#you can tell my taste in people because every time i could i got pictures of the characters all fucked up sad and bloody

[whos-hotter-jjba]

The Results are In: The Top 10 Hottest JoJo Characters

As chosen by you! (characters in places 5-10 ordered by the amount of votes they got in their last rounds)

Number 10: Hot Pants (Steel Ball Run)

Number 9: Caesar Zeppeli (Battle Tendency)

Number 8: Leone Abbacchio (Vento Aureo)

Number 7: Dio Brando (Phantom Blood, Stardust Crusaders, Stone Ocean)

Number 6: Ermes Costello (Stone Ocean)

Number 5: Joseph Joestar (Battle Tendency, Stardust Crusaders)

Number 4: Bruno Bucciarati (Vento Aureo)

Number 3: Kars (Battle Tendency)

Number 2: Gyro Zeppeli (Steel Ball Run)

And officially the Hottest JoJo Character:

Jolyne Cujoh (Stone Ocean)!

Congratulations to all the characters, and thank you for voting, everyone!! Hope you enjoyed this bracket as much as I did <3

[justagalwhowrites]

Stranger in a Bar - Part Two

You realize your hookup from the night before is your dad's best friend. Life goes on from there. The conclusion of Stranger in a Bar, found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: DBF!Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: This is smut, OK? Just a lot of smut. Protected P in V sex. Oral sex (f receiving). Age gap of 20 years. Breeding kink if you squint. Talk of pregnancy. ANGST BECAUSE IT'S ME. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI, 18+ only.

Length: 10.6k

AO3 | Fic Masterlist | Masterlist | Part One

“She hasn’t been home in so long,” your father was smiling proudly, seemingly oblivious to the way Joel was looking at you. 

It had never occurred to him that he’d never seen a picture of his friend’s daughter. He’d heard about you, of course. How your parents had gone to Tennessee for your college graduation, how you’d gotten a job in Memphis, how you only really came to visit about once a year and that meant your dad was busy that week. 

“Heard a lot about you,” Joel said when he realized your dad had gone quiet. “Good to… put a face to the name. Or, maybe, idea? Don’t think your dad ever mentioned your name…” 

“May not have,” he laughed, clapping Joel on the shoulder. Joel still couldn’t take his eyes off you. Fuck, this was bad. “To me, she’s just my little princess…” 

“Honey,” your mom appeared at your dad’s side, looping her arm through his. “Can I steal you for just a minute?” 

“Sure,” he gave her hand a squeeze before looking between you and Joel. “Keep her outta trouble, will ya? Have fun!” 

Joel more sensed them leave than watched them, his eyes locked on yours. He was pretty sure they were out of earshot when you spoke. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” 

“‘Fraid not,” Joel said, his eyes drifting down over your body before he could really help himself. Your dress fit you perfectly, highlighting your every soft curve. He knew just what you looked like below it, just how smooth your skin was, just how you would taste. “You look… fuck, you look gorgeous.” 

Your eyebrows shot up. 

“Are you…” You closed your eyes and shook your head. “Never mind. This isn’t happening. This cannot be happening.” 

“It’s not…” he finally managed to look away from you to glance around at the people around the two of you. None of them seemed to be paying attention. He lowered his voice, anyway. “It’s not that bad…” 

“Not that bad?” You cut him off. “Are you… Jesus, come on.” 

You looked around, too, before grabbing his wrist and dragging him out of the tent and toward the house. He just trailed along behind you, fighting the urge to smile while keeping an eye out for your parents. Because the last thing he wanted to do was explain to your father what he was doing, following wherever you led. 

And he did follow you - happily - into the house he’d been in plenty of times as a dinner guest or for Super Bowl parties or to help your father put together a new piece of furniture for your mother. You dragged him along to the sizable storage room off the garage and locked the door behind you before turning and staring daggers at him. 

“Not that bad?” You asked, brows raised so high they threatened to disappear into your hairline. “Not that bad? You’re my dad’s best friend! I didn’t even know he had one of those until this afternoon and I -” you looked around, as though someone might have been lurking, and lowered your voice to a harsh whisper “fucked him before I knew he existed! How is this not that bad?” 

“You in the habit of telling your daddy everyone you sleep with?” Joel asked, hands in his pockets. “Because I ain’t one to kiss and tell.”

“This is a joke to you, isn’t it,” you crossed your arms, clearly pissed. But the effect was lessened a bit by the way your angry pants and fierce stance made your breasts swell and fuck, but you were pretty. “What, you make a habit of fucking women young enough to be your friend’s daughter?” 

“No,” Joel said with a shrug. “Don’t make a habit of fucking anyone, really. Told you, I’m outta practice. And… well, can’t say I’ve ever… well…” 

“Ever?” Your eyebrows somehow got higher. 

“Ever been with someone as young as you,” he said, his cheeks getting hot at the shame of that. “Didn’t set out to, either. Not until I saw you.”

You relaxed a little then, your brows returning to a much more natural position on your face. 

“I didn’t go to that bar looking for someone,” he continued. “And I sure as shit never go chasing after women half my age. Sure as shit ain’t proud I did it last night, either. But… can’t say I really care much about any of that. I don’t care that you’re too young for me, don’t care that you live hundreds of miles away, don’t even care that you’re my best friend’s kid. Lord knows I should care about all that but I don’t. All I really care about in all that is you.” 

Your eyes searched his for a moment, like you were trying to tell if he was lying or not. You stepped closer to him and he resisted the urge to touch you, the pull stronger than he remembered it being in the past. He wasn’t sure if it was because it had been years since he’d been with someone, if it was because he could tell from the first moment he saw you that you were special, if it was because sex with you was the best he’d ever had. But, he supposed, it didn’t really matter. Not when you were this close, in that dress, when he could still remember how you tasted on his tongue. He knew he should give a shit, he knew he should at least do your father the courtesy of feeling bad but all he could feel was the drive to touch you - taste you - again.

You held his gaze until your lips were so close to his your noses brushed and he kissed you then, your mouth so plush and soft on his. 

It had been so long since Joel had done anything like this. He hadn’t exactly dated much when his daughter was at home. He tried, a bit, when she was in her teens but he ended up wishing he was spending time with her instead of trying to get to know someone he only had a passing interest in. 

When Sarah moved out to go to college - not community college anymore but Texas A&M - he didn’t have the same excuse anymore. But, when he tried to meet someone then, he found himself trying to force connections with women. They had little in common with him, they wanted different things out of life, they were just interested in things he couldn’t offer. After a few, unsatisfying and brief relationships - if you could even call them that - he’d given up on it. His life was meant to be quiet and lonely. He had Sarah and that was more than enough, even if she lived in Dallas now. He was fine with it. Happy, even. 

And then, there you were, so beautiful in that bar, something about you pulling him in. He couldn’t help but go up to you, couldn’t help but talk to you for hours, couldn’t help but walk you back to your hotel, couldn’t help but kiss you back in that elevator. 

He couldn’t help but kiss you now. 

His hands went to your waist, slipping over your sides to your back, spreading wide over you to hold as much of you as he could, pulling your body against his own. You moaned softly into his mouth and put your arms around his neck when he did and he could feel every line of you against him, could remember just what those lines felt like when there was nothing between you. 

If he was in his own head enough, he would have been embarrassed about just how fast he got hard against you, embarrassed about how quickly he gave in to the urge to grind his cock into you while remembering just what it felt like to be buried inside of you. But he couldn’t bring himself to give a fuck about anything beyond just how good you felt pressed all tight and desperate against him. 

He guided you back until your ass was against a stack of plastic storage tubs, bins labeled with things like “Christmas” and “Halloween” that he’d helped your dad haul into the living room when your mom was ready to change the decor around the house. Your hands left him for a moment and you pulled yourself on top of the top bin, putting your hips at the same height as Joel’s own. You spread your legs wide and pulled him into you, grinding your pussy against his cock through his jeans and he had to fight not to come then and there. Your arms went back around his neck and your kiss grew messy, the both of you fighting to devour the other. Joel’s mouth slid over your lips to your chin, down your jaw to your throat and you moaned, arching your back. His hands moved to your thighs, forcing your skirt up and out of the way until your slick-soaked panties were pressed against his fly. 

“Fuck, Joel,” you panted softly, grinding that hot little pussy over his still clothed length. His hands skimmed over your sides to find your breasts, cupping the full, soft warmth of you there. Your fingers sank into his back, nails digging into him. “Please…” 

“Not a good idea,” he said, kissing back up your neck, leaving his mouth against the tender skin at the base of your ear. “Don’t got a condom.” 

He nipped your lobe and kissed over your cheek toward your mouth again. 

“I don’t care,” you said, breathless. “I don’t care, I just need you, fuck, please, please…” 

He groaned. He should resist you. He should, he knew better. But the way you tasted, the way you felt against him, just the thought of being inside you with nothing between you and him was making his head swim. 

“Don’t think I’ll be able to pull out, baby,” he said, kissing you all wet and sloppy and without control. “You felt too damn good with somethin’ on, I can’t…” 

“I don’t care,” you said again, pulling back from him just enough to look in his eyes, reaching your hand up to card your fingers through his graying hair. Your skin was almost glowing in the dim light, your eyes ranging over him, pupils blown. “I want you, please, Joel.” 

“Jesus,” he breathed, reaching quickly down to unbuckle his belt and open his pants. He pulled his cock free, his head swollen and leaking. He stroked himself - not that it offered any relief and it wasn’t possible to make him any harder - with one hand and watched with hungry eyes as he traced the the seam of you through your wet panties with the other, the fabric clinging to the plush softness of you. He couldn’t help but groan a little as he tucked the cotton to the side, revealing you all plump and dripping for him. 

He watched, his breath shaky, as he moved closer, trailing his cock head over your slit before slipping just inside your entrance. He just stood there for a moment, his heart beating out a frantic rhythm against his ribs, looking at where he was starting to disappear into you and he was mesmerized by it. The way you had to stretch to take even just the head of him, the way you took him so well anyway, the way you felt inside, the heat of you on his skin. 

“Joel,” you whimpered, your hand clutching onto his bicep, his shirt twisting in your fingers. 

“Baby,” his voice was rough, raspy. He’d be embarrassed about how needy he sounded if he could bring himself to give a shit about anything but how you felt inside. “Fuck, you already feel fuckin’ incredible and I’m not even really inside you yet…” 

He finally pulled his eyes away from where the two of you met to find your face, your eyes so wide and pleading. He took you in his hand, his thumb on your cheek, your fingers reaching back to grip tight to your neck, holding you just so. You stretched to kiss him but he kept you in place, your eyebrows drawing together as you moaned in protest. 

“Gotta be quiet, pretty girl,” he whispered. “And sit still, just let me look at you.” 

He watched you closely as pressed into you, your breath hitching as he parted your inner walls, your tight, wet heat gripping him and he savored every needy expression that crossed your face. You were so beautiful like this, your mouth open in a silent gasp, eyes wide, looking like you were enjoying him almost as much as he was enjoying you. 

Because there was no possible way it could be equal, there was no way he felt as good as you did. You’d felt fucking exquisite with a condom on the night before, it had only taken Joel a second inside you to decide that this could not be a one time thing. He couldn’t feel something that good only once in his life, he’d spend the rest of his years searching for it otherwise. It was the cherry on top of the perfection that seemed to be you, someone he wanted to spend hours upon hours talking with and hours upon hours looking at. The way your body took him into yourself, the way you pulsed around him when you came, the way you were so goddamn soft inside. How was he supposed to just walk away from that? 

But, as Joel’s cock was buried inside you to the root, he realized that nothing - absolutely fucking nothing - compared to being inside you bare. He could feel you so clearly like this, every ridge of muscle, every little gush of come as you made a mess of his cock. You were so fucking tight he wondered how he’d even fit inside you. He wasn’t sure he’d ever felt anything quite as warm and soft as you and he knew he’d never felt quite so close to anyone like he did you in that moment. 

“Goddamn baby,” he breathed, his eyes locked on yours, not moving from his place inside you. 

“Joel,” you whispered before looking down to where your bodies where joined and groaning when you did. 

“Gotta stay quiet, pretty girl,” he said softly, wrapping an arm around you, his hand splaying wide over the small of your back. He held you in place and ground himself deeper into you, making you whimper. 

“Fuck me,” you panted, desperate. “Please Joel, I need you to move, I need you to fuck me, please…” 

He crumbled under your pleas, pulling back from you agonizingly slowly so that he could feel every part of you clinging to him before thrusting back inside you in one devastating go. You moaned as he did, loud enough that he was worried someone might hear. He kissed you to keep you quiet and your arms went around his neck, your fingers digging into him as you clung to him. But he couldn’t keep kissing you forever, not when the drive to fuck you harder was so strong, and he had to separate from you to gasp for breath as his cock plunged into you again and again. You moaned, desperate and needy and uncontrolled and Joel couldn’t even consider stopping to keep you quiet. Instead, he pulled you tight to him, tucking your head against his shoulder so your sounds were muffled by his body. 

“Said you gotta keep quiet baby,” he whispered in your ear, fucking into you. “Fuck… you feel too damn good, won’t be able to stop just because someone comes in.” 

Your muffled moans grew louder and you clutched onto him and he held you closer, tighter, the sharp snap of his hips never slowing or even stuttering. He felt like a man possessed as he savored the hot clutch of you. He’d never needed to fuck someone like this, never wanted to live inside another person like this. How was he supposed to move on from this, from you? When he’d never found anything that made him feel like this, so obsessed he couldn’t keep himself from fucking you hard and fast and unprotected under your father’s roof. 

His orgasm was building fast, faster than he really wanted it to. There was the nagging thought at the back of his mind - the last part of him that seemed to exist outside the sphere of your influence - that he should pull out at the very least. He didn’t know if you were on the pill but part of him didn’t fucking care. Part of him wanted to fill you up and take everything that came with it, as long as he got to keep coming in you again and again the rest of it didn’t matter. 

You started mumbling into his shoulder, your words incoherent around the fabric of his shirt and the bulk of his body and he pulled your head back just enough that he could make out what you were saying, just “I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come” over and over and over and the sound went straight to his cock. 

He felt it then, you drawing so tight around him, the sensation intimately familiar after the night before, and then you exploded around him, throbbing hard and full, damn near pulling his own orgasm out of his body as he groaned against you. He didn’t do the smart thing, he didn’t pull out. Instead, he reveled in the feeling as he came deep inside you, buried to the root . 

“Fuck, Joel,” you panted against him as your climax eased, sounding closer to sane now than you had the last few minutes. 

“I know, baby,” he said, breathless too, still deep within you. You pulled back from him ever so slightly, your eyes wide as they searched his face, your lipstick smeared over your skin. 

“Fuck, Joel,” you said again, but different this time, an edge of panic in your voice. You put your hand to his chest, leaning back from him and looking down to where you were still joined. “What the fuck did we just do?” 

“Nothin’ bad…” he said quietly but you looked back to him, your gaze fiery now. He pulled out of you slowly, reluctantly, and tucked himself away. 

“Nothing bad?” You asked, brows raised. “We just fucked in my parents’ house! I barely fucking know you and you just… I just begged you to… Jesus Christ…” 

Joel winced at that. 

“I can go get you one of those pills…” he said weakly. He hoped that was the right thing to say in a moment like this one. He hadn’t been in this position in so long, he wasn’t the type to just randomly fuck a woman and he sure as hell wasn’t the type to do so with no regard for the consequences. He’d learned that lesson well enough in his youth. Here he was, middle aged and fucking you like some teenager in heat, sneaking around behind your parents’ backs.

“What?” You shook your head once, sharply, like you were trying to shake him from your mind. “No, I have an IUD, but I don’t know you, you could have… I don’t fucking know, herpes or something!” 

Joel almost laughed. Not that anything about this was actually funny but it was… something. 

“I don’t got anything like that,” Joel said. “You’re safe, promise.” 

You looked to jump down from your perch on the storage bins but slipped a hand down between your legs first and groaned before looking around. 

“Do you see any paper towel or anything?” You asked, holding your hand covered in his come and yours in front of you, your combined slick pearly on your fingers. 

Joel swallowed. 

“No,” he said. “But… here…” 

He untucked his shirt and nudged your legs wider apart, forcing your dress further up your thighs, revealing your slit to him. He resisted the urge to groan at the sight, his spend leaking from you because he’d left it deep inside… 

He shook himself mentally and took the hem of his button down shirt, pressing it to your dripping hole, cleaning you gently. You leaned back on your hands and he could feel your eyes on him as he delicately ran the fabric over your soft skin. He was about to step back when he heard you moan, needy and wanting, and he realized he could see your clit, swollen and peeking out from your wet sex. 

“Fuck,” you breathed and he looked up to your face. Your eyes were closed, your mouth open in pleasure. 

“You like that?” He asked, his voice heavier than he’d meant it to be. Fuck, he shouldn’t be doing this. But you nodded, quick and desperate, and he couldn’t resist. “Don’t worry, baby, I’ll take care of you.” 

He knelt in front of you, looping his arms around your knees and pulling you sharply to the front edge of the storage bin before licking a hesitant stripe from your entrance to your sensitive nub. You groaned at that and he saw your fingers curl around the edge of the bin, knuckles tight. 

“Fuck, don’t stop,” you panted and he smiled a little before diving into your pussy like a man starved. 

He licked and sucked and ate at you, his tongue delving into your tight channel, his nose pressed against your swollen clit, his fingers pressing tightly into the meat of your thighs. Your hand flew to his hair, knotting and tangling in his curls, your nails digging into his scalp as you ground your hips against his face. You were moaning louder and he knew he should give a fuck, try to keep you quiet while he worked you to yet another orgasm in your father’s house, but he just didn’t care. All he cared about was making you come so hard you damn near took off his tongue. 

He didn’t need to wait long, your pussy growing tighter and tighter until you cried out, your hips pressed against him and he savored the way your body clutched onto him as you came. Your channel pulsed hard and strong and he drank down your slick, not caring that it mingled with his own come from just a few minutes before. 

Joel waited until your climax eased before he pulled his tongue from your body, pressing a lingering kiss over the top of your slit, making you groan. 

“Holy shit,” you panted and he got to his feet in front of you, wiping his mouth awkwardly with the back of his wrist. 

“Sorry,” he said, glancing quickly at your still slightly swollen sex. It was no longer dripping, at least. “That… that ain’t what I’d set out to do…” 

“Never apologize for that,” you said, sitting up properly this time. You slipped off the storage bin. You rearranged your underwear below your dress before adjusting the hem, looking down at yourself like you were trying to make sure you didn’t look like you’d just been fucked within an inch of your life. 

“Here,” Joel said, thankful that his shirt was black so your lipstick that was undoubtably on his shoulder wouldn’t show. He took the cuff that hadn’t wiped your slick from his face and carefully cleaned your smeared lipstick from your skin. “Sorry, didn’t mean to do that, either…” 

“It’s not your fault,” you said, crossing your arms and looking him up and down. “I was literally begging for it. There’s just something about you… but that’s why we can’t do this, Joel. You’re my dad’s best friend, he’d never forgive us for this. We have to pretend like this never happened. Not tonight, not last night, none of it.” 

He just watched you for a moment. Part of him knew you were right. You were right for more reasons than just that, too. He hadn’t really dated in years, he hadn’t been in a good place to do it in ages and he sure as hell wasn’t in a place to date someone as young as you. You’d want things out of life that he was long past, things he could never give you. He should know better than this. 

