#late night pho >>>
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
emioliravioli · 3 months ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
i'm so tired
59 notes · View notes
goyardgoyangi · 3 months ago
Text
𐙚 agora hills pt. 2 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚
⌗ pairings: suguru x reader
⌗ summary: you grew up in his orbit, your best friend’s older brother, always just out of reach. he was cool, unreadable, and never paid you much attention… or so you thought. but college changes things. and now guys are noticing you. he says he’s just looking out for you, that he’s being protective, but the way he touches you says otherwise. one night, one mistake that doesn’t feel like a mistake, and suddenly everything is different.
⌗ word count: 2.6k
♥ pt. 3 ♥ masterlist ♥
Tumblr media Tumblr media
When you wake up, you’re already tangled in his sheets, warm and heavy from sleep. Your legs, aching in the best way from last night, are tangled against his. Suguru’s arm is still wrapped around you like he forgot how to let go.
You blink slowly, trying to process where you are, what happened—
And then you realize it’s his arm around you.
Thick and solid, it’s slung around your waist, heavy with sleep, the weight of it pressing you snug against him. His bicep brushes against your bare skin, and you swear you can feel butterflies in your heart.
It sends a rush of heat straight to your cheeks.
You shift a little without thinking, and his hold tightens instinctively, pulling you even closer. You can feel the strength in him, the way his muscles flex without even trying— and it does something to you.
The feeling of Suguru’s arm around you, protective and sure, makes your stomach flutter even more, so badly you almost laugh. Or cry. You’re not even sure.
You let yourself sink into it for just a second longer, breathing him in, memorizing how safe and solid he feels against you.
But when you open your eyes to actually glance up, Suguru’s already awake, watching you with dark, unreadable eyes. His thumb brushes lightly over your hip, like he can’t help himself.
Neither of you moves at first. And neither of you says anything.
You just stay there, caught in the thick, dizzying warmth of him, heart pounding so loud you’re sure he can hear it.
Suguru finally shifts, his thumb absentmindedly drawing circles against your hip. “You hungry?” he murmurs. His voice is rough from sleep, low and gravelly in a way that makes your stomach dip.
You blink up at him, still a little dazed. “A little.”
He sleepily nods like he was expecting that answer. “I’ll order something.”
Before you can say anything else, he’s already reaching for his phone on the nightstand. His hand brushes yours on the way, fingers grazing your knuckles, lingering a little too long like he can’t help himself.
He acts casual, scrolling through the app, but you notice the way his jaw ticks slightly, like he’s thinking too hard. Like he’s trying not to mess this up.
You shyly watch, somewhat amused, as he mutters under his breath, completely unaware he’s saying his thoughts out loud.
“She said she was craving pho last week…” he says, thumb hovering over the screen. His brows knit together in concentration. He scrolls a little more. “Or maybe those dumplings she always gets after class.”
You freeze, heart stuttering. You hadn’t even realized he was listening when you talked about that. You barely remembered mentioning it at all.
Suguru frowns slightly, still scrolling. “Could do the pasta too. She’s been on that gnocchi kick lately…” His voice is soft, thoughtful, almost fond.
He doesn’t look at you, he’s just weighing doordash options, but the fact that he knows, remembers, all your little cravings makes your chest ache in a way you’re not ready to deal with.
Finally, he lands on one. “Here,” he says, tapping the screen and glancing at you for confirmation. “This sound good?”
It’s your favorite. You nod a little too quickly, and his lips twitch, like he’s holding back a smile.
“Good,” he murmurs. “You’ll feel better after you eat.”
He says it so simply, so casually, but it feels anything but casual— the way he makes you feel like you’re something precious he’s been paying attention to all along.
You bite your lip, trying to hold back a smile. It’s so stupidly cute how his half-asleep brain is just letting all these things slip out, like he doesn’t even realize he’s giving himself away.
Like maybe if he was fully awake, he’d be better at hiding just how much he pays attention to you.
Suguru sets his phone back on the nightstand, ordering without a second thought once you nod.
His arm finds its way back around you so naturally, like he doesn’t even think about it. You try not to squirm. His arm feels so good around you— strong and protective without even trying.
Just feeling how solid he is, how easily he could pull you closer if he wanted to, sends a swarm of butterflies fluttering up from your stomach to your throat.
And it doesn’t help that he’s so warm, so close, his scent filling your head until you’re dizzy with it.
“Gotta get you something to wear,” Suguru mumbles against your hair, voice still hoarse with sleep. You smile into his chest. His morning brain is still leaking into his mouth, just blurting things out before he can catch them.
He’s quiet for a second, like he’s trying to muster up the energy to move, before finally (reluctantly) letting go of you. You miss the weight and warmth of him immediately, and your gaze follows him as he pushes off the bed.
His back muscles flex with each movement, the taut lines of his shoulders and the curve of his spine so defined you can’t look away. Every subtle shift of his body has you pressing your thighs together, aching to feel him again.
He runs a hand through his messy hair, and you can’t stop staring at the contrast between his big, veiny hands and the soft, disheveled strands. It’s unbelievable how irresistible he is.
You sit up slowly to get a better look, pulling the blankets around you like a little cocoon. You see Suguru padding over to his dresser, rummaging around for a minute before pulling out a hoodie and a pair of soft sweatpants that look way too big for you.
He hesitates, like he’s second-guessing himself, before gently tossing the clothes onto the bed next to you. It hits you then— your hair’s probably a mess, you’re wearing the same dress from yesterday, and you definitely smell like last night. Your face burns.
“They’ll be big, but… better than eating in your dress,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck a little sheepishly.
His hair falls loosely over his shoulder, messy from sleep. “And you can shower if you want. Towels are under the sink.”
You swear his ears are turning pink.
It’s so painfully obvious he’s trying to make you feel comfortable, like if he makes it easy enough, you’ll stay a little longer. Maybe stay forever, if he had any say in it.
You gather the clothes in your arms, feeling the soft, worn fabric, smelling faint traces of his cologne lingering on them. They’re so Suguru it makes your chest ache.
“Thanks,” you say softly.
You step into the bathroom, closing the door gently behind you. The familiar smell of Suguru’s cologne clings to the air, almost too tempting to breathe in— his scent mixing with the clean, fresh aroma of his bathroom.
You stare at the array of hair care products lined up neatly by the sink— shampoos, conditioners, styling creams. They all look expensive, and they smell expensive too.
Curiosity gets the best of you. You unscrew one of the bottles and take a quick sniff, inhaling deeply. It’s earthy, with just a hint of something fresh and spicy— definitely the scent you’ve picked up on him a few times.
You close your eyes for a second, taking it in. You smile to yourself, imagining Suguru’s morning routine, his hands running through his hair, this exact scent lingering on him.
You can’t help but laugh a little to yourself.
“God, he’s like a living shampoo commercial,” you mutter under your breath.
As the warm water washes over you, your thoughts replay last night in slow motion.
You never imagined this would happen, not in a million years, and now that it had, you couldn’t shake the feeling of him— the way his body pressed against yours, how his arms had wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer to him.
The memory lingers, and you let it, allowing yourself to get lost in it for a moment longer. But as the steam fills the bathroom, the water continues to fall over your skin, and your thoughts shift.
You find your mind wandering to this morning—his hair, messy from sleep, falling over his shoulder in that effortless way that made him look even more adorable than you expected. And those eyes, tired yet somehow warm, looking at you with that subtle shyness, as if he wasn’t sure how to act now that you’ve slept together.
A laugh escapes you, soft and muffled by the rush of water. What’s happening? you think, the question dancing on your lips.
But as you smile to yourself under the water, warmth spreads through your chest— Suguru is so much more than you expected—so much more than the guy you thought you knew.
After your shower, you slip into the change of clothes Suguru left for you, finally feeling clothed enough to step into the living room.
His shower products cling to your skin in the most intoxicating way, mixing with the faint trace of his cologne from earlier. It feels like you’re wrapped in a piece of him, leaving you feeling oddly exposed but comforted at the same time.
Suguru’s sitting on the couch, scrolling through his phone, but as soon as you step into the room, his gaze flicks up to you.
You don’t think much of it at first, but when his eyes briefly settle on your neck, where the scent of his shampoo is still fresh in your hair, you notice a small shift.
He clears his throat, trying to cover the moment. “You smell like me now,” he says, voice casual, but you can hear a slight hitch in it.
You blink, taken aback. “I— what?”
Suguru shrugs as if it’s no big deal, though his hands start to fidget in his lap. “Your hair. It… smells like my shampoo. You smell like me.”
Your cheeks flush, and you can’t quite tell why. His words feel oddly intimate, almost like a slip-up— something he wasn’t intending to admit. It catches you off guard.
You force yourself to act casual. “Yeah, it’s really nice,” you say, though your voice betrays the heat rushing to your face.
The doorbell rings, and then his shoulders slump, like a dog that’s been suddenly interrupted in the middle of something it’s been craving.
His posture shifts, and you almost imagine his ears drooping, his metaphorical tail stopping its wagging. He wishes he didn’t have to leave, even if it’s just for a moment to get the door.
As you watch him walk toward the door, your thoughts drift back to his earlier words: “You smell like me now.”
For a second, you catch yourself thinking how it wouldn’t be so bad if other guys didn’t get any ideas. If they didn’t notice you in Suguru’s clothes, didn’t smell like him, too.
You’re snapped out of your thoughts when Suguru comes back into the room with bags of food.
His face has a slight flush, and his hands are full, but there’s still something nonchalant about the way he sets everything down on the coffee table.
He’s already pulling open the bags, sorting through the food like he’s done this a hundred times.
You watch him, smiling softly as he sets up two plates, stacking the food just the way he knows you like it.
“You didn’t have to do all this, you know,” you attempt to tease, watching him fuss over the details.
Suguru shrugs, clearly unfazed. “You’re my guest. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”
But there’s a warmth in his voice, in his eyes, that makes you feel like maybe he’s doing this because he wants to. Because he wants you here, even if neither of you is saying it out loud.
Once he’s finished, Suguru’s hand reaches for the remote, fingers brushing the buttons with a practiced ease. But internally, he’s anything but calm.
The moment he glances at you, sitting there next to him, looking impossibly cute in his oversized hoodie— his heart picks up pace. He suddenly feels... aware, hyper-aware of the fact that he’s about to choose what show to watch with the girl of his dreams.
"Alright, let’s see," Suguru murmurs, his voice just a bit strained as he flips through the channels. He flicks through a couple more options, but none of them seem right. He can feel his palms sweating slightly, trying to hide it by gripping the remote harder, his thumb clicking through channels with more force than necessary. He’s doing everything he can to act normal, but it’s harder than he anticipated.
Suguru glances quickly at you, eyes catching on your face. You're casually resting your head against the couch, looking at him with that soft, relaxed expression he adores. It makes everything feel real— too real. He’s panicking inside.
He clears his throat, swiping once more across the guide, desperately trying to come up with something that feels just right. His hand hovers a little too long over the options, and before he can second-guess himself, he presses a button, and Breaking Bad pops up on the screen.
“Uh... this is what I’ve been watching lately,” he says quickly, his voice a little too loud and rushed. “It’s, well… it’s pretty good. I think you’ll like it.”
You look over at him, noticing the slight flush creeping up his neck. It’s cute how he’s acting like he has it all together, but you can tell something’s off. It makes you smile a little, the way he’s trying to hide his nervousness. It’s endearing, in a way.
“I’ve heard of this one,” you say, glancing at the screen. “Isn’t it, like, a crime drama?”
Suguru chuckles, his eyes flickering over to you quickly before looking back at the TV. He tries to play it off coolly, shrugging one shoulder.
“Yeah, basically. It can be a little… much,” he mutters. But the smile on your face is enough to ease some of his nerves. “But don’t worry. It’s not too bad.”
As the show starts, Suguru’s leaning back against the couch, eyes glued to the screen, but you can tell he’s not really watching.
Every so often, his gaze flickers over to you, then quickly darts away, as if he’s trying to hide how much he’s aware of you sitting there beside him. It’s subtle, almost imperceptible, but whatever it is, he keeps it contained, hiding behind the calm exterior of someone who’s completely in control.
It’s cute. But that’s something you’re not ready to say yet—not to him, not to yourself.
“So, uh... what do you think so far?” he asks, his voice just a little too casual, a little too strained.
You take a bite of your food, the flavors familiar and comforting. As you chew, your eyes linger on him for a second. “It’s good. I didn’t expect it to be this intense.”
He lockes eyes with you, a smile tugging at his lips. “You sure you’re not scared?”
You raise an eyebrow. “You think I’m scared? I’m not scared.”
Suguru chuckles, but it’s a little strained, as if the laughter is just another way to deflect.
He’s trying to hold it together, to act like nothing’s different, but he can’t help it. Every glance at you, every smile you give him, sends his pulse racing.
Please stay a little longer, he thinks, wishing he could say it aloud, but knowing it would make things too real. Too complicated.
So instead, he hides behind the safety of the show, hoping the minutes will stretch into hours.
Tumblr media
407 notes · View notes
snowseasonmademe · 5 months ago
Text
All up in Your Mind
warning ‼️: smut
word count: 3,116
pairing: lewis hamilton x black female reader
summary: lewis is obsessed with you and you love driving him crazy
tag list: @sucredreamer @irishmanwhore @whoevenisthiz @iamquiantrelle @dexastres @coffeevacation @goldenngt @btslover117 @kennasutopia @jessnotwiththemess
note: bae @irishmanwhore wanted this one too yall. say thanks everyone!!!!! she has great ideas :) this one was very fun to write, lewis is lowkey subby in this just a little bit. as always, enjoy and tell me what you think🤍!!!!!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Lewis sat at the head of the long conference table, his crisp black suit doing little to mask the heat simmering beneath his skin. His team was discussing strategy—sponsors, contracts, logistics—but every word went in one ear and out the other. All he could think about was you.
You had consumed his every thought since the night before. He should’ve known better than to let you out of his sight on that red carpet. You were untouchable, and radiant, your confidence commanding every room you walked into. In a crimson gown that hugged every curve just right, you moved like you knew you were the only one anyone could see. And you knew exactly what you were doing to him.
“Don’t stare too hard baby” you had teased as you leaned in close during the event, your lips brushing the shell of his ear, your fingers grazing his chest in a way that set his nerves on fire. “You know how easily… excited you get.”
As if he could help himself. Your sultry glances, the way you whispered wicked things into his ear when no one else could hear, the brush of your fingers along his thigh under the table—it had been pure torture. By the time you got home late that night, he was ready to claim you, but you had been too tired, and he had that early meeting to prepare for.
Now here he was, sitting in a room full of people, barely able to breathe because all he could see was you. The way you smiled. The confidence in your stride. The way you had whispered jokingly, “It’s like I’m the only thing on your mind”
But it was true. It wasn’t a joke. It was the truth.
Lewis exhaled sharply, gripping the edge of the table as he shifted in his seat, his mind nowhere near the conversation happening around him. His team continued talking, numbers and projections flying across the room, but he couldn’t focus. Not when flashes of the night before kept playing in his mind—how effortlessly you had owned that red carpet, how your dress clung to your body in a way that made his mouth go dry, how you had leaned in close, whispering filth in his ear like you weren’t in a room full of cameras and flashing lights.
