to be.
In her last session with Yvette, the psychologist recommended she just let go. As obvious as the advice is, and despite it being easier said than done, Tess is interested in giving it an honest shot. For years, sheâs carried so much anxiety with her, worried about whether or not sheâs doing something right or worried about how sheâs being perceived. Sometimes, it takes a little bit of discomfort to move forward.
Before she can talk herself out of it, Tess props her arm up on the center console. Paige is close enough that she can feel her jacket sleeve brushing against her arm. She can feel Paigeâs gaze on her, the gentle curiosity, but she keeps her eyes straight ahead, watching as the trees pass by in green blurs. Then she feels her move, feels her knuckles brush against her hand; and with her heart thrumming in her chest, Tess wordlessly unclenches her fist in invitation. Paige doesnât hesitate before sheâs linking their fingers together, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. Tess spots her smile from the corner of her eye, and knowing that Paige is watching her, too, she allows a smile of her own to grace her features. Nothing has ever felt as right as Paigeâs hand in hers in a long time. As she continues driving, Tess canât help herself from feeling at peace.
When the two of them finally make it back to their hotel room after spending the day filming, Tess collapses onto her bed with a dramatic groan, immediately reaching for her pillow and wrapping both arms around it, pressing her chin into the cushion. She hears Paige snort from somewhere in the room, followed by rustling as she shrugs her jacket off her shoulders and throws it haphazardly on her bed. âTired?â Paige asks teasingly.
Tess hums in confirmation. Tired doesnât even begin to cover it. She was up early, was on her feet for most of the day, and all of the reshoots and retakes werenât doing her any favors. She knows sheâs crashing out for no reason â this is literally her job â but sheâs equal parts tired and hangry and she honestly just wants a hot shower.
âWant me to DoorDash somethinâ?â Paige asks, as if reading her mind. She kicks off her shoes and falls into bed next to Tess, already pulling out her phone.
Tess cracks one eye open as the mattress dips under their shared weight, glancing at Paige, who crosses one leg over the other as she gets comfortable. âChick-fil-A?â she requests. âNuggets and fries? My cardâs in my wallet.â
Paige wrinkles her nose. âHell no. You got breakfast.â
Tess rolls her eyes. âBreakfast and the aux.â
âAll you played was sad, break-up R&B,â Paige grumbles. âI really should make you cover dinner after that bullshit. Feels like thereâs something youâre tryna tell me.â
âPretty sure Iâm not contractually allowed to break up with you,â Tess retorts. âSo donât worry.â
The blonde hums, unconvinced, before she turns off her phone and throws it in between the two of them. âDasherâs gonna be here in 15,â she says, gazing down at her. âYou good? Your knee okay?â
Figuring her current position probably isnât the greatest for said knee, Tess rolls onto her back and stretches her leg out with a sigh. Her elbow brushes against Paigeâs stomach and Tess shifts again, not realizing how little space sheâd left between them after she moved. ââM good,â she says. âShould probably get an ice pack just in case.â
Paige is rolling off the bed before Tess even registers whatâs going on. She watches her pull the lid off of the ice box on the desk, scooping up a handful and depositing it in a plastic bag. She tests the seal, and once sheâs satisfied, she wraps the makeshift pack in a towel, plucks a pillow off of her bed, and holds the ice pack in between her teeth as she gently lifts Tessâs leg, sliding the pillow underneath. Tessâs breath hitches at the slightest contact, and despite the chill of the ice pack, Paigeâs hands are inexplicably warm on her skin.
âIs this the Dr. Bueckers the ladies told me about?â Tess asks with a coy smile, trying to ignore the flutter in her chest. The way Paige was gazing at her left too much for her to want, eyes soft and attentive, and for Tess, it was easier to hide the longing with humor.
âYou play too much,â Paige says, but her words lack any real heat as she rounds the bed once more and crawls back in, reclining against the pile of pillows. Sheâs closer than she was before she left. Tess can smell her perfume, the shampoo sheâd used the night before. Paige is magnetic, that much Tess knew to be true â sheâd felt it the very moment Paige stopped her outside of the conference room to inform her that sheâd be tagging along for PT. Itâs only now that she realizes how strong her pull was as she unconsciously leans into Paigeâs space, the blondeâs arm raising to wrap around her, fingers splayed against her shoulder.
âDo I?â she asks, if only to fill the silence. Paigeâs thumb begins to trace soft patterns on her skin. Itâs difficult for her to focus on anything but that, but she cranes her neck, finding that Paige is already staring at her. Tess flushes under her gaze, though she refuses to break eye contact.
Paigeâs lips quirk as she responds, âYeah. You do.â She seems as though sheâs content to leave it at that, but a couple beats pass before sheâs speaking again. âYou want a lot of things you think you canât have.â Tessâs brow raises at her words, but she remains quiet. âI see it in film. Youâre an insane three-point shooter but you rarely take middies or layups unless itâs absolutely free. And you do this thing â itâs like youâre faking the drive, and I can tell you really want to do it, but you justâŚdonât. Youâre not faking. Youâre just scared to get out of your comfort zone and go for it. Scared to get close.â
Tess doesnât think theyâre talking about basketball anymore. Despite the sharpness of her words, Paigeâs tone is gentle, and the smile on her face is both confusing and frustrating. Frustrating because Tess knows sheâs right; confusing because Paige knows sheâs right, but it seems like sheâs not completely confident in Tess taking that leap. Honestly, part of Tess is tempted to prove her right. She knows they could drop this topic right now and Paige wouldnât press her. The other part of her knows theyâve come this far together, that sheâs come this far. Doesnât she owe it to herself, to Paige, to be vulnerable? To take the drive into the paint, risk getting fouled, instead of hovering at the perimeter to take the same shot sheâs taken thousands of times already?