But that didn’t change the fact that he wanted you. He wanted to fuck you again, yeah, but he also wanted to get to know you, to make you dinner and take you to the beach and kiss you at midnight on New Year’s Eve. You’d woken something up in him that he didn’t know he still had, something he thought had died along with his youth years before. Wasn’t something like you worth risking a friendship for? Even one like the one he had with your father? 

“We have to stay away from each other the rest of the night,” you said. “Alright?” 

He looked at you for a moment, at the drawn expression on your face. 

“Yeah,” he said after the silence hung in the air a bit too long. “Yeah, alright.” 

The two of you made your way back toward the celebration, thankfully no one in the house to have heard the sounds he pulled form you, anyway. Joel tried not to stare at you the rest of the night but he found himself keenly aware of where you were all the time, anyway. He knew where you were and who you were with and just how far he’d have to move to pull you into his arms and kiss you. 

“Joel!” His friend clapped him on the shoulder as he sat at a table, drinking a beer and trying to not pay attention to where you were - something he was failing at because, at the moment, you were standing by your mother and your sister near the buffet. “Havin’ a nice time?” 

“Oh, yeah,” Joel cleared his throat awkwardly as he sat beside him. “It’s a great party. Y’all deserve it, too, hell of an accomplishment, puttin’ up with each other that long…” 

“Tell me about it,” he laughed. “God, sometimes… See you didn’t bring a date, was hopin’ you’d be out on the dance floor with some lucky lady at least a little bit.” 

“Yeah, well,” Joel shrugged. “Don’t really got anyone to bring to someone like this and…” 

“Still,” he cut Joel off. “Should get out there… Princess! C’mere!” 

He raised his hand and flagged you down and Joel stiffened. Your eyes darted from his to your father’s before you made your way across the tent, your hands in fists at your sides. 

“You really don’t need to…” Joel began but your father cut him off again. 

“S’no trouble,” he said. “It’ll be good for her, too. Tells her mama everything, hasn’t had a boyfriend in who knows how long, she needs to do a little dancing…” 

“Yes, Dad?” You asked, steadfastly ignoring Joel. 

“Do me a favor, Princess, and get this old man on the dance floor, would ya?” He clapped Joel on the back. “He’s been sittin’ here alone way too long, think he needs a little nudge…” 

“Oh, I… I don’t,” you began. 

“Really don’t need…” Joel said. 

“Nonsense!” Your dad said. “C’mon! You two - two of my favorite people - have been sittin’ off to the sides of this shindig all night. Make me happy, get out there for me.” 

You looked at Joel half pleading, half resigned. 

“Yeah, alright,” Joel said, getting up and setting his beer on the table. Your father got up, too. 

“Good man!” He patted him firmly between the shoulder blades. “You two have fun!” 

Joel offered you his hand and you took it before he led you to the dance floor, your body tense and separated firmly from his own. The music shifted just as the two of you got there, The Way You Look Tonight starting to play and Joel almost groaned. Might as well put a neon sign over his head, flashing “I want to fuck her” in bright red. 

He took you in his arms all the same, leaving a respectable, painful distance between the two of you as he started to sway with you on the dance floor. 

“I’m sorry about this,” you said quietly after a moment. “I don’t know what his problem is, besides the fact that he’s had too much to drink.” 

“S’OK,” Joel said. His hand was at the small of your back and he knew just how soft your skin was there. “I don’t… It’s nice. Dancin’ with you.” 

You smiled a little. 

“It’s nice dancing with you, too.” 

You looked at him differently then. Your eyes were softer, your body less stiff and it reminded Joel of the night before, when you were just a stranger in a bar and you smiled and talked and laughed with him for hours. 

“I wish things were different,” you said quietly, eyes searching his. “I know we just met but… I mean, if I lived closer, if…” 

“If I wasn’t your daddy’s friend?” He asked, giving you a crooked smile. 

You laughed a little. 

“Yeah, that little snag,” you said. “If life was different… I think I’d like to figure some of it out with you, Joel.” 

The song wound down and he knew his time with you was numbered. 

“Think I’d like to figure it out with you, too.” 

He wanted to kiss you then and, if you were any other woman or in any other place, he would have. But instead, the music ended and he forced himself to stop touching you and he stood, in the middle of the dance floor, other couples flowing around him as he watched you walk away from him and back toward your family. 

Joel seriously considered getting hammered when he got home that night. Drinking himself into oblivion seemed like the kindest thing he could do to himself but he couldn’t bring himself to risk losing the memory of dancing with you like that. Instead, he lay flat on his back in his bed, staring up at the ceiling, etching every part of you into his mind as best he could because, goddammit, the last day had to have existed for something, right? A bright spot in what had become a lonely life, something he could look back on with fondness when shit didn’t go the way he wanted. 

But, before too long, he knew that wouldn’t be enough. 

He got up, not bothering to get changed, just staying in his plaid pajama pants and threadbare band t-shirt and drove to your hotel. He remembered your room number and, only after he’d knocked on your door, did he realize what he’d done. He had, without calling or texting or anything that was actually fucking sensible, shown up at your door at - he glanced at his watch - one in the fucking morning. 

“Shit,” he said to himself, already moving to go when your door opened. 

“Joel?” You frowned a little, looking him up and down. “What are you…” 

“This was stupid,” he said quickly. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done this, I should’ve just…” 

You reached out and grabbed his wrist, stopping him from leaving and he blinked in surprise. 

“Did you want to come in or not?” You asked, brows raised. 

“Yeah,” he nodded quickly. “Yeah, I do.” 

And you smiled and took his hand, leading him into your room. 

***

Six Months Later 

“This feels like tempting fate,” you muttered as you did your hair in the mirror over Joel’s dresser. 

“Nah,” he waved you off as he lounged, shirtless, on the bed. “It’ll be fine. Think we can manage to keep our hands to ourselves for a few hours.” 

You scoffed at that. If you could, that would be a fucking first. 

In the six months since you and Joel had decided to make a go of it - damn all the reasons that you shouldn’t - you’d been happier than you could ever remember being. He’d been to visit you in Tennessee twice and you’d met up in New Orleans once but this was your first time back home since you’d decided that dating your father’s best friend wasn’t a total lost cause. 

When you were together, you spent obscene amounts of time in bed. He made you come more than anyone else you’d ever been with and you spent hours naked and tangled up with each other. Even when you were apart, he still gave you the best damn orgasms of your life because he was shockingly good at sexting for someone who was 20 years older than you. 

But your connection with Joel was so much deeper than the physical. You could talk with him the way you could no one else, he knew you and saw you in a way you didn’t realize was possible for another person to see you and know you. You wanted to spend all your time with him, do everything with him. How were you supposed to sit at your parents’ house for Thanksgiving dinner with him next to you at the table and expect them to not notice that? 

“M’serious,” he came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and kissing the side of your neck before nuzzling into your skin there. “Be on my best behavior. No fuckin’ you in the storage room this time. Couldn’t get me naked tonight if you tried.” 

“Oh, OK,” you rolled your eyes but laughed a little. “I’m sure you’d keep it in your pants if I just tugged my sweater dress down nice and low and headed off to the quiet part of the house…” 

“Well now you’re just askin’ too much of me, baby,” he teased, kissing you again before putting his face beside yours in the mirror. “I’m just a man, after all.” 

“My man,” you smiled and he laughed. 

“S’right,” he said. “Yours.” 

You went to your parents’ place first, keeping up the pretense that you’d been staying at a friend’s and not at Joel’s during your trip home, and you helped your mom finish up the last of dinner preparations. 

“You’re sure Joel’s not bringing anybody?” Your mom asked your dad as the two of you set the table, your dad camped in front of the television watching football. 

“S’what he said,” he replied absently before smacking his hand down on the arm of his recliner. “Fuckin’ hell! Dunno when we’re gonna field a goddamn defense this season…” 

“Well I thought you mentioned that he’d been seeing someone,” your mom said and your head snapped around to look at her so fast your neck popped. She frowned at you and you cleared your throat awkwardly, looking back down at the place setting you were arranging. 

“Said I thought he was seein’ someone,” your dad corrected her. “Been actin’ all cagey last few months but he’s got this funny look on his face when he shows up for basketball is all.” 

You bit back a smile and put out the next napkin. 

“Well, that’s good,” your mom said. “I hope he is seeing someone. Joel’s a good guy, he deserves a good woman.” 

“I agree OH COME ON!” He was on his feet, remote clutched in his hand as a ref gestured on screen. He turned off the TV and threw the remote into the couch. “Well, there’s no comin’ back from that. I’m gonna take a piss before folks get here…” 

“I wish you wouldn’t talk like that during the holidays,” your mother grumbled. The words were barely out of her mouth when the doorbell rang and she looked to you. “Would you mind getting that, sweetie?” 

“Sure,” you smiled and tried to keep yourself from running to the door, stopping at the mirror to check your hair and makeup before pulling the door open. Joel was standing there, one of those cocky, crooked smiles you loved so much on his face. 

“Well hi there,” he said, his brown eyes soft. 

“Hi,” you smiled and then feigned a frown. “I’m sorry… Jim, was it? Think we met at my parents’ anniversary party?” 

He pursed his lips for a second and rolled his eyes and you could tell he wanted to grab you and kiss you. 

“Joel,” he corrected you. “And yeah, somethin’ like that.” 

Your mother put Joel across from you, the two single people at the table, and you slipped your foot out of your shoe during dinner, tracing your toes over his calf where no one could see. 

“So, princess,” your dad said as dinner wound down and you were on your third glass of wine. “You ever gonna get a real job? Think about movin’ closer to home?” 

The room went silent, Joel’s eyebrows knitting together before looking toward your father at the head of the table. 

“Honey,” your mom said quietly, lightly scolding your dad. 

“What?” He asked, picking up his wine glass and taking a generous sip. “Think it’s a fair question. We bankrolled her gettin’ that damn degree thinkin’ she’d do something with herself and she’s, what, playing music for whackos?” 

“Dad,” your sister hissed, her eyes darting to her boyfriend across from her. “Cool it.” 

“I’m providing music therapy in an inpatient setting,” you said, setting your wine glass down. 

“You’re finding some damn way to chase that pipe dream of being a goddamn singer is what you’re doin’,” he replied. “It’s time to grow up, find a real job…” 

“Just because you don’t recognize the importance of mental health doesn’t mean my job isn’t real,” you said, forcing yourself to stay calm. 

“You said you wanted to study psychology so you could help people,” he cut you off. “Not so you could find some way to play rock star, and…” 

“And I think you’ve had a few too many,” Joel cut him off. Your dad opened his mouth to argue but Joel cocked his head, his jaw tense. “C’mon. You were just tellin’ me that she don’t come home enough, you think this shit is helping? It’s Thanksgiving. Cool it.” 

Your mom looked quickly between you and Joel before clearing her throat. 

“Pie, anyone?” She asked, ending the conversation before your dad had a chance to pick it up again.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” you said when you got back to Joel’s that night, taking your earrings out and setting them on the nightstand you’d claimed as yours. 

“He shouldn’t have said that shit to you,” Joel said, his voice heated. “Can’t believe he’d even think that shit let alone say it. I’d never dream of saying somethin’ like that to Sarah, not about to just let him…” 

“Yes, you are,” you said, crossing your arms and facing him. “He’s always been like that, he’s always only wanted me to exist as an extension of himself and only do what he thinks is worthwhile. It’s nothing new, I’m used to it…” 

“Well, you fuckin’ shouldn’t be,” he snapped. “You deserve better than that.” 

“It’s great that you believe that,” you said. “I do, too. But if we want to make this work? You can’t come to my rescue. If it happens again, you have to let me handle it. Understand?” 

He sighed before going and kissing your temple. 

“Whatever you want, baby.” 

July 4th, 19 months later

“Do we really have to go?” You groaned, Joel’s ceiling fan turning lazily over your head. You were naked, the only way you could handle being anywhere close to Joel in this heat, your bodies sticky with sweat and come. 

“You are visiting for the holiday,” he said, toying with your fingers. “Probably look pretty damn weird if you don’t turn up for the cookout.” 

You sighed. 

“You’re right,” you said. “But you have to behave yourself this time. Actually behave yourself, I mean it.” 

“When do I not behave myself?” He teased. “I’m always on my best behavior when it comes to you, baby.”

You snorted. 

“Is that what you called it when you cornered me in the bathroom last Christmas and stuck your tongue down my throat?” You asked. 

“Yup,” he said. 

“How about when you pick a fight with my dad when he says something shitty?” 

“He stops sayin’ shitty stuff, I’ll stop fighting ‘im on it,” Joel shrugged. You groaned. “I just don’t understand that man. I love ‘im like a brother, and all he says about you when you aren’t around is glowing. You’d think that man worships the ground you walk on but for some reason, you come home and he decides to act like a fuckin’ jackass and I’m not about to just let him talk to you that way, baby, I’m sorry but I’m not. I’d stop any man from talking about his kid that way but I’m sure as hell not gonna just let him do it to you.” 

“Your chivalry would be hotter if it wasn’t putting our entire relationship at risk,” you said wryly. 

He shrugged. 

“We gotta tell him eventually, baby,” he said. “And if he finds out because he was being an ass, well, that’s on him.” 

You went into what had become your usual habit with Joel and holidays. When he wasn’t with Sarah - another hurdle you had yet to cross, not sure how she’d feel about her father dating someone just two years older than her - the two of you were usually together. When you came to Austin like you were now, you went to your parents’ house first and pitched in with your mother, counting the minutes until he showed up at the door. When he did, with his special recipe baked beans in hand, a profound relief took you. He was there, with you, and you were making it work. 

Or you were, until your dad made a back handed comment about your career yet again. 

You clenched your hand a little tighter around your beer bottle and you opened your mouth to respond but Joel beat you to it. 

“I don’t know why you say that kind of crap,” he said, going from leaning against a fence post by the pool to rising to his full and frankly massive height. “You tryin’ to make your kid feel like shit? Make her think you ain’t proud of her and what she does? Because I got news for you, bud, you’re damn lucky to have someone like her for a kid, someone who’s smart and kind and talented as hell. You’re damn lucky she comes around here at all, you talking to her the way you do and I’m not about to just let you pull that shit in front of me!” 

You stood there, mouth open, staring at your boyfriend who no one knew was your boyfriend. The party had gone silent, the only sounds coming from the sizzle of burgers on the grill and the quiet guitar of background music from the speakers around the pool. 

“Don’t much appreciate bein’ spoken to like that in my own home, friend,” your dad said eventually, his voice low and dangerous. 

“I’m sure you don’t,” Joel muttered, setting his beer bottle down with a little too much force on a nearby table. “I’ll see myself out.” 

He hardly looked your way on his way to his truck and, when the rest of the guests left that night, you just had to pray that your mom believed you when you lied and said you didn’t know why Joel would act like that because of you. 

Two months later 

“It’s just not working,” you said, your voice thick. 

You didn’t like doing this. You didn’t want to do this. You needed to do this. 

“Baby,” he said, a pleading edge to his voice. “C’mon, I know… I know things have been rough, that the distance is real hard and that I fucked up when you were here last but…” 

“What are we doing, Joel?” You asked, rubbing your temple with one hand and clutching your phone to your head with the other. 

“I thought we were lovin’ each other,” he said in a voice so sad and weak it almost broke you. 

“To what end?” You asked. “Where is this going? We’ve been doing this for more than two years now and what’s changed? We’re still in different states, my parents still don’t know and neither does your daughter, our lives are still separate. We have no where to go from here and I just… I can’t keep doing this. It’s not working.” 

“Isn’t it worth it like it is?” He said softly. 

“Joel,” you whispered. 

He sighed. 

“You’re right,” he said, clearing his throat. “I’m… I’m sorry. I just… You’re right. I shouldn’t hold you back, you deserve to have whatever you want.” 

“So do you,” you said quietly. 

He laughed once. 

“We both know that ain’t true,” he said. “Just… take care of yourself for me, OK baby? Give yourself something good.” 

“You too,” you said, just letting yourself sob now. 

“Still love you, baby,” he almost whispered. “Think I always will.” 

You pressed your nails into your palm. You weren’t sure you could survive saying it back. 

He didn’t ask you to. 

“I’ll see you around,” he said. “Bye, baby.” 

He hung up before you said I love you, too. 

Seven Years Later

You wondered if you should feel guilty, looking at your engagement ring on your finger as your new fiance snored lightly beside you. 

Reid was a good man. You’d met on a dating app a few years earlier, a few casual boyfriends between you and the disintegration of your relationship with Joel by then but he still lingered there on the edge of your consciousness. Never close but never far away, either. 

Your new fiance had wooed you in the usual way. He charmed you over text, he thoughtfully arranged dates, he even sent you flowers the first time you slept with him. He did almost everything right, even if he was sometimes oddly distant and unreachable. You were happy when he got down on one knee at the mini-golf course he’d taken you to on your first date, a large and shining diamond held out to you as an offering. 

But for a moment, just half a second, it wasn’t Reid you wanted to ask you that question. It was Joel, the man you’d loved more than any other, the man you hadn’t spoken to in the better part of a decade, the man you had no business still loving that you wanted to ask for your hand. 

Breaking things off had been the right call. You were right, it couldn’t work. You couldn’t have with him what you had with Reid, someone to sleep next to every night and plan a future with every day. But fuck, you still wished you could. 

You toyed with the ring, twisting it on your finger, the stone feeling oddly heavy on your hand. Reid was a good man. One you could settle down with, one you could build a life with. He was what you needed. 

You rolled over and wrapped around a pillow, trying to not think of Joel as you fell asleep next to your fiance. 

***

Bar None, Present Day

Joel thought he was crazy when he saw you. 

It wouldn’t surprise him if he’d lost his mind, spending the last decade hung up on you the way he had. There hadn’t been a day that passed since you left him that he didn’t think about you. He wondered how you were doing, if you were too stressed at work or if you were drinking enough water or if you’d seen a movie he thought you’d like. 

Sometimes, he just thought about you existing in your life. He pictured you on your couch reading or laughing with a glass of wine in your hand or lying in bed with your eyes half closed as you drifted toward sleep. He liked doing that, picturing you in your space in the intimate moments of your life. 

Others, he thought about the deeper things. He thought about you being happy, both alone and with someone else. He thought about you getting older and advancing in your life and your career. He thought about you struggling sometimes and how he wished he could make it easier. He thought about sending you flowers on your birthday and almost did a few times before deciding that might mess things up for you, if you were dating someone and flowers from another man showed up at your door so he didn’t because all he wanted was for you to be happy. 

He’d started talking to your dad again, a few months after you broke things off with him. They made up in that gruff way men did, dodging any and all emotion as much as they could. Joel latched on to everything your father mentioned about you. He became masochistic, in a way. Asking after you sometimes, checking in on how you were doing, seeing if your dad took pictures when you came home for the holidays. The day you got engaged was a punch to the gut. Your dad had proudly announced it to the whole team at their game that night, damn near glowing. That hit him harder than he thought it would. 

You really were gone, then. It really was over. Your dad had shown him the picture you’d sent him when you’d gotten engaged. It was a selfie, a man much closer to your age than Joel was holding you close and tight as you held your ring up for the camera and smiled broadly. But, he thought - maybe wishfully - it didn’t reach your eyes. Not really. Some part of this wasn’t entirely what you wanted. 