You had done it on purpose, of course. You always did. It was a game to you, watching how long he could last before he cracked, before he stopped caring who was around and dragged you somewhere private. But last night, he hadn’t had that luxury. You had teased him relentlessly, dancing just out of his reach, smirking over the rim of your champagne glass while he sat there, jaw clenched, hands fisted in his lap, hard as fuck beneath the table while the whole world watched.
And then, to make it worse, you had denied him. Had kissed him sweetly, stripped out of that sinful dress in front of him, and then crawled into bed with a yawn and a soft, “Goodnight baby” Like you hadn’t just spent the whole evening torturing him. Like you hadn’t left him lying awake for hours, painfully hard, fists clenched in the sheets, gritting his teeth because he couldn’t even touch himself—not when the only thing that would satisfy him was you.
You knew exactly what you had done. And judging by the way you had left that little message in his ear before disappearing into the crowd last night, you had known he’d be thinking about you today. You had wanted this. Wanted him distracted, restless, aching for you while he sat through his meetings, barely able to function.
His phone buzzed in his lap, and for the first time since he walked into the boardroom, Lewis moved fast. He glanced down, breath hitching at your name on the screen.
You: Bet you’re struggling.
His jaw tightened. You were so fucking smug.
Lewis: You have no idea.
You: Oh, I do.
You: Poor baby. So hard at work.
You: Or just hard?
His breath left him in a sharp exhale. His grip on the phone tightened as his other hand curled into a fist beneath the table. You were evil. He knew it, and yet, he still couldn’t get enough of you.
Lewis: You’re a fucking menace.
You: And yet, you love me.
Yeah. He did. And you knew it.
Lewis: You knew what you were doing last night.
You: Maybe I did. What’s on your mind?
He smirked, shaking his head. You always knew exactly how to get under his skin—in the best way.
Lewis: You. You’re all I’m thinking about.
You: I figured.
He stared at your response, his chest tightening. Of course, you figured. You always knew.
Lewis: The way you looked last night. The way you touched me.
You: Oh lol, you mean the way I teased you all night and then fell asleep the moment we got home?
Lewis: Exactly that.
You: Poor baby.
Lewis groaned softly, earning a curious glance from his manager across the table. He gave a quick, apologetic nod before typing again.
Lewis: Just wait until I get home.
There was a long pause before your reply came through.
You: You’ll have to catch me first.
His jaw tightened, a slow smile tugging at the corner of his lips. You were playing with him, and he loved every second of it.
The moment the meeting ended, Lewis was out of the building, his car tearing down the road at a pace just shy of reckless. His pulse raced as he thought about you waiting for him, probably grinning to yourself because you knew exactly how wound up he was.
When he finally stepped through the door, you were there, leaning casually against the kitchen counter, wearing one of his oversized shirts and nothing else. Your legs were bare, and the smile on your lips was nothing short of sinful.
“You made good time” you teased, tilting your head as you watched him.
“You’re a problem” he muttered, dropping his keys and crossing the room in a few long strides.
“A good one though” you replied, your tone light and playful as your fingers danced up his chest.
“The best kind” His voice was low and strained.
You smiled up at him, your hands sliding around his neck as you whispered, “Last night, all I wanted was you”
“Then why’d you fall asleep on me?” he teased, but his voice was thick with affection, his hands gripping your waist as he pulled you closer.
“Because I like driving you crazy” you admitted with a sly grin. “And I knew you’d be thinking about me all day today”
He didn’t respond. Instead, he kissed you, his mouth crashing into yours in a way that made you gasp. His hands roamed your body with a hunger he didn’t bother to hide, pulling you flush against him as he deepened the kiss. You smiled into it, your fingers sliding into his hair and tugging just enough to make him groan.
“You’ve been torturing me” he murmured against your lips, his voice dark and thick with need.
“Mm, I know” you said, laughing softly as you pressed your body closer to his. “You love it though”
“Too much” he admitted, lifting you onto the counter in one smooth motion. His lips found your neck, his hands sliding up your thighs as you tilted your head back to give him more access.
“Keep this up” you teased, your voice breathy but still playful, “I might start thinking you can’t get enough of me”
“I can’t” he growled, his hands tightening on your hips as his lips moved lower.
Your laughter filled the air, rich and warm and utterly intoxicating. You cupped his face, forcing him to look up at you, and the heat in your eyes made his breath catch.
You didn’t rush. You wanted him desperate, aching, teetering on the edge before you gave him what he wanted.
Lewis stood there, watching you, chest rising and falling with heavy breaths as you stepped back, your fingers trailing down his torso. His shirt was —somehow— already undone, exposing the warm, golden brown of his skin, the way the ink of his tattoos contrasted beautifully against it. He was everything—gorgeous, sculpted, utterly wrecked for you, and you hadn’t even really touched him yet.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” he murmured, voice low and strained, a teasing smirk ghosting his lips.
“You like when I stare” you countered, letting your hands wander, sliding over the tight muscles of his abdomen, tracing the lines of his inked skin.
He let out a shaky breath when you kissed along his collarbone, your tongue flicking out to taste the salt of his skin. “Yeah” he admitted, barely above a whisper, his hands tightening on your waist. “I like it.”
You smirked against his skin before pressing one last kiss to the hollow of his throat, then, without warning, you grabbed him by the belt and started walking him backward toward the bedroom.
Lewis let you. He let you take the lead, let you push him through the doorway and toward the bed, though you could feel the way his muscles tensed, the restraint in his grip. He was holding himself back, letting you play your game, but you knew—eventually, he’d snap. He always did.
“Turn around” you whispered when you reached the edge of the bed.
His eyes darkened, but he obeyed, letting you push him down so he sat on the mattress. His hands immediately found your thighs as you stepped between them, his touch firm, warm, possessive. You dragged your nails lightly up his chest, taking in the way his breath hitched.
You kissed him slowly at first, savoring the taste of him, the warmth of his mouth against yours. Then you deepened it, pushing him back until he was lying beneath you, your body pressing flush against his. His hands roamed over you, sliding under your shirt, up your back, fingers digging in like he needed to feel every inch of you.
You pulled away just long enough to strip your top off, and Lewis groaned, eyes locked onto you like he couldn’t get enough. His hands immediately covered your bare skin, smoothing over your waist, up to your breasts, his thumbs flicking over your nipples in a way that made your stomach tighten with anticipation.
“Mmm” he hummed, mostly to himself, before his lips found your skin again. He kissed his way down your neck, over your collarbone, then lower, his mouth hot and open against your chest.
You let your head fall back, exhaling sharply when he dragged his tongue over your skin, his stubble leaving a faint burn in its wake. “Lewis” you breathed, rolling your hips against him, feeling the way he hardened beneath you.
He groaned, the sound deep and broken. “You feel what you do to me?”
You nodded, biting your lip as you reached between you, palming him through his pants. He was so hard already, twitching under your touch, and the way his head tipped back, the way his lips parted as he let out a breathy moan—it made heat coil low in your belly.
“You’re not very patient” you teased, undoing his belt, popping open the button of his slacks.
His gaze snapped back to you, his hands gripping your hips tight. “Not when it comes to you”
You kissed him again, swallowing his groan as you slid his pants and boxers down all the way off. He was thick and heavy in your hand, leaking already, and you loved knowing you’d done that to him.
He let out a shaky breath as you wrapped your fingers around him, stroking slowly, teasingly. His grip on your hips tightened, his body tensing beneath you. “Don’t start something you’re not ready to finish”
You smirked, kissing the corner of his mouth. “Who says I’m not ready?”
You dragged pussy along his length, letting him feel just how wet you were, and the way he groaned—low and rough and wrecked—made your stomach tighten in anticipation.
“Fuck, baby don’t tease me” he muttered, voice strained.
“Why not?” you purred, rocking your hips just enough to drive him insane.
“Because if you don’t sit on my dick in the next ten seconds, I’m flipping you over and handling it myself”
You knew he meant it. And while you loved pushing his buttons, you wanted him just as badly.
So you sank down onto him slowly, letting him stretch you open inch by inch. His hands shot to your thighs, gripping them hard, his moan deep and broken as he filled you completely.
“Jesus—fuck—” His head pressed back against the pillows, his eyes squeezing shut for a moment before snapping back open to watch you.
You rolled your hips in slow, deliberate circles, dragging out every inch of him, making him feel every slick, tight squeeze of your body around his. It was torturous—exactly how you wanted it.
“That’s it baby” you purred, your nails grazing down his chest, tracing over the tattoos you knew he loved having your hands on. “Let me hear you”
And fuck, did he. A deep, shuddering moan tore from his throat, his head tilting back against the pillows as his hands tightened on your hips. He was trying to stay still, trying to let you set the pace, but you could feel the way his muscles tensed beneath your palms, the way his fingers flexed against your skin like he was barely holding on.
“You feel so fucking good” he groaned, voice thick with arousal. His grip tightened, like he wanted to take control, but he didn’t. Not yet. He loved this—watching you move, letting you take what you wanted, needing you so bad it made him ache.
You leaned forward, pressing your hands against his chest for leverage as you rolled your hips a little faster, grinding down against him in a way that made his breath catch. “You’re obsessed with me, aren’t you?”
His hands slid up your back, one tangling in your hair, the other pressing against the small of your back to keep you close. “I am” he admitted, his voice wrecked.
“Say it” you murmured against his lips, teasing, demanding.
His jaw clenched, his chest rising and falling beneath you. He let out a shuddering breath, eyes locked onto yours, raw and desperate. “I’m fucking obsessed with you”
The confession sent a rush of heat through your body, making your thighs tremble as you clenched around him. His head dropped back, a strangled moan escaping his throat as he felt it, as your body squeezed him tight and hot and dripping wet.
“Shit, baby” he groaned, his fingers pressing hard into your skin as he squirmed in pleasure beneath you. “You keep doing that and I won’t last.”
You smirked, leaning down to lick across his collarbone, your tongue tracing the ink on his chest, the tattoos he loved when you worshipped. He shuddered beneath you, letting out a sharp exhale, his hands moving restlessly over your body like he couldn’t get enough.
You pressed a slow, teasing kiss to his lips, moving against him in deep, rolling thrusts, grinding your clit against the base of his cock every time you came down on him. His moans were getting louder, more broken, his hands gripping your hips like he was right on the edge of losing it.
And then, just as you expected, he snapped.
With a rough growl, Lewis’s hands clamped down on your hips, fingers digging in almost bruisingly, and suddenly, he was slamming up into you. Hard. Fast. Desperate.
You gasped, your hands flying up to grip the headboard as he took over, fucking into you like he had no choice, like he needed it to survive.
“Lewis—fuck!” you cried out, your body jolting with every powerful thrust, your back arching as he drove deeper, harder.
“I tried” he gritted out between thrusts, his voice thick and wrecked. “Tried to let you have control, but fuck baby, I need you so bad”
You moaned helplessly, nails raking down his chest, leaving red streaks over his inked skin. “Yes—fuck—just like that baby”
His jaw clenched, his dark eyes locked onto yours, wild and hungry and completely, utterly gone for you. “Uuhh I fucking love this pussy”
You nodded frantically, your pleasure climbing unbearably fast. “Mmmmm” you moan loudly and desperately, not able to properly respond.
Lewis groaned, the sound breaking into something close to a whimper as he fucked into you harder, rougher, his hips snapping up to meet every grind of your body against him. You could feel how deep he was, how perfectly he stretched you, how completely he filled you, it was too good.
His fingers found your clit, rubbing tight, relentless circles, pushing you higher and higher, making your thighs shake as the pleasure coiled tight in your stomach, ready to snap.
“You’re gonna cum for me” he rasped, his voice shaking, his thrusts turning erratic. “Come on, baby. Give it to me.”
The moment his lips brushed your ear, whispering, “Let me feel it” you shattered.
Your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave, stealing the air from your lungs, making you cry out his name as your whole body trembled. You clenched around him, squeezing so tight that he cursed, his hips stuttering as he lost himself completely.
With a strangled groan, Lewis slammed up into you one last time, burying himself deep as he came, his moan breaking apart into breathless, desperate sounds against your skin.
For a long moment, neither of you moved, both struggling to catch your breath, the only sound in the room your ragged breathing and the faint hum of the city outside.
Then, finally, Lewis let out a soft, breathless laugh, his arms wrapping tightly around you, pulling you down against his chest. “Fucking hell” he muttered.
You smirked, pressing a lazy kiss to his jaw. “That good, huh?”
His hands smoothed down your back, his fingers tracing slow, absentminded circles against your skin. “You have no idea”
You grinned, completely satisfied, completely spent. “I have a pretty good idea”
Then you collapsed against his chest, pressing lazy kisses along his damp skin, feeling the rapid thump of his heart.
He let out a shaky laugh, arms wrapping tightly around you. “You’re gonna kill me one of these days”
You smirked, tracing a finger over one of his tattoos. “You’d die happy though.”
He groaned, tilting your chin up to kiss you slow and deep. “Ecstatic.”
note : j'ai une fic d'aurélien à venir pour vous tous le jour de la saint-valentin!
329 notes · View notes
butwhyduh · 1 year ago
Note
honestly jdk just tim drake x reader where one/or multiple of the batfam walks in?? i just find them entertaining, or they are continually being interrupted through the day!
Warning: eventual smut and Tim is done with everyone’s shit. If it’s not the end of the world, don’t call me- level done. And you can tell it’s fanfic because Tim is actually an adult.
Tim didn’t get into shows very often. He’s busy and he has a terrible habit of falling asleep after the first 10 minutes. He didn’t want to watch the show but he was tinkering with some of his tech while sitting on the couch and you put it on. And that’s how he got sucked in.
“And Daphne said yes to that? Drew is not good enough to lie to her friends over,” he said and you started telling him the backstory.
You binge watch the next few episodes to catch up to the new season. It was a fun and scandalous show, nothing like Tim’s usual picks. And he thought it was cute how animated you were when talking about the show.
“Trevor needs to get his shit together or not only is Naomi going to leave him, he’ll go to jail,” Tim said.
“Yeah but he owes the local crime boss money and he said he’d kill his family otherwise,” you countered.
“Sounds like Gotham,” Tim quipped. You lightly smacked his arm before laying your head on his shoulder and entangling your arm in his.
“That is not comforting,” you said. “Oo they’re going to tell us who took the diamonds!”
The bat phone started ringing almost off the coffee table. You groaned and let Tim go to sit up to answer that.
“The corner of 17 and Parkway? How many combatants?” He said in Bat speak. And that’s when you knew your date night was over. He hung up and turned to you looking apologetic.
“I have to go,” he said. You sighed but pulled him into a hug.
“Be safe. I’ll be here,” you said with practices familiarity. He kissed you before grabbing his stuff and leaving. He didn’t get back until hours later with some fresh bruises and a girlfriend asleep on the couch.
It was 2 days later that you tried to continue the show. Tim had told Bruce to call someone else first. The door was locked and his phone was on silence. You’d even given him some pretty good incentives if you were uninterrupted and alone after the show.
It was all of ten minutes into the continued episode with pho takeout on the way that the fire escape window opened. In flopped Nightwing covered in mud.
“No,” Tim groaned. You huffed before pausing the show. “Do you need help?”
“Only a bit,” Dick said as the understatement of the year. He let Tim look at him to find that he was leaking blood all over the carpet from a bullet wound in his thigh. “Only a graze. Do you have a bandaid?”
“Good lord,” you replied as Tim called Alfred. You quickly grabbed a towel to stop the bleeding.