She thinks she does. Tess is tired of wanting, of yearning for the things well within her reach if only she had the confidence to go after them. But perhaps there is a thin line between confidence and bravery, between knowing and trying. So she shifts, feeling a little braver, angling her body towards Paigeâs, fists the collar of her UConn t-shirt, and pulls her closer and closer until their lips finally meet.
Paige gasps against her, surprised, before her good sense returns and she melts into Tess. The hand on her shoulder skims across her skin to rest on the nape of her neck, her right hand reaching up to hold her face. As Paige guides her jaw to get better access, her kiss deep and consuming, she takes full advantage of Tessâs jilted sigh. Her hands fall from Paigeâs collar, finding purchase on her stomach and her waist in search of stabilization. Paige leaves her breathless and woozy, and if she didnât feel secure in the way she was holding her, then Tess would be afraid of floating away completely.
They break away, chests heaving, flushes down to their collarbones. Tessâs eyes open with a flutter of her eyelashes. Paige is already staring at her, her eyes wide in some sort of awe, pupils dilated. Her lips are swollen, shiny, and Tess canât help the feeling of smug satisfaction that comes with knowing she did that. Paige Bueckers looks like a mess and itâs all because of her. âStill think Iâm scared?â she asks, voice hoarse, her fingers gripping the fabric of Paigeâs shirt.
The smile that spreads across Paigeâs face is raw, real, visibly affectionate despite her next words. âYeah.â Tess almost rolls her eyes, but Paigeâs hand drops to the base of her throat, her middle finger brushing against her pulse point. She doesnât apply any sort of pressure, but the weight of her hand makes her head spin anyways. âBut sâokay.â
Tess chuckles. âTo be scared?â
Paige hums an affirmative, shifting again, and she presses her lips against Tessâs. Itâs different this time; firm, lingering, and insistent, almost as though sheâs trying to take everything she possibly could. The weight of Paigeâs body against hers is exhilarating and it makes her heart race. She can feel Paigeâs smirk against her lips. Tess is instantly reminded of the fact that Paige can feel the thrumming of her pulse. She pushes her back with a hand to her chest, smiling at the rumble of laughter that reverberates through her body. âSâokay to be scared,â Paige says seriously, her thumb wiping away the smear of gloss on Tessâs lip. âBut you donât gotta be. Not with me.â
Tess meets her gaze, studying her features, the sheer honesty in her expression. Paige releases her jaw, her hands reaching down to untangle Tessâs fingers from where theyâre still clenched in her shirt, fitting their hands together. âDonât overthink it,â Paige whispers, understanding Tessâs mannerisms by heart now.
But the peace is always short-lived. Tess frowns, her voice almost a murmur when she asks, âWhat are we doing?â Paigeâs eyes widen slightly. Tess wouldnât have noticed if she hadnât been so fine-tuned to Paigeâs every move for the past month. âThe rules, Paige, we agreedââ
âWe havenât broken any of the rules,â Paige states firmly. She squeezes Tessâs hands, her throat bobbing as she swallows. âWe communicate. We donât see other people. We donât tell other people. And weâŚâ Paige struggles to find the words. âWe donât have to label this. Itâs just us.â Tessâs face softens, the furrow in her brow relaxing. ââM justâŚglad it was here. You and me, no cameras. And... we can just say we practiced for the public, right?â Paigeâs thumb brushes against her hand as she stares at her imploringly, almost as though sheâs pleading for Tess to agree, to stop thinking and just do it.
Practice. That word fills her with simultaneous relief and dread, but she remembers Paigeâs words. Donât overthink it. Tess understands that theyâre walking a very thin line right now. Why should she let her brain ruin it? They donât have to complicate what they have right now. And for now, thatâs good enough for her. âPracticing is fine,â she confirms, feeling a little more confident.
When Paigeâs eyes light up, her lips quirking into a smile, Tess believes that sheâs made the right decision. âYeah?â
Tess nods, flashing a smile thatâs unexpectedly genuine. âYeah.â She pulls Paige in closer by her hands, their lips brushing again, but before she can melt into her completely, Paigeâs phone rings and the two of them snap apart.
âFuck,â Paige groans, her brows drawn tight in annoyance. She hardly looks twice at her phone as she picks it up and answers it. âHello?â Tess can barely make out what the person on the other end is saying, but the tension leaves Paigeâs body. âOkay, Iâll be down. Thank you.â Tess looks at her curiously as she hangs up the phone. âCockblocked by the dasher,â she says solemnly, unable to hide her pout. âGimme five minutes, I have to go meet him.â
Tess canât wipe the smile off her face as Paige rolls off the bed again, slipping on her shoes and rummaging around in her bag for her wallet. Before she leaves, Tess catches her by her wrist, pulling her down to her level and planting a chaste kiss to her lips â a far cry from the one theyâd been cheated out of. âHurry back,â she says. âIâm hangry.â
âTwo minutes,â Paige breathes out, grinning stupidly, pushing Tessâs hair out of her face. Then sheâs gone, and Tess is left alone in the silence of their room. If any of this had happened a week prior, Tess would probably be spiraling, but sheâs committed to turning over a new leaf. Sheâs not going to overthink it, sheâs not going to crash out, and most of all, sheâs going to accept this new development in her and Paigeâs friendship for what it is without trying to second guess whatever it could mean. They can just be friends who kiss now. Thatâs a thing. They donât have to label anything. They can just be them, and as far as Tess is concerned, sheâs okay with that.