He shouldn’t like that - and most of him didn’t. He wanted you to be happy. He wanted you to have every good thing you could because you deserved that. But the rest of him was selfish because he wanted to be the one to give you those things. He wanted to give you smiles and orgasms and fucking diamond rings. 

But he could’t. And you deserved someone who could. 

He’d tried to move on in your years apart, he really had. He’d tried dating for a while. Sarah even showed him how to set up a dating app and he went out with a few women but it hadn’t been any different than it had been in the past. It wasn’t long before he gave up, resigning himself to a life where the best of it was behind him. 

Going to Bar None was one of those masochistic things he just kept doing. He tried not to go too often, limiting himself to once a month at most. Some months were better than others. Sometimes, he could go six, eight weeks without stepping foot inside the place he’d first met you. Others, he went back three or four nights in a row. He always sat at the same spot he’d been at when he first saw you, like if he stayed rooted there long enough you’d walk back into his life and you could pick up right where you left off. 

Still, it was a shock when he saw you come in with your friends that night. He forced himself to sit there and wait even though your eyes found his the second you were in the door. 

You were engaged. Maybe even home for some kind of wedding related event. The last thing you needed was some ex-boyfriend butting in where he wasn’t wanted. 

But… you were looking at him. Not just looking at him, looking at him the way you used to, looking at him like you wanted him. So, when the last of your friends got up and left and you were there at the table, alone, he couldn’t help it. He went to you. 

And you weren’t wearing a ring.

“I’m sorry, baby,” he said, looking at your bare hand for a moment before going back to your face. “Your dad didn’t say…” 

“Yeah, he wasn’t exactly thrilled,” you smiled a little, putting your hand back in your lap. “He lost out on some deposit money for the wedding when that fell through. Thankfully, he got to place the blame on my ex and not on me.” 

“Can I ask what happened?” Joel asked, trying to keep from feeling hopeful. Lord knows he shouldn’t. 

“He cheated on me,” you said, shrugging simply as though you’d said he’d forgotten what you’d sent him to the store to get.

“Shit,” Joel shook his head. “I’m sorry. He’s a scumbag, not to mention a fuckin’ dumbass.” 

You smiled a little and shrugged again. 

“It happens,” you said. “And, honestly… I was a little relieved. The closer we got to the wedding, the more I wondered if I was doing the right thing.” 

Joel’s heart sped up. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, taking a sip of your drink. “As much as I loved him, it just… it wasn’t the same as how I felt for this one guy I dated before.” 

“Really?” Joel asked, forcing himself to stay in his seat and not take your face in his hands and kiss you. 

“Really,” you smiled a little bigger now, one that it looked like you were struggling to contain. “We dated for a while and I loved him so much. I still do. But I was stupid, I let a bunch of life things get in the way and I didn’t fight for things with him the way I should have.”

Joel moved a little closer to you. 

“Probably not stupid,” he said. “Probably just practical.” 

“Nah, it was stupid,” you said. “When you love someone that much, the only practical thing is to figure it out, you know?” 

He took a deep breath. 

“Yeah,” he said. “I know.” 

“Anyway,” you said. “I decided to come back here. See if he was still single and willing to make a go of it. A real go of it this time, one where we say fuck all the life problems because this is worth it.” 

“Well,” Joel said, his heart racing now. “He’d be a fool to turn you down. He was a fool for letting you go to begin with.” 

You smiled all the way then before leaning into him slowly, hesitantly. You kissed him, gentle and soft and your lips were so familiar but so electric on him. Something in him came alive at your touch, sparking low and deep and hot and he was suddenly desperate for you. His hands moved of their own accord, one to hold your face to his, the other to take your waist, slipping around to your back, pulling you damn near off your bar stool and into him, his tongue dipping into the sweetness that was your mouth. 

After what seemed like forever and no time at all, you pulled back from him, breathless and wide eyed. 

“Want to come back to my place?” You asked quietly. “I’m still unpacking but it’s not far.” 

“Yeah,” he nodded quickly and then laughed a little. As if he wouldn’t go anywhere you asked. “Course I do.” 

You were barely in the door when your arms were around his neck, your body pressed tightly to the front of him, his hands snaking around to hold you close. You led him to your bedroom, tugging at his clothes and stepping out of yours until both of you were naked next to your bed. Joel’s eyes ran over you in the dark, the slats of the blinds casting lines of moonlight over your bared skin. You were somehow - impossibly - even more beautiful than he remembered, his hands gently running over the outline of you in front of him. 

“You sure about this?” He asked quietly. 

“I’m sure,” you whispered back. “More sure than I’ve been about anything in a long time.” 

He smiled at that, kissing you before that smile swallowed him up, and he lowered you onto the bed. He guided you back on it, until you were in the middle of the mattress and he settled between your thighs. His cock - already so hard it almost hurt and dripping with want - nestled against your soft, wet heat, the head of him brushing your clit as he rocked himself against you. 

“Fuck, Joel,” you breathed as he kissed your neck, drinking in the smell of your perfume and skin and just a little bit of sweat from the heat of the bar. “I missed you.” 

“Missed you, too,” he dragged his teeth up and over your skin to nip at your ear lobe. “So goddamn much.” 

He kissed over your skin, pressed himself against your warmth, worked himself against your slit, savoring every part of you he could possibly touch until you were dripping and damn near writhing below him. 

“Please,” you panted, your fingers knotting in the hair at his nape. “I need you, I need you inside me, please, I…” 

He just nodded, separating from you enough to look between your bodies as he lined himself up with your entrance, pressing just the tip of him inside your grasping pussy before settling on top of you again. His eyes found yours in the dark, your skin soft on his, your mouth open as you whimpered in pleasure and want. 

“I’ve got you,” he said. “Give you everything you need.” 

You nodded quickly, frantically, and he pushed inside, his cock spreading you open and he had to fight to not close his eyes and get totally lost in the feel of you. But he needed everything, he needed to see you while he felt you and heard you and breathed you in. It had been too long since he’d seen you like this - back arched, mouth agape, keening and whining from his cock. He needed it like he needed water or air, needed you with him like this as often as he could get it. He needed you with him in every other way, too. He was an addict, there was never going to be enough. He knew now, after years of drought, that he would happily drown in you if you’d let him. 

He kissed you as he bottomed out inside, the whole of him filling the whole of you. Your walls clung to him, already fluttering lightly over him, your thighs wrapped around his hips as he held himself deep. He could taste you now, too, and his heart stuttered in his chest. Finally, he had all of you again, overwhelming all of him again. 

When he started to move inside you, he knew he wasn’t going to last long. You felt too goddamn good and it had been years since he’d last been with anyone without a condom. But he didn’t need to worry about making you come, he could tell you were already close. It had been years since he last had you but his body knew yours deeply and intimately. He knew how your hips moved when you got close, how your channel would draw tight for a moment before relaxing ever so slightly, again and again until you were pulled so close around him that he knew you were right on the precipice of your climax. 

“Come on baby,” he whispered, looking in your wide eyes. “Come for me, let me feel you.” 

You cried out, the sound cracked and desperate, and he pressed deep as you came, your channel throbbing and pulsing over him so hard that the rest of the world fell away. All that was left was you and how you were taking him, you and how damn good your pleasure felt. 

“Fuck, that’s it,” he said, still grinding his cock deep into you until your orgasm started to ease. “Not gonna last baby, can I come in you? Fuck, please…” 

“Please, Joel,” you moaned but, before he could start fucking into you hard and fast, your fingers dug into his bicep and your eyes met his, pleading in a new way. “But… I’m not on anything.” 

He stilled inside you, your cunt still tight around him, the last aftershocks of your orgasm running over him. You wanted him to come inside unprotected. He knew you’d always wanted children. You’d even day dreamed about it with him, fingers laced with his when you were naked in bed, but that’s all it had ever been: a dream. Now, you were damn near asking for it. 

“You sure?” He asked, breathless. 

“Yes,” you whispered. “I want you. All of you.” 

“Fuck,” he groaned, burying his face in your neck and fucking into you in earnest, his cock harder than it had ever been at your words. “I’m yours baby, only ever been yours.” 

Your thighs tightened against his sides, your hips rising to meet his, your pussy drawing tight around him again as he worked down into you and he moaned into your skin as he came, the heavy pulse of his orgasm making you come around him again, finding the height of your shared being together again, the way it seemed like it always should have been. 

When his climax finally eased, he went limp on top of you for a moment, your hands tracing slow, easy paths over the breadth of his back. When it felt like he could control his limbs again, he kissed your shoulder and pulled out of you gently, falling to your side. You rolled to face him and he tugged you close before lacing his fingers with yours, brushing over your knuckles as he did. 

“Did you mean that?” He asked quietly, eventually. 

“Yes,” you said softly, watching him closely. “I know what I want, Joel. I went a long time without you. I had a lot of time to think about things. I know what I want and what I want is you. I wanted you while we were apart, too, I was just… too afraid of what that might mean. But I know better now.” 

“What about your family?” He asked. “Your dad… not sure he’ll ever forgive us.” 

“Don’t care,” you said. “I fight with him all the time, anyway. At least this is a good reason to.” 

He smiled a little. 

“And it doesn’t bother you that I’ve got a kid who’s just two years younger than you?” He asked. 

“Moved past that years ago,” you smiled back. “Does it bother you?” 

“Moved past that years ago,” he said, too, and you laughed. 

“Does it bother you that I…” you took a deep breath. “That I want kids?” 

He watched you closely for a moment, your lower lip drawn between your teeth. 

“Haven’t thought much about having more kids,” he said. “But the times I have… they’ve been yours.” 

“Really?”

“Every time,” he said. “S’long as you don’t mind them having an old dad…” 

You laughed again, all gentle and easy, the way things were when the two of you were alone together. 

“Think we can manage,” you said. “I just want you. Everything else? We’ll figure it out.” 

He smiled a little and he reached out, cupping your cheek and looking in your eyes and feeling a spark in his chest that said he was holding the whole world in his palm. 

“Yeah,” he said. “Think we will.” 

A/N: I'm SO SORRY it took me a million years to finish this, I really didn't intend to. I hope it was at least somewhat worth the wait!

I hope you enjoyed these two crazy kids. I had a blast writing them. Thank you for being here and for putting up with the insane wait between chapters. Love you!

[shoyudon]

DON'T STICK YOUR HAND UP THE VENDING MACHINE .ᐟ

starring. toji fushiguro x fem! reader

heads up. cursing

note. I DON'T KNOW WHY THIS CAME UP TO ME SO SUDDENLY? BUT IT DID AND IT WOULD BE SO SAD IF I DIDN'T WRITE IT SKJDKJSK

VENDING MACHINE MAINTENANCE! TOJI who received a call from the mall he works in because apparently someone's arm got stuck inside a vending machine right in the basement parking before he was going to go home from a long day.

VENDING MACHINE MAINTENANCE! TOJI who saw you sitting down on the floor in front of the vending machine, your head leaning on it — he could hear a string of curses escaping from your mouth as you moved your arm a bit. frankly, he finds it pretty funny that you were owning up to the consequences of your own actions.

"has nobody told you that y'r not supposed to put your hand up the vending machine?" toji mutters, almost satisfied.

you rolled your eyes, "just get me out of this."

VENDING MACHINE MAINTENANCE! TOJI who had to endure at least the next fifteen minutes of you complaining about the same vending machine that you got stuck in, from the start of the alphabet till' the end.

"this thing ate my money, there's no way 'm leaving without my drink. stupid vending machine," you muttered out — toji trying his best to get your arm out without trying to possibly hurt you. honestly, he could care less about you getting hurt; he just didn't want his paycheck to be cut for your medication bills.

VENDING MACHINE MAINTENANCE! TOJI who finally got your arm out after half an hour, and got your drink out for you to shut you up from more complaints. it was a can of cold black coffee, which was what you needed after a twelve hours shift.

"thanks," you tell him — shoving the can of coffee inside your bag, "uh . . . do i need to pay for getting my arm out or should i just like . . . leave?"

he scoffs, "leave."

VENDING MACHINE MAINTENANCE! TOJI who only got back to his apartment two hours later than usual because you decided it was the best time to get your arm stuck in the vending machine over ¥120 (approximately $0.77).

VENDING MACHINE MAINTENANCE! TOJI who got a glass of boba from your workplace the next day because you felt bad he had to waste his time helping you after you got stuck. in your defense, you didn't want to waste your money.

"uh, i don't know if you like boba — i made it less sugar since you don't seem like the type to eat a lot of sugar, you know?" you pointed at his build, "but thanks for helping me last night."

VENDING MACHINE MAINTENANCE! TOJI who begrudgingly accepted your drink and scoffed when he tasted it, 'less sugar' he thought taking another sip, biting onto the chewy boba coated with brown sugar liquid.

you were right about one thing, how he doesn't really like consuming too much sugar. despite the drink being 'less sugar' he still thought there was too much sugar — and despite that, he still managed to finish a whole glass of it, even chewing the last bit of ice.

VENDING MACHINE MAINTENANCE! TOJI who actually saw you in your workplace when he was called to fix a vending machine inside the mall. taking in a customer's order, looking really stressed when more customers decided to pop in. huffing, he decided to stop by just to mess with you.

"so . . . what's the best thing y'got in here?" he mutters.

you look at him, eyes narrowed. but this was him, the vending machine maintenance as your customer, "brown sugar boba, fresh milk red bean matcha boba, red bean mochi fresh milk," you explained, pointing to every picture on the menu you just mentioned.

VENDING MACHINE MAINTENANCE! TOJI who decided it was best to mess with you even more, bringing back his complaint about the drink you made him this morning.

"red bean mochi fresh milk, less sugar." toji underlines, taking out his wallet — even if he didn't want to buy a glass of sugar after drinking one earlier this morning.

"that will be ¥320 (approximately $2.07), please."

he huffs, "people pay that much for a glass of sugar?" and then he slid a couple of bills towards you.

"you're paying that much for sugar, you're one to say," you retort back, opening the cash register to return back his change and a small paper of his bill.

"one star for bad service," he muttered, grabbing back his change.

VENDING MACHINE MAINTENANCE! TOJI who for some reason, gets the most random call from inside the mall asking for the vending machine to be fixed. maybe because he doesn't fix them whole-heartedly just so he could mess with you by ordering the most outrageous drinks — at first it started out as little mocking smiles, and gestures.

but he felt as if that wasn't enough, so he decided to take a step further by messing with you on your job, urging you to make the smallest mistakes.

"brown sugar boba, with ten percent of brown sugar liquid. and five percent of sugar. if it's too sweet, i want my money back," he grunted. he meant to tease you — but the way he said it made him sound so serious that you were nervous about messing up his order.

even if he did say that he would return it every single time, he never really does.

VENDING MACHINE MAINTENANCE! TOJI who saw a customer complaint over something you didn't make — and he couldn't really do anything except watch. it wasn't like he was about to risk his own job by creating a scene in a boba shop. he sipped away on his order, which in his opinion was still too sweet, but he said nothing.

"i asked for no sugar, why is this still so sweet?" a man complains, raising up his royal milk tea with boba; which toji could see is half-empty. hell, the man's still chewing on his boba as he speaks.

"i apologize sir, but even our base milk tea powders are still a bit sweet, that's where the sweetness is coming from," you explained, looking at him apologetically, "would you like me to do anything for you, sir?"

the man grunted, "no, it's just disappointing," he muttered out, shooting you a dirty look before turning to leave the shop — toji eyed the male but said nothing. he was glad his work didn't require him to communicate with people besides getting a call to fix a machine.

VENDING MACHINE MAINTENANCE! TOJI who actually stopped messing with you and just drops by to order his drinks because he noticed how stressed you look at that man's complaint. he just didn't want to be the reason why you get fired.

"brown sugar boba, make it less sweet," he muttered — shoving his hand down into his pocket to grab the exact change he needed to pay.

VENDING MACHINE MAINTENANCE! TOJI who actually took a two weeks break from buying your boba because he was actually afraid he'd get diabetes from the huge amount of sugar he was consuming in such a short amount of time.

and you seek for his appearance — which never happened, until he decided to come back while you were sitting down on the floor, shoving your face into the instant ramen you bought from the convenience store this morning before your shift.

"oh! it's you, you came back!" you put the cup on top of the counter and wiped your hands, walking towards the cashier.

VENDING MACHINE MAINTENANCE! TOJI who spent most of his time in the boba shop until he's called somewhere else. he'd usually spend his hours inside the maintenance staff room on the secluded part of the mall, but now? he wastes his time inside a small boba shop in the middle of the mall; even if he said nothing or you were too busy to talk to him.

he still stayed because he likes it there, even without you both talking. he didn't feel as lonely as the hours spent inside the staff room alone.

VENDING MACHINE MAINTENANCE! TOJI who actually enjoyed it when you strike conversations with him during the peaceful flow of the boba shop, asking the most random questions from his zodiac sign to his favorite soda flavor, or his favorite way to eat eggs.

"i like sunny side ups, they're good," you tell him, wiping the sweat that was forming on your forehead — the both of you ended up talking about your schedules and shifts of work, which you both find out how the both of you mostly have 12 hours shifts.

VENDING MACHINE MAINTENANCE! TOJI who actually found you stranded after a shift because you missed the last bus, and he ended up giving you a ride on his old motorcycle. he's never really had a human backpack behind him on his motorcycle, so he didn't really care about speeding — at least until you told him to slow down a bit because it was a bit scary.

"thanks for the ride, toji. i owe you another one, how about a drink tomorrow? just make sure to drop by, 'ts on the house!" you gave him a thumbs up, giving back the only helmet that he made you use.

VENDING MACHINE MAINTENANCE! TOJI who actually came back to your shop the very next day to get that free drink of his from you — and this time, you managed to make it just right. not too sweet, he could get used to that.

"i like this one, 'ts not too sweet," he comments, raising up the glass of boba drink, "why couldn't ya' make me one like this since the beginning when i asked for less sugar?" he asked you.

"because that's my own recipe. 'ts not on the menu, but i'm still paying for it, y'know?" you raised your brows, eyeing him from inside the bar, "i wanna open my own boba shop in the future, it's fun."

VENDING MACHINE MAINTENANCE! TOJI who actually became your personal driver because he was the one who asked you to. even if you declined at first since you didn't want to burden him — but he actually insisted, surprising.

"don't care, we're goin' the same direction anyways," he handed you a helmet (that he actually rummaged through the garage through for, washed it, and dried it just for you), "the bus' full of weirdos at night."

VENDING MACHINE MAINTENANCE! TOJI who managed to get close to you in the next few months; he never did expect it, him getting close to a girl, but he was actually kind of glad he did get close to you.

"hey toji, eat lunch with me. i'm on break right now!" you peeked inside the maintenance staff room where he sat, a water bottle in his grasp. he'd usually decline, hell, he even declined his co-workers— but you? he could only sigh and gave out a curt nod, "look what i got."

toji hated everyone. but when you came into his world, he could make exceptions.

VENDING MACHINE MAINTENANCE! TOJI who hated it when he feels his heart flutter, he doesn't like the way his stomach churns every time he sees you do anything or see you in general. the way he craves for more of your smile, your laugh, everything about you. it made him feel uneasy— especially when he's never felt all that before.

it was a strange feeling to him, and he didn't like it. toji's never one for relationships, love, and all that. he doesn't know how to do it, he was afraid he'd end up hurting you instead. maybe, maybe that's why he decided to put some distance between the both of you.