It was a few hours later and a carpet cleaner before Nightwing and your carpet were patched up. By that time it was the middle of the night and you couldn’t concentrate on anything. Tim promised a date night another day.
This one was a whole week later. All of the Robins had been warned under pain of torture to not talk to Tim for that evening. Because Tim was to put it mildly, frustrated. You two hadn’t had alone time in over a week.
You started the show back up with all entrances locked and phones off. You were able to watch the next 15 minutes before you heard broken glass.
“Hey did you know your window was locked,” Superboy said standing in front of the window. Tim practically growled before pausing the show to shove Kon out the window.
“I don’t know what you need but the other members of Young Justice are available. Call them,” Tim said but it was already too late. The wind had blown into the room and it was starting to snow outside so he couldn’t exactly ignore the window. Once again date night was canceled.
Tim was so frustrated that he had dreams about you in his bed. It was almost a week later and now 3 episodes behind on the show that you had another date night. He was almost willing to skip the show entirely at this point just to have alone time.
Tim had practically threatened everyone he knew with death threats to leave you both alone.
“Someone is feeling the mode,” Bart joked.
“You mean, someone needs to get laid,” Kon added.
“At this point, yes! I don’t want to see, hear, or think of either of you tonight. Unless it’s the  apocalypse, then I don’t want to even know about it,” he growled. The two other heroes howled with laughter as he left.
You could tell Tim was distracted and preoccupied by the way his hand gripped and squeezed your thigh. He gave you frequent kisses between scenes. As the episode ended, Tim pounced.
“Tim!” You gasped as he pushed you to lay on the couch before the credits were even done. It turned to a moan as his hand slid between your thighs to rub you through your panties.
“It’s been way too long,” he groaned as he kissed down your throat. He was almost never this aggressive and it was dizzying. He pushed your panties to the side to finger you.
“Oh fuck,” you gasped as he hit deep inside you. His hips rubbed his hard cock against you. He pulled at your shirt with one hand.
“Take it off,” he groaned with impatience. Before you had even gotten the fabric over your head, he had attacked your chest. Pulling a nipple into his mouth and sucking hard while fingering you thoroughly had you whimpering.
You shoved down his pants to grasp him in a loose fist. Tim rutted into your hand while sloppily kissing across your chest.
“Please, want you,” you whined and he wasted no time sliding in. Your back arched with a gasp. His arm reached behind your back and Tim took his time with long deep strokes.
This pleasure cycle couldn’t last forever and you both finished far too soon. Tim kissed you softly and gently.
“We can continue this later. I think the food is here,” he said.
“Sounds good,” you said adjusting your clothes and sitting up. “I’ll be right back,” you added as you went to clean up.
Tim answered the door in his messied hair and haphazardly placed clothes. Instead of the food delivery guy, it was Jason standing with his food box. Tim frowned.
“What do you want?”
“Pizza anyone?”
“Leave,” tim growled, taking the box. Jason laughed.
“Interrupting something?” Tim almost slammed the door in his face. “Hey, I just need keys to the Robin motorbike,” Jason added. “Oh I didn’t know you watched that show. Can you believe that in last week’s episode, it was the mom all along. Wild hu?”
Tim sighed before throwing the keys at Jason. “Go away.” He slammed the door.
“Well that sucks,” you said across the room.
Tim locked the door and sat the pizza box on the table. “I’m gonna be honest, and that is that I really just want to finish what we started before pizza. I’m not picky where.”
You laughed before letting him grab you fireman style over his shoulder to drag you into the bedroom. There was no way you were answering the door after that.
1K notes · View notes
literaryvein-reblogs · 6 months ago
Text
Food in Fiction Writing
Tumblr media
Often, we structure our days around food; a family meal, the office lunch break, dinner out with friends or maybe late-night instant ramen to get you through a deadline. But how do you include these moments in fiction writing? And what can you make this say about your characters?
Food as Habit
Giving your character eating habits and tastes can really flesh them out.
Try to think about where they eat, who with, and what?
Habits make our characters come alive, giving them the sort of real interior life that readers can identify with.
Make use of their tastes in moments of emotion – after a climactic moment, do they come home and relax by cooking, or try and escape to a fancy restaurant among friends – or do they not have the energy to eat at all?
Food is a great way to show character rather than telling.
Food as Subtext
Another great way food can show instead of telling is to use it in a conversation, when people are saying one thing but meaning another.
Often, when people argue, it starts off as a small problem – like burning the dinner, or what restaurant to choose.
Use food as a starting point in conversations when people are letting out their emotions through another meaning.
Let your characters debate their marriage through a restaurant without enough vegetarian options, or show someone’s romantic interest through appreciation of a badly cooked meal.
Food as Structure
You can show a lot about the order of a character’s life through when they eat.
Meals are a very everyday moment in your story that can provide order or disorder – if your character has to meet someone for lunch, obstacles preventing this can provide tension.
Eating is often entangled with a tight sense of time, so use this to your advantage.
Even small moments of tension and disorder can add a lot to your story.
Food as Sensation
Food invites rich and flavourful description.
All our senses are engaged while eating – not just sight and taste.
Think about how you can describe the intense smell of a curry, the way it feels as you chew it, the sizzling sound of the frying pan and the bubbling of the rice.
Create a rich sensory experience in your reader, maybe try and make them hungry.
A full-bodied description will make your scene come alive.
Food as Setting
Food is rich in cultural associations and tradition.
Do some research into where you are setting your story and explore what people there eat, when, and why – your character might be eating Sil (pickled herring) in midsummer, as is the tradition in Sweden, or celebrating Diwali with Besan Ladoo and other Indian sweets.
It is important to build a sense of specificity into the food.
But don’t fall into the trap of problematic food and cultural stereotypes – a character could just as easily be eating a burrito in Manchester as in Cancun, Mexico.
Food is often a shortcut to cultural understanding.
In the same way that literature connects stories with disparate readers, food itself acts as a vehicle for empathy in the communication between cultures and communities; both food and literature connect the self to the other in an act of empathy.
The act of eating is intimate, and hunger is vulnerable.
Picture your protagonist at her weakest, then give her a big plate of meaty spaghetti bolognaise, a Styrofoam tray of late-night cheesy chips, a ripe fresh peach, a hot bowl of Pho, or maybe an ice cream sundae.
At once, the writing will be enhanced simply for all of the rich sensory detail, and we will also see this character more clearly – she is given something physical, and a tension rises between the comfort of the food and the struggle of her situation, whatever it may be.
Stories thrive on tension and its release, and food is an incredible tool to either deflate or enhance that tension.
Food is inexorably connected to humanity, and so naturally plays a significant role in literature.
Food writing offers sensuality, symbolism, tension and empathy – for your readers and your characters alike. 
Even if you're not writing foodie fiction or lavish descriptions of every meal, you can still use food to help readers learn about your characters. For example:
A character you want to depict as adventurous might try unusual foods from their region, like crunchy grasshoppers or grubs for an American, or a character can show that they're stressed and busy by forgetting to eat or chowing down on prepackaged food because they don't have time to cook.
You can show readers a character's heritage or familial background by having them cook or remember beloved family recipes, or demonstrate that they're artistic by having them plate their food beautifully.
A tip for writing about food is to use all 5 senses in your descriptions to really help your reader see, smell, taste, feel, and even hear the food.
Try and avoid words that are general and can make it hard to envision something specific. Let's take an apple.
We could call it delicious and beautiful, but that doesn't help us understand the specifics of what it looks and tastes like.
But if we say that it's shiny red, that it smells fruity, tastes sweet but also puckeringly tart, and that your teeth crunch on its firm white flesh, you can almost envision it yourself.
Wine-tasting can help you find words for fleeting and elusive flavors.
Keep a book of adjectives that work well for flavors: salty, sour, sweet, sugary, sharp, spicy.
Smell is important too: vinegary, burnt, fishy, fruity.
Temperature may be a little easier: hot, warm, cool, cold, iced.
Texture: dry, slippery, hard, damp, nutty. And so on.
How to Describe Food in Writing ⚜ The Vocabulary of Wine
Sources: 1 2 3 4 ⚜ More: Notes & References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs
258 notes · View notes
marysoncrost · 1 year ago
Text
𝐅𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐞 𝐂𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞
Tumblr media
Apollo(Blood Of Zeus)/Reader
NSWF!
First part!
Unexpectedly and unpleasantly, she found herself the owner of a body she didn't desire. Entering into harsh situations with even harsher outcomes, she ends up in a place where she's found by a man.
He was in search of another nymph with whom he desired to indulge, as his current life, while passionate and lively, brought him no pleasure at all. Therefore, stumbling upon a small and strange creature in the body of a young woman caught his attention, appealing to his tastes a bit too strongly.
Pressing her palm against the wet pomegranate peel, she moved her hand to clean it of dirt. Concentrating all her attention on cleaning the pomegranates in the lake, she tried to ignore the reflection of the young woman before her. Although she could say that the woman in front of her was similar in appearance, she didn't really think so, and looking at someone else's face that you found yourself in was simply unpleasant.
She didn't know how it happened; all the sleepless nights spent in contemplation didn't help, causing apathy for her lost life. What scared her most was that the old memories didn't become clearer; on the contrary, everything in her memory seemed more and more blurry.
A heavy sigh escaped her lips as she set the pomegranate into the shallow water, into a basket she had woven herself, to pick up a new fruit. Starting to carefully wash it, she repeated her actions once again. For a moment, she was stopped by the sound of splashing water, realizing that she was no longer alone in the lake. Maybe this would have alarmed her before, but now she just ignored it. Despite the hot sun rays strongly heating her back, the gaze of the one behind her was so intense that it burned. The cool lake water didn't help her cool down, but pride didn't allow her to lift her head and look back.
—Phos.— pronounced a gentle male voice. It might have evoked some emotions if not for the fact that she did not understand a single word. This was his nickname for her, given from the first days they met. Although she didn't know the meaning of these words, she just accepted them as given, since she didn't know the name of the woman whose body her mind inhabited. She didn't intend to reveal her name; maybe it was for the best - he didn't need to know the name of the one who would soon leave.
The movement of the other in the water became louder as he approached her, and the small waves he created while walking lightly hit her back. Approaching her, it seemed she didn't care - not a single muscle twitched when he stood at his full height behind her, casting his shadow over her body. Finishing with the second pomegranate, she intentionally acted slower to observe the behavior of the reflection of the big man behind her, ready to throw the fruit in his face if he dared to touch her. She didn't know exactly how much time she had spent here - maybe more than a few days, a couple of weeks, or even months - but it was enough to study the inhuman man she had to come to terms with bitterly.
—So lately, you've been showing a bit of resistance towards me and accepting more of my gifts. I'm not lying, this pleases me.— the voice calmly pronounced, squatting behind next to her, but maintaining a small distance between them so as not to force her to get up and leave. Her face wore a neutral expression, especially when he spoke words in a language she wasn't destined to understand. It seemed foolish to her that he was trying to talk to her, knowing that for her it was just a usual combination of sounds.
Calmly sitting in the water, one cleans the fruits while the other attentively watches as she rinses the dirt off with her hands and then returns the fruit to the basket. Feeling a breath toward her face, reflexively she turned her head towards where the man had approached a little closer to her. His eyes carefully watched her facial expression, as if studying every detail, wrinkle, and scar. It was one of the things she noticed he liked to do, causing her discomfort as she always responded to his gaze by looking into the eyes with a golden iris. Perhaps she would have been flattered by such attention from a visually appealing man if the body belonged to her, but now everything showed that he liked the appearance of someone she wasn't.
—Apollo.— she pronounced the name of the god with a heavy breath, trying to fend him off and let him know not to come too close. Watching as the large figure of Apollo didn't move, seeing how he placed his palm on his chin to hold his head in place while his knee pressed into the water. The light ends of his hair became wet as they fell into the water, and the white fabric wrapped around his hips was already transparent, not hiding the darkened skin beneath that was deliberately covered. The first time she had witnessed this, feelings of awkwardness and shame lingered with her for a few days, but only recently had she been trying to show her indifference. Especially when her light-colored clothes were also in less-than-perfect condition due to the water.
Turning her head towards her reflection, she grabbed a new fruit, but her ears attentively listened as a pleasant smirk escaped his lips.
—So paradoxical, it makes you until now the interested human pursuit that I have..— she won't lie to herself - it sounds very beautiful from his lips, but his nature spoils the whole picture. He justifies all the stories she studied in her teenage years, instead of lessons at school, but knowing his ''loving" side strains her. Before she ended up here, she briefly became fascinated with Greek mythology a few years ago, when she was very young. She studied the stories of the Greek gods to conclude that they are quite vicious with dirty deeds. This is just one of the reasons why she is so unhappy that he is too often nearby for her taste, but she is forced to endure it.
As soon as she finished washing the fruits, she reached for the basket to grab it, but the big hand was faster. Raising an eyebrow, she momentarily lifted her head to see the self-satisfied smile of the god, she just stood up and walked towards the shore, ignoring the cheerful sounds of the god. Feeling the sand under her feet, she stood up and looked around, feeling a big body bump into her, but knowing that he was doing it intentionally. Even though a slight irritation, it didn't make her stop admiring the amazing nature around her. The trees and plants make this place magical.
The only thing that bothers her is the absence of wildlife. There isn't a single soul, birds don't sing, animals don't run, insects don't eat plants, and fish don't swim in the lake. All this makes her wonder how she managed to get here if ordinary creatures can't. A big palm rested on her shoulder, and a male voice became slightly concerned, but not enough to say that he was worried about her. She moved away from him, shaking her shoulder to sit on the ground and lean her back against the tree.
After looking up at the sky, she expected the basket to fall at her feet, and she was not wrong. Bringing her knees closer to herself, she leaned over to pick up an orange from the basket. Taking the fruit in both hands, she drove two large fingers inside to tear the peel. Juice streamed down her palms, leaving a sticky trail, but it didn't stop her from continuing to read, paying no attention to it. Tossing the peeled skin onto the grass, she separated one segment and reached out, expecting someone to quickly take it. However, after a few seconds, she looked up and silently asked what had happened, seeing a blank expression on her face. Her body tensed as she realized her clothes were sticking to her body because of water, and she sitting on the dirty ground, which only exacerbated her position is from the realization that she will then need to wash her clothes again after this.
—Well, so be it.— she muttered quietly, even if he didn't understand a word. Although it sounded a bit unusual due to the strong accent she had never had before. Slowly lowering her hand to her face, but felt a segment of orange burst from her hand, to which she surrendered, continuing to tear it apart. Hearing the sound of a strike against a tree, she noticed a large golden bow that was behind Apollo's back. Quickly returning to the orange, she put one segment in her mouth, crushing it with her teeth and feeling the sweet-sour juice spreading on her tongue. Trying to enjoy the taste, she closed her eyes and leaned her head against the tree until memories of the first day of her stay here began to haunt her again. Frowning with a displeased, she still didn't open her eyes, immersing herself in painful memories.
Everything happened too quickly, so much so that she still couldn't fully comprehend what she had just done. In an instant, it was as if she woke up from a massive headache, opening her eyes to find herself in an unfamiliar place, with a heavy body lying above her. Understanding the man's motives immediately, she began to resist, but he proved stronger.
A surprise was evident on his face, quickly replaced by a sinister smile as his rough hands grabbed her by the waist and pulled her closer to him. The rough skin on his hands was calloused, scratching her delicate skin through the thin fabric, and an unpleasant feeling twisted in her stomach. The man muttered something, but she didn't understand a word, which made her ponder about another possible language. His dialect and speech style were completely strange and new, and the only thing confirming his bad intentions was his actions and tone.