Paige makes it back in record time, Chick-fil-A bag and drink carrier in hand and slightly out of breath. At Tessâs brow raise, Paige shrugs cheekily, handing over a milkshake. âYou said you were hangry,â she teases, sliding back into bed next to her. âIâm too young to die.â
Tess rolls her eyes as Paige begins dividing out their food, passing the sauce and napkins. âYouâre such an asshole,â she says good-naturedly.
âYou kissed me,â Paige reminds her, as if Tess could ever forget about that. âWhat does that say about you?â
âIâm a very charitable person,â Tess supplies modestly. Paige snorts like she doesnât believe that, but Tess smiles regardless.
They continue chatting throughout dinner. Paige pretends like she doesnât notice Tess stealing her fries, although Paige ends up using most of Tessâs sauce, so they call it even at the end. Paige throws their trash away while Tess scrolls on her phone, only glancing up when Paige returns, hooking her chin over her shoulder and throwing a casual arm over Tessâs waist. âTime to break the internet?â
âYou better not post anything embarrassing,â Tess grumbles, enjoying the weight of Paigeâs body on hers.
Paige hides her laugh in the fabric of her shirt. âI couldnât if I tried.â She pulls out her phone, opening Instagram and begins drafting a new post. Tessâs eyes catch on some of Paigeâs photos as she scrolls through them. Thereâs random screenshots of Bible quotes, a concerning amount of selfies, a lot of basketball related things, and pictures of Tess have somehow become a new trend in her gallery. From the photo of Tess with cream on her nose, FaceTime candids, to photos from their shoot today that Tess wasnât even aware Paige had taken. Tess softens. Most of the pictures were nice. âCould get a new one,â Paige suggests, opening her camera and pointing it at the mirror on the opposite wall, displaying the two of them pressed close together. Tess rolls her eyes, chuckling, but Paige takes the photo before she can react.
âPaige Madison,â Tess sighs. She can feel Paige smile against her.
âCâmon,â she goads. âWe look good.â Tess canât really argue with that one, so she leans her head against Paigeâs and begins drafting her own Instagram post. They work in silence as they select the best photos for the hard launch. Itâs only been a month and a half, but Tess feels both fondness and nostalgia as she scrolls through their photos and their memories. She has a couple of photos from PT with Paige, FaceTime screenshots, the photo of Paige holding their coffees, and photos of Paige trying to style the Mrs. Bose earbuds they were promoting. She knows there was a reason why Paige came into her life, but she canât help feeling like she showed up at the right time; it could have been anyone else â college athletics has an endless amount of controversial athletes who are in need of image repair â yet being paired with Paige feels like a stroke of fate.
Tess selects only a few photos, not wanting to go overboard. She includes their first picture at PT â Paige holding the ice pack over her knee, the FaceTime screenshot of Paige showcasing the LEGO rose, Paige and their coffees, and a mirror selfie theyâd taken after stylists did their hair and makeup for the shoot. She captions it âhereâs to tess kennedyâs worst kept secret. thank you for coming into my life when you did,â and while this hard launch is not real, the sentiment is.
Paige finishes at around the same time she does, a soft smile on her face as they swap phones to look at each otherâs work. True to her word, Paige kept the embarrassment to a minimum, although the first photo she selected was the one with whipped cream on her nose. Tess shouldnât have expected anything less, but itâs quickly growing on her. The rest of the photos consist of the mirror selfie Paige just took, a screenshot of Tess modeling the gold dress for her, a bible quote â 1 Corinthians 16:14 â and, shockingly enough, an older photo of them from their freshman year, shaking hands after the first game theyâd played against one another. Theyâre both cheesing. Tess remembers that loss vividly. The media called it The Battle of the Freshmen, mostly because it was the long awaited match-up between Tess and Paige, whoâd been hailed as freshmen phenoms, two top recruits. In that game, they both accounted for the majority of their teamâs points. Paige was responsible for 31 of UConnâs 63 while Tess led South Carolina with 30 of their 59.
Tess couldnât even be upset at the loss. She and Paige played their hearts out, and honestly, playing against Paige was the highlight of the game. From their expressions alone, you would have thought they both walked home with trophies that night. Tess could argue that she did. Playing with Paige makes you a better player, sure, but playing against her? Tess learned so much from her game, although she would never admit that to Paige; her ego is too overinflated and Tess will not contribute to growing it.
âWhereâd you find the last one?â Tess asks curiously, handing Paigeâs phone back.
Paige does the same, her face lighting up with a soft smile. âGot tagged in it a couple times,â she says. âFelt right.â Tess canât argue against that, smiling too. âAt the same time?â Tess hums in confirmation, her thumb hovering over the post button, and simultaneously, they both share the hard launch to their pages. There is a very brief period of stillness before the notifications and comments begin pouring in. Tess swipes over to Paigeâs post and only then does she read the caption, âAnd her pink skies will keep me warm.â
âCheesy ass Frank lyric!â Tess exclaims with a laugh.
Paige looks inexplicably smug, pleased with herself. âFull circle,â she says.
âFull circle,â Tess agrees, her smile turning tender.