VENDING MACHINE MAINTENANCE! TOJI who always fixes vending machines inside the mall the right way, making sure he doesn't have to go back in and see your face. as much as he wanted to, he didn't want to see you and feel the fluttering all over again when he's tried so hard to stop it (which wasn't working, by the way).

VENDING MACHINE MAINTENANCE! TOJI who tries not to spend time inside the maintenance staff room because he knew you'd always try to come see him there during times when he wasn't idling by your work place. he felt bad every time his co-worker told him that you came by looking for him.

"hey fushiguro, i forgot to tell you, the boba girl was looking for you again this afternoon," his co-worker informed, putting on his jacket, ready to leave.

VENDING MACHINE MAINTENANCE! TOJI who kept this on for at least the next three months. everywhere you were, he turns away and walk the other way making sure the both of you won't bump into each other. don't think you didn't notice his act though, noticing how he stopped replying to your messages, how he doesn't come up to meet you in your work place anymore, or how he walks by your shop like he doesn't know you every time he was asked to fix a machine inside the shop.

you wondered if you did something that might made him mad at you — but no matter what, you just couldn't figure out what. and if he wasn't willing to talk to you, hell, even spare a glance at you, how were you going to find out.

VENDING MACHINE MAINTENANCE! TOJI who grumbled under his breath when he got a call right as he was about to clock out of work. begrudgingly walking down towards the basement where the vending machine was; god, people just had to ruin his day.

opening the basement door, there he saw you— sitting on the ground with an arm stuck inside the vending machine. a case of deja vu, this was exactly like how you both met.

VENDING MACHINE MAINTENANCE! TOJI who was silent while he was working out on your arm, wondering why in the hell would you try to reach up for a drink even after the first time you got yourself stuck. but he said nothing anyways. you did.

"are you gonna talk to me now?" you ask him while he was trying to free your arm, "i wasted my money to get my arm stuck and you're still not willing to talk to me?"

he almost scoffed, you did this on purpose, "so you did this on purpose?"

"no, i had a purpose. why're you ignoring me like we don't know each other? tell me what i did wrong so i can fix it," you mutter out angrily, crossing an arm across your chest, "you just ghosted me, why?"

VENDING MACHINE MAINTENANCE! TOJI who didn't think it mattered a lot to you — but seeing to this extent you'd go, he could only shut his mouth. letting his hand do the freeing.

"so, you're just gonna act like we're strangers? 'kay, fine by me then," you reply, deciding to shut up for the rest of the procedure, waiting for him to free your arm.

VENDING MACHINE MAINTENANCE! TOJI who decided it was the best timing to confess to you, who had one arm up stuck inside a vending machine. all because he just wanted to get rid of the burden on his mind about you.

"listen, i get this feelin' every time i'm near you. and i don't fuckin' like it, makes me feel all warm and soft. i fuckin' hate it. i don't hate you, jus' don't get the wrong idea or shit." he muttered, pulling your arm out from the machine — packing his stuff up to leave.

VENDING MACHINE MAINTENANCE! TOJI who got stopped by you when he was about to leave for the night.

"'s that a confession or what? if you're going to confess, the least you could do is do it right. that was lame," you tell him, holding onto the hem of his shirt, "do it all over, with nicer words, and a nicer tone."

VENDING MACHINE MAINTENANCE! TOJI who shook his head, not wanting to repeat his moment of vulnerability to the first person he was most vulnerable most. toji hated being so weak in front of people, especially you.

"no, who said 't was a confession anyways?" he questions, obviously a lie, looking at you with a raised brow.

you let go of his shirt and waved your hand, "fine then, let's not speak anymore since you want it to be that way," he stares at your back in confusion as you try to walk away out of the basement, "goodbye," you mutter out, a bit of hope that he'd stop you.

which he did, and you breathe out in relief, "'ts late, the last bus left already. i'll drop you at home," he murmurs out, scratching his nape.

VENDING MACHINE MAINTENANCE! TOJI who handed you the same helmet you usually wore, never getting rid of it in the first place. bringing you home for the first time after three months — nobody spoke a word to each other, and it was definitely awkward. hopping off his bike, you returned back the helmet to him and began walking back towards your house.

"hey," he calls out to you.

VENDING MACHINE MAINTENANCE! TOJI who sucked up his ego and confessed to you in a "nicer" way and tone like you told him to. and he of course, managed to butcher it up again.

"i don't fuckin' hate you. i just tolerate you more than i tolerate other people," he retorts. seeing the unimpressed look on your face made him think twice, "okay. i like you, just— bye," and then he left just like that without trying to hear your reply.

VENDING MACHINE MAINTENANCE! TOJI who didn't expect a glass of boba on his staff room with a small note, and he knew it was from you.

'i like you too, why did you leave last night?'

because he was scared you'd reject him, that's why. but now that you made it clear that you weren't going to reject him, he was more relaxed. but the thought of meeting you face to face after last night made him nervous all over.

VENDING MACHINE MAINTENANCE! TOJI who was actually surprised when you weren't as awkward as he is upon meeting him after last night. peeking your head inside the staff room like the usual — he turned to look and there you were already jumping onto him.

"hey! why did you leave so fast last night? i didn't even get to answer you yet," he grumbled under his breath when you brought it up yet again.

"because i was afraid y're gonna reject me, happy?" he asks, "but you didn't so 'm not afraid anymore, i guess."

"what does this make us?" you replied back playfully, nudging his bicep with your elbow, "hm? hm?"

"friends," he teased, his face flat.

"hey!"

© shoyudon 2024 . no copying or reposting allowed !

[goquokka00]

The Little Things (Jisung Ver.)

The small things he does every day that make you feel oh, so special.

Bangchan | Minho | Changbin | Hyunjin Jisung | Felix | Seungmin | Jeongin

| Compares Hands |

Jisung is one of those people where I just get the vibe where he'd be one to regularly compare his hands to yours. Why? I don't know. But I just get the feeling that whenever the two of you are cuddling, Jisung's got your hand in his, and he's just...comparing them.

Your hands are so different compared to his. They're smaller, so much more feminine. They're so soft, probably because you use that one lotion you hidden from him every day on them. They're nothing like his, which we've seen pictures of them and dear GOD, his hands are absolutely fine. They're veiny and long, they're probably rough, but are just so gentle.

A lot of times, Jisung will take your hand and place it against his to directly compare them. And he'll comment on it, too. "Your hands are so cute, baby," or, "Our hands look so perfect together." They're never bad comments, he just likes to tell you how he feels.

| Shares Earbuds |

This is probably a given. Jisung loves music, and we all know this. And that means he's open to hearing a whole variety of music, mainly to help inspire him for songs for Stray Kids. Where else is better to get that than from the person he loves the most?

If you guys are ever out in public or walking around, Jisung will almost ask for an earbud so he can listen to whatever you're listening to. It doesn't matter what you're music tastes are, either. Kpop, rock and roll, pop, country, hip hop, rap, indie, latin, jazz, he'll listen to it all. And if he recognizes the song, he'll happily sing the lyrics.

There are other times where Jisung will want to share his earbud with you, too. I feel like he wouldn't play any spoilers for upcoming albums (Bangchan would murder him alive), but he'd play music that he listens to regularly, wanting to expand your own horizons. As a bonus, I also think that the two of you would make one big playlist of both of your favorites, and you'd listen to that together a lot.

| Holds Your Arm |

Jisung really likes to be close to you at all times. And that means that whenever you two are shopping, or going to different places outside of JYPE or your work area, or even the apartment, there are times where his arms are wrapped around whichever arm of yours is closest to him. Sometimes your arms are linked, but other times, he's clinging to your arm.

I do have a strong feeling that he'd mostly do this if his anxiety was acting up. If he was starting to spiral because of crowds, or his thoughts were overwhelming him because of work, he'd cling to you to try and ground himself. And of course, you'd be there to comfort him.

He'd probably apologize for it. He'd feel bad because you'd have to put up with him like that. But you really don't care. You'd gently rub his hand, keeping it there while guiding him to a less populated area so you two could chill and just breathe. And while he'd feel guilty, Jisung would be so grateful for it.

| Back Hugs in the Morning |

I've said this once in my first ever post, and I'll happily say it again. I am a firm believer of Jisung not being a morning person at all. The late nights down at the studio, writing songs for hours until the early hours of the morning just drain him, and getting up is quite literally a chore in Jisung's mind.

And so, while you're probably making breakfast, I think that Jisung would be the kind of person to come up behind you and pull you back against his chest, the man still half-asleep as he rests his head on your shoulder. He refuses to talk, as it takes too much energy. And so all you get are grunts, hums, and any other noises he decides to make.

Jisung will just cling to you for as long as he needs. If you need to walk to a different area of the kitchen while you're cooking, Jisung will just follow you, not giving you any space whatsoever. Even when he's finally awake and alert, he's not letting you go. At least, not until he gets his good morning kiss.

| Spoils You |

Guys, I kid you not, Jisung will buy you anything and everything you want. You want food from that one restaurant you went to a few weeks ago? Done. You spotted a sweater that you really like? It's yours. You need something for a hobby of yours? Say no more. As long as you're happy, Jisung's happy.

It doesn't even matter how expensive it is. Nothing is too expensive if it's for you. You can complain all you want, too. You don't want him to spend all of his money on you? Too bad. You're happy with just being his? Yeah, but Jisung wants to make you even happier.

I also have this irk that Jisung would buy you souvenirs from wherever he travels to. If it reminds him of you, he'll buy it for you and then give it to you once he gets back to South Korea. And I'm not kidding you, this man would be like so giddy as he watches you react to each and every single gift. He just loves to spoil you beyond belief, and he will NEVER stop.

Hey! Firstly, thank you so much for reading this post, and I really hope you enjoyed! If you did, please like, reblog, or comment so I can see how I'm doing with writing and getting feedback! I hope you have a lovely day! Sleep well, stay in good health, and eat something if you haven't! ❤️❤️❤️

[writingstoraes]

three words, eight letters 💌

pairing: charles leclerc/fem!reader

type: written imagine

word count: 4.01k (got carried away)

notes: ok ik there are several of this prompt here but i wanted to give it a whirl :]] also in a slump with my ig imagines so i figured i should finish this since its been a draft for such a looong time lolol no warnings, this is just very fluff-coded!

about: the three times charles almost said "i love you," and the one time he finally did.

Charles wanted to tell you the three aching words he's stored in containment. All he wanted was the right time and the perfect moment, but for the love of his and his alone, he just cannot find it.

He had been racking his brain on how to tell you - because when he looks at you, it's like those three words are just going to explode out of his chest. Every time you smile, laugh, or even breathe in his direction, he realizes just how smitten he was for you. He thought about just saying it out of the blue, unplanned but also when the time felt right. But he also thought about going about it as if it were a proposal because you deserve nothing less than the best he can give.

There were times he thought it was too early to say.

You had just been dating a few months in, and though he felt strongly for you and he did love you, he didn't want to say it too fast or too early out of the fear that it might drive you away.

It's no secret Charles was no chef. He gets a good laugh when other drivers tease him about it but he doesn't pay it any mind. Some people are just good at other things, like how he sucks at cooking but can drive a car that goes as fast as lightning. It is also no secret that he wanted to impress you with skills other than driving - so he doesn't know what entered his mind when he realizes he's on his way to the supermarket as he decides to try and cook dinner.

He scoured the internet for an easy recipe, finally smiling to himself when he finds a simple pasta dish he thinks he can do. To an average person, the dish was really easy to make. So simple that an unsupervised child could follow it. Directions were clear and the website had pictures - he just needs to make a simple sauce, cook some pasta, and grate some cheese. He tells himself nothing could go wrong, what he was about to cook was absolutely just elementary. But he's not an average person, he was Charles, and he is a terrible cook through and through.

Having convinced himself he could cook something so simple, he had forgotten how he messed everything up. He's pretty sure he blacked out, because when he came to his senses, the pasta was overcooked, and the sauce mysteriously evaporated into the air so the pan was just red drops with charred pieces of cheese on the side. He tried to taste it, and he deems it inedible. He was so occupied with cooking it had slipped out of his mind that you were coming over, so the next thing he hears is the sound of your soft knock on his door.

The kitchen was an absolute mess and the apron he wore was extremely dirty — he almost thought about pretending he wasn't home and not answering the door. Of course, he doesn't do that, so he lets you in and the first thing you smell, is cheese.

"Were you cooking?" was the first thing you ask him.

He didn't answer, instead, he planted a chaste kiss on your lips and hurriedly walked back to the kitchen.

He had expected you to laugh once you saw the mess he made by trying to cook just to impress you, but surprisingly, no chuckle erupted out of you.

"Sorry," he says softly, taking off his apron and quickly cleaning up the pots and the bowls he used up.

"I wanted to cook you dinner. I found this recipe online and I thought it was easy," he sighs. "Cooking absolutely hates me. You're okay with getting takeout for now?"

He really did expect you to laugh.

But the second sentence that came out of your mouth: "I'll help you clean up."

It didn't take a lot of time to clean everything up. Thanks to Charles' inability to measure things, he had a ton of extra ingredients, and since he seemed to really like the dish he aspired to cook, you decide to make it for him.

Charles sat at the counter watching you calmly cook the recipe he'd intended to accomplish, your hair parted to the side while you wear the ridiculously messy apron he had worn earlier. He watches you cook the pasta and the sauce at the same time, able to keep your eye on both without neglecting the other. To your defense — the recipe really was easy. But Charles didn't seem to think so, which was why he was sitting on the counter with heart-shaped eyes.

"See, this is what it should look like when the pasta is done cooking," you hold up a piece, cutting it in the middle to show Charles it has cooked through.

"It helps if you check it from time to time if you're not sure. For the sauce, I think you just had your heat on a little too high, but that's okay — you can do it right next time." you smile softly at him, eyes squinting before you shift your attention back to the pan.

Charles had tried cooking before. But up to this day, you were the only one patient enough to actually teach him how. And it didn't help that you looked so beautiful while doing so; hair parted to the side, apron hanging a bit loose on your body, and a smile so captivating it blinds him a little. You weren't perfect, you did laugh at him eventually, but not before guiding him through the recipe he'd chosen. And quite surprisingly, he could cook this same exact dish properly for Arthur next week.

It was clear Charles was no help in the kitchen, so he resorts to hugging you from behind, head resting on your shoulder, breathing slow and steady. He gets a whiff of your shampoo and your perfume he absolutely loved. Your hands soon make their way on top of his that rested on your stomach, thumb rubbing circles on his. Charles was pretty sure you could feel him smile widely behind you, a thought he chooses to ignore because he didn't care anyway, he was at his happiest.

"I lo—" he starts, catching himself off-guard. For a moment, time stops; and he's not sure what to say next. He thought it was too early, but he wanted to say it.

"I love pasta, you know that?" Charles continues, trying to save whatever he's left with. Thankfully, you didn't notice his desperate attempt to cover his supposed mistake.

He tells himself: maybe next time.

Charles' mother had been pestering him for a long time about meeting you. Every time he came home, he was greeted with, "When am I going to meet your girlfriend?"

Even his brothers, Lorenzo and Arthur, were all so ecstatic about meeting you properly for the first time. The two see you around the track for brief periods of time, but in their defense, you haven't introduced yourself properly to Charles' family. It didn't help that Charles himself talked about you like you hung the moon and stars, and made the universe using your own bare hands, because his whole family, mother and brothers aside, all wanted to meet you.

The two of you were finally headed to Charles' childhood home, finally about to meet his entire family. And the word entire was an understatement because everybody was there. From aunts, cousins, and his nieces and nephews, all of them were anticipating your arrival. A lump forms in your throat just by the thought, but you try to battle it with a deep breath as you fixate your eyes on the mirror.

"Do you think they're going to look at this dress and think it's too revealing? Or too short?" you shout from the closet, straightening out the creases of the crisp white dress you were wearing.

Charles enters the room and he swears he could have just died right then and there. How you manage to take his breath away with minimal effort remained a mystery to him.

"I think..." he drags the second word. "I think they are going to be completely in love with you."

"Hopefully not in the same way I am, because I don't plan on sharing you." he softly chuckles, giving you a reassuring smile.

Technically he had said the l word already but to him, it didn't count, only because he didn't say it to you directly.

An hour into meeting you, the entirety of Charles' family adored you wholeheartedly. He didn't want to give credit to himself but he knew they would find no reason to not love you, though he reminds himself to tell you he told you so when you get some time alone together later. He could listen to his family members praise you all day. You had managed to meet each and every one of his side of the family present at the dinner and Charles could not help but admire how carefree you were at interacting with people he held close to his heart. His mom could not stop raving about how great you were and kept asking why he did not introduce you earlier that it makes her slightly mad, which was followed by a hearty laugh and an assurance that she loved you to bits.

You just managed to dazzle and charm every person you talked to. His brothers adored you and you managed to get along so well with them even if your most apparent common denominator with them was racing. His aunts could not stop telling Charles how beautiful you were and how you seemed to be so kind and fit so well with him. They were already asking Charles when's the next time you visit and you haven't even left his home yet. For some odd reason, you got along well with his uncles, too.

But the cherry on top, the last straw, and the tipping point that tugged the heaviest on the strings of Charles' heart were seeing you with his nieces and nephews. He was fond of children, gleeful every time he sees one on the paddock, especially when they are clad in colors of red and yellow, his team's staple color scheme. However, he never knew how disastrous it would be for him to see you with children.

There you sat on the patio, his niece behind you as she messily tried to braid your hair. You had a big smile on your face, laughing at the somewhat theatrical act his other nephew was performing in front of you. In your hands was a glass cup with gelato and a small spoon, raising the spoon occasionally to feed the little girl tying your hair. His lips slowly form a smile and he feels his chest was bound to explode any time soon. He stood there and realized that he was completely, utterly, and irrevocably in love with all that you are. In other words, he was down bad, and he wouldn't even dare deny it.

After the festivities of getting to know each member of his family, you and Charles were finally given time alone in the kitchen. Everyone else was occupied setting the table and fixing everything up for dinner. You were part of it though, he just found you getting the pies in the oven after you volunteered to do so.

"I told you so," he says, slightly taking you by surprise, not enough you drop the pies though.

You turn to him with a sheepish smile, "Told me what?"

"That they would love you," he replies.

"Well, I am very loveable. Can't blame them."

"I know you are. That's why I lov-" he transitions into telling you what might be one of the most important things he's ever going to say in his life.

"Charles, dinner's ready!" Arthur calls out, cutting his train of thought. The two of you shift your gaze to the dining area, seeing Arthur and Lorenzo waiting for the two of you.

That's why I love you. That was what he wanted to say.

Charles sighs, telling himself that maybe getting cut off was a sign that this was not the right time. He'd repeat himself, but he thinks there are other times when he could tell you he loved you without interruptions.

"What were you saying?" you ask, not wanting to hang him out to dry.

"Oh. I said I know you're loveable. That's why I love seeing you charm every single member of my family."

Charles was not having the best day. His own team had botched his home race for him once again and on top of that, he had gotten a 3-place grid penalty in Monaco. Don't get him wrong, he was ecstatic to be home. The warm welcome of the fans was unbeatable. Banners, posters, and the Monaco flag waved around the streets of Monte Carlo.

