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a-b-riddle · 1 month

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Part 9 (unrevised version). Since I've gotten 6 messages and a good bit of asks requesting to view it. Here it is, not in its final form.

You had hoped Monday would have treated you better than the past two days, but walking up to your shop in the pouring rain to already see a body standing outside waiting wasn't a good sign.

Customers who waited outside your shop always made you feel uncomfortable. But when you finally got close enough, you took in the person before you.

"We don't open for another hour." Your voice flat as you fished for your keys.

"I'll wait." Was Kyle's reply.

"Then you'll have to do it outside." You said, the key sliding into the lock. He didn't