Itâs at that moment that everything finally clicks. The lyrics filter through her brain. And a new day will bring about the dawn. And her pink skies will keep me warm. She can hear it perfectly, Frankâs voice singing to her, âAbandon mission, you must be kiddinâ, this shit feelinâ different, shit feelinâ different to me.â All of the thoughts sheâd been ignoring, the uncomfortable conversation with herself sheâd been avoiding. She tried to push it down, but the realization came into focus with stunning clarity. Tess liked Paige. Tess likes her.
That was the entire reason why everything has felt so different. It wasnât because she and Paige were spending so much time together, why Paige has become nearly synonymous with Tessâs recovery. It wasnât because their friendship was just different. It was because it wasnât friendship at all. It was always something more, even from the start.
Tess feels as though the floor beneath her could splinter, a giant crack down the middle that would send her tumbling to the ground below. She likes Paige. She has feelings for Paige. Calling it by any other name wouldnât do her any good. She broke their rules and itâs taken her this long to realize.
âYou good?â Paige asks her, her brows drawn into a furrow, concern etched onto her face as her hand reaches for Tessâs. She hadnât realized she was shaking.
Tess clears her throat, nodding. âYeah,â she lies, hoping that it sounds believable. Breeâs words come back to her. Youâre lying to Paige, which is why youâre fumbling the bag. She was right all along. Tess could laugh at the absurdity of it all if Paige wasnât sitting next to her. âJust need a shower, I think.â
She decides right then and there that Paige canât know. She canât know that sheâs close to ruining it all, close to undoing all of the work theyâd done to restore their reputations. That sheâd broken their rule after all. That she let this get out of hand, and if Paige knew, their friendship would be destroyed for sure, and Tess isnât sure if she could handle not having Paige around.
Paige hums, seemingly convinced, but all Tess can think about is what sheâs done.
153 notes
¡
View notes
Text
Two's A Crowd
College Bully! Leon Kennedy x fem! Reader

MDNI 18+
(Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5)
Description: College is proving to be a lot harder than you imagined. You cannot fail this math class. So when you've tried everything else, a well-known student is recommended to you by your professor for tutoring lessons, not really leaving you with much of a choice but to work with him.
Warnings: Not proofread, No Use of Y/N, Dub-Con, Unprotected Sex, Bullying, Yelling, Cursing
Tags: College AU, Bully! Leon, Shy! Reader, both are in their early 20's, Leon is Rude AF in the beginning, Loss of Virginity, Oral Sex, Fingering, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Additional Tags to be Added
Author's Note: Yay!! New multi-chapter fic in honor of 800 followers!!
I'm a sucker for tropes and mean Leon is one I can't keep out of my head. If you're not good at math then this is the fic for you! (also don't mind me slipping some Sky lore in here...)
Cross-posted onto AO3
Chapter 1
Growing up, college had always been a big dream of yours, leaving you fantasizing day in and out about all the possibilities that would open up, along with actually getting to live through the renowned âcollege experienceâ.
In reality, college was a lot harder than you were expecting. Your parents had told you to jump right into it after high school, fearing taking a gap year would ruin your good streak. The stress was starting to get to you and it was only a semester into your freshman year. All the tests, projects, and general studying really wore down on your mental health, not to mention you were failing the one math class you had.
You couldnât tell your parents, no, theyâd probably have a heart attack, especially since that math class was a prerequisite to another class that you needed to take. They were already worried enough that you hadnât picked a major yet, so who knows how theyâd take the news that you were failing right off the bat.
It was hard enough that you were feeling homesick. This was the first time youâd ever been this far away from home, studying at a university when you wouldâve been perfectly content going to a community college closer to home. Your roommate was nice, but the two of you werenât growing any closer than mere acquaintances, so it always felt awkward to just exist in your own dorm room.
Your eating habits worsened with the lack of any real food within five miles of campus. Sure there were a couple fast food chains on the campus itself, but they closed incredibly early. By the time you finished studying, which was around six in the evening, it had already closed. Not to mention that when they were open, the lines were comically long. University food was out of the question after you got violently ill from their âchicken nuggetsâ, so you were left with the little money your parents provided once a week to order takeout or make quick trips to the store to buy a frozen meal. Only one, since the mini fridge in your dorm was almost always occupied by your roommates stuff.
Everything was so exhausting and you were way out of your comfort zone having to use the community bathrooms for all your hygienic routines. Walking in always made you feel like you were interrupting a meeting in the presidentâs oval office with how many nasty looks you were given when all you were trying to do was brush your teeth.
The first thing you saw whenever you opened up Canvas was a massive F staring you down from the little box that comprised the majority of your math assignments and tests, making you feel less than worthless. This one semester alone helped you understand why so many people dropped out, this was hard.
By now youâd already gone to your math professor multiple times asking for redos or extra credit work. He was probably sick of seeing you since you showed up after almost every single assignmentâs grades were submitted.
âHeeeyyy, Mr. Lebovic..â You said after knocking your knuckle against his open door to grab his attention. âListen, about that last quiz, I-â
He cut you off with a wave of his hand before gesturing towards one of the chairs sitting in front of his desk. You hurried to sit down, watching nervously as he slowly pulled his eyes off his computer and onto you. âI get it, you donât need to explain yourself.â His relaxed tone and faint smile was enough to ease your nerves a bit, letting your shoulders slump with a sigh. âYouâve been trying really hard, I can easily recognize that.â
You nodded eagerly, licking your dry lips as you opened your mouth to speak, only to be cut off again. âIâve been looking into studying options that might help you. Resources are scarce for this material, but I think I finally have a tutor to help you out.âÂ
A wave of relief washed over you at the mention of tutor. Maybe you wouldnât have to face the wrath of your parentâs disappointment after all! âOh.. o-okayâŚâ you stuttered, eyebrows furrowing as you silently beckoned him to continue.