This season has not been good to him so far. So just once, he wishes to catch a break.

The two of you were walking around the paddock as Charles was headed to the Ferrari motorhome to prepare for the race. His hand was on your waist as he guided you in the sea of people. The track was entirely at capacity - engineers, celebrities, VIPs, reporters, you name it. A few meters from the garage, a reporter from a well-known sports channel calls his attention.

It was routine, and Charles was used to it. You were standing not too close beside the cameraman, just watching Charles answer the questions he was asked. The reporter's inquiries were the usual, he had asked how Charles felt about the penalty, how he thinks the car will perform, what upgrades Ferrari is planning on implementing, and all the likes. You watch intently, giving Charles a small smile every time his gaze went your way.

Though the reporter fixated on Charles' "disappointing home race", his words, Charles knew how to handle the questions and answered them composed and professionally. After all, he has been doing this for quite some time. Deep down, it stirred you slightly as it seemed like the reporter was only recognizing the lapses on Charles' side and insinuating that it was entirely his fault.

You tried to pay it no mind until he makes a passing careless and offensive commentary that you could not just let pass.

"I guess some fans were right - monegasques today have nothing to look forward to. Wonder how they feel when their only driver is not only in a horrible car but is tussling with being nothing special."

Nothing special.

Nothing to look forward to.

Something in your ears rang and your vision went dark. You could see Charles' face drop from where you were standing and your heart absolutely broke for him. He proceeds to nod his head toward the cameraman and made haste and you did not hesitate to follow him right away. If you felt distraught and angered after that comment, you wonder just how he felt after hearing it, and at his home race, nonetheless.

"Charles, wait," you jog slightly, seeing as his pace was a lot faster than you. You could tell he just wanted to get out of there. You reach for his hand, tightly grasping it and he stops walking.

"I'm sorry you had to hear that," he says lowly, upset written on his face.

"Why are you sorry? It's his fault. He was offensive and careless. He humiliated you and worse, what he was saying was not true."

"C'est bon." It's okay. You two were finally at the garage, a little far from the reporter. Deep down, though Charles wanted to at least defend himself, he feels all the energy he has left had been sucked out of his body.

"No, it's not. He doesn't know what he's saying. I don't want to let him get away with that, he can't just go around telling people things like that. You may be too nice to tell him off but I'm not."

"You don't deserve this," you say with conviction, walking away from the garage and prepared to give the reporter a piece of your mind.

You don't plan to cause a scene, you knew better than that. You weren't going to shout or curse, but you wanted to get your point across. Soon after Charles follows you, clearly trying to stop you but was too late when he saw you already talking to the reporter. He had no choice but to walk closer to you, grasping on what you were saying.

Your voice wasn’t loud. From where he was standing, he could see how calm and composed you were while you gave the reporter the lecture he was probably not expecting. The track was fairly busy and noisy. You could hear engines starting, and conversations of people he doesn’t know, which caused his inability to understand and hear what you were saying. 

He just stood there - watching you defend him from the asshole of an interviewer, your hands making small gestures for emphasis. The reporter’s face slowly displayed guilt and resentment as if he was clearly affected by whatever it is you said. Soon, the noise around him subsided and the only thing he was able to hear was the last thing you told the reporter. 

“I don’t ever want to hear you talk like that about Charles ever again. If you’re only going to disrespect one of the most hard-working people I know, better to not approach him in the slightest.  He did not pour blood, sweat, and tears into this sport just for you to utter those words to him.” 

Your voice remained soft but it was steady. You turned your heel against the reporter and a cameraman who was clearly surprised by what he just witnessed. You walk back to him, giving him a small smile. 

He wanted to just stand there and stare at you. No one has ever done that for him before. He had his fair share of disrespectful interviewers and questions that downright offended every fiber of his being but he always chose to not pay it any mind. It did not help that you were the kindest person he knew — so seeing you decide right away to defend him like that just made him feel all sorts of things. 

The two of you proceed to walk back to the Ferrari garage, your hand tightly grasped by Charles. At the time, he desperately wanted to embrace you and whisper just how much he loved you. He wanted to drag you to a discreet corner and just hold your face while he tells you the three words he’d been keeping to himself. 

But he remained frozen in awe of you, and so he fails to tell you once again.

“Can I-” Charles starts, trying his best to get up from the couch. 

“I already told you. The answer is no,” you reply firmly, shifting your gaze to the man with the slightly swollen cheek. 

He huffs a little bit loudly, wanting to show his disappointment.

“Baby, the doctor said no strenuous activities. You just had your wisdom tooth extracted, so no, you can’t go skiing with Joris.” you say as you walk toward the couch, fluffing the pillow his head rested on and putting a soft blanket on top of him. 

“Please just rest. You lie down right where you are and I will be preparing dinner soon. I just have to finish something first.” 

“My favorite?” he asks, putting on the sweet tone you were always soft for.

“Anything for you, my patient.” you smile, planting a kiss on his forehead.

“Okay. I’ll rest,” he sighs, adjusting himself on the couch to face sideways. “You take care of me so well.” 

Charles was under a lot of painkillers. His dentist appointment had been rescheduled hundreds of times as he claims to be too “busy” to get his wisdom tooth extracted. If it weren’t for your incessant nagging because he was already in pain, he probably wouldn’t have pushed through with it. He tried his best to look tough in front of you, but as someone who drove cars that are as fast as lightning, you could tell he was nervous. 

The doctor had to reassure him that there would be anesthesia plus painkillers to combat the pain he would be feeling after. After finding out he was medically allowed to eat a ton of ice cream after the procedure, he was more than happy to oblige.

However, the combination of Charles, anesthesia that’s wearing off, plus painkillers is not equal to a drowsy Charles. He had more energy than usual and was naughtier than normal. In other words, he was hyper. He was not muttering nonsense like the famous wisdom tooth aftermath videos on YouTube nor did he want to sleep all day. He wanted to do so many things he was about to get overstimulated. So no matter how weak in the knees Charles usually made you nor how you always give in when he asks you for something, skiing and going to the gym for a heavy workout after he just had his tooth extracted were just things you cannot say yes to. 

Not long after, the ever so fueled with energy of a boyfriend you had was deep in slumber on the couch. He probably tired himself out from listing a thousand reasons why you have to let him go with Joris and his friends today. He was ceaseless, after all. His lower body was covered with the blanket that you put on him earlier, chest slowly heaving up and down, mouth slightly apart, and lightly snoring. 

He looked so peaceful. For a while, you just sat beside him and went on to study the features of his face. The pointed nose, the tiny freckles that are most evident when the sun hits them, and the eyes that seem to contain galaxies and universes in it. 

“I know you’re staring, chérie,” he quietly says, eyes still closed. 

“No. I’m just checking to see if your face is still swollen.” you reply, playfully rolling your eyes at him. 

“Not swollen. Just say you’re looking for an excuse to study my beautiful face.” he teases, shifting himself so he’s now in a seated position. 

“That’s the anesthesia talking, Charlie,” 

“Wore off already.”

“Fine, I was staring. You’re so pretty, how could I not?” you say, shrugging your shoulders before standing up to prepare dinner. 

“I love you.” Charles says before you could even move away far from the couch where he was seated. 

I love you. 

You stop in your tracks, your back still facing the Monegasque who was clearly waiting for a response yet slightly relieved he told you what he had been wanting to say for a while now. 

“I already know what’s going through your mind,” he says, lightly laughing. “This is not the painkillers nor the anesthesia talking. I’d spent so much time debating on when to tell you.”

“So many accidental “I love you’s” thrown away. Figured there’s never a right time. I love you every single day so why wait for a perfect moment?”

“I love you. So so much.” he repeats. 

You turn to him with a smile you can’t contain, walking over to him and engulfing him in what seemed to be the tightest hug you’d ever given anybody. 

“I hope you know I’m still saying no to the skiing.” you laugh. 

Charles chuckles, and you could feel the vibrations of his laughter from his chest. His grip on you only tightens, sighing in relief. 

“That’s okay. I’d rather be with you anyway.” he says, squeezing you once more before breaking away from your embrace.

“Hmm, swaying me with pretty words, Leclerc?” you raise a brow. 

“Never!” Charles smiles sheepishly as he puts both his hands up in defense. 

“For what it’s worth — though you’re like a child hopped up on sugar earlier, I love you too.” 

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

tagging: @slytherheign <3

notes: i think this is my first time writing something this long! i also have a 3.5k word work in progress but i cant find the will to finish it lol very angsty though!

thank u sm for reading and lmk what u think hehe <3 also pls send requests for ig imagines for charles! will try to do it as soon as i can!

[lucvly]

hi, how are you doing ? i was wondering if can you do christmas head canons with matt ?

— christmas headcannons with matt. ⸰ 𖥔 ͙

warnings: just fluff & a slightly suggestive one if you squint.

a/n: hii omg ?? is this Thing on ?? 🎤

— leaves the christmas lights up till january type of person. either a) he’s too lazy to take the decorations down, or b) he just wants you to help him take them down so he avoids it until you bring up the idea of helping him LMAO.

— this man knows how to wrap presents mhm. he’d a hundred percent do that stupid ass trend that’s like “wrapping gifts as something not even remotely close”.

— LOOOVES baking cookies with you aww. he doesn’t even like the baking process itself he just likes the decorating part.

— his presents are definitely well thought out. you offhandedly said you wanted a certain something five months ago? best believe he bought it for you for christmas.

— every single present he gives you includes a handwritten love letter. you love it because it’s always at least three pages long and it’s so cute :(.

— he’s such an attentive boyfriend i’m melting ugh. always has a spare jacket for you in the backseat of his car. he’ll say nick or chris left it there for some reason which is most definitely not true, he keeps it there especially for you just in case you get too cold.

— he doesn’t really like visiting malls on christmas because of the crowds but if you wanna go for some reason he’s absolutely following you around.

— he tries to be secretive with gifts but ends up being a major fail LMFAOO you’ve found out what your presents are on multiple occasions. one time he just left them in the car accidentally and you saw them before he could even do anything about it.

— which leads me to my next point, you and chris have an unspoken secret agreement to tell each other what matters got you for christmas. you tell him his present and he’ll tell you yours.

— this went on for a while before matt actually found out and all hell broke loose Oops.

— a perfectionist when it comes down to gingerbread houses. he eventually gives up though when some of the pieces don’t stick together.

— matching ugly sweaters are a must, duh. sometimes it’ll deadass just be mid june and you’ll catch him wearing one of the matching sweaters. it’s so funny but unironically he loves them, he can’t even figure iut why, he just does.

— he gets chapped lips during winter SORRY !! so you’re absolutely gonna catch him with cherry flavored chapstick and he doesn’t gaf. ( taste tests in the car <3333 )

— he’ll never admit it but he Loves christmas scented candles. he acts like the smell is way too strong or something but light one of those snickerdoodle scented candles and he’s Melting.

— lots of christmas themed pick up lines. deadass texts you in the middle of the night just to be like “can i take your picture? i gotta show santa what i want for christmas.”

— his favorite part of winter is the fact that he gets to spend most of his time cuddled up with you under a fuzzy blanket watching movies.

— expect tons of late night drives with him. he loves seeing how people decorate their houses, and for some reason he loves late night talks with you with soft christmas music playing in the background.

— he would be so serious about kids and santa. i feel like chris would be the type of guy to tell kids santa isn’t real but matt would get so pissed, literally raging.

— gets the worst case of sweet tooth during christmas. cookies, cakes, literally anything sweet idc.

— due to that, he’d a hundred percent get sick during the holidays LMFAOO (constant stomachaches because of the amount of sweets he’s had.)

— he’s definitely very considerate as to who you wanna spend your christmas with. he’s thrilled when you wanna spend christmas with him, his brothers and the rest of his family but he also understands that you wanna spend holidays with your family.

— to get to a fair arrangement, you both agree on: one year celebrating with your family, and another year you celebrate with his.

— though when you celebrate with your family, matt, chris and nick end up crashing at, like, the middle of the night HELLO??

— he loves showing you off and posting with you during the holidays. posting your matching outfits, posting vlogs / videos and hauls of what you got for christmas. it’s soo cute.

[sykoangels]

being relationship with deadclaws 💋

a blurb / headcannons

author notes: this is afab!reader this is also a polyamorous relationship post as well!! also this is NSFW AND SFW!

safe for work 💋

dates between both men are polar opposites. Usually, when you are on a solo date with Wade it’s something fun and silly like watching terrible movies and critiquing them or rewatching the whole adventure time series in one sitting and discussing the lore. Dates with Logan realistically are very laid back probably alcohol tasting or him teaching you about his favorite cigars and how to smoke one correctly

Mandatory movie nights every week! Each week yall get takeout from the shitty Chinese takeout down the street and watch movies from an iceberg tear-list y’all made way back before you guys dated.

Wade is a horrible chef his food is actually inedible. So Logan usually does all the cooking even though he doesn't like too.

when cuddling or sleeping the arrangement is Wade on the left Logan in the middle and you on the right. So you and Wade can sleep on Logan’s pecks and used them as pillows.

Holidays such as Christmas and Thanksgiving are always done up to the 10th degree. You and Wade love cliché ugly and itchy sweaters and a good homecooked Thanksgiving meal. Logan isn’t the biggest fan because he finds it obnoxious but he does it to make you happy especially (to stop Wade’s complaints)

For a birthday present, you got Logan alcohol you and Wade to drink since you all are younger than him (obviously above the age of 18!!). You brought him stuff like Pink Whitney and White Claws. He hated it but pretended to enjoy it because you were so happy to get it for him.

Wade’s love language is physical touch! he loves cuddling and kissing! he’s very into PDA to the point it could be compared to kids you see in high school mouth harassing each other in the hall. Honestly, you don’t mind because you can always tell him to cool down and he will.

Logan's love language is acts of service!! Even though Logan is very fierce and rugged on the outside. He always had a soft spot for you and Wade. He would do small things like give you his jacket when you’re cold or go out of his way to cut up fruit slices for you as a snack when you aren’t feeling well, sometimes he would go out of his way to buy your favorite drink from a coffee place you liked. He always constantly remembered the little things that you just say in passing and don’t think about it’s locked in his brain somewhere.

“do you know how beautiful you are bub?” Logan says just randomly (just admiring your beauty)

“If i was a Pokémon trainer you would be the main Pokémon i would use. You know like how team rocket has meowth? You would be my meowth!!” Wade says randomly (he has a weird way of complementing people)

not safe for work 💋

both men are insanely horny for you and sometimes they need you to fix it. In some instances they would both try to fight for your pleasure like a two mangy animals.

double penetration! especially after a fight

they have eiffel towered you before (iykyk)

Wade prefers late night and semi-public sex

Logan prefers sleepy morning sex or angry rough sex

Logan and Wade are both into insane levels of pain. It’s sadomasochism heaven when them.

they both have pictures of you in their wallets of in their favorite lingerie or skimpy outfit. Especially when they are away on missions.

face sitting especially with Logan while Wade is deep inside him. Logan can’t help but to nip at you as he struggles to keep it together due to Wade’s erratic thrusts

breeding 👏🏼 breeding 👏🏼 breeding (especially when Logan is in some form of heat usually around the spring / summer) He would wanna breed you and Wade simultaneously, and sometimes it happens.

“that’s it. Let’s stretch that hole out.”

“we'll make it fit”

as Wade said “pegging isn’t new for him.” It’s not new for Logan either. You pegged him on your birthday and everything changed. You had never seen him so needy and whiny before.

Wade is sometimes a cuck! He genuinely likes seeing Logan pound into you while tears of pleasure spill out your pretty eyes.

y’all have sex tapes! three of them. Wade jokes about if this mercenary / superhero? / x-men bullshit doesn’t work out they would leak them on purpose to become the next Kardashians.

“fuck~ baby your hole is pretty it’s almost like you made it for me.”

“that’s it bub.. finally using that bratty mouth to use.”

[brf-rumortrackinganon]

I recall reading in Ninaki's interview that Rachel met with her after the divorce decision and told her to be prepared as this news will come out in the papers the next day. Ninaki thought at that time what's the need for her to do so as Rachel wasn't even a big star when this was happened. But when I go back and scoured for this very detail, I can no longer find it. Guess Rachel got offended that Ninaki didn't think of her as an A Lister back then and got the article corrected

Ask from August 3rd

Here is the Ninaki interview (archived link). It's from December 2017. Be warned that there are *a lot* of pictures of Meghan in the article.

"It was such a shock when she told me they were getting divorced. After about three seasons of Suits, she called me and said she wanted me to know because it was going to come out in the papers. I knew they fought sometimes, but it wasn’t anything huge. The only obstacle was the distance because she was living in Toronto and Trevor was based in LA. But I thought that they were manoeuvring through it as best they could. Trevor would take his work to Canada to be with her and run his office remotely. I wasn’t aware there were any problems in the marriage. I had to accept what she said." Ninaki hesitates...[she] says she no longer recognises the girl with whom she shared her childhood. "A month after the divorce, I wanted to see how Trevor was doing. We met and talked. It’s not up to me to speak for Trevor, but I know he was travelling to Toronto every few weeks and would have walked the earth to make their marriage work. I don’t believe she gave him enough of an opportunity. I think there was an element of 'out of sight, out of mind' for Meghan. The way she handled it, Trevor definitely had the rug pulled out from under him. He was hurt. I tried to get details from her, but she wouldn’t tell me. What came to light after Trevor and I spoke ended my friendship with Meghan. I think everybody who knew them both was in shock. All I can say now is that I think Meghan was calculated — very calculated — in the way she handled people and relationships. She is very strategic in the way she cultivates circles of friends. Once she decides you’re not part of her life, she can be very cold. It’s this shutdown mechanism she has. There’s nothing to negotiate. She’s made her decision and that’s it."

and

"Then, after the wedding, it was like a light switched off. There’s Meghan Before Fame and Meghan After Fame. After three seasons of Suits, she called me to say the marriage was over. Maybe she had started to change before then, but I was refusing to see it. The tone of her voice, her mannerisms, the way she laughed didn’t seem real to me any more. Even by season two of Suits, she was turning down lunch with us because she said she’d be recognised. I felt if I questioned her behaviour, I’d be left on the outside. Sometimes the truth is not always what you want, is it? Her time became increasingly important. When she was in town, she’d want you to drop everything to see her. If I was busy, it would be, 'Why don’t you want to see me? I’m here. Let’s hang out!' There were instances when I felt she developed a sense of entitlement because she was on the show. The breaking point for me came when she wanted to adopt a dog. She’d fallen in love with it, but found someone else wanted the dog, too. So she emailed the pet adoption people and explained how she could provide a great life for it. She spoke of what a great time the dog would have in the Suits Family. I felt that she was playing the Suits card to try to get what she wanted. She included me and the other bridesmaids in the email chain because she wanted our moral support, I think. I didn’t respond to it. It left a sour taste in my mouth. We began to talk less. It was shortly after that I spoke to Trevor about the divorce. I phoned Meghan to speak about it, but she wouldn’t confide in me. It was obvious to me she wasn’t the friend I’d grown up with any more. She had a new circle of friends."

And one very prophetic line from the article: Many of the friends who celebrated with the newlyweds on that beach are no longer speaking to Meghan.

We can say the same thing now today about Harry. Many of the friends who celebrated with the newlyweds at Windsor are no longer speaking to Harry.