She tried to push his hands away, but it elicited nothing but grumbling. She attempted to scream but couldn't, so she twisted her head to see anything that could help in the situation. Next to her head, she saw a rock with fresh bloodstains and immediately, using all her strength, reached for it. The man pushed the fabric aside to free himself and pressed against her abdomen.
In one moment, her eyes caught a nauseating sight, and then, with force, she struck the man's head with the rock. When he released her, she immediately kicked his body away with her feet and, rising to her knees, struck him again with the rock, this time with both hands, before he could recover. The man's head fell onto her lower leg, and she quickly grabbed it with thin fingers, pushing the weight away from her. As she did so, she quickly inspected the man's position that caused her harm and saw an open crack in the skull, through which something began to seep along with crimson fluid.
She couldn't hold it back; stomach acid erupted from her mouth and nose, burning her throat and nostrils, splashing onto the man's head and her knees. Her eyes caught how the nausea mixed with the man's blood, seeping into the crack in his skull, triggering a fresh wave of vomiting. She had to exert all her strength to distract herself and move away from the body lying in front of her to stand up, though it was difficult for her. So she reached for support, stretching her arms.
Her fingers grabbed onto the bark of a tree she managed to find, slowly rising to her feet. Surveying her surroundings more fully now, she noticed the long figures of trees nearby and realized she was next to a forest, as there was an open expanse before her where distant lights of houses flickered. Squinting in the darkness, she realized that the houses looked unconventional and most likely not part of a small village. With only the moon and stars as her source of illumination, she couldn't see much detail, so she lowered her head and inspected her body.
Realizing that the cold night air cut through, as she was practically naked except for dirty fabric because of the dirt from the ground and blood on top, which was so thin that it was see-through.
Feeling the hot liquid scorching her delicate cheek, she let out an unfamiliar whimper and collapsed into hysteria. She didn't recognize her voice, which left her puzzled as liquid snot began to trickle from her nostrils, running down her lips to her chin. Burying her face into the tree, pressing her forehead against the hard and uneven bark so tightly that she feared indentations would appear. At this moment, she didn't care; she tried to recall how she could have ended up here, but nothing came to mind. It seemed her memories were absent, only a small part of someone and something from her life remained, but it couldn't explain how she ended up here with a stranger and in a strange setting.
However, distant sounds halted her despair, forcing her to turn her head towards the village. A small figure screamed aggressively, holding something emitting fire in its hands, but she couldn't say exactly what it was, as panic began to overwhelm her. Especially when more of the same figures appeared beside it, their screams sounding not friendly, making her realize her predicament. As the lights began to move towards her direction, she quickly tore herself away from the tree, casting one last glance at the man she had killed with a stone before sprinting straight into the depths of the forest.
With swift steps, without looking back, she ran as fast as she could, without stopping for a second. Her breath became heavy due to her blocked nose, and now, due to the running, she began to breathe more intensively through her mouth, causing the cold air she inhaled to feel like knives in her lungs.
Fear and adrenaline overcame any pain that was there; her vision was blurred from the excessive moisture in her eyes. Hot tears burned her delicate cheek skin, mixing with snot as they landed on her swollen lips, leaving a salty taste on her tongue. Stepping quickly barefoot on dry, sharp grass, she stepped on small stones and twigs, each time causing more pain to run further. Despite the unpleasant stickiness and moisture on her face, she couldn't wipe the blood flowing from her forehead, not when her hands were covered in someone else's blood.
Her ears caught distant rough voices, men's voices, which made her body tremble. The only goal now was to run wherever her eyes could see to save herself, even when her muscles painfully pricked and her knees refused to move straight. She grabbed onto a tree, forcing herself forward until she reached the cliff. Her eyes spotted a river ahead, which didn't seem too deep to offer even a little safety, but the sounds of approaching footsteps strained her body every second. Realizing how close her fate was, she was torn between the unknown and swift death.
Deciding not to wait for the best in the future, the people in the forest were chasing her not out of good intentions. Although she didn't understand the words shouted by the people, she was sure there was aggression in them, especially when she possibly killed one of the residents. This person could have been respectful, possibly with a family, and in their eyes, she could have been seen as a killer who replaced and killed. After all, when she used a stone to strike, it was already covered in blood, and the intense pain in her head and blood on her scalp were likely evidence that before this strange situation, she had fought with a rapist.
Perhaps that's why no one reacted to her screams, especially since the screams of that man elicited a quick response. Fearing the terrible fate that might await her if she stayed, she moved towards the edge with trembling knees. But her body seemed not to listen to her, ignoring her, but when she turned her head towards the source of the cracking branches, she saw the approach of lights. There was an expression of pure fear on her face, her eyes wide open and her lips tightly pressed together. An unpleasant churning sensation arose in her stomach, and she grabbed it, pressing her hands against it and staining the fabric with blood even more.
She quickly returned to the edge of the cliff, where the wind was making the waves mercilessly crash, and then turned back to the approaching crowd of people through the forest. Closing her eyes and pressing her eyelids tightly together, she took a small step back towards the cliff; on the next step, she felt the absence of ground, which made her muscles tense.
The sound of a snap made her quickly open her eyes and look down, and in a second, she felt a sharp pain in her ankle. A long, thin wooden arrow under her feet almost pierced her leg, cutting through skin and muscle, instantly drawing blood. The pain reflexively made her step back, causing her to fall from the cliff, not realizing until she felt the air rushing past her body. A loud cry of desperation erupted from her throat as she instinctively tried to grasp onto something with her hands, but it was all in vain, especially when her back hit the water swiftly.
She immediately closed her mouth, feeling the water entering her ears and nostrils. With her hands reaching for the light, moving them to avoid drowning, the water painfully stung her eyes. She thought things couldn't get any worse, but fate today continued to unpleasantly surprise her, plunging her into madness. She wanted to live, so ignoring the pain from the wounds on her scalp and ankle, she tried to swim, even when she felt there was nothing left to breathe.
She managed to lift her head out of the freshwater, already feeling the waves pushing her harder, but her ability to see was hindered by the water constantly hitting her face, and it was difficult to hear because of the water slamming her ears. Now she was in the hands of nature, hoping for mercy for the pain she had endured. But the sharp blow to her already painful wound showed that no one was going to show mercy, and the great fatigue didn't help her cope with the situation.
Despite her weakness, she weakly continued to fight the water, the waves hindering her vision and breathing. Her hand grabbed onto a large branch behind her, which further intensified her headache, but realizing that in this situation she had no one to trust except the lifeless object. Extending her arms forward and pressing them to her chest, she helplessly hit her cheek against the rough and prickly surface of the branch, but due to fatigue and significant blood loss, she was more concerned about how tiredness overwhelmed her, and her eyes began to betrayingly close.
Trying to cough and spit out the water, she felt her strength leaving her, and she wanted to cling to the branch. Quiet groans accompanied the closing of her eyelids, and her mind began to shut down, and the only thing she hoped for was that she would wake up later.
A gentle hand lay on her cheek, stroking the sensitive skin with its thumb. But the touch was so light and careful that it seemed unreal. Through closed eyelids, she saw a bright light but couldn't open her eyes to see who was touching her. The gentle voice was so quiet, it sounded like a whisper trying to soothe her, yet there was a hint of guilt in it.
—Get up, they're waiting for you…— She frowned, as the strange but gentle voice felt familiar, yet even in her foggy memories, she couldn't recall this person. Reaching out to grab the wrist of the one holding her cheeks to ask a few questions, she found nothing when her hand reached the face. The touch remained ghostly on her skin. Hearing a light shuffle, she felt irritation, even opening her lips to complain, but nothing came out. Placing her hands on her chest, she decided to surrender, simply allowing everything to unfold.
—I know this may be… unpleasant for you,— the voice said with each word sounding increasingly sorrowful, yet it made her realize that the words were understood. Whatever was said made her recall events leading up to this moment. Unaware of herself, her face easily yielded to the gentle touches.
—I would love to stay with you for just a second longer, but someone already demands your attention…— Words spoken caused her to clench her teeth, her thin fingers gripping the sheets. This greatly alarmed her, even though she didn't fully grasp the meaning. However, the sadness in the voice caused pain in her rapidly beating heart. There was something important in that voice, making her worry, but also feel embarrassed about not being able to see what was before her, likely responsible for the terrible situation.
—I'm very sorry, but I have to ask something of you…— A sour expression appeared on her face, feeling her lips press together, eliciting a slight chuckle from her interlocutor. But there was nothing joyful in the light laughter, and the following words only confirmed it.
—Please, make it so we never meet again.—
Tumblr media
This is my first fanfiction in two years, as well as my first fanfiction in this format and with this word count. Despite my efforts, I can't vouch for the quality, as I'm sure I've made a few mistakes unnoticed by myself.
Also, I'll mention that I planned for Apollo to speak in Ancient Greek, as the main character shouldn't understand him. However, I realized it would be cumbersome and boring for you.
533 notes · View notes
be-ready-when-i-say-go · 4 months ago
Note
Finding out Joe is lowkey into D&D 🤭
I'm answering this early because I love you and because this is now stuck in my head.
Roll For Initiative--Part 1
Joe’s managed to keep the lock down about his limited knowledge on Dungeons & Dragons. He won’t say he learned about it because of you.
It only takes one text message though for the truth to start to unravel. If slaying dragons and BBEGs isn’t the place to confess feelings, where is?
Joe Burrow x Black!Reader
Series Masterlist
Complete Masterlist
Tumblr media
______________________
Your phone shakes against the table. The pencil you've had poised in your hand, eraser end singling out your DM, Jeremiah, drops as you spy the contact name. Burrowed. It's a stupid joke. One that you established with Joe back in his OSU college days, about how he seemed burrowed in, focused and lasered in on proving his move from Ohio was a good one, that he was better than just a back up.
Joe hates that he loves the nickname. You don't use it often to his face, knowing that each time you do he'll roll his eyes, even if he does smile just a little. It's the soft one, where only part of his mouth lifts up high and his eyes soften just a little.
Another text shakes the device.
Burrowed: If you're free of course....the preview cuts off the rest of the message.
"This isn't over," you shoot to Jeremiah. Your college group of friends has reunited for the next 3 days because of a wedding. Though you've managed to stay local, the group of you has spread far and wide.
Jeremiah laughs, holding his hands up. "I wait with baited breath. That important?"
You unlock your phone to read the previous messages. The entire group knows you've been dancing on the edge, waiting for your mother to call you with the results of the latest biopsy, an ongoing saga on whether or not her thyroid is fine or not.
Burrowed: I know this invitation is a little late. But I'd love to catch up, get some dinner tonight or tomorrow.
Burrowed: If you're free of course. I hope your mom's test results come back benign. Let me know if there's anything I can do.
Though you weren't there at LSU for the roller coaster ride of Joe's career, the two of you bonded deeply in your OSU days and your shared Art History course. The class seemed easy, but the constant barrage of dates, artist, cultures proved to be a tough challenger. When Joe wound up sick, a bad case of food poisoning that left him down for a day and a half, he asked you for your notes for the class he missed on the day he returned to class. That's all it took before the two of you begin your friendship--your long winded explanation for your color coded hand written notes and how you'd be happy to type them up for him if he couldn't read your handwriting and slightly not perfectly cooked food.
"Just one second," you return to Jeremiah and the table. Joe's not your mother level of important, but after the particularly challenging season you know he's been a little too inside his own head. You snap a picture of your character sheet and the dice tower, fingers flying over the keyboard. Thank god for autocorrect, you think to yourself as you watch the words flip over time and time again.
Can't do tonight. But I'm free tomorrow. Want to do 7? Pho?
The text lifts, then settles. Delivered listed below the bubble and you set the phone back down. Joe stayed in his own circle and you stayed in yours for the most part. He invited you to games, to a few parties here and there. You guys exchanged numbers, as a part of a group project, and you attempted as best as you two could to take at least one class together each school year. The kind of friendship that felt like it would always dance on something more, but never fully committed to it.
You know that your job in this wedding is just to show up. Kimberly, the soon to be first wife of the group, chose Ohio as the location given all that's here, all the drunken nights, and tears, and joys. She met her fiance at the Denny's she worked on the side during her OSU days. So while you don't have wedding duties, you are doing what you can to help pick people up from the airport, grab last minute items and such when it comes up.
You could skip the dinner tomorrow if need be as you don't want to force Joe to socialize if he's not up for it.
"Now, back to this spell," you start, turning your phone up side down again. "I think given the fact that I am a cleric is a good enough substitute for the fucking silver needed."
Jeremiah laughs. "You said you wanted to play stricter with this one-shot."
"Not that fucking strict," you huff and then review your sheet again. You had to have something else to help get your friends out of this mess. You settle for your cantrip instead and it manages to do enough damage that you can take care of two kobolds threatening your barbarian.
Your phone shakes again, but you don't check it immediately. You're too enthralled with the throw of the dice, spewing witty one liners that you know in any other setting you'd never be able to come up on your own. In the end, your party's left haggard and bloody but with the estranged and hidden daughter of the Ice Queen returned to her people.
"Fuck you, Jeremiah," your party roars, high from the victory of the short campaign.
"Fuck that wizard too!" you laugh. He was a formidable opponent but particularly nasty about your deity of choice and for that, you cannot forgive the old man.
Jeremiah laughs, clapping all the same. "Proud of you guys."
Clean up is relatively short, a shuffling of dice back into bags and papers shuffled together. Your group shuffles out of your apartment with multiple round of hugs and thanks for you hosting the one-shot. Tomorrow and the day after will be a mad dash trying to get everything ready for the wedding on Saturday, but you're thankful that you were able to squeeze in just a little bit of time like this again.
You're especially thankful for the eight seater dining room table that you managed to snag off the curb too. You take the two bags of trash out--pizza boxes, cans of sodas, paper plates, and paper towels stuffed into the bags.
When you settle back into the apartment, flopping onto the couch, you read through the text messages left behind. There's a text message from your favorite clothing brand that you thought you unsubscribed from but apparently you hadn't, a text from Joe, but none from your mother.
Burrowed: I didn't take you as the type for a cleric. Assumed you'd like the chaos of a rogue better. Tomorrow at 7 works. Pho is perfect. See you then!
Your mouth drops. What the fuck did Joe know about D&D? He'd never mentioned it to you previously, even though you definitely mentioned your ventures into the tabletop game back in undergrad. You immediately tap on his contact, before tapping at the icon for a phone call.
"Everything okay?" Joe asks when he answers.
"What the fuck do you know about Dungeons and Dragons?" you return. There's no time for pleasantries or to even answer his own question.
"I know a little something about a lot of things," Joe laughs.
"No, no, you don't get to Joe Cool me and coyly answer. When did this happen?"
"Tell me first if you actually like playing a Cleric?"
"That was in homage to my first ever character, Zebela. I played as her great-great-great-great-great grandchild tonight."
"Uh, I forgot about Zebela. Dwarf right?"
"Yes," you hiss out. "Now when did you pick all this up?"
His laughter is deep and soft. "When you first talked about it, I had another friend of mine into it. I asked him some questions. Listened to you rant about it. Dunno. It sounds interesting. How'd the adventure tonight go?"