âI teach another math class, itâs higher level, but I have a student in there thatâs just taken up tutoring the material youâre learning.â Your professor seemed just as happy as you were about the opportunity. âHis name is Leon Kennedy, heâs got one of the study rooms in the library from three to five in the afternoon on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays.â
It took you a second to process everything Mr. Lebovic was telling you before you scrambled to pull out a sticky note and a pen to write all the information down on. You heard the older man chuckle softly, looking over at him when he held out a small piece of paper to you. âI wrote it down already for you, donât worry.â You wished you couldâve thanked him tenfold, but his office hours were closed for the day now, so you said a quick goodbye and hurried back to your dorm, holding onto the piece of paper like a lifeline.
Contrary to what your math professor thinks, you knew the name âLeon Kennedyâ. You had a couple friends that you hung out with occasionally out in the grass in front of the science building and theyâd brought him up before. The few vague bits of info that youâd heard werenât flattering, painting this Leon in quite a bad light; the stereotypical jock in a frat flying by on a full-ride scholarship. However, he was your saving grace now and you needed to develop more of an unbiased opinion of him if he was going to help you raise your grade from an F.
âYeesh, sorry Iâm not better at math or I wouldâve helped you.â One of your friends, Sky, spoke up as they read the piece of paper your professor gave you yesterday from over your shoulder. âEven if you were better at math, I still wouldnât trust you.â Ella, your other friend, laughed out.
âHa ha, yeah, Sky failed math four times. Big whoop.â Sky waved their hands dramatically before walking over to sit down next to Ella in the dead grass. âSeriously though, youâre better off taking a failing grade and dealing with your parents. Kennedy is the devil incarnate.â
âThe devil incarnate sounds easier to put up with than my parents, so Iâll take my chances..â You grumbled, taking a seat on a medium-sized rock close to the pair. âMaybe heâs turning a new leaf? Deciding to tutor?âÂ
Sky crossed her arms and rolled her eyes which made Ella elbow them in the side before giving you a sympathetic smile. âMaybe so, but please just be careful. I donât want you having to put up with some jackass that has an ego bigger than Texas.âÂ
You nodded with a slight frown, moving your foot side to side lazily to push the grass blades around. You didnât even think to consider the repercussions of studying with some random junior. âIâm sure itâll be alright. Besides, just tell Sky and I if heâs giving you any trouble. I know damn well no man likes to put up with two women yelling in his face.â Sky nodded and pointed to Ella for added dramatics. âYeah, and I bite. My top six teeth are porcelain so that shit hurts. Trust me.â
Your friends never failed to make you laugh, a slight resolve in a pool full of worries, you suppose. âDonât worry, you guysâll be the first to know if Leon is mean.â
âGood. Now, whenâre you gonna go see the guy?â Sky rested their arms on their knees before looking up at you. âUh.. in a couple hours I guess. I already made the appointment.â Your response seemed to surprise both of your friends, giving them a confused look in response to their shocked ones. âIs that.. Is that not a good time?â
âNo no, just.. I thought you wouldâve maybe taken a little longer to go and see him.â Ella shrugged, reaching a hand up to scratch behind their neck. âProud of you, taking the initiative like that.â She then looked at her phone before pulling herself off the ground with a small groan. âI got class in a couple minutes. Good luck with the frat boy.âÂ
She patted your shoulder as she walked off towards the larger building on campus, leaving you and Sky alone for the rest of the time. Part of you wished both of your friends could walk you to the library when the time came, but having Sky was enough. âSo.. Leonâs bad bad?â You needed a bit more clarification on the guy you were going to spend one-on-one time with, something to calm you down after running through countless scenarios in your head.
âHeâs not all bad, 'least I don't think. Iâve exchanged a few âhelloâsâ and âexcuse meâsâ with him here and there since we apparently frequent the same building.â Sky scooted over to the rock you were sitting on, placing the back of their head on your legs. A couple brown leaves blew over from a nearby tree which they grabbed and crunched with their hand. âI havenât personally experienced any bad happenings around him, but he is part of a pretty notoriously rowdy frat, so you have to promise me that youâll only study with him on campus and never go to that frat house or any frat house in general, alright?â
Sky pointed up at you, poking the underside of your chin which made you laugh again and swat their hand away. âAs much as I rave about wanting to have the stereotypical college experience, going to a frat house was never part of my daydreaming.â
âGood. Keep it that way.â They switched their fingers to give you a quick thumbs up before letting their arm flop down into their lap, eyes closing with a sigh. âAnyways, besides all that, wanna go get some food? I donât have another class today and youâve got about an hour and a half to spare, so actually you have no choice. Get up.â
You stood up with a shake of your head once Sky pushed off of your legs who stood up as well with a small stretch. âDonât burn me at the stake, but I kinda want grocery store sushi. Iâm feeling lucky.â
âPlease donât.â You sighed, pocketing the piece of paper before beginning to follow behind Sky as they started to walk across the grass.Â
After the two of you shared a sandwich from some random shop not too far off campus, Sky walked with you up to the library, stopping just before the front desk. They agreed to not wander in with you under the condition that youâll go to their dorm straight after to discuss details.