[romaevelizz]

˖ ࣪⊹ She

K. BAKUGO x Fem!reader ˖ ࣪⊹

Sum: you mean everything to him.

Warnings: angst, Cursing reader is ment to have a water qurik(like katara from ATLAB).

.˚₊‧ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ‧₊˚.

He could look at you for hours, the way you helped the people around you. You were a kind nature that Katsuki didn’t mind, how your hands held him as you healed his wounds the liquid surrounding wounds.

Your smile was intoxicating his face always softening as you offered him a smile, how you said his name greeting him.

He remembers the first time you hugged him, right after the villain attack when he was kidnapped. He remembers the smell of your perfume the floral scent lingering on your body. Your arms wrapped around his neck so securely as if he was going to be taken from your grasp any second. The soft sounds of your worried cries and you spoke to him, his arms wrapping around you.

With you he was comfortable. With you he felt safe.

The sound of your laughter was alway his favorite, the way you threw you head back as you laughed the brightest of your smile becoming obnoxious. But he loved it. He loved that you laughed at the things he said and that you talked to him like a normal person. Not like he was someone helpless, egotistical, or even weak.

He’d never give up the chance to talk to you, your voice was so calming to his ears. The things you told him to never say a word he promised the two of your pinkies linking your lips and touching your hand as if it was to lock the secret forever as he did the same.

He thought he’d be okay if one day your started laughing with someone else, but he wasn’t. Especially when it was with him. When it was with Midoriya.

He heard less and less of your voice, the gorgeous sound of your laughter. He hated that Izuku was now the one that got to hear it. How that fucking nerd came in and took you from him.

It hurt, fuck it hurt so bad when you told him. “Izuku asked me out! Oh my god can you believe it kats!” You smiled enthusiastically, your hands covered your face as you squealed in excitement.

He could only sit there and smile as his heart broke. You weren’t going to be his forever. Just because he was too much of a pussy to tell you how he felt.

He sat on your bed as you tried in different outfits and you looked beautiful in every single one, the look of nervousness was displayed on your face as you rambled to him about how would end up doing something stupid and that Deku might never look at you again.

Taking a deep breath he stood up and approaching you, the smell of your perfume was the same it gave him a headache knowing that he would get to be this close to you.

Your eyes met his your body facing him slumped, “what if I mess it up Suki..” you mumbled.

His fans held your face making you look at him “You’re stupid if you think you’re gonna mess anything up, if anything it’s gonna be that nerd that dose. And he’s a fucking idiot if Deku doesn’t look at you, you’re gonna be fine y/n. You look amazing.” His words were sincere, his voice soft as he spoke to you.

You smiled, why do you do this to him? He wanted to cry, his arms wrapped around you as you hugged him his hold tightening. “Everything gonna work out for you.” He whispered.

Even with his heart heavy he could never let that get in the way of how your smile affected him, even with your hand interlinked with Midoriyas.

Now he waould admire you from afar, he’d have to listen about your new boyfriend. Because he was your best friend. Because even when you were next to him he couldn’t feel more far apart from you.

He knows that he’ll never be the only one to know you better, Izuku would. That you would tell your secrets to Izuku not him. That your smile and laughter would be because of Izuku, not him.

To him you smelle like lavender and rain, you tastes like coffee and apples. Now he would see the two of you together in Polaroid pictures you have together that were hung on his wall with other pictures and posters.

To him you mean everything to him.

Yes you mean the fucking world to Him Katsuki Bakugo. And if you ever needed him again he would be right there for you because you were all he wanted.

[unknownperson246]

i have an idea if you can write it

Nikki sixx finds reader on Instagram he's in love with her looks

He starts sliding in her dms

Eventually they start talking and flirting sending other naughty pictures and phone sex

Then end up meeting at a hotel to hook up without his wife knowing

hiii sorry it’s a bit late but here it is 🩵🩵

The Hotel

Words: 960

warnings: *smut* *p in v* *f receiving* *cum play* *come eating* *cussing* *dirty talk* *phone sex* *oral sex* *cheating*

✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ:*

Nikki has been scrolling on Instagram for the past 3 hours while sitting on his red couch. As soon as he needs to get up he finds your account. He was scrolling through his followers and he saw that you followed him. He goes on your page and he sees how beautiful you look. It's been 3 days and he has been stalking your page. He is careful not to like any of your old pictures. He messages you after looking at your page. 

“Hi,” Nikki messages you on Instagram.

You think it might be a fake profile and that you were getting catfished by a fake Nikki Sixx. You decide to click on the profile and see that it's his real account. You think it's probably just his management messing with people or that his account got hacked. You lay on your bed with your phone in your hand.

“Hi!” You type back playing along with what you think is his management.

“You're really pretty” Nikki types back to you. 

“Thank you. But I know you're not messing with me.” You confront the person you think is catfishing you.

“No it’s me,” Nikki says, finding it funny that you don't think it's him.

“Sure” You put a smirk emoji next to your message to Nikki.

Nikki picked up on your sarcasm and decided to call you. Nikki calls you and you freak out feeling a knot forming in your stomach. You felt that it was unexpected that he would call you. You knew it was a risk. What if it is him? You think to yourself. You put a cloth over your phone camera in case it wasn't him. You answered the phone and to your surprise it was him.

“Hi Y/N it's me, Nikki,” Nikki says, showing his face.

“Hi Nikki,”  You say neutrally. You were trying so hard not to fangirl over him. 

“So,” You say awkwardly.

“Why did you call me?” questioning Nikki's intentions.

“Because you thought I was catfishing” He answers your question. You call Nikki every day because you get more and more comfortable talking to him. You spend around 5 days calling him on his phone and he answers every time.

“Hey Y/N” Nikki messages you a dirty photo of him in the 80s of him and a girl.

You keep sending each other naughty photos. You send him a picture of your bare thighs. You both end up to a point where you both keep flirting with each other and you both have phone sex for 4 days in a week. 

“Ughh I wish we could meet up in real life!” You message Nikki.

“Maybe we can. Is it okay if we meet by the hotel near your house?” Nikki asks you.

“Sure!” You say with a smile emoji. 

You both were excited to meet up in real life after 3 months of texting and phone sex. Nikki tells you he is at the hotel and you drive up there to go see him. 

“Hi!” He hugs you as soon as he sees you.

“Can we keep this on the down low? My wife doesn't know.” Nikki whispers to you as he has you in a hug.

“Don't worry. No one will know about us” You reassure Nikki. 

You both walk into the hotel room you booked for two people. You take your skirt off because you don’t want to waste any time. Nikki told you that he has to get home soon. You unbutton his shirt.

“Mmm, I've been waiting for this day since I saw you on Instagram” Nikki purrs in your ear.

“I'm going to give you the best orgasm you ever had in your life.” Nikki moans in your ear as he plays with your tits that are covered by your Victoria's Secret bra.

“Victoria's secret huh? You've got taste you slut” Nikki growls like a panther. His breaths are labored.

“Oh baby fuck me till I can't feel down there anymore” You moan as you start to play with his thick huge cock as you let out small moans.

Nikki removes your bra and he throws it on the hotel bed. 

“I've been waiting to see how you taste for a long time,” Nikki tells you as he lays you on your back on the hotel bed. His hands are on your soft knees. 

“Spread your legs for me darling,” Nikki tells you with a heavy glint of lust in his eyes.

You obey Nikki’s words and you spread your legs. He begins the process of eating you out. His lips start to kiss your clit.

“What a pretty cunt honey,” He says as he touches it with his fingers.

His tongue starts to eat you out.

“Oh, Nikki” You cry as you hold his head down on your clit.

“I’m there Nikki” You cry.

“Come for me my sweet thing” He mutters these words as he is eating you out. 

You find it amazing how he can talk clearly with his tongue in you. He has a lot of experience with a lot of different women over time. Your legs start to shake when he is in between them. Your eyes start to get teary. You feel a knot growing in your stomach. You squirt out jets of come on his face. “Taste yourself, honey,” He tells you to lick his face clean.

You lick Nikki's face. You grab your face and he kisses you.

“You taste so fucking good,” Nikki says smirking.

“Take your skirt off,” Nikki says as he is preparing his cock.

You take your skirt and panties off and you both fuck again.

“Oh you feel so good” You moaned while Nikki's cock was doing its work inside of you. 

[orchidsangel]

Recently imagined Jason and y/n, his ex, meeting again after a few years. Still obviously caring about each other. Eating cake alone at the apartment and awaiting the New Year together. Not wanting to say that this is the least lonely, however sad-looking, night they've experienced since they split up.

(jumping off a cliff bc i missed the glaring "new year" part of this and was like "i'll get to this later" so sorry beloved, also this got more angsty than i intended.)

Exes to lovers with Jason is always in the back of my mind somewhere, eating away at my sanity. Just the idea that he loved you so hard he had to let you go, knowing the life he lived wasn't suitable for you. You told him you didn't mind, that he was so important to you that you could put aside the constant worry that would sit in your stomach like a rock every time he was off being Red Hood. You said it was fine, but he saw the way bags appeared under your eyes after too many nights of staying up for him, how you forgot to eat when he went too long without contacting you, and how the tears would slip past your lashes when you were patching him up.

At the end of it all, you had begged him to stay, telling him over and over how much you loved him. It killed him to tell you that that was the reason why it was ending, because you loved him too hard, and you were neglecting yourself because of it. He was sick, wondering if he'd made the wrong decision, wondering if this would only make things worse for you. So, despite the fresh ache in his heart, he still watched out for you, determined to make sure you thrived without him, and thrive you did.

It felt like it had been ages since the last time he saw you that couldn't be mistaken for stalking. Watching you from rooftops and alleyways, rushing fights to make sure he could see if you got home safely and intervene if there were any threats. It became routine for him to hang up his helmet at night once he knew you were safe in the confines of the apartment you once shared. What wasn't routine was you knocking on his apartment door at exactly eleven forty-seven pm on New Year's Eve with a sad-looking store-bought cake in your hands and an even sadder look on your face.

"I know we're not together anymore, but…"

Splitting a whole cake between the two of you on New Year's Eve instead of having a typical dinner had been your tradition for years. Jason took it very seriously, planning the cake in advance for weeks, testing different flavors, even going as far as calling you once in the middle of a fight, asking if you preferred chantilly or sponge. It was stupid to most people you told, but to you and Jason, it was the perfect way to end the year. Now, you stand before him, holding a cake that could never compare to the decadent black forest cake he had made the last time you'd spent New Year's together.

You look down at the cake and then back up at him, the familiar gleam of water in your eyes. He takes the container in one hand and uses the other to pull the door open more so you can come in. It had been a while since you'd been there last, but everything was the same. A wall with an extensive collection of weapons, a stack of books that only collected dust when he was gone for long periods of time, and a framed picture of Jason and Bruce from his robin days.

"How'd you know where to find me?"

"Lucky guess."

Not a lucky guess, the first place you'd told him you loved him.

He roots around a drawer, pulling out two forks and handing one to you. Silence hangs in the air, several year's worth of unspoken feelings lingering with nowhere to go but up. he pops the lid off the container and gestures for you to take the first bite, another tradition that came with his hours of cake-making; he'd always insist on you having the first taste so you could give feedback and you only ever had positive things to say. Now, the weak taste of vanilla paired with a dry crumb, and your mouth turns downward into a frown.

"I don't think it's that bad."

"You'll eat anything."

"True."

No, it wasn't that bad. In fact, before you'd met Jason, this was something you probably would've treated yourself to when life decided to be good to you, but he had spoiled you, given you so much more than you even knew was out there, and it wasn't all material.

Three minutes to New Year's now, and approximately six bites taken out of the cake, five from Jason, and you're ready to part ways again with you leaving him this time. There's still time to make a run for it and ring in the new year without the baggage of your ex hanging over you; there's still time to pretend your world wasn't shattered when he left.

"Why are you here? Why not spend New Year's with your friends?"

"Friends?"

"The people I always see you with when I-"

"Watch me?"

"Am on patrol."

"Right."

"Why aren't you with them?"

"Not friends, coworkers."

"You're with them all the time."

"Workplace comradery."

"So, friends."

Thirty seconds now, and the words you still haven't said are on the tip of your tongue and in the back of your mind, egging you on to admit the feelings you've been sitting on for what feels like forever. He beats you to it.

"Please come back to me."

"I'm not the one who left."

Fireworks go off outside, signifying the beginning of a new year, and you and Jason stand across from each other. Physically, only the kitchen island stands between you two, but emotionally, you're still miles apart. You can't hear in his words how much he needs you back in his life, how hard it is for him every night to not climb in through your window and find his spot in the bed you'd shared like he'd done so many times before; and he can't hear in your words how the wound he left in your heart never healed, how it never even started to, and how through him leaving, you found out that time doesn't heal all things.

[scarletttries]

NSFW Headcanon Request: Steven Grant (Moon Knight)

Steven Grant (Moon Knight) +  Ice cream/lollipop teasing (prompt list here)

It would be frankly embarrassing how easily, and quickly, you could wind Steven up with the slightest bit of effort. A fact that made Steven mortified, and excited you greatly. 

You'd been hoping to have Steven to yourself for the weekend, only for your plans to get rudely interrupted by Donna calling him in to cover for someone at the museum before you'd really had the chance to get your hands on him at all. Naturally Steven apologised profusely despite it not being his fault, and suggested you come visit him at the end of the day, promising you a private tour of the museum in exchange for your patience. You happily agreed to the plan, but only because you'd heard Steven mention a few behind-the-scenes places in the museum you couldn't resist the opportunity to drag him to. 

The day seemed to drag for Steven at his little counter; making inventory lists, punching endless numbers into his till, and doing a double-take every time someone walked in, just in case it was you, trying to hide the disappointment on his face when he realised he still had to wait a little longer until he saw you again. It had only been a few months since he first mustered up all his nerve to ask you out for coffee, and now he almost didn't feel himself when he wasn't around you. Like somehow your beauty and exuberance and kindness reflected onto him until he was sure he was the best, and happiest, version of himself there had ever been. He found himself picturing your pretty smile first thing in the morning, still completely in disbelief that he was the person that got to wake up beside you and see it. 

"Earth to Steven." You said again, starting to worry as you waved a hand in front of his face, watching his eyes slowly focus on reality again as he jumped in surprise.

"Sorry love! I was completely out of it then, I must have looked like a right plonker. If it helps, I was thinking about you." He offered bashfully, watching the mischievous smile forming on your face as you scanned the offerings around his station, 

"Oh really, what was I wearing?" You fought back a laugh at the crimson colour that immediately flooded into his cheeks at the question, a thread of stutters and stumbled words all you got in response. "What are these Steven?" You cut off his attempt to elaborate by picking up a round red lollipop held in a spiraling display at the far end of the ledge. 

"They're just lollipops that are supposed to make your tongue change colour, I don't know what they have to do with history or science, but people seem to love 'em." If you didn't have your back to him he would've seen the glimmer of an idea in your eyes before you spun and asked with an innocent grin, "Can I buy one please? For our tour." 

"Of course, my treat love." He smiled softly as he watched you unwrap the plastic coating, face falling to accomodate a deep gulp as he watched you flick your tongue over the glistening red orb, before slowly sliding it between your lips. He could feel his pulse quicken as you let out a soft hum at its taste, eyes trailing over to his as you commented, tone needlessly sultry, 

"Mm, strawberry." He ignored the ache building beside his hand as he quickly fumbled in his pocket to pull out a few coins, glad that it was his final transaction of the day as his blood seemed to be leaving his brain in favour of more fun areas. Taking your outstretched hand and leading you towards his favourite exhibits, he took a deep breath trying to steady himself from your effects on him. But you wouldn't let that happen. 

As you moved between glass cases, it wasn't hard to tell your little ploy was having the intended effect. Steven would find himself tripping over his words, and his feet, trying to keep his mind on anything but the sugary draw of your lips. While you looked intently at each artifact he explained, he could only bring himself to stare at your mouth, watching your tongue circle the lollipop, lapping up the sticky droplets forming before running over the tip, making Steven shift awkwardly from one foot to the other, desperately trying to push the images of how good he knew it felt to have you sucking him that way. 

You were surprised with how long he tried to keep his composure, clearly embarrassed by his obvious physical reaction, squirming to stand with his legs obscuring his crotch from your view, tugging at his collar as pink seemed to flush his skin as it stained your lips. It wasn't until you asked him if your tongue was "all pink now" before sticking it out at him with a devilish glint in your eyes that a little voice in his head made him realise he never stood a chance. 

"Do you want to see where, uh, we put the new, what's the word... museum stuff?" He spluttered out, already gripping your hand a little more firmly as he picked up the pace towards the stockroom he knew wouldn't get checked this time of night. 

"Lead the way handsome." You said happily, keeping your tone just innocent enough that you wouldn't completely give yourself away. Steven practically ripped open the door as he barged inside, panting from the short walk and the long-building frustration throbbing inside him. "Are you okay Steven?" You asked, saccharine sweet as you took the lollipop between your lips, exaggerating the sucking action with your cheeks. 

"Um, yes. But also no." He mumbled, volume rising as he stepped towards you, framing your body against the door as he checked the lock. He planted one hand beside your head as the other slowly wrapped around the paper stick emerging from your lips, fingers gently pulling until the sweet escaped your lips with an audible pop. He moved deliberately slowly, your own heart racing at the hungry look in his eyes, slightly disheveled by an afternoon of your relentless teasing. Tentatively he pressed his lips to yours, eagerness rushing through him as the taste of strawberries flooded his mouth, his tongue plunging forward to follow its sweetness. You fought back a smile at his obvious keenness, frantically capturing your lips and exploring your mouth until he needed to pull away for breath, chest heaving with the overwhelming excitement. The hunger in his eyes hadn't dissipated at all, desperate desire burning inside him, hindering his ability to ask for what he so clearly wanted. You decided you'd been cruel enough, bringing your hands to his thighs as you slowly lowered to your knees. 

"Is there something other than a lollipop you want me to put in my mouth Steven?" It took every ounce of his self-control not to lose it right there, your wide eyes staring up at him as your fingers toyed with buttons of his slacks, his silent but awestruck nod giving you the permission you needed. You could feel him straining against the fabric as you slid down his zip, peeling his trousers and boxers down his thighs until his aching manhood sprang free, already leaking its own sweet, sticky mess at his uncontrollable thoughts of you. Steven looked apologetic at his state despite your satisfied smile as you wrapped your hand around him, mumbling as you started to gentle rub away the throbbing tension, 

"I'm sorry love, you're just so beautiful and with that lollipop, I couldn't stop thinking about, uh, things and - Oh!" His apology halted as brought your rosy red tongue to his glistening tip, lapping at it just like in his thoughts, humming happily as his eyes fluttered shut, 

"Don't apologise Steven, you're way better than Strawberry." As if to prove your point you took him deeply between your lips, moaning as his hips bucked at the contact, slamming himself down your throat. The empty storage space was filled with whimpers and panting as he rubbed against the inside of your cheeks, feeling the soft warmth he'd been picturing all afternoon, eyes fixed to your bobbing head, watching you like the miraculous entity that you are, trying to capture the moment in all its glory in his mind, in case he never felt something so perfect again. The way your eyes looked up at him adoringly, the wet glide of your tongue as you pulled away, only to hum in satisfaction as you brought him back down your throat again, it was too much. Better than his imagination by a long stretch. His daydreams could never do your soft, warm touch justice. He could feel the pressure building inside him as he relished every sensation your movements created. 