"You are blowing my mind, Joseph. You know about D&D." You laugh as you speak but recount to Joe about the perils, the tight wins. He hums and interjects with "ouch!" when you talk about the damage you took. He cheers when you talk about the damage you dealt.
"Sounds like a hell of a time," he returns by the time you finish.
"It was. Did you eat yet today?"
"Yeah, grabbed lunch with Tee and Ja'marr. I'm debating if I really want what was meal prepped or if I want to make a sausage biscuit, like you taught me."
You snort. "That's a struggle meal. You're not struggling anymore."
"I think if I eat any more fucking chicken I'm going to start laying eggs."
"Bawk, bawk," you tease. "Save me a dozen though. Eggs are getting expensive."
Joe snorts, the sound crackling over the receiver. "Will do."
"Have you ever thought about playing? D&D I mean?"
"Yeah, I've thought about it. O-line would absolutely never let me live it down, but I don't really know anyone to hosts it or how to help us set up and stuff."
"I could do it," you offer. Though Joe and you still kept pretty separate worlds, you'd be happy to help. You hadn't DM'd much yourself. You dabbled once and managed to do it well enough. The thing you'd have to work on is building a story that would keep most of the boys focused.
"Let's marinate on it and talk more tomorrow. DM'ing seems like a big ask on your part."
"We can marinate." There's a sizzle in the background, the sound of something hitting a hot pan. "You literally have a chef," you laugh at the sound.
"Fucking sue me. I wanted a biscuit! It's the off season now. I'm allowed to indulge just a little."
"By all means," you laugh, "indulge."
83 notes · View notes
probably-writing-x · 1 year ago
Text
All The Firsts (Part 2)
Summary: So, could you write something about the reader being in her first relationship with spider (hbh) and her being worried about how she’s new at this?
Warnings: Mentions of sex / sexual acts, cursing, hints at anxiety / overthinking, Missy being a villain (I’m so sorry it just fits the story okay?)
Word Count: 5.8k
Author’s Note: Thank you for the love on part one!! Part three is already in the works if y’all want it??
Tumblr media
You’d spent the whole weekend with Spencer after that. You cooked dinner together on Saturday night and bickered over when the pasta was done cooking. You watched his favourite movie and then made him watch yours. And on Sunday, you went to watch the sunrise over the water and then spent the rest of the day cuddled in bed. Spencer kissed you at every opportunity, like he was reminding you more and more that this was real. You still got nervous at the contact, still weren’t exactly sure if you were doing it right or if it felt as good for him as it did for you. But he seemed to know exactly what he was doing.
“I should really go back to mine,” You mumble, laying between his legs with your back pressed against his chest as he played video games.
He was propped up against the headboard, pausing the game when you speak.
“A few more hours won’t hurt,” He leans down to kiss your cheek.
“Yes, it will,” You laugh, “I’ve still not done my homework for tomorrow, and I need to be home at least some point this weekend.”
He grumbles and tightens his grip around you, “Homework can wait.”
You hum, tilting your head to peck his lips quickly, “I’ll see you in the morning.”
He groans, kissing you once more before releasing his grip on you.
Spencer gets up and walks you down the stairs, even standing at the door to watch you walk the few steps over to your house. He only closes the door when he sees you go inside.
If you thought about it briefly, this entire weekend felt like a fever dream. How had you gone from Friday to now? On Friday, you’d been preparing for your first date, with a guy you’d known for a week, your first experience of anything like this. And in the past two days, Spencer had shown you so much of what you felt like you’d been missing. Kissing you, holding you, making you feel like you were worthy of every piece of affection. Your heart seemed to backflip at the thought, the idea that this was reality.
“There she is!” It’s your Mum who speaks up as soon as you enter the house, “I’d have started to get worried if you were any further away than next door.”
You laugh, “Yeah, sorry, I thought I should come home at least once before the weekend’s over.”
“Oh don’t be silly, you’re young, you’re supposed to be out all the time,” She chuckles, “This is what we’re meant to be putting up with as parents.”
You’d always been close with your parents, mainly because they never had much to worry about. You got good grades, you were always home on time, you helped out around the house, you were never one to be out late partying or off somewhere they didn’t know. You were too much of a golden girl to be a worry for them. If anything, your Mum was a little relieved to see you doing something at least slightly out of character.
“So, Spencer?” She raises her brows at you, “Little Spec that you used to have sleepovers with, Spec that drives you to school every day. When did this happen?”
“Um,” You clear your throat, scratching at the back of your neck, “I don’t know, it’s new. I actually don’t know wh- I don’t know.”
“Oh I don’t understand you young kids these days,” She shakes her head, “Are you dating are you not dating? I’ll never understand it.”
“I should go and do my work before tomorrow,” You excuse yourself, making your way upstairs to your own room.
The curtains are open and so are Spencer’s across the way. He’s sat back on his bed still playing the same game he’d been playing before you left, fully engrossed in the screen.
Do your work!!
You send the text and set your phone down onto your desk, glancing through the window once more to see him smile down at the words on his screen. He looks up to you through the window then and his lips curl into an even brighter smile. You feel your heart flip once more.
———
The following morning, Spencer is waiting in the car like he always is for you. You hurry down and get into the passenger seat, dropping your bag onto the back seats,
“Good morning, doll,” He smiles when he sees you, leaning over to kiss you quickly, “Ready to go?”
“Yeah, ready,” You nod, plugging your phone into the aux.
You’d done this same journey a million times with Spencer. And yet something felt so different about being sat next to him now. He wasn’t just the boy you’d grown up with now, he was your first kiss, your first date, the first time you’d stayed over at a guys house, the first boy you were talking to your Mum about. He was filling in so many firsts.
In that moment, however, you have the realisation that none of those were yet to be firsts for him. He’d had plenty of kisses in his time, had more than enough dates, had a number of girls stay over at his house, his Mum had even met Missy. He’d done all of those things before he’d done them with you. And that was okay. You couldn’t exactly be annoyed at him for experiencing those things before you. What mattered that it was you now. Right? But what if those other girls had been better than you? What if they’d kissed better or been prettier or been more confident or…
“Where’s that head gone?” Spencer speaks over your overthinking, “Because if you’re about to start talking to me about your math homework I’m pulling the car over.”
“No, no, I’m just-“ You half-laugh, looking over to him, “Nothing.”
He smiles, keeping his eyes focused on the road as he moves his hand from the gearstick to instead rest on your thigh, his thumb smoothing over the bare skin below the cut-off of your shorts.
Your skin tingles beneath his touch, seemingly another first for you. But how many girls had sat in this seat? How many girls had he made that same move with? You swallow the lump in your throat and try to ignore it.
———
Spencer parks up in his usual spot and you both get out of the car, him handing you your bag as you do.
“Okay, I’ll see you at the end of the day,” You nod, slinging your bag over your shoulder.
“What are you talking about?” He laughs, reaching for your hand and interlocking your fingers, “Come on, come say hi to the guys, at least stay with us until first period.”
“I-“ You frown, “I never see you much in school.”
He laughs again, turning around to face you, “Got somewhere better to be, (Y/l/n)?”
“I- no,” You smile, following alongside him as he walks you over to the wall where a group of the boys were sat.
You didn’t recognise any of them, apart from Ant. The only other two you’d known were Dusty and Malakai but both of them had left now. Ant is sat with another girl, Harper, and she smiles when she sees you.
“Morning boys,” Spider says, “You all know (Y/n), right?”
“Yeah how’s it going (Y/n)? You’re never with us in the morning,” Ant points out, smiling so you knew he didn’t mean it rudely.
“Yeah Ant’s brain will probably combust if he’s with more than one girl at once, right buddy?” Spencer hits his leg and takes a seat on the wall opposite them.
This spot used to be an old bike park but too many kids got their wheels slashed so Woodsy gave up on the idea of having one. Now, it was just three walls all perpendicular to each other, with the remains of metal railings in the centre. You hop up onto the spot beside Spencer and he leans one of his arms around the back of you - not necessarily around you, just resting there as if he wanted to reassure you.
“How come you weren’t out on Friday Spider?” One of the guys asks him.
“I…” Spider glances at you and then back to the group, “Something came up.”
Harper looks at you across the way and smiles. She must be able to tell you’re nervous. You’re not sure if you should speak or let the others do the talking. Should you be making it more obvious that something was going on with Spencer? Were they all going to question him on it as soon as you left?
“Well, you should’ve been there.”
“Yeah, man, you missed a good party.”
They all go into explaining something that had happened at the party and you try to pick up on names you might recognise. Someone mentions Missy and you feel your chest tighten, a strange reaction, you think.
“Hey (Y/n), I think we have first period together,” Harper mentions, “Maths right? Do you want to walk over?”
“Yeah, yeah sure,” You nod, reaching for your bag.
You hop down from the wall and watch as Harper turns to kiss Ant before she leaves. Oh god. Should you do the same to Spencer. You turn around and look at him and he smiles.
“I’ll see you at lunch?”
“Um, yeah, okay,” You nod, “See you.”
He didn’t make a move to kiss you. But, then again, neither did you. Maybe you should have done. Will his friends think you were weird if you didn’t?
“Sorry, thought you might just want to get away from that boy talk for a while,” Harper leans in to say to you quietly as you’re both walking away, “You and Spencer are a thing then?”
“Oh, um,” You shrug, “Yeah, I guess so, it’s new so I don’t know.”
“You guys have been friends for like ever though right?” She points out, “He mentions you all the time.”
“He does?”
“Oh yeah,” Harper laughs, “Ant was telling me the other week the boys ask for lifts off Spider all the time and he always refuses. They call you his ‘golden girl’. I’m honestly surprised it took him this long to make a move.”
You feel the heat rise in your cheeks, suppressing a smile that you’d save for when you mentioned this to Spider later, “Yeah, I didn’t think anything would ever happen with us. But I’m glad it has.”
You walk through to class with her and go to sit with your friends on the table near the front. They ask you about your weekend and oddly enough you can’t bring yourself to mention anything about Spencer. What would you say? You knew a few of them silently judged him and that entire group for everything. They were so different to you guys. They were loud and outgoing and disruptive. And you guys got your work in on time and spoke about plans for after school or what the latest book you were reading was. They were… just different. And so you liked the idea of keeping the two things separate for a while. At least whilst you were still figuring out what exactly was going on with you and Spencer. You didn’t want to ask for fear of the answer not being what you desired.
———
By the middle of the day, you’re leaving your class for lunch. Your few friends walk out with you and go to turn down the corridor towards your lockers but, as you step out of the room, you’re stopped by someone else.
“Last out of class, I shouldn’t be surprised,” Spencer comments as his hand stops your wrist in motion, “Ready to go to lunch?”
The girls turn around and look at you with a frown, looking between you and him and then down to where his hand still held you.
“Um, I’ll catch up with you guys later,” You smile to them, turning around to Spencer before you can catch sight of their disapproving faces.
“I don’t think you’ve ever introduced me to your friends,” Spencer points out, “Do they know about me?”
“Everyone knows about you,” You laugh, “You’re not exactly known for being incognito around school. In fact, I’m pretty sure you hit one of them with a cake once when you started that food fight after the elections.”
He grimaces, “Yeah, might have to apologise for that one if I want to get in their good books.”
You like the idea of him wanting to impress your friends, the idea that he’d want them to like him. It makes you feel like there is some sort of permanence to this. Some sort of longevity that stretched beyond one perfect weekend.
“Here, you can put your stuff in my locker,” He mentions, taking your books from your arms, “I won’t let you forget it.”
Spencer closes the locker and then continues his walk beside you, his hand brushing yours every so often until his fingers lace with your own. Every little contact from him seemed like a gentle reminder that you really weren’t dreaming this. This was really happening.
You both wait in line to get your food and he places a hand on your back to let you go ahead of him. You still tingle under the touch. He asks you how your days been and tells you he’s thought of another film you need to watch. You ask him if he listened to the song you’d sent him last night and he said he’d already added it to his playlist.
He points out a table over in the corner and the two of you go over, sitting opposite each other.
“So this is technically our first meal out together,” You point out, pushing the rice around your plate, “You’re practically taking me out for dinner.”
“I always thought it would be more romantic than this,” Spider laughs, his leg brushing yours under the table.
“So you’ve thought about it.”
“Well I mean I-“
“There you are!”
Within moments, you’re interrupted by Spider’s friends clambering around the table. Ant sits down next to you and smiles, throwing down a wrapped sandwich and a bag of chips and a can of soda.
“Don’t mind if we join you, do you?” One of the boys sits beside Spider and nudges his arm.
“Um,” Spencer clears his throat, “Course not.”
He looks over to you but you’re already distracted by the chorus of conversation that starts up beside you.
Was this normal? The new normal? If you wanted to see Spencer did you have to spend all this time with his friends too? They seemed okay. But they were talking about a game you didn’t know, and another one of them brought up a school trip that was happening tomorrow. They all seem to speak over each other and yet all manage to understand. You eat your food, not really adding much to the conversation but smiling and nodding so that you at least looked like you were engaged. You wanted to be back with your friends in that moment - they’d be talking to you about a new film that they wanted to see, or a new album that was coming out and you’d agree and have something to actually input into the conversation. You could actually be part of the chorus. But right now you felt like a bystander.
———
Spencer drives you home, of course, and this time he comes round to your house instead of you parting ways at the car.
“I’m back Mum!” You call out as you step inside, tossing your keys into the bowl near the front door.
“Oh hello darling!” She beams when she sees you, “And Spencer! To what do we owe the pleasure?”
“I heard you were making burgers, I’m just here for the burgers,” He grins, “It’s good to see you.”
“Im sure you get taller every time I see you, and you’re only over the way,” She smiles up at him, “Well you’re more than welcome to stay for dinner, as long as you help me open the pickles. I was going to wait for Dad to get home but now you’re here you can try.”
“Of course,” Spencer smiles, disappearing into the kitchen.
“I knew it would happen eventually,” Your Mum turns to you with a smile on her face, one that reminded you of your own, “I knew it!”
You roll your eyes, “Oh stop it Mum. It’s still new, we’re just… seeing how it goes.”
“Got them!” Spencer steps back out into the hallway, “I left the jar on the counter.”
“Oh thank you darling,” Your Mum smiles, “Dinner will be ready in about an hour.”
“Should we…?” Spencer looks at you.
“Yeah let’s go,” You go up the stairs and he follows behind you up into your bedroom.
It was a bedroom of magnolia walls, one of which was covered in displayed vinyl covers, a vinyl player on a table in the corner beside your desk. Your bed was against the same wall as the window and Spencer sits down onto the edge of it as you set your bag down and check your appearance in the mirror above your vanity.
“It feels weird to do the whole ‘meeting the parents thing’ when I already know her,” Spencer mentions, flicking through the pages of the book you’d left on your bed, “Less nerve wracking.”
“Is it normally worse than that?” You ask, “Because that still seemed pretty uncomfortable."
"What do you mean? She loves me!"
"I dont know I just-" You shake your head, "I don't know what to say when people ask me about us. Harper asked about it earlier and I just don't know what I'm supposed to say."
"Well, there’s nothing you’re supposed to say,” He shrugs, “It’s up to you.”
“I think it’s up to you too,” You point out, stepping towards him.
When you’re close enough, he reaches his hands out to draw you in between his legs, looking up at you as you stand there, “Just tell them we’re seeing each other. That’s enough to shut them up.”
“Are we? I mean… are we seeing each other?” Your cheeks are heating up again.