To say you were nervous was an understatement. Most of what you heard about this guy meant he was bad news, though you really didnât have much of a choice when it came to seeing him. Like your math professor said, there werenât a lot of options when it came to studying the material you were learning. Sure you had the internet and other students in the class, but you preferred the idea of a tutor since youâd already exhausted yourself trying to follow along with various youtube videos. You needed the in-person teaching, it just stuck better in your head that way.
Slowly starting to walk, you made your way over to the study rooms lining the back of the library. The rooms seemed pretty private with the only window being on the door, which had glass nearly top to bottom. Thankfully the rooms were numbered and Leon had texted you which room to go to when you made the appointment with him, you had no idea what he looked like and you didnât want to look like a creep eyeballing people through the door until you hopefully found the right person.
Standing off to the side, you could see the number you were looking for sitting above the door, taking a brief moment to collect yourself and hype yourself up to talk to someone who didnât have the greatest reputation. Set aside everything youâve heard and just hope for the best..
You took in a deep breath as you strode over to the door, glancing inside through the window before knocking to let him know you were there. The table was angled off more to the left so you didnât immediately see him until he leaned over the table to see who had knocked. Confidence left you as soon as you made eye contact with Leon due to the groan you could hear through the door. It took you a couple seconds, but you eventually managed to get your body to work with you, hand turning the handle to let yourself in.
â-the last thing I need..â You caught the end of his little rant to himself as you opened the door. The saying âfake it âtill you make itâ is harder than it sounds since your entire body decided to betray you, deciding that shrinking in was the best move. Quietly, you shuffled over to sit across from him at the table, placing your backpack in your lap in some weird way to provide comfort in this situation.
âYou werenât supposed to show up.â Leon grumbled, sitting far back in the tilted chair as his feet lifted the front end of the chair slightly. His arms were crossed and he was giving you probably the nastiest look youâve ever seen, next to your parents, of course. All you did was sit there giving him a blank stare. It was obvious what heâd said, yet the sheer forwardness of that snide comment had you more than confused. âWhat?-â
âYou werenât supposed to show up.â Apparently he felt the need to repeat himself with some added bite, barely letting you get a word in. âNo one ever shows up to these shitty tutor- whatever the fucks.â
Wow. Okay. âUh..â You didnât even know what to say to that. It completely caught you off guard. Youâd run through countless ways this interaction would go in your head, but this wasnât one of those ways. The two of you sat in a very tense silence with Leon just glaring at you from across the table, continuing to rock back and forth in the chair.
Without uncrossing his arms, Leon lifted a hand and waved it around slightly while shaking his head. âAre you actually still gonna sit here orrrâŚ?â The sound of his voice finally snapped you out of shock, causing you to shoot your gaze down to your backpack, fumbling with its partially broken zipper. âI-.. Mr. Lebovic recommended you..?â
You pulled out a few of your failed assignments from your bag before setting them down on the table with shaky hands, keeping your eyes glued to the papers to avoid that burning stare the man in front of you has. âI need-.. I need help..?â
âDo you?â Leon let the chair fall forward, his sarcastic tone starting to make your whole body tremble. âYou donât sound like you do.â He snatched one of your assignments from the table and held it up, pursing his lips as he studied the various red marks made on it closely. You chose to not respond to that, letting your hands rest on top of your backpack so you had something to squeeze.
He turned the page around, the sound of the paper wobbling the only thing you could hear right after the sound of the central heat blowing through the vent in the room. Suddenly, Leon started chuckling to himself, shaking his head incredulously as he flipped the paper back and forth a couple times before letting it fall back to the table. âThis is terrible!â His laugh grew louder as he tilted his body to the side to pull out his phone, taking a picture of the assignments youâd put on the table.Â
How on earth were you supposed to react to that other than just sitting quietly? He was actually making fun of you right to your face. Hell, he might as well point and laugh if heâs going to be this brasen.Â
The most you could muster up was a quiet yet high-pitched â... huh?â in response to him. This whole ordeal was spiraling a little too fast for you to keep up with. You were expecting to put up with some grown man with a bratty attitude or even just a very uninterested, not all there jock with how Leonâs been described to you, not blatant bullying.
âHuh?â He mocked, taking one last look at his phone while loudly sucking on his teeth before pocketing it again. âAnyways, this is actually sad. How are you managing to fuck simple math up like this?â He roughly grabbed all the papers on the table and stacked them before partially tossing them back at you, some slipping onto the floor. âYouâre too far gone, even I canât fix that.â
You let out a gasp when the papers were tossed at your face, scrambling to catch some of them. Pushing the chair back, you leaned over to grab the few that fell on the floor, desperately holding back tears. âPlease, you donât understand.â You pleaded, voice cracking as you tried your best not to start crying in front of him. âI-I need to pass this class. Iâm passing everything else, I just canât keep up with this one!â You were speed-talking to try and argue your case, sitting back up with the small pile of papers that you struggled to stack properly.
Leon started rocking back in his chair again, arms back across his chest as he watched you with squinted eyes. The corners of his lips soon turned up into a smirk, taking in your sorry state before rolling his eyes with a dramatic groan. âAlright, alright, stop whining, jesus..â He cleared his throat, letting his head fall over the back of the chair. âIâll help you only because I feel bad for you.â Itâs not like he was going to admit that he was being forced to be a tutor, no one needs leverage over him like that
You couldnât help but give a small smile despite his implication. It was a start. âAnd Iâm not gonna do it today, either.â Well, the sooner the better, but still, itâs a start.