"Love, I'm gonna - um, you should -" He tried to warn you, not sure of the proper wording and fumbling over himself as you seemed to apply more pressure, picking up the pace as he crossed his threshold, a deep groan ripping free of his throat as his hips began to stutter, his release filling your cheeks as you drew every last drop of pleasure from him. 

Steven watched in wide-eyed affection as you swallowed his seed like he was just another sweet treat, before sticking out your pink tongue while gently helping him back into his trousers. You pointed at the now much smaller sweet, still clutched in the hand that wasn't propped against the door, possibly the only thing keeping him from collapsing entirely. 

"Can I have that back now?" The cheeky glint in your beaming smile filled Steven with a mixture of excitement and anticipation as he shook his head, putting the lollipop in his own mouth instead, looking a little panicked as he spoke, 

"Absolutely not. You're banned from buying lollipops at my gift shop." He smiled at the incredulous laugh that burst from your lips as he helped you off your knees, sure you were going to be the death of him, but unable to think of a better way to go. 

[folkloresthings]

hello lovely!! can i request NORTHANGER ABBEY with carlos and exes to lovers? thank you 💌

ugh yes??? second chance romance my fave

SECOND CHANCE. ❨ carlos sainz x reader ❩

✩⡱ warnings: slight sexual buildup but no smut

when people asked you what happened between carlos sainz and yourself, you never really had an answer. it had been a strange breakup, one that built and built over months, and then broke in the space of one night. you had wanted different things. you were ready to settle down, get a house, commit to starting a family. but carlos was at the peak of his career — his main focus was on racing. you needed more than he could give.

the actual fight had been a catastrophe. him shouting, you crying, doors slammed. the cool down consisted of him on his knees, grabbing at your legs on the couch, trying to reason. but you knew you couldn’t stay, it was pointless. so you left. you packed your bags and left the next morning. three years, all for nothing.

it had been just over a year since that terrible day, and you hadn’t heard from carlos once. you kept up with his races, still fully supporting him. you didn’t hate each other — and it only made things so much harder.

“come on, you deserve a break!” your best friend insisted, clicking button after button and booking your trip before you could even argue.

monaco. you hadn’t been back since you left carlos, and the prospect scared you. but you braved the memories, distracting yourself with your girlfriends and anything you could. you spent your days on the beach, your nights in clubs and cocktail bars. for some reason, amongst it all, you’d forgotten carlos still lived here.

nipping out one afternoon to pay a visit to your old favourite bakery, your mind was clear. a coffee and your favourite pastry in hand, you were actually happy. enjoying yourself. until you bumped into a figure that smelled an awful lot like your ex—boyfriend.

“mierda, sorry—” he grabbed your forearms, steadying you both. freezing, his eyes meet yours and he falls silent. you can’t stop staring at him, not really believing that he was real. actually there, close enough to touch, for the first time in a year.

“hi.” it leaves you in one breath. carlos smiles, glancing between you and the bakery.

“back for an apple pastry?” he teases and you turn sheepish, cheeks burning. “i didn’t know you were in town.”

“just for a vacation,” you tell him, only realising then that he’s still got a hold of you, chests practically pressed together. you clear your throat, stepping back. you had pictured this moment so many times, what you would say, and now it was done. the moment gone and you wished you could go back and do it a little better.

carlos nods, taking all of you in. you looked… amazing. your skin was glowing, thanks to a few days in the sun. you were still as beautiful as the day he met you. you were even prettier in real life, rather than the images that plagued carlos’ mind every night.

“how long are you here for?” he asks, and your brows raise. you knew where this was going, but you didn’t have the power to stop it.

“until monday.” three more days. “why?”

“no, no reason. maybe we could… catch up? i’ll make you dinner. your favourite pasta,” he offers, blinking down at you with those big brown eyes, and how can you say no?

he’s got a new apartment now, and you’re glad, because you’re not sure you could face the home you shared together. you knock twice before he lets you in, taking your coat and pouring your favourite wine. the pasta he always used to make for you simmers on the stove, the smells taking you back to your date nights together.

“it’s as good as ever,” you tell him after your first bite, nostalgia filling your taste buds. carlos smiles proudly. he hadn’t taken his eyes off of you since you stepped through the door, your cheeks constantly tinted pink.

still, the conversation was flowing like no time had passed, like nothing had happened between you. you’d been together for three whole years, it was easy to fall back into that routine again. a glass of wine or so later, you were curled up on the couch, telling him about everything that happened at christmas — the first christmas he hadn’t been to since you first got together.

somewhere between your mother’s roast potato meltdown and your grandfather’s six glasses of whiskey, his hand had found it’s way to your thigh, warm and big. your breath hitched, eyes warning as they dart to his.

“carlos…” you whisper, feeling yourself slip the closer he gets.

“mi alma,” he counters, his other hand grazing across your brow, tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear.

“we shouldn’t. we can’t,” you insist, but you sound less convincing than you intend. his hot breath ghosts over your lips, his taste so close.

“tell me to stop, and i will,” carlos meets your eyes, wide and pleading. he needs you, he’s needed you for twelve months. “one word and i’m done.”

your lips open, ready to speak, but nothing comes out. you can’t say no, because you don’t want to. any logic is gone from your mind, flooded with a love that never really went away.

in a moment, carlos presses his lips to yours. both of you fall into each other, fall into what you know so well. hands grasping at your clothes, teeth clashing and tongues hot, trying to get impossibly close. it was dizzying. carlos had always been a good kisser, but a starved man savoured his first meal like it was heaven sent.

his hands dipped lower, slipping under your top and to the warm skin underneath. palming at your chest, teasing but desperate, lips dipping to suck at the supple flesh of your throat. he pulls whines from you like an expert, your fingers grasping at the mess of brown locks upon his head. it’s longer now, you like it.

“wait, wait,” you mutter, pushing him back by the chest. so many thoughts running through your head, but it goes blank when he looks at you. pupils blown wide, hair messy, lips wet and swollen. he’s angelic, a sculpture on display in the finest of museums.

carlos finds the hesitation in your eyes and sighs. “i know.”

“what are we doing?” you groan, head falling against his shoulder. his thumb rubs at your back, comforting you coming as second nature. “i can’t just — fuck you and pretend like it never happened. i’ve been trying to get over you for a year now, and this just sets everything back.”

“did you?” he asks, unsure if he wants to know the answer. “get over me?”

“no,” you sigh, answering a little too quickly. “i don’t know if i ever will.”

carlos softens, more so if possible, hands smoothing all over you. “i love you. i always have, i always will. i’ll do whatever it takes, just — can we try again?”

you look at him, his pleading eyes and tight grip. he does love you, you’ve know that in your gut for a while now. he’d loved you so hard when you were together, with everything that he was. just because you broke up doesn’t mean that disappears.

“carlos, we want different things…” you begin into the same argument you had a year ago, and he cuts you off with another kiss.

“i don’t care. i’ll compromise, i’ll do whatever you want. we can get married tomorrow, if it’s what you want,” he professes, cupping your cheeks. you stare at him in shock, his profession of love coming crashing down.

“we’re not getting married tomorrow,” you laugh breathlessly, taking his hands in yours. “but… we can try again tomorrow, start over.”

hope fills him, a bright smile painting his face as he kisses you, again and again. maybe not tomorrow, but he knew he was going to marry you someday. sooner, rather than later.

“i love you so much, carlos.”

“i love you even more, cariño.”

[s-rosie]

Tig childhood hcssss

if you have any tips or comments on how i can get better that will be appreciated. i hope you like these

xander used to do gymnastics, he is still really flexible and now just does random back handsprings

jameson was OBSESSED with gravity falls and even bought the journal #3 with invisible ink and he solved most of the mysteries as he watched them (sry i said this in another post but it fit)

grayson, used to call people gay as an insult in middle school (he later apologized because hes just like that)

nash once fell off a horse without a helmet when he was like 14 and hit his head so hard he passed out, now he makes everyone wear a helmet when riding

avery would run around the house with her mom and sing songs with hair brushes as microphones (she has videos and libby showed them to the group(they found them absolutely adorable))

max would challenge everyone to arm wrestling competitions on her desk and would win almost every time

libby was bullied for being sweet and innocent (she tried not to let it get to her, but it always did)

thea would make everyone do the group project for her and she would just talk to friends the whole time

xander once brought a contraption in he made for show and tell and caught the school on fire

i think it’s basically cannon that grayson had an emo phase when he was like 12 and his brothers blackmail him with the pictures

jameson was obsessed with dinosaurs and he knows every fact you can ever ask him about them

nash once convinced tobias fhat he could train a wild stallion, so he got one for nash to train and the horse bucked into his chest and he almost broke his ribs (ik they would most likely be broken, but hes ok for the sake of this hc)

jameson fell down from the treehouse and had a bruise the size of Oklahoma on his ass for the next 3 weeks (i saw something similar to this but i forget who posted it, so pls let me know so i can @ them)

avery once miss clicked on a sketchy game site and it took her to a porn site and she is forever traumatized

max once kicked a guy in the balls for making fun of avery

libby, would pass out cupcakes on her birthday, and everyone would make fun of her until they tried them then they would worship the ground she walked on bc they tasted so good

sry this is shorter then my others, i couldn’t think of anything else. pls give me recommendations because i need some ideas. i hope you enjoyed them!!!

[silverfoxstole]

Recording Shada in 2002.

From DWM 330, May 2003:

PAUL MCGANN

INTERVIEW BY GARY GILLATT

We first spoke in Vancouver in 1996…

[sings] Ah yes, I remember it well…

…And here we are in Bristol, years later, with James Fox and Andrew Sachs. Would you ever have thought it?

Well, when my agent was telling me about it, I thought we had a bad line. She said, ‘James Fox is in it, and Andrew Sachs, and so-and-so and such-and-such’ and I assumed I was mishearing. I mean, how could it be?

Were you familiar with the work of Douglas Adams?

Not really, only Hitchhiker’s Guide. I’m not a sci-fi reader at all, that’s not my thing. I didn’t really know a great deal about Adams – I certainly didn’t realise he was this amazing polymath. But Lalla speaks so eloquently and passionately about him, and I’ve come to understand why he was so well-loved and respected, and, of course, the quality of the script speaks for itself.

Are you enjoying playing the script?

Well, compared to last year’s plays, and the year before, you can definitely tell it’s from a different source. It has a different tack, and a whole different kind of wit. If you were at a blind tasting, and shown just a page or two of every script we’ve done, you’d easily spot that this one came from somewhere else, from a very fertile mind. It’s great stuff.

Everyone seems to have treated the script with great respect. Almost every line seems to be debated as you all try to get the best of out it.

Comedy is a very serious business. If it was a so-called straight drama, you probably wouldn’t find that much discussion.

So it’s exacting work?

Oh yes, very much so. If a thing is meant to be funny, you’ve got to make sure it’s funny, so you’ve got to get it right. In drama, your main directions are ‘quicker’, ‘slower’, ‘louder’, ‘quieter’. But on something like this you have to watch how you spin every word. It’s not something you can be lazy about.

I hear you’re missing India Fisher…

I sure am. Every time the studio door opens, I think she’s going to walk through. It’s the association with this place, where we do all these plays, and this is the first one we’ve done without her, so it seems very strange. She’ll be back next year, though, won’t she?

I certainly hope so. Will you?

Well, yes, that’s in the planning stages. Apparently, as was revealed to me yesterday, 2003 is the 40th anniversary of Doctor Who, and they’re planning something of a special with me and Davison and Sylv and Colin Baker. I think they’re going to have us as some sort of barbershop quartet or something.

So you’re still finding it fun, being the Doctor?

You sound very sure of yourself when you ask that… You’ve phrased the question to get the answer you want, I think!

Well, I guess as a fan, I’d like to think that Doctor Who likes being Doctor Who…

Well, I’ll put your mind at rest, then, because I am still enjoying it. I like working on audios more than on screen. Day in, day out, it’s just more of a laugh. Doing the visual work, on TV or in pictures, you never get to hang around with the rest of the cast. Here we can swap stories in the green room, or go off in a gang to the pub for lunch. When you’re working on pictures it’s not like that. You go in, do your little bit, and then you’re shunted off to a trailer out of the way. This is much more fun. It’s what being an actor is all about, and I have Doctor Who to thank for that opportunity.

Extracts from the recording of Shada:

The Doctor decides it’s time to get to the point. “What have you done with the Professor’s mind?” he asks.

“It will be put to a more useful purpose,” replies Skagra, haughtily.

“I would argue that it was serving a very useful purpose where it was.” ”Not to me.”

“You realise he died?” says the Doctor.

“Only his mind was of use to me,” says Skagra. “Not his life.”

“You take a very proprietorial attitude to people’s brains,” responds the Doctor, calmly.

“It seems to me,” says Skagra, his voice rising slightly, “that the Time Lords take a very proprietorial view of the Universe.”

There is a pause.

“Hold on,” says Lalla Ward, looking across the room to Nick, the director. “Surely the Doctor would be more accurate about his reference there. Skagra hasn’t stolen the Professor’s brain, only his mind.”

“That’s right,” agrees Andrew Sachs, dropping his thin, high Skagra voice. “The actual brains stay in their heads, don’t they?”

“It’s a good point,” replies Nick. “I imagine that Douglas was trying to avoid repetition of the word ‘mind’.”

“Well Douglas should have known better,” says Lalla, firmly. “And it’s a bit silly to worry about repetition of the word ‘mind’ now. It’s all ‘I want your mind, I want his mind’ for the next 60 pages.”

“So would you like me to change ‘brain’ to ‘mind’ on that line?” queries Paul McGann. “Because, y’know, I think the Doctor would be far more accurate about his reference there.”

—-

The Krag commander growls its greeting to Skagra. “What are your orders, my Lord?”

Andrew Sachs peers over his script. “Cod and chips twice, please. And a carton of mushy peas.”

—-

Paul McGann is recording assorted screams and moans to signify the Doctor’s mistreatment by Skagra’s mind-sucking sphere. “Argh!” he groans, “Aargh…ugh…aaargh!”

“Thanks, Paul,” says Nick. “That’s just brilliant.”

“Three years at RADA for that!” laughs Paul gleefully. “Would you like me to do some more?”

Nick smiles and turns to Andrew Sachs. “Now could we just do your lines as the sphere attacks the Doctor again?” Andrew nods and clears his throat. “This time, Doctor,” sneers the icy voice of Skagra, “This time no one will come to your rescue. I shall have your mind.” It’s chilling stuff.

“Y’know,” says Paul, “I believe you!”

“Poor Skagra,” says Andrew. “I have the feeling he’s a very lonely man. I think he needs a wife and kids. A talking spaceship’s no real substitute for the love of a good woman, is it?”

—-

Skagra has some seriously sexy transport, and the Doctor is stealing it.

“Ship!” shouts the Doctor. “Activate all re-aligned drive circuits.”

“Something very strange is happening,” says the ship, all sultry sibilance.

“Ta-daa!” cheers the Doctor.

Hannah Gordon is in a separate sound booth. “Should I be getting more roused there?” she asks over the loudspeaker.

“I don’t think so,” says Nick. “Just keep it honey-voiced and seductive.”

In the gallery, artist Lee Sullivan crosses his legs. “I don’t think I can take much more,” he says. “I may have to leave the room. I never found myself attracted to a spaceship before!”

In the studio, Sean Biggerstaff is fidgeting with his headphones. “It’s very strange working with a sexy, disembodied voice in your ear,” he says.

“I can’t see any downside to that,” muses Paul.

“Hey, that’s me you’re talking about,” replies Hannah in a sexy, disembodied way.

—-

An invisible spaceship,” smiles Lalla. “Such a brilliant idea from Douglas.”

“And now we have an invisible spaceship on audio,” adds Paul.

“Douglas would have laughed at that. It’s just so marvellously perverse.”

“Shall we go and explore it?”

“Oh, yes, let’s explore…”

[guppygiggles]

Like Real People Do, Part 8! ♡ (Casper x Avery)

☁️ Summary: Avery's cloud form starts to emerge in public. Casper takes quick action to try and save him. Big crying scene -- BIGGER tickle scene. This fic is outrageously self-indulgent, even for me.

☁️ Warnings: Ler!Avery fans... this one is for you. Unspeakably, desperately vulnerable. Lots of crying. Discussion of trans (ftm particularly) topics. Men in their underwear (no genital nudity). If you can get through the emotions, I reward you with the biggest, teasiest Ler!Avery scene you can imagine. This is not NSFW, however… it is very suggestive. If you skip to the end... well, I just can't believe you! (Just kidding, read this however you want.💙)

☁️ Author's Note: I discuss being a demiboy/FTM pretty intimately here. Importantly, I do not claim to speak for every demiboy/gay/FTM/trans person. I am not a gender studies major, this is just my experience, and I do not have to justify it to anyone. Do not come in my messages/ask box with critical language about how I describe my experience. If you do, I will immediately block you.

This is a series now!

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8 *you are here

If you just got here and want to know more about my characters, you can read my comic starting right here!

My eyes frantically scanned the storage area. Luckily, it was vacant, at least for now. 

Gary's Market was a relatively small grocery chain, and the stockroom was clean and well-organized. Large shelving racks stood in rows that reached the ceiling, and a small handful of pallets waited to be unloaded. Above us, rows of fluorescent lights hummed softly. 

“Look for an exit,” I whispered, still grasping Avery's wrist. 

“Casper, I'm so sorry-” 

“Shh, no time for that now, let’s just get out of here.” I let go of him, walking to the end of the entryway and peeking around the nearest shelving unit. At the end of the hallway, past several rows of goods, was a glowing red exit sign. 

“Oh, thank god. Let's go,” I turned back to Avery. 

My blood ran cold. 

I had not seen the employee who was approaching us; perhaps he had been in an adjacent aisle when we entered, had found what he needed, and was returning to the sales floor. Avery was still standing in the doorway, and as soon as the man rounded the corner, they would be face-to-face. The brunette twenty-something held a jar of peanut butter in one hand, and the only reason he hadn't seen me yet was because he was holding his phone in the other, texting with his thumb. 

There was still space between us, but not so much that I couldn't read his nametag: David. “Hi, my name is David!” I imagined the smaller print said. It was difficult to believe the bored-looking youth, with his wrinkled uniform and beat-up Vans, would ever introduce himself that way. 

Avery wasn't looking at me. If I called to him, the clerk would certainly hear. If I moved, I was sure to catch David's peripheral; he would see me, and then he would see Avery. There was nothing I could do; David was about to ruin my life. 

What would happen, then? Would he scream? Would he pass out, as I almost had the first time I saw Avery? Would he tell his boss, then his family, then the news? His phone was already out – what if he took pictures? I imagined Avery's terrified face on CNN, Twitter, Tiktok. A cold sweat broke out all over my body as my insides twisted, a metallic taste filling my mouth. Was I really going to lose him – and like this? 

Suddenly, Avery moved, his feet shuffling on the concrete floor as he widened his stance. His hands extended outward, fingers spread and clawed, as if he were preparing to grapple someone. His fingertips began to glow. 

Was he going to attack this man?! My heart raced. 

“Oh god, Avery, no!” I screamed internally. Whatever I imagined might happen to Avery would be infinitely worse if he harmed someone. He wouldn't just be captured and studied, he'd be killed. My blood pressure plummeted. I tightened my grip on the storage rack; I was about to collapse. 