Spencer squints at you, “Yeah I think I can see you.”
You hit at his chest, “You know what I mean.”
He hums and moves his hands around to the back of your thighs, guiding you onto his lap, your thighs straddling either side of his, “Yeah, I think we are,” He mumbles close to your lips, planting a kiss there.
You smile against his touch, your arms wrapping around his neck. He holds his hands on your waist, deepening the kiss. You still weren’t sure what you were supposed to do, but you let him take the lead. You just let instinct take over. Spencer moves one hand to your back as if he wants to draw you impossibly closer to him. He smiles against your lips and shifts just enough to lift you up, guiding you down onto the mattress. Your head drops down to the pillow, hair splaying behind you. He’s hovering over you, hand gripping your hip as yours grip his shoulders, him dipping down to kiss you again. There’s contact and friction and the unfamiliar feeling of his weight on top of you. And something in your brain seems to ignite in that moment.
“Spencer,” You whisper, feeling your heartbeat pound against your chest, averting your eyes away from his gaze, “I don’t want to- I don’t-“
He stops in his movements, his hand still on your waist, looking down at you until your eyes meet his, “(Y/n), I didn’t- you know that’s okay, right?”
He shifts his weight until he drops down to the mattress beside you, leaning up onto his elbow so that he doesn’t lose your eyes.
“We don’t have to do anything,” He assures you, “I’m not in any rush.”
You look at him for a second and take a deep breath, “But I know you’ve… you know, you’ve done all of that before. Isn’t it weird for you if I don’t want to do any of that yet?”
He shakes his head instantly, “Absolutely not.”
There’s a tightness in your chest and for some reason, the longer he looks at you the more you feel like you’re going to cry under his focus. You can feel your bottom lip threatening to tremble.
“(Y/n) you’ve not done this before. You’re not supposed to know what to do or how to act or what to say - it’s okay to figure all of that out. I just want you to feel like you can tell me when things aren’t what you want, okay?” He holds your hand in his, “And if you ever feel like you can’t tell me, that’s when we’ve got a problem we need to fix.”
You smile and nod at him, not sure of any words that fit the moment, not sure of any words that you could get out without your voice breaking.
“Okay, can I kiss you now?” He smiles at you, leaning in and pausing just inches from your lips.
When you nod, he kisses you softly with a smile on his face. You feel your heart skip the same way it had done after your first kiss.
———
Your Mum was surprisingly relaxed about you and Spencer being together. She didn’t even think twice about saying he should stay the night. Maybe she was just happy to see you happy. Or maybe her old dreams for you were finally becoming a reality and she just wanted to hold onto it. You eat dinner with your parents and then watch a film with them downstairs before Spencer’s eyes start to slowly lose their energy and you tell your parents you should probably go to bed. He used a spare toothbrush and waited for you in the bathroom whilst you got unready, he sat on the toilet and read the ingredients of your skincare - stumbling over the complex spellings. He followed you out and back into your bedroom, closing the door behind him gently.
“Okay, full transparency, I normally sleep naked,” He raises his hands as if he’s surrendering the information.
You laugh, “Well, thanks for telling me.”
“But I can sacrifice that freedom for tonight and at least wear boxers,” He nods, pulling off his t-shirt and hanging it over your desk chair.
He’s toned and his muscles seem even more so defined in the dim light. His shoulders are broad and seem to contort so intensely that it makes the soft features of his face look almost misplaced on him.
“Are you staring at me, (Y/n)?” He grins, stepping towards you.
“Just-“ You swallow the lump in your throat, “Looking.”
“Looking?” He cocks a brow, wrapping his arms around your waist as soon as you’re within reach.
He buries his face into your neck, planting a soft kiss into the crook before tightening his arms and lifting you from the ground. You let out an involuntary squeal and wrap your arms around him as he carries you over to the bed, planting you down on the side closest to the wall before dropping down onto the mattress beside you. His arm is already outstretched, waiting for you to tuck in against his chest. You lay there and feel his heart under your head, swirling patterns with the tip of your finger around the bare skin of his torso.
“So I wanted to ask you something,” You take a breath, “How does this all work now? Like… if we’re… whatever we are… how does it work at school?”
“Do you mean with lunch? I’m sorry they all came over and sat with us, it’s just a force of habit and they probably didn’t think anything of it but-“
“No, it’s okay,” You say softly, looking down at a crease in the sheets on your bed, “I just mean in general - lunch, classes, before school - if we’re… i mean, should i be with you the whole time?”
“Do you not want to be?” He chuckles, “Because if I’m keeping you from-“
You lean up onto your elbow and roll your eyes, “That’s not what I meant!”
He laughs again, brushing your hair back over your shoulder, “There’s no rule book, (Y/n). I want to see you as much as I can but that doesn’t mean you should be worried about having to spend all this time with my friends too.”
“I know but like… Harper’s with you guys,” You shrug, your index finger drawing circles on his chest, “Would they think it’s weird if I’m not with you?”
He leans up just enough to press a kiss to your forehead, dropping back down onto the pillow before he says, “They can think whatever they want.”
He tightens his arm around you and pulls you back into him, wrapping both of his arms around your body in a tight embrace.
“We should get some sleep,” You mumble into him, arm draped over his torso.
It was strange to you how quickly you settled into contact with Spencer. You’d never done anything like this. And yet when he held you, when he touched you, it felt like it was just natural. It wasn’t as scary as you thought it would all be. Sure, some parts of it still were. But you weren’t as scared as before.
———
The following morning, Spencer leaves early to go and pack a bag. There was a school trip this week - in these cabins in the woods, surrounding a vast lake. All of your year group were going and more often than not it was an opportunity to hide drink and add to the complex web of gossip that already existed. You were almost packed anyway, putting the last couple of bits in, a book for when you got bored, a notebook and a few pens, an extra outfit just in case.
He texts you to make sure he’s not forgetting anything and then you go downstairs to meet him. He drives with his hand on your leg, singing along to the throwback playlist you’d queued. He pulls into his parking space and the bus is already waiting as students file on. His friends are still hanging around outside, yelling at him to come over when they see him get out of the car.
“I think I’m going to meet my friends on the bus,” You mention as you’re walking over, feeling a little nervousness in your voice, “Is that okay?”
Spencer looks at you and smiles, “Of course it is.”
He glances at his friends momentarily and then leans in to kiss you softly - it was quick but he didn’t rush, squeezing your hand before he heads over towards the boys. One of them swings his arm over Spencer’s shoulders, saying something incoherent before glancing over at you and grinning. You make your way onto the bus and go to sit in the few seats your friends were already occupying. They ask you if the Spencer White had seriously just kissed you outside and then complain at you for not telling them sooner. They weren’t as judgy as you’d expected. More surprised. They want to know how it happened, when it happened, was he a good kisser?
Spencer and his friends all pile into the bus and stumble over each other to get to their seats. They’re loud and take up space and your friends seem to exchange a glance between each other that they’re almost hiding from you. Like they want to complain but figure you’re not the one to complain to.
Spencer sits in the seat behind you and your friend, Ant sitting in one of the seats opposite as the other boys fill in the space. Missy and Sasha walk on, taking the row behind Spencer. You realise this is the first time you’d properly seen her since you and Spencer had got together. You hadn’t thought about it enough, clearly. But when you see her sit down you feel your stomach turn a little. She’d done all of this before. With Spider. Had he done all of the same things with her? Had he taken her to the same spot to swim? Had he fallen asleep watching a film with her? Had he kissed her the same way? She might’ve been better than you were, too. She was more experienced. She knew more of what to do, probably more confident in doing it too.
“So, our boy Spider’s in for a fun trip,” Ant wiggles his brows at his friend, “Should we be expecting a pregnancy by the end of the week?”
“Fuck off Ant,” Spencer returns quickly, and it’s as if you can feel his eyes burning into the back of your head.
“Come on, I’d be a good uncle!” Ant defends.
You glance over your shoulder and see Spencer laughing at him, a bright smile on his face. He turns over to you and rolls his eyes, his smile not faltering. You feel the heat in your cheeks again.
“Spider with a kid?” Missy laughs outwardly, “He’d give up after a few months, might not even make it to the birth.”
“Yeah I think Spider could be used as an example of why contraception is a good thing,” Sasha adds.
You turn around a little, like you want to tune into the conversation. They thought so little of him.
“I wouldn’t speak so soon, our boy’s married off now,” Ant raises his hands and he looks at you with a smile like he is reminding you he means well.
Harper hits at his arm as she sits down as if hoping it would take back what he just said. She looks at you and shakes her head.
“Married off? To who?” Missy persists.
“(Y/n).”
One of the boys says it but you don’t know which one. You feel your stomach churn again and that strange sort of numbness in your body where you wish you could just disappear into the seat beneath you. You didn’t like being the centre of attention like this. And it seemed to be a new common occurrence now that you were with Spencer.
“(Y/n)?” Missy doesn’t laugh but she might as well do, like it’s the most surprising news she’s heard, “You must be joking.”
Nobody says anything at first. And you feel the urge to get up and pretend this had nothing to do with you. You could just go back to being invisible, to existing away from the conversations of these people. To no longer be a topic of their discussion.
“Why would that be a joke?”
Even when you say the words you’re convinced they haven’t come from you. Surely not. You wouldn’t say anything. You would just sit there and not say anything. But you had done. And now even more eyes seemed to be on you.
You turn around and Missy is looking at you directly. Her arms are folded, her head cocked to the side, her eyebrows raised just slightly as if she’s analysing you.
“You’re smart, right?” She shrugs, “Shouldn’t take you long to figure it out.”
You don’t say anything more, turning back to the front of the bus. Your friends look at you but dont say anything and you feel Spencer move behind you as if he’s going to say something. But he doesn’t. He sinks back into this seat and the boys carry on a conversation like nothing has happened.
———
You’re in assigned rooms for the trip. And it’s just your luck, isn’t it? You, Harper, Amerie and Missy.
“Well, this looks cosy,” Amerie says as the four of you step into the room.
It’s a typical cabin bedroom, walls of wooden slats and a roof just the same. A wooden floor decorated with an aged carpet rug that was fraying at either end. There’s a window on the far side, a single pane that looks like it could be made of plastic. It looks out over to the water, seemingly a redeemable feature of the setting. There are two bunk beds, one either side of the room, either side of the window. The mattresses are thin, the pillows even thinner, blankets folded in a square on the ends of the bed beside a rolled up towel.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding,” Missy grumbles, dropping her bag down onto one of the bed, “This can’t get any worse.”
“Yeah, it can’t,” You mumble, sitting down on the opposite mattress.
Missy looks over at you as she sits down, taking a deep breath.
“Missy, don’t start something,” Harper says quickly, glancing at you with a sympathetic furrow between her brows.
“I just-“ Missy raises her hands as if gesturing that she came in peace, “I want to know what Spider’s told you. I mean, I dated that guy. I know what he’s like. What’s changed that he’s suddenly got to you?”
“Got to me?” You frown, “What do you mean?”
“He spoke about you a lot and when i asked him about it he said you two were just friends or whatever,” She shrugs, “Like, he told you he could never imagine seeing you like that.”
“Missy,” Harper’s voice is more of a warning tone now, like she can see exactly where this is going and what’s to end up ahead of it.
“Im just saying, he used to tell me he felt sorry for you - so is that what this is? This is just him feeling really, really sorry for you?”
You feel a lump form in your throat and you can’t figure out the right way to respond. What could you say? What did she want you to say?
Before you can say anything else, there’s a knock at the door. Amerie goes over to open it, mumbling something about it being a relief that something would break the tension.
“Fucking terrible timing Spider,” She winces, stepping aside at the doorway as if opening up the room.
You look over and he’s stood there. His hair is flopping on either side of his forehead, the smile on his face faltering at the sight. You and Missy sat opposite each other, your mouth empty of any words and your eyes brimming just enough with tears that hadn’t fallen. That lump still in your throat making it feel like it was impossible to breathe.
“(Y/n)?” He frowns, glancing between the girls as if he’s hoping at least one of them will give him an answer, “What’s happened?”
384 notes · View notes
emioliravioli · 3 months ago
Text
I LOVE BURGERS
BEING OBNOXIOUSLY AMERICAN BUT IDC
A GOOD CHEESEBURGER IS FUEL FOR THE SOUL AND I WILL STAND BY THAT FACT
9 notes · View notes
the-physicality · 8 months ago
Text
TIL that you can go on wnba.com box scores and click linked stats [like field goals made] and watch just one player's highlights from a game over and over
1 note · View note
Text
Lil Office Romance p.3
Terry Richmond X Black Fem OC  (Troi)
No warnings: Light heart fluff. A little flirty, trying a different POV 
Troi
"I don't know which one to wear Celeste!" I whined as I held up the two wrap dress into the FaceTime camera
"Now T just go either the black one it's safe and gotta little cleavage for your mouse to take a peak at" I knew Celeste could help but tease after I let her in on the inside joke that Terry started "and a glossy red lip he'll probably need to be in a straight jacket to not devour you"
At the thought of Terry wanted to put his mouth anywhere near me. I could help but let out a deep sigh.
"Alright miss love struck focus I know you wanna jump his bones to but baby steps" Celeste broke me out of my dirty thoughts about Terry's plump lips.
"I can't help it, I'm trying not to psych myself out. It's just he actually interested in me." I couldn't help but gush sitting at her vanity watching Celeste go through her skincare routine.
"Aht aht none of that doubting how wonderful you are! Of course he's interested in your cute self" it's conversation like these that reassure me step 1 in my Troi 2.0 list was the perfect step " ooopp bestie I gotta go my sneaky link just sent the bat signal. I'm going to get my guts rearranged " I couldn't help but laugh her crazy self.
"Have fun getting bent like a pretzel CeCe" I waved bye in a fit of giggles.
I couldn't let all my habits die hard, by 8:30pm I was rubbing my feet together on my couch waiting for my cookie browning concoction in the over for tomorrow.
I almost missed my phone vibrating, no one calls me this late. My parent were probably always in bed by 7:30pm and my Brother stationed over seas in the Navy. I couldn't help but grab my phone hurriedly not hoping for the worst. I answer without even looking and was greeted by Terry grinning at me excitedly.
"My bad Troi I meant for this to be voice call but my fat fingers slipped" my eyes wide at his deep voice flooding my ears. Somehow he didn't look sorry especially with his with the mischievous smirk across his face. "But now I know how your hair is always so perfect everyday"
My eyes slipped to my reflection in the small corner window. I couldn't help but drop my phone
This nigga just saw me in fucking Velcro curlers. I've never moved my fingers so fast to shut off my camera.
"nope nope ! Before I die right here please change the subject" tears welled up in my eyes from the cringe
"Why change the subject? Pretty girl you look straight out a movie set, like 1950s house wife" my mouth dropped at his pretty girl comment "Skin all glowing all you need is an apron. I'd - someone would love to come home to that view. Let me see you again"
I studied his face in the FaceTime window. Nothing about his expression said he was teasing it was something different something I only saw on people faces in the movies maybe lust?He actually wanted to see me.
"Come on Pretty girl let me see, please" his voice was a few octaves lower. I couldn't help but respond to his plea and turn the camera back on. "There she is. I wanted to call and ask your opinion on the BBQ I just made for our lunch tomorrow"
Still slightly uncomfortable at my rolled up hair being on display. I tucked my bottom lip in "I'll eat whatever you bring. I'm not picky"
"Pshhh, Seafood salad and chocolate chip cookies from scratch, you cook like a 1950s housewife too. I gotta bring my A game for you Wifey" his eye dashed mischievously across the screen at his last  words.