He then stood up from the chair, fixing his jacket with a sigh. âIf you show up even a minute late on Friday, Iâm not helpingâ and before you even had a chance to reply, he walked out of the room, the door shutting with a slam which made you flinch. Luckily, you were a very punctual person when it came to this kind of stuff. This was important, so if you had to show up early, so be it. You hurriedly shoved your assignments back into your backpack, not even fully zipping it up before rushing out of the study room, back through the library, and to the dorms.
âHe said that?!â Sky yelled, quickly wiping their hand over their mouth to quiet themself once you shushed them. âI donât really feel comfortable with you going to another âstudy sessionâ with that guy if heâs just gonna bully you.â
âI wouldnât call it bullying-â
âHe was bullying you.â
âOKAY! So what if he was?!â You fell back onto Skyâs bed with a sigh, arms splayed out with your legs dangling off the side. âI can handle it. As long as I get my grade up, who cares?â
Sky sat down next to you on their bed, giving you a sad look as you sat yourself up with your elbows. âI care. So does Ella. You shouldnât put up with that just for a grade. Iâm sure if you explain to your professor and-â
âAnd what? Tell him that Iâm a grown woman getting bullied over something I should know by now?â You sat yourself up fully now, leaning forward to place your elbows on your thighs as your head rested in your hands. âItâs only until finals are over and weâre already halfway through October. Maybe I wonât even need that much time, maybe Iâm just missing one simple⌠math move and itâll get the gears in my brain moving again.â
You tilted your head to the side to look at Sky, head now resting only in your right hand as you took in their annoyed look. âTrust me. I can handle this.â
âIf you say so.â They ran their fingers through her hair before looking away from you, directing their attention forward to stare off at nothing. âJust remember that I bite and Iâm not afraid to use my fake chompers on that no good-â
âI donât wanna think about escalations right now, but thank you.â You chuckled, playfully nudging Sky with your free hand before moving it back to hold your head up with the other. Though you were trying to convince Sky on this, you were mostly just trying to convince yourself that you could handle this. Handle Leon and his.. alluring charm..
Only until finals, maybe even sooner.
#college au my beloved#resident evil#leon kennedy x reader#leon kennedy#leon kennedy x you#leon s kennedy x reader#leon s kennedy x you#leon scott kennedy x reader#leon s kennedy#leon kennedy smut#leon s kennedy smut#re4#leon kennedy fic#leon kennedy fanfic#leon scott kennedy#leon s kennedy x fem!reader#leon s kennedy x y/n#leon kennedy x reader smut#leon kennedy x y/n#bully leon#college AU#leon scott kennedy x fem reader#leon scott kennedy x you#multi chap fic#multichapter
2K notes
¡
View notes
Text
RUMORS - ( c.s )



REQUESTED**
summary: you and chris have known each other for a long time, and youâve always had an inescapable crush on him. when you all go to taraâs party and fans see them together for the first time, speculation begins to circulate, and you begin to pull away in fear that he likes her as more than a friend
warnings: angsty in the beginning, fluffy in the end :) some swearing a kiss and thatâs it really
bff!chris x fem!reader
a/n: i loved this concept and i hope i brought it to life well for the anon that requested <3 my inbox is always open for u guys #kisses
@fawnchives @l9vesick @mattinside @sturnioloco @sturniolossss @cupidsword @teapartyprincess4two @princessbetsy123-blog @cookiehaos @sturnlova @junnniiieee07 @vsangel-starbies @chrissystur
doom scrolling online is like a car crash that you canât look away from; especially when it involves your friend and your long term crush. youâve been laying in bed scouring the internet for the past hour, pouring over comments about and tara and chris.
ever since her last party, when fans actually saw them publicly interacting for the first time, the gossip has gotten out of control. people want them together, and you hate to admit that it makes you sick to your stomach.
hell, youâd been the one to introduce them, since tara had become your friend first. but you and chris go all the way back to childhood; you were best friends with him and his brothers in your early years of school, and then you moved to another town after your dad accepted a new position.
you kept in touch through social media and occasional texts after that, until you all found yourselves in LA fresh out of high school, alone in an unfamiliar city across the country.
their youtube channel had taken off, and youâd gained a large following after youâd finally been recognized for your photography due to some big-name collabs. you were all in the same vulnerable position, and because of this your friendship with the three of them started right back up where it left off.
the rest is history. itâs been two years now, and youâve all grown exponentially, fully adjusted to LA and the recognition, comfortable with where you are in your lives professionally and personally.
you spend nearly every week with the triplets, doing anything and everything together. theyâve made the occasional homesickness bearable, been your rock through the hard times, and supported you like no one else.
but things are a little different with you and chris. heâs your best friend, the person you want to tell everything to first. itâs always been that way, really. you had feelings for him at 13, and now at 20 years old you love him even more.
but that doesnât mean you have to love him being shipped with every female influencer on the planet.
itâs selfish, really, to want chris to yourself, considering his occupation and the fame that comes with it. tara is a good person and an even better friend, and you shouldnât be angry over the idea of them dating.
still, itâs been consuming your mind ever since you saw the first post about the two of them a few days ago, and youâve been checking social media every hour since.
youâre about to read through yet another comment section when your phone buzzes, a notification appearing at the top of the screen.
chris
can you pls answer me
i donât like this silent treatment thing
your stomach flips. heâs been texting you things like this for the past few days, since you started distancing yourself after the party.
the whole night he had acted as if he was into tara; always making conversation, asking to dance, posting her on his story. even when you were right next to him, it still felt like he was miles away.
so of course itâs been upsetting you, and you figured rather than taking it out on either of them you would just remove yourself from the situation.