Then, the sound of crackling electricity filled the air. Until that moment, I hadn’t known electricity could sound like fire. A series of deafening pops rang out, followed by a blinding flash – then glass rained down on us as every lightbulb in the room exploded. 

“What the fuck!” David cried as he dropped his phone. 

Before I could react, I felt a cold hand on my arm, guiding me down the hallway toward the exit. The sign itself had gone out, too, but I could barely make out where sunlight seeped through the cracks. My knees were weak as Avery pulled me through the door and into the bright daylight, practically tripping over my own feet as I tried to regain my bearings. 

The alley behind Gary's was empty, except for a pair of dumpsters and a few broken wood pallets. It was a clear day, and on the other side of the building, my car was right in the middle of the parking lot. We weren't out of the woods, yet. 

I pulled Avery behind the dumpsters. His face was a mask of emotions I had never seen on him: guilt, shock, desperation. Fingers trembling, he carefully picked a piece of glass out of my hair. I could tell he was about to say something; I cut him off, cupping his cheek with my hand. 

“Avery, stay right here. I'm going to bring the car around, okay? Stay right here behind this dumpster. I'll be right back.” I turned away before he could respond, jogging to my car as my heart shattered to leave him in such a state. 

As I got in my car, I glanced at the store's entrance. The lights were on; I guessed the sales floor was on a different breaker than the warehouse. That was good – the less people who saw the lights go out, the better. I sped around back and parked next to the dumpster. Avery was right where I left him, huddled in a ball, face hidden in his hands. 

“Hey, hey, it's okay… you're okay, you're safe now,” I comforted as I helped him into the back seat. Luckily, my car windows were tinted – practically a necessity in the desert where I was from. Afraid that David (or really, anyone) might come out the exit, I got in the driver's seat and pulled around to a secluded parking area. I climbed into the back, kneeling on the seat beside Avery as I put my hand on his shoulder. It was then that I realized just how small he was – I guessed he had shrunk to my height, maybe even shorter. He was still hiding his face in his hands. 

“Avery… are you okay? I'm so sorry. I should have set an alarm… This is all my fault.” 

“Casper, I'm- I'm- I'm so s-sorry!” He broke into a sob, his shoulders trembling as tears leaked out from under his hands. I saw, too, that the flat bottom of his head was dark and puffy. Water gushed from him, soaking his clothes. He wasn't just crying, he was raining.

“Oh my god, Avery, it isn't your fault! None of this is your fault!” I put my arms around him, hugging him into my chest. I hated to cry, especially when I was trying to comfort someone else, but I couldn't help it; my eyes stung as tears streamed down my cheeks, too. 

“I- I should have known. I- I put you in danger,” he choked, his square glasses falling into his lap as he rubbed his pale eyes. He was completely soaked – so was my car seat – and as he cried, he was shrinking quickly. I panicked. 

“You're shrinking! Avery, please stop crying! We're safe now, okay? I'll get you something to drink, alright? I'm not mad – at all – and I'm SO sorry. God, this is all my fault…” My stomach churned with regret. How could I have been so thoughtless? When we first met, I always set a timer on my phone, just to make sure we never ran out of time. As we’d grown closer, I'd become more and more lax. It had never been an issue before today, but now, my carelessness could have cost Avery his life. How could I live that down? 

He looked up, then, to meet my eyes for the first time. Gently, he tucked a wisp of damp hair behind my ear. “Casper, i-it's not your fault, either. I know today was different from usual, there's no way you could have known. Please… don't cry,” he sniffled. “My heart breaks when you cry.” 

“You don't cry! My heart breaks when you cry! So put that in your juice box and suck it!” Through my tears, I managed a small, but sincere laugh. Sniffling again, Avery giggled back. Regaining a bit of composure, he picked up his glasses, wiped the lenses and put them back on his face. 

“How about we agree that, before we leave, we always set a timer. No matter what. Deal?” I kissed Avery's forehead, gently wiping the last of his tears. It was a bit wavering, but he finally gave me a real smile. 

“Deal.”

+++

Avery protested, but I had to go back into the store to get our groceries. By the time we had finished crying, both of us were soaked, which earned me plenty of uncomfortable stares as I checked out. I had never been so thankful to be home. 

He started to assist me with putting away the groceries, but I pointed sternly to the couch. “Dude, you’re shorter than me right now. You need to sit down and start hydrating, don’t worry about the groceries, I can handle it. Oh! I got you this.” I handed him a styrofoam cup with a dome lid. “It’s an ICEE. At first, I thought I should get you Gatorade… but your body isn’t like mine; you have ice crystals in there. I thought this might help you hydrate faster. It’s kinda like ice cream, but… different. It’s cherry flavored, think you’ll like it.”

Avery took the cup from me. His wet clothes hung on him like a tent in his diminished form – his glasses, too, were cartoonishly big for his shrunken face. I watched him sip slowly from the straw – then, his eyes lit up with an expression I recognized. He started to drink faster. I was delighted to have been correct in my selection; as he drank, he was rapidly growing in size.

“Heh, I’m glad you like it. Uhh… woah there, turbo, slow down. You’re gonna get-”

“Ow, ow, ow!” Avery winced, clutching his head. “Ahh… I’m not sure I like this, after all.” 

I snorted. His mouth – normally a pale blue – had already turned purple from the red dye.

“Dude, you got a brain freeze. You can’t drink cold stuff that fast.” 

“Ah, I see. It… tastes so good, though…” He started sipping again, his eyes forming half-moons of enjoyment.

I tittered. Relatable.

I worked on the groceries as Avery rested on the couch, sipping his drink and scrolling on his phone. By the time I was finished, he had returned to his smallest “normal” size – 6”3 (190.5cm ♡) and there was a big wet spot on my couch. I should have put a towel down, first.

“Alright, let’s get out of these wet clothes. I know you don’t have a spare set, here… but you can just wear your pajamas until your day clothes are dry, okay?” 

It cost an extra thirty dollars per month, but it was worth it to have the tiny washer and dryer set in my unit. Standing over the washing machine, I peeled off my wet shirt and jeans, leaving me in my plaid boxers. 

“What is this…?” Avery asked. I hadn’t noticed him leave the couch, and I jumped slightly. Though we had been together for several months, his quiet footsteps – and unexpected speed – still caught me off guard sometimes. He was pinching the hem of my binder. I realized that, even though my torso was mostly covered, I was still more exposed than he had ever seen me. Having fallen asleep unexpectedly the night before, I had never even taken my binder off. 

“Oh… uh, it’s a binder,” I replied, embarrassed.

“What is it for?” Avery looked concerned.

My binder was wet, and at that point, I had been wearing it for well over twenty-four hours. I was uncomfortable, and I was sure I looked it, too. A sigh rolled from my chest. I knew I would have to explain this to him, eventually. I just didn’t expect it to be today, when I had already spent so much energy… well, fearing for our lives. 

“Remember last month, when I explained queerness for humans? I know for clouds, you guys all get born the same, and you can kinda decide what your bodies look like. Well… for us, we get born how we get born, and sometimes we get born looking a different way than we feel inside. For humans, changing our bodies is actually really hard, and complicated… and sometimes, even if we feel a different way from how we’re born, we don't want to change our bodies. We just want to be seen for who we are inside, but in the bodies we're already in.” 

I paused to look up at him – he was listening intently, his brow furrowed as he stared into my eyes. I shrunk under his intense gaze, blushing a bit. 

“It’s rarely ever cut-and-dry, though, when we’re born a different way than we feel. Sometimes people get born in a ‘man's body,’ but they know they are female, and vice versa… but there are a lot of people who are in-between, too. Some people feel like ‘gender’ as a whole doesn't apply to them. Some feel a mix of things. 

“I was born biologically female. Most of the time, I feel either male, or neither. It’s not that there's anything wrong with my body… it's just… when other people see me, I want them to see me how I feel inside. I wish I didn't have to wear a binder, but when I don't, people get ideas about me – and sometimes, I even get ideas about myself – that aren't who I really am,” I said, as if wearing a binder allowed me to pass consistently – it did not. 

I was afraid to meet Avery's eyes, staring down at my wet clothes as they laid at the bottom of the washing machine. What would he think of me, now? Would he think I was just “confused,” as so many had said in the past? Even when they didn't say it out loud, I could tell. I could always tell. 

A cool, soft finger crooked under my chin, gently tilting my head up. 

“You will always be who you are inside when you're with me, no matter what your body looks like. Is that clear?”

My eyes welled with tears. I tried to look away, but Avery didn't let me. 

“Don't let me find out that you've been wearing that thing longer than you should be – I know there must be safety precautions with something like that – and you never need to wear it when I'm around. In fact, I think you should take it off, right now. You don't have to do it in front of me, of course… but I can see that it's wet, and I can tell it's affecting your breathing. In fact, I've been able to tell many times in the past; I just presumed it to be a facet of your hypotension. Now that I know better, you can expect that I will be keeping you in check.” His intense gaze softened as a tear streaked down my flushed cheek. He encircled me in his huge embrace, a cool hand rubbing my back. 

“Casper, I love you. I love you so much that it hurts, sometimes. Never feel like you have to perform for me, you are perfect just as you are.” 

I trembled. I was frustrated to be sobbing for the second time in the same day, but Avery's chest was so soft, and his love was so big, I just couldn't help myself. Years of self-loathing and rejection poured out of me as he cradled my half-naked body against his chest. 

“Shhh… it's okay, sweetheart. I know you must have been worried for months about what I'd think, but you don't have to worry any more.” 

He pulled back from me, hands on my shoulders and a gentle, playful smile on his lips. He peered at me over the rim of his glasses. 

“Now, go change, okay? I believe I made a promise to you earlier, and I intend to keep it.” 

+++ 

Avery and I changed separately. I was soaked all the way through, so I donned new boxers and a fresh, loose t-shirt. It was a relief to be free of my binder. I inhaled deeply, feeling my ribs fully expand. Though I was still a bit nervous for Avery to see my chest, after so much crying, a flood of endorphins suppressed my fear. 

As I entered the living room, Avery was already on the couch, hands folded neatly in his lap. He was dressed in his pajamas, and I could only assume he had been drinking more ICEE, because he was especially big and fluffy once again. Only the washing machine’s soft whirring broke the silence.

“Come here, dear.” 

I took a few steps toward him, and then a sudden force – like a gust of wind – swept me from behind into his lap. I yelped in surprise.

“Hey, that scared me!” 

“Hehe, sorry – guess I’m feeling a bit eager.” He smirked. My eyes widened. Until that moment, I had not realized exactly what he meant about his… promise.

It was the one he had made in the frozen section. 

“W-wait,” I stuttered, my ears growing hot as I tried to scramble out of his lap. It was too late; with one large hand, he ensnared both of my wrists, lifting them over my head. I squealed. “WAHAHAIT!” 

Avery laughed gleefully, showing his delicate round teeth. 

“What, exactly, am I waiting for?” He teased. “Am I waiting for you to be ready for how much this is going to tickle? Because, I don’t think you could ever be ready for that. Hehe… you’re just buzzing with oxytocin right now, aren’t you? This is going to be so fun. Wonder where I should start?”

“Pff-hahahaha!” I laughed, trying to curl inward, which was impossible with Avery holding my arms up. As I pulled against his grasp, I fully internalized that my strength was no match for his. I also knew that as soon as he started tickling, I was likely to go limp as a ragdoll, too weak to fight. Despite the futility, it was all I could do to struggle while I still could.

“All this giggling when I haven’t even touched you, yet – I never tire of it. You’re so cute. Why don’t you save some laughs for when I start tickling, dear? You’re going to need them… trust me.” With his free hand, he wiggled his plush fingers threateningly in the air above my tummy.

“AHAhahahahavery PLEASE!” I could hardly contain myself; he hadn’t laid a finger on me, yet I could feel his damnably soft fingers already, dancing all over my body. 

“Please what? Please don’t tickle your cute tummy? You know… I think it’s only fair that I should get to see it, this time. I did, after all, show you mine. As a matter of fact… I think I want to turn this snack into a full course.” 

Avery stood, scooping me into his arms “bridal style” as I squirmed, howling in protest. 

“Put me down! You can’t just manhandle me like th- ACK!” Chuckling, he deposited me unceremoniously on the bed.

“Can’t I?” He mused.

Then, he flourished his hand in a way I’d never seen before. Like magic, two ghostly hands – very similar in appearance to Avery’s – appeared out of thin air. Before I could react, each of my wrists were grappled and pinned to the top of the bed. 

“What is this! This is cheating!” I objected, pulling at my arms. It was no use – apparently, any strength that Avery had, he was able to transfer to these apparitions, too.

“All’s fair in love and war, isn’t it, Casper?” Tittering, he straddled my waist, one knee on each side of my wriggling body. He pinned me so firmly that between his weight and his cursed “helping hands,” I could barely move. My blush spread like fire; especially with my binder off, I’d never felt more vulnerable. 

“There we are… Now, let’s see what you’ve been hiding, hm?” Avery gently lifted the hem of my shirt to my lower ribs, exposing my tummy completely. 

He paused, his eyebrows raising. As I watched, a pretty cerulean dusted his cheeks. His eyes practically sparkled as he looked down at me, making me flush even hotter.

“Oh… Casper. Just look at you. Goodness, I… I knew you would be lovely, but… oh, you are so cute. Just look at this little belly button…” With a silky fingertip, Avery drew a circle around the rim of my navel.

“PFFF HEHhahAHAHA!” I shouldn’t have been, but I was surprised by how much it tickled. My stomach muscles tensed beneath his delicate touch; it was completely undeniable, impossible to block out.

“Oh, wow... Your blush goes all the way down, doesn’t it~?”

I could hardly stand this any longer.

“Plehehehease…!” I begged, though not entirely sure what for. 

“Ah, sorry. You’re right: It’s impolite to play with your food.” 

With that, he lowered all ten of his fingertips to my tummy, wiggling them deftly into my taut skin.

“AAAAAHAHAHAHAHA!!!” I screamed with laughter, my hands balling into useless fists. My unrestrained feet kicked uncontrollably as my back, with the little space I was allowed, strained to arch off the bed.

“Oh no, does that tickle? Poor, sensitive Casper… have you forgotten what it’s like to be anxious, yet? No? I suppose I should keep going, then.” Avery giggled cheerfully, gently moving his fingers around my tummy, probing different spots randomly, just as I had done to him just a day prior. As always, his touch was so gentle; he always tickled with just enough force to excite the nerves beneath my delicate skin.

Fireworks exploded in my mind as the torture of sensation ran through my veins like electricity. I tried, but I was laughing too hard to even get a word out, like someone attempting – but unable – to tell the funniest joke they’d ever heard. Beads of moisture collected in the corners of my eyes as I shook my head, a halo of sweat forming on my pillow.

“What’s wrong, dear? Can’t stand the taste of your own medicine? I distinctly remember you tickling me, just like this. Could it be that you did so because you knew, if done on you, it would be simply unbearable? You’re already a mess, and we haven’t even gotten to your other spots, yet.”

Like a comedian pausing for effect, he stilled his fingers, grinning deviously.

“YOU’RE KIHIHIHLLLING MEHEHEHE!” I cried, finally able to somewhat form a sentence, though the tickle persisted long after he had stopped.

Avery laughed reactively – his big laugh, the one that I loved so much. My exposed, trembling tummy filled with butterflies.

“Would it be such a bad thing to die laughing?” He joked tenderly, leaning down to place a feather-light kiss on my tummy. Then he reached up, brushing the damp hair from my forehead. “Do you need a break?” 

“...” 

Avery lowered his tone, leering over his glasses again. “Before you answer, just so you know: I’m taking those armpits for a spin, next.”

The fluster I experienced was so powerful and so immediate, I saw stars.

“Y-Y-Yes, I need w-water,” I choked, imagining how crazed I must look to him. He chuckled, leaving the room for a moment, and then returning with a bottle of water. With a hand on my back, he helped me sit up. The hands holding my wrists relaxed, but not enough to give me free range of motion. I shot him a quizzical glance.

“Oh, dewdrop… You didn’t think I was going to let you go, did you?” He taunted, gently cupping my chin as he poured the water into my mouth. 

I blushed furiously. 

It was difficult to drink, as I was trembling from head to toe, but I managed… somehow. He set the bottle on the nightstand, and then I was trapped again, arms aloft as Avery sat on my waist. 

He eyed me through his bifocals, a fingertip placed to his lips.

“Hmm… Under, or over your shirt?”

“What?!”

“Sorry, did I stutter? Under or over, Casper.” 

“I-I-I…” 

“What’s wrong, dear? Can’t you manage a simple, one-word answer~?”

My response was nothing but an incoherent whimper.

“Since it seems you’re feeling indecisive, I’ll choose for you. I choose under.”

“No! NO! AHAHAHahveery!”

He leaned forward, placing his fingertips on my bare lower ribs.

“Let’s just take a little trip, shall we? We’ll start right here.”

“NOHHOHOHO!”

“Then we’ll work our way upward, nice and slow…”

Avery walked his fingertips up my ribs, pausing now and then to wiggle into a soft spot.

“AAAAHAHA NOOO PLHEHEHEHEHASE!”

“You know, sometimes, it’s about the journey, not the destination… don’t you agree?”

His silky digits continued upward until they reached the top of my ribcage. I shook with laughter beneath him, my feet stomping the bed fruitlessly as my toes curled in desperation. I simultaneously dreaded and craved what was next.

“But, then again… it is nice to arrive, too~”

With that, he dipped his fingertips into each of my helpless armpits, scribbling gently into the bare hollows. 

“Tickle tickle tickle,” he lilted, grinning.

My response was a delirious, unintelligible shriek. In my mind raged a five-alarm fire, searing any coherent thought to ash. With what little movement my restraints would allow, I thrashed beneath Avery, my heart palpitating so fiercely I was afraid it would escape my chest. Tears streamed down my burning cheeks, heralding my third cry of the day.

“Oh, my god… Your previous laughs were hardly a giggle compared to this. Have I finally found a favorite spot, sweetheart? Are you just too ticklish under these arms? Goodness… I could hardly tickle you any more gently, but even this is driving you nuts!”

I couldn’t respond – the tickle was so intense, so overwhelming that all I could do was laugh in futility. I had no strength left to struggle; my body lay limp beneath Avery as he killed me softly with those silky, gentle fingertips, stroking merrily away under my arms, destroying any hope I had of stringing two thoughts together.

After what seemed like an eternity – but in reality, must have been less than ten minutes – Avery stopped. The pair of hands that were holding my wrists released me, but I hadn’t even the strength to put my arms down. His cool hand stroked my cheek as he chuckled affectionately.

“Well, now… How do you feel? Have you forgotten what it’s like to be anxious?” 

I sat up – tried to, anyway – and then collapsed back onto the pillow in a blissfully overstimulated huff. Avery started to giggle, which escalated to a delighted belly laugh.

“I’ll take that as a yes!” 

“Avery…” 

“Yes…?”

“If you don’t cuddle me – right now – I think I'm going to die.”

Still chuckling, he immediately enveloped me in his fluffy embrace, hugging me as if he were afraid someone would take me from him. I snuggled easily into his arms, cocooned in a heretofore unknown peace and safety. The last thing I heard was Avery’s characteristic lightning zap as the light flickered out; I was asleep before my head hit the pillow.