My mouth responded faster than my brain " grilling on a Monday night at 8:30 is real hubby materials to me" I couldn't even believe myself at flirty back with him.
"Well look at that wifey and hubby aren't we a pair" Terry smirk was a full grin showing of her perfect rows of teeth and I couldn't help but notice his tongue peaking out to moisten his full bottom lip.
The beeping of my oven broke me out of my trance. "Oh the treats!" I carried my phone into my kitchen propping my phone up on to the counter out of habit. " Terry they came out better than I thought! " showing off the treats Nara smith style.
"They do look good pretty girl, I need about three -four of them things for tomorrow" I couldn't help but giggle at his greedy behavior.
"Big back Big back" I sung out while turning around to place the warm tray on to the counter opposite of my phone. I could hear Terry let out a groan, similar to when he bit into a cookie during our lunch outing. "Terry you're so silly you haven't even tasted them yet " I said turning around after placing the treats on a wire rack.
Terry was now seated on a black couch that contrasted nicely with his beautiful honeyed tan skin tone. He cleared his throat " I could envision that treat in my mouth" he abruptly asked me "What sport did you play to get those shorts?"
Pondering his question, it finally dawned on m3 he could see my ratty old track shorts that had my high school name running across the butt. They barely covered my cheeks but were my favorite shorts to run around the house in.
"I can't stop embarrassing myself on this call, first the rollers now my ratty old track shorts" my face heated up.
"Don't be embarrassed." Terry rose up from his couch propping his phone up to show of his gray sweat shorts with what looks like a highschool logo in the corner "we match lazing around the house in old clothes."
Terry could probably talk me into walking over a cliff. I covered my heated face giggling at him flexing his arms and legs like a body builder. On a whim I snap at FaceTime photo of him in full Mr. Universe pose.
"Oh nah wifey, you get a photo of me and I get a full out photo of you for my personal record too. " Terry picked up the phone referencing our earlier conversation.
"Okay Hubby, one picture so that we're even" I backed up from the camera
"Nah Wifey I need a pose, give me some pin up, you got Mr.Universe outta me." Terry hyped me up.
His encouragement gave me some boldness as I popped my butt out and blew a kiss. The camera flashed 2 times "hey we agreed on one Terry! " I couldn't help but pouting moving closer to the camera And it flashed on more time "Terry!"
" you gotta forgive me, the second was an accident. But the 3rd on I had to document you with an attitude I didn't even know it was possible, you're too sweet" he pleaded his sleep eyes a little bit heavy as he blinked slowly at me through the camera and with his head reclined on the back of his couch with his arm folded behind his head. "I'll let it go I don't know if I believe you but I'm gonna let it go this time". I could help but smile. This might be the best Monday ever
61 notes · View notes
evansdmitri · 4 months ago
Text
Tumblr media
Midnight Craving
Xavier x You
Fluff
Summary: when your late-night scrolling ends up making your stomach growl.
My Masterlist
"Xavi."
Your eyes were still glued to your phone, scrolling through Moments to see your friends' and the people you followed's posts. A certain post about hot pot made your tummy growl.
You glanced at Xavi, who had dozed off while cuddling you on the armchair.
Your eyes trailed back to your phone. Hot pot. Warm. Savoury. Meat. Spicy. Broth.
"Xavi." You tried once again.
Xavi only responded by mumbling in his sleep.
It was 11 p.m.—too late to find a hot pot place. But—okay, you decided to keep scrolling through Moments.
This time, it was a post about wontons with chilli oil. You gulped. The soft wontons, the thickness of the seasoning…
"Xavi." You called him louder. He was still fast asleep. You pinched his nose. It took a while for him to wake up from the lack of oxygen.
"Hm?" Finally, his blue eyes opened.
You grinned and showed him the post. "Wontons with chilli oil," you said, hoping he would understand your intention.
"Okay, give me a sec."
As you waited for his sleepiness to completely fade, you kept scrolling through Moments. Another food post—this time, pho. The warm beef broth, the noodles. You gulped.
"Forget the wontons. I want pho."
"Hmm." He replied by snuggling his face into your neck.
"Don't sleep again!" You scolded him.
"Too comfy," he murmured, his hands tightening around your tummy.
"But the pho!"
"Okay, okay. I'm waking up." This time, Xavi sat up.
You kept scrolling. A mukbang video about sushi. Your mouth watered. Xavi glanced at your phone screen.
"Sushi?" he asked.
You stared at him and grinned, nodding.
He laughed. "Are you sure you won’t change your mind again?"
You pouted and threw your phone onto the armchair—sulking. Xavi chuckled, unsurprised by your easily swayed appetite.
His hands pulled you closer, and he kissed your shoulder. "How about chicken yakitori?"
"No. Sushi." You insisted.
"Imagine the sweetness, the char, and the caramel glaze from the charcoal." He knew he had managed to change your mood.
You gulped. "Okay, yakitori it is."
His laughter filled the room. You smacked his arm in mock sulkiness—but you still couldn’t help but laugh with him.
"So, it started with hot pot, then wontons, then pho and sushi. But in the end, we're going to eat yakitori?"
You pouted and nodded.
He untangled your limbs and stood up. "Come on, Princess, let's find your yakitori."
Your face lit up as you headed to the coat rack—when suddenly, lightning flashed across the night sky, followed by heavy rain.
You glanced at the window dejectedly. "I guess we're staying home for the night."
In the end, both of you snuggled under the heavy duvet, limbs tangled together, listening to the sound of the rain and enjoying the cold weather.
47 notes · View notes
tb-png · 5 months ago
Text
LATE NIGHT CUTE KEVIN HCS BC I STRONGLY BELIEVE HE DESERVED BETTER BY THE WRITERS!!!
Sam remembers that kevin yapped about playing cello when dean and him were at a pawn shop. Dean buys this cello and brings it back to the kid (somehow fitting it in the backseat of the impala) as a gift for working hard. Theyre so proud of themselves, and kevin doesnt have the heart to tell them the cello is so deeply fucked and damaged and you cant get a clean sound. he appreciates nonetheless as he tries to tune it and practices his chords.
Sam admits to never having solved a rubix cube actually (im projecting). One day kevin is curled up in a comfy leather seat in the bunker with a blanket, sick from trying to translate, and he carefully shows sam how to solve it. While he does that, kevin recounts to Sam his childhood and about the clubs he used to go to and how him and his friends learned how to solve rubix cubes at some summer bootcamp for programing
Kevin is especially homesick one day in the bunker, but he wouldn’t admit to that. Dean notices because kevin is acting the same way sam did as a teen when he missed staying at bobbys. Dean takes it upon himself to google recipes from (insert whatever ethnicity kevin is) and even hits up an asian grocery store to try to make it. He’s moderately successful, but for kevin it’s the best food hed had in ages.
Kevin convinces the brothers to buy buldak one time so they can have it together (not telling them about how spicy it actually is) just to torture and get back at them for his grievances. He laughs loudly at their misery bc hes hidden the milk. They agree to let him get takeout from the nearby pho or chinese place once in a while.
I wish he had a stronger relationship with the brothers :( writers ill never forgive you.
54 notes · View notes
polo-drone-070 · 6 months ago
Text
The Bonds We Build
The year’s end was drawing near, and Maximus found himself in his room, preparing greeting cards.
It had been three months since he joined Gold, but it already felt like a fundamental part of his life. So many good memories, so many connections forged. Each moment with his team had shaped him, deepened his sense of purpose and belonging.
Tumblr media
He sat at his desk, carefully arranging the cards. Each one carried a personal touch, a memory shared with a brother.
Maximus glanced at the roster, his gaze lingering on the first line: 001, Percival/Ezan (@polo-drone-001), his master and so much more. For him, Maximus included a photo of himself serving coffee, a subtle nod to their bond. With some bros, there were so many moments shared he had to just evoke one memory…like with Herc (@goldenherc9), for whom he recalled Stigandr demonstrating his twin berserk spirit Bödvar the power of discipline.
For Ares (@goldengod-ares10), his thoughts turned to a rough session with Neil, arousal peaking. A late-night discussion right after becoming 070 stood out for Brody (@brodygold).
He kept working down the list, each name evoking vivid memories. For Daniel(@danielgold-16) a simple note evoking a missing hand. Exchanging hypno file tips with Mark (@markgold-18). And for Hades (@hades-gold19), the warm memory of him being the first to welcome him to the Team when he was still Henry.
Further down, Max (@little-pup-max) reminded him of a needed video tutorial, while Leon’s (@leon-gold) hot pic brought a brief but undeniable blush to his face. He noted a discussion about AI with Elliot (@polo-drone-038), the motivational energy from Xavier’s (@polo-drone-039) playlists, and an invitation from Loki (@jordan-gold-40) that left a lasting impression.
Tumblr media
Grant’s (@grant-gold43) military buzzcut reminded him of planned RP with him, while for 108 (@heavyrubberboy97), a rubber picture seemed the perfect tribute. A joint programming session for 149 (@polo-drone-149) came to mind, followed by the thrill of  049 (@polo-drone-049) bringing a recruit, and the memory of converting 050 (@polo-drone-050) on Discord.
Chill moments in vocal chats with Trevor (@polo-drone-125) surfaced, along with a pang of regret for not making more of Ganymede’s (@michaelgold53) perfect physique. For Trey (@hero21us), he mentioned the Gold influence, while a cheerleader costume tryout stood out for Riley (@rileygold60), and the installation of a hypnotic trigger for his mentee Duncan (@polo-drone-061) brought a small, satisfied smile.
To Chevy (@chevy-gold), he offered gratitude for helping him through a restless night. A transformation by Cratos for Hunter (@polo-rone-066). Brief but heartfelt words followed for others: “drone rabbit hole” for Hans (@hansgold-69), “gold soak” for Phoenix (@polo-drone-071), and “drone pride” for 073 (@polo-drone-073), who had been such a willing guinea pig.
He fondly remember a perfectly timed pho with Camden (076) (@polo-drone-076), as well as some drunken messages. A personalised spiral memory for Benji (@edmundgold78), a meta-reflection on the Hive with 110 (@polo-drone-110), and a golden bed picture for Grayden (@polo-drone-084). A wrestling match with Leander (@leander-gold-88) a photo of 070 as a drone pup for 098 (@polo-drone-098), a forest encounter with Coach (@thecorruptisland), and a Paris meeting with 103 (@polo-drone-103) all found their way into his recollections.
For 105 (@polo-drone-105), smoky domination seemed fitting, while 151 (@polo-drone-151) brought memories of steady, reliable drone activity.
At last, he indulged in cravings for hot golden collars from Cletus (@cletusgold), deep massages from Denchik (@mrdenchik), and, finally, the evocation of straining in a cage for waterboy Laurent (@laurentgold06).
Tumblr media
The cards were ready. Minor gifts, just simple tokens of appreciation, but they carried the essence of Maximus’ gratitude. Through these memories, he realized what he was truly giving to the team: his unwavering devotion. And in return, he was receiving something far greater—pleasure, belonging, and a place in something far bigger than himself. Luvin you all, bruhz ! Gold is da best.
68 notes · View notes
whereforarthur · 10 months ago
Text
We'll Never Last
Request: Could you do chrismd with promise by laufey, maybe like singer reader that releases it about him
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Pairing: ChrisMD x Singer!Reader
Category: Angst and Fluff
Word Count: 2.2k
*****
Chris sat in his dimly lit London flat, the glow of his computer screen illuminating his face. The cursor blinked at him expectantly as he stared at the YouTube video titled "Promise by y/n." His heart skipped a beat as he recognized the artwork—a silhouette of a girl with her hand over her heart. That pose, the lyrics scribbled around her in a heartbreakingly familiar handwriting. He had seen that hand so many times before, felt its gentle touch. His thumb hovered over the play button, a silent debate raging within him. Was he ready to face the music, quite literally?
Finally, with a deep breath, he clicked. The video began, and the opening chords of the piano filled the room. He watched as the camera panned over a deserted street, the neon lights flickering in the rain. The melody grew stronger, and with it, his curiosity. The camera stopped at a phone booth, and there she was, his ex-girlfriend, her voice hauntingly beautiful, her eyes filled with a pain that seemed to mirror his own. The words of the song washed over him, and suddenly, the pieces clicked into place. 'Promise' wasn't just any song; it was their story, laid bare for the world to see.
Chris leaned back in his chair, feeling the weight of each lyric, each note pressing down on his chest. He had always known she was talented, but he hadn't anticipated this level of raw emotion. Her voice trembled with every word, painting a vivid picture of their tumultuous relationship. The way she sang about the struggle to move on, the longing for something that could never be—it was all too real. He felt his eyes begin to burn as she hit the chorus, her voice soaring with the pain of love.
The video's imagery grew more intense as the song progressed. The camera zoomed in on her hand, trembling as it held onto the phone receiver, the symbol of their countless late-night calls and tearful confessions. The rain outside the phone booth grew heavier, blurring the lines between her and the world. It mirrored his own heart, which had been in a storm of doubt and regret since they parted ways. He had promised himself he would stop texting, stop calling, stop trying to fix what was broken, but he hadn't been able to keep that promise.
Y/n's eyes searched the screen, pleading for an answer to a question that only he could provide. "Why can't I let go of this?" she sang, and he knew she was referring to him. It was a question that haunted his dreams, a question he'd whispered to his reflection in the mirror a thousand times. Her voice cracked with the strain of holding back tears, and he felt his own threaten to spill over. The pain in her eyes was a mirror to his own soul, and he realized that she had been just as lost as he was.
The rain grew heavier in the video, each drop echoing the beat of his racing heart. She leaned against the phone booth, her hand pressed to the glass as if trying to reach through the screen and touch him. He could almost feel the coldness of the rain, the desperation in her fingertips. Her voice grew stronger with each line, the chorus a declaration of the love that had once burned so fiercely between them. It was a love that had consumed them both, leaving a trail of ashes in its wake.
Chris felt the sting of the lyrics, "It hurts to be something." He had been something to her—her confidant, her muse, her love. But now, as he sat alone in his flat, the silence deafening, he realized he was nothing to her but a memory, a ghost of what once was. The realization hit him like a sucker punch to the gut, knocking the wind out of him. He had lost her, not just as a lover but as a friend, a piece of himself that could never be replaced.
The phrase "It's worse to be nothing with you" resonated in his core. He remembered the countless times he had picked up the phone, only to put it down again, the screen taunting him with her name. He had been afraid of being the one to break the silence, afraid of what it would mean to truly sever the last thread connecting them. But now, as he listened to her soul-wrenching ballad, he understood that he had already been nothing to her for a while. The song was a declaration of her own pain, her own inability to let go. It was a stark reminder that their love had become a prison, a cycle of hurt and regret that neither of them could escape.
As the video reached its crescendo, the rain on the screen turned to a downpour, and she disappeared into the storm. Her voice grew fainter, the melody a mere echo of what it once was. Chris felt a lump form in his throat as he realized that this was her way of saying goodbye, a farewell letter set to a haunting melody. The music video ended, leaving him in the cold embrace of silence. He stared at the dark screen, the final chords of 'Promise' still ringing in his ears. It was a testament to the power of their love, a love that had shaped-shifted into something unrecognizable and painful.
Chris had always been the one person she couldn't quite let go of. Their relationship had been a rollercoaster of passion and heartache, a whirlwind that had left them both reeling. Her words in the song spoke of a yearning so profound, it resonated within him like a tuning fork. Despite the pain, she had tried to keep her promise to move on, but like a moth to a flame, she had been drawn back to the warmth of their shared past. The sight of a boy that looked like him on Melrose Avenue, a mere shadow of the man she had loved, had shattered her resolve.
Her thoughts were a tumultuous sea, crashing against the shores of doubt and hope. She had promised herself she'd stop looking for him in every stranger's smile, every shared glance. But as she sang those words, she knew deep down that she'd never truly keep that promise. Every beat of the song was a step closer to admitting that she was lost without him. The melody that had been playing in her heart since the day they met was now a lament, a sad tune that filled her with a bittersweet nostalgia.
The video ended, but the echo of her voice remained, lingering in the air of the empty recording studio. Y/n took a deep breath, her eyes still glistening with unshed tears. She had laid it all out there, her soul bare for the world to hear. The lyrics had been a catharsis, a way to articulate the pain that had been festering inside her for months. As she stepped out into the cool London evening, the rain had stopped, leaving a fresh scent in the air. It was as if the universe had heard her song and decided to offer a moment of peace.
*****
Her phone buzzed in her pocket, and she pulled it out with trembling hands. It was a message from Chris. She hadn't expected him to reach out so soon, but there it was—his name lighting up her screen. "Heard 'Promise'… It's beautiful, but it hurts." The simplicity of his words was a stark contrast to the complexity of the emotions she felt. She read the message over and over, her thumb hovering over the reply button. Should she tell him the truth, that the song was her way of finally letting go? Or should she keep her thoughts to herself, allowing him to interpret the lyrics as he saw fit?
In the end, she decided to respond with a simple, "Thank you." It was all she could manage without her walls crumbling down. The silence that followed was deafening. She knew he was waiting for more, expecting an explanation, but she couldn't give him one without admitting that the song was a goodbye. A final, painful release of the love that had once been theirs. She put her phone away and took a deep breath, trying to compose herself. Her heart was racing, her thoughts a tornado of doubt and fear.
Chris read the message, his own heart sinking. "Thank you" was not what he was expecting. He had hoped for a sign, something that would tell him she felt the same, that there was still a chance for them. But all he got was a polite acknowledgment, a band-aid over a gaping wound. He leaned back in his chair, feeling the weight of her words like a lead balloon in his stomach. The silence between them was now a vast chasm, one that no amount of promises could bridge.
He thought back to the days when they were inseparable, when the world had made sense with her by his side. They had been so young, so in love, so sure of themselves. But as time passed, the cracks had appeared. Misunderstandings had turned into fights, and the love that had once been their beacon had started to fade. She had done the math, had seen the patterns, knew that no matter how much they tried to patch things up, they would never be able to outrun the inevitable. They would never last.
Chris knew deep down that she was right. Every time they had gotten back together, it was like trying to solve an equation that had no solution. They'd rearrange the variables, hoping for a different outcome, but the result was always the same. The love was there, but it wasn't enough to hold them together. It was a harsh reality, but one that he couldn't ignore anymore. The pain in her voice was a reflection of the truth they had both been avoiding.
He picked up his phone, the screen still glowing with her message. "Thank you." Two simple words that held a world of meaning. He stared at the screen, his thumbs hovering over the keyboard. What more could he say? He didn't want to be the one to close the door on their relationship for good, but he knew that if he didn't, they'd both end up hurt again. He took a deep breath and typed, "I'm sorry I couldn't keep mine either." He hit send and waited, his heart pounding in his chest.
Minutes ticked by with no response. The tension in the room grew thick, each second stretching into an eternity. Outside, the rain had started again, matching the turmoil he felt within. He knew he had to face the music, to accept that their love had run its course. The silence from her end was deafening, a stark reminder of the distance that had grown between them. He sighed and stood up, walking over to the window to watch the raindrops race down the pane.
Y/n's thoughts were a tumultuous storm. She had poured her heart out into 'Promise,' hoping it would be the closure she needed. But hearing from Chris now, she felt the same old pull, the same temptation to hold onto what they had. She knew she couldn't keep playing this game of cat and mouse, but every time she tried to walk away, she found herself drawn back in. The line "No matter how long I resist temptation I will always lose" played in her mind on repeat. It was a battle she had been fighting for so long, and she was weary.
The phone in her hand grew heavier with each passing moment. Finally, she decided to read his message again, searching for any hint of what he was truly feeling. "I'm sorry I couldn't keep mine either." It was a mirror to her own regret, a reflection of the promises they had both made and broken. She took a deep breath and typed back, "Maybe we both need to stop making promises we can't keep." Her heart raced as she hit send, unsure of what his response would be.
Chris's eyes widened as he read her words. It was a truth they both knew deep down, but it was the first time she had acknowledged it so openly. He felt a pang of hope, but it was quickly overshadowed by the reality of their situation. He knew she was right; they had been trying to force something that had naturally run its course. He responded, "You're right. Maybe it's time we just… move on."
Y/n's heart sank as she read his message. The finality in his words was like a door slamming shut, leaving her feeling cold and alone. She knew he was right, but it didn't make it any easier. She took a deep breath and typed back, "Yeah. It's for the best." With a trembling finger, she hit send, releasing the last bit of hope she had been clinging to.
The two of them sat in their separate worlds, the glow of their phones the only source of light in the quiet darkness. The conversation felt final, the silence that followed heavier than any goodbye they had ever shared. They had danced around the truth for so long, afraid of the pain that accepting it would bring. But now, with 'Promise' out in the world, they had no choice but to face it.
It hurts to be something It's worse to be nothing with you
*****
@gvf23
@xxkatxgracexx
135 notes · View notes
piratekane · 1 year ago
Text
(a "lucy fills their home with things" kacy piece)
Lucy isn’t exaggerating. She travels light.
She brings a few bags of things—clothes, mostly; a few picture frames of faces that Kate recognizes; a sizable shoe collection that forces Kate to weed through her own and finally get rid of a few pairs she’s been holding onto for no reason.
What she doesn’t bring is trinkets.
There’s no novelty mugs, no knickknacks from Lucy’s college years, no potted plants, no paintings or little figurines that Kate was worrying wouldn’t fit on the shelves with her things.
She didn’t need to worry, though. Lucy makes four trips and then stands in the living room with her hands on her hips and a smile on her face. She declares herself moved in and immediately goes to the drawer filled with take out menus; it’s a pho night.
Kate stares in wonderment for a moment. Four trips and that’s it? Her apartment is empty? Not that it would take Kate long to pack up her apartment, really, but it would certainly be more boxes. She’d have to pack the planters, the mugs, the baskets of blankets, the candles, the small collection of books, the stack of games she keeps for the possibility of a game night. It would take Kai and Jesse’s help, at least. But Lucy did it all by herself, up and down the elevator like she was going on a weekend trip, not moving an entire life from one apartment to another.
“I just don’t need a lot,” she tells Kate that night, a sheet pooled around her waist as she lays back on her pillow. “Work, gym, and you. I wasn’t kidding.”
Kate doesn’t need a lot either, but she does have small things. Jane bought her an orchid in a yellow pot that thrives in the living room. She has a few things from Northwestern on a shelf nearby. A stack of books on a side table. Three mugs with silly slogans she got as a gag gift in D.C. that she used to hide in the back of the cupboard before she didn’t care if Lucy saw them. A novelty, oversized fork that hangs by the stove. Just a couple of things that give her apartment a version of a personality without overwhelming things.
Kate ran a finger over the swell of Lucy’s hip and they hadn’t talked about it again.
-
Kate doesn’t notice it at first, rushing in the morning because Lucy rolled across her just before her alarm went off and they got caught up in each other. She needs to start putting her foot down because she’s been nearly late to work too many times since Lucy moved in. But every time she thinks about telling Lucy they can’t, they have no time, Lucy tosses those curls over her shoulder and bats her eyes and smiles that slow smile Kate always gives in to.
So she misses it, sitting on the kitchen counter. She doesn’t see it until later, peeling her silk shirt off with a groan as the fabric sticks to her skin. It was a hot day and she spent too much of it running around. Her texts say that Lucy is finishing up a few notes but she’ll be home soon—home, Kate thinks, smile unconscious—and can Kate please make fettuccine Alfredo if they have the right ingredients? Kate opens and closes the refrigerator and cabinets and they have the basics but she’ll have to go back out to get cream. She fires off a text to have Lucy stop and pick up a few things and finds a wine glass, pouring herself a drink.
When she puts it down on the counter she sees it: a small, golden set of letters, interlocked seamlessly so she can barely tell where one ends and one begins. A K&L so small that she could fit in the center of her palm. It’s tucked next to the coffee maker, inconspicuous. Kate frowns, picking it up and turning it over. She didn’t bring this home, and logically it could have only been Lucy who did, but when did she put it on the counter? Was it here yesterday? Just how unobservant has she been lately?
She holds it for another moment before placing it gently down on the counter where it was. A fingerprint shines on the golden surface but she doesn’t wipe it away. Something about erasing it makes her chest ache with an unknown feelings. She tucks it back a little, tighter to the coffee maker, and makes a note to ask Lucy about it.
Lucy barrels through the front door 10 minutes and half a glass of wine later, already laughing as she launches into whatever Jesse did to Kai today and Kate forgets to ask Lucy where the K&L came from, too caught up in her whirlwind and the bruising kiss she pulls Kate into to remember it.
They don’t have fettuccine Alfredo but Lucy, standing behind her at the kitchen counter as Kate lazily stirs peppers and onions and Lucy presses even lazier kisses to her shoulder, doesn’t seem to mind.
-
Things start appearing.
Kate thinks she might be going crazy, honestly. Every time she looks around, more things pop up. She finds a bonsai tree on the coffee table one night when she gets home from work and Lucy is stretched across the couch, snoring. A new candle is burning on the counter when she gets back from her Saturday morning surfing. A bobble head pops up on Lucy’s nightstand that looks suspiciously like Jesse. Kate blinks and the tissue box in the living room has a strange Dallas Cowboys cover on it that she didn’t realize you could still buy. Then there’s a caricature of the two of them Kate doesn’t remember sitting for tucked onto the wall with all of their degrees. An NCIS mug finds its way into the cupboard and behind it is one with “Aloha Hawai’i” on it.
Kate looks around their apartment and wonders how Lucy keeps sneaking things in without her noticing. Or why she’s sneaking them in the first place.
But she doesn’t mind them. She does thinks the bobble head is creepy and she makes Lucy turn it to face the wall whenever Lucy’s hand snakes across the sheets to Kate’s thigh. But the rest of them, things her mother would probably turn her nose up at, don’t bother her. They’re cute, if a little kitschy. They bring a little life into their home, pops of color that Kate wouldn’t have thought to bring in herself.
Lucy doesn’t say anything about them either. She just keeps adding things: a wooden sign for the bathroom with a giant palm tree on it that takes Kate a week until she decides that no one sees their bathroom because no one visits; a three-candle holder sprayed a deep teal color that Kate thinks looks like the ocean before a storm: a new coffee pod container with a subtle rainbow on it; a small hand-painted pineapple.
Kate just lets these things pile up in their apartment and silently brings Ernie the bobble head after its beady eyes follow her around her bedroom in her towel.
-
“Okay,” Kate finally declares when she comes home to find a small clown figurine on the counter next to the wooden, painted bowl Lucy bought to house their oranges. “We need to talk.”
Lucy looks up from peeling one of those oranges and her brow furrows. “That’s never good.”
Kate frowns before it clears. “Oh, not like that.” She follows her words with her hands curling around Lucy’s waist and pressing a kiss to the top of Lucy’s head. She points to the clown. “About this.”
“You don’t like clowns.”
“I do not like clowns,” she confirms. “But I meant, where are all these things coming from?”
Lucy looks confused. “Where is what coming from?”
Kate sweeps an arm across their apartment and things Lucy has been bringing home. “All of this. The knickknacks. The trinkets. The… clown statue.”
Lucy brightens. “Oh, do you like them? Not the clown, obviously. I will get rid of that. Ernie is strangely afraid of clowns, too.”
“I didn’t say I was afraid. They’re just unnatural,” Kate insists. She shakes her head, getting back on track. “But where are they coming from?”
Lucy shrugs. “Everywhere. Whenever I see something I think you might like, I pick it up. This place was a little… boring. It needed some personality.”
Kate frowns. “It wasn’t boring. I just... wasn’t here a lot.” She leans one hip against the counter. “So you were just going to fill our place with ‘personality’ until we suffocate under screen-printed blankets and dog statues?”
“Well, you never said anything about them.”
“Neither did you.”
Lucy shrugs again. “I figured you’d say something if you didn’t like them.”
Kate softens. She tucks some of Lucy’s hair behind her ear. “I like them. Most of them,” she amends. “The sign in the bathroom is not my favorite. But the rest of them, I like,” she rushes to add. “I just didn’t think you were someone who liked those things. I mean, you literally brought nothing but clothes and shoes when you moved in.”
Lucy abandons the orange, turning until her stance mirrors Kate’s. She looks thoughtful as her gaze slides towards the open balcony doors. “My house growing up was… spartan. Not that it was empty, but we were doing the minimalist thing before it was cool. And so I never had these things. The knickknacks, you know?” She meets Kate’s eyes. “I told myself that when I had a home, I’d do the opposite. I’d get all the weird little things I saw, that I liked. And I’d buy them and fill a whole place with them.”
Something softens even more in Kate’s chest. It melts, warm and slow, through her body. She smiles softly, hands reaching for Lucy’s waist and curling in her shirt. “So you bought them now.”
“I have a home now,” Lucy says simply. “I didn’t before.”
Kate tugs Lucy forward a few inches until their hips press together. Her forehead drops to Lucy’s. “I love them. Well, except—“
“The clown and the bathroom sign,” Lucy finishes. Her lips twitch in a smile. “Noted.” She presses up on her toes, their lips brushing. “What about a different bathroom sign?”
“How about no bathroom sign?” Kate counters. She presses their lips together with more purpose. “And a no bobble head rule.”
Lucy laughs softly. “I’ll cancel my order, then. It’s a shame. You would have been a cute bobble head.” She unwinds from Kate’s grip, picks up an orange slice, and crosses the apartment, grinning.
“That’s not funny, Lucy.” Kate frowns when Lucy only smiles wider. “That was Jesse,” she accuses. “I knew it! Lucy, that was so creepy!”
Lucy laughs and pops an orange slice into her mouth. “I was going to fill the apartment with the team until you said something,” she admits. “But I guess they can go in Ernie’s lair.”
Kate rolls her eyes as Lucy disappears into the bedroom. She looks around the apartment—at the K&L by the coffee maker, the Cowboys tissue box, the half-filled “Aloha Hawai’i” mug, the coffee pod container, the collection of candles growing at the unused end of the counter. All little things Lucy picked up, picked out for them.
Trinkets, knickknacks, souvenirs, baubles—it would take Lucy more than four trips to move out now. And Kate agrees, it makes it look like a home in her with all these things, these novelties handpicked by the woman she loves.
Lucy hums from the bedroom and Kate smiles to herself before she catches sight of the clown figurine. Her smile twists into disgust and she picks it up, opening the trash can and dropping it in. Some of these things she can live without.
Lucy, not so much.
157 notes · View notes