it seemed like the best option in the moment, but it still sucks. you hate not talking to him, not seeing his face or feeling his arms wrap around you in a familiar hug.
another text pings, snapping you out of your spiral once more.
chris
i donât know whatâs wrong but youâre scaring me
the message makes your eyes burn, and you blink away the tears. you donât want him worrying about you, especially when itâs your own stupid feelings getting in the way of things being normal.
you sigh, tapping out a response and staring at it, debating back and forth whether you should actually press send. but he beats you to a response, and another string of texts come through.
chris
i can see you typing
iâm coming over
y/n
no donât do that, everything is fine
chris
i donât believe you
and i already left my house
itâs only a five minute walk to get from his place to yours, and you know heâs too stubborn to actually turn around, no matter how hard you plead. youâve already broken out into a nervous sweat just thinking about the confrontation.
but at this point you owe it to him and yourself to be honest. you just hope you donât get your heart broken in the process.
y/n
fine, doors unlocked
iâm in my room
a few minutes later you hear the front door slam open and closed, just to see chris peek his head around the corner of your room moments later. youâre still curled up in bed, too scared and tired to move, so he takes the liberty of coming to you.
âhey.â he says softly as he sits down.
âhi.â you mumble, wrapping your blanket against your chest tighter.
itâs not cold, but youâre so anxious that youâre shivering. chris notices and puts a hand on your covered knee, rubbing small circles against the joint. he looks so sweet, clad in his blue fresh love hoodie with his hair all curly from showering.
âwhatâs up? i havenât heard from you all week, and nick was about ready to call the cops.â he tries to joke with a small grin.
you canât bring yourself to match his energy, and your face remains grave as you attempt to swallow the lump in your throat.
âiâm alright, just tired.â
his face falls, and a slight frown replaces his smile. you know heâs not believing any of it for a second, and youâve never been a very convincing liar.
âdonât do that, youâre obviously not alright. and iâm not trying to be pushy or anything, but i feel like youâre shutting me out.â chris replies quietly.
you shift a little bit so you can sit up properly, back resting against the headboard as you gaze at him. his hand remains on your thigh, a source of comfort while you try to pick your words wisely.
âiâm not trying to push you away, chris. i justâŚwanted to give you space.â you continue to dance around the truth.
he looks even more confused, eyebrows furrowed like youâre speaking another language. âthatâs nice and all, but i donât want it.â
âwell maybe i do.â you shrug.
youâre lying through your teeth, but chrisâs eyes go wide regardless. youâve shocked him into silence, which rarely ever happens. heâs just staring at you, the gears in his mind turning as he tries to figure out what could possibly be wrong.
âare you serious? did i do something that i donât know about?â chris asks, clearly exasperated.
he removes his hand from your leg, dropping it back in his lap. the small act alone makes your heart sink, and you feel the question crawling its way out of your mouth before you can help it.
âdo you like tara?â
it hangs in the air, and youâve stumped him once again. chris shakes his head, clearing his throat while his face reddens slightly.
âi canât believe youâre even asking me that.â he sounds genuinely astonished.
âwhat? why?â itâs your turn to be baffled.
âbecause i feel like all i ever do is flirt with you. i mean seriously, itâs embarrassing for me at this point.â chris reaches to scratch the back of his neck sheepishly.
your jaw drops, which makes you feel silly. throughout this whole relationship you felt like you were the one putting the moves on him, doing too much. youâd never once stopped to think about all of the little comments he would make.
âi, uh, guess i didnât pick up on that.â you manage to reply.
you immediately wish you hadnât, that you just kept your mouth shut. but he smiles widely at you, chuckling lightly.
âno shit.â
this makes you laugh too, and it feels good to experience at least a brief moment of normality between the two of you. things have felt tense for so long that youâd almost forgotten why you love being around chris in the first place.
you wait to calm down a bit before you decide to finally lay it all on the table. âi like you a lot, chris. and i donât want to mess up the dynamic we have, because you mean the world to me. but iâd be lying to myself if i said i didnât want to be with you.â
heâs still grinning, though you can tell heâs gone a little shy now hearing you admit your feelings. this moment is all he dreamed about for so long, and now itâs finally happening in a realm outside of his own brain.
âi want that too, and iâm a dumbass for taking this long to say it. so no, iâm not interested in tara like that. itâs always been you.â chris confesses, reaching to interlock your fingers.
youâve held hands before on many occasions, but itâs different now in the best way. butterflies erupt in your stomach as he leans in, and you can smell the fading hints of minty body wash on his skin.
you tilt your head so your mouths finally meet, soft and slow as you both finally enjoy the kiss youâve been yearning for for so long. he tastes sugary, like the lollipops heâs always got between his teeth, and youâre already addicted.
chris pulls away a minute later, his lips reddened and glistening from the contact. you giggle slightly from the unfamiliarity of the situation, glancing down at your linked hands.
âyour lips are so soft.â he praises, still awestruck that he finally got to kiss the girl heâs loved since he was a preteen.
âtake a girl out to dinner first, jeez.â you joke playfully.
chris rolls his eyes, but he smiles nonetheless. âi think i will, actually. you got any plans tomorrow?â
you tap your chin with your free hand like youâre contemplating your schedule. âi can probably squeeze you in.â
âyou better. everyone else can get in line.â
#sturniolo triplets#chris sturniolo#christopher sturniolo#chris sturniolo x reader#sturniolo fanfic#chris sturniolo fluff#sturniolo fluff#sturniolo#sturniolo x reader
830 notes
¡
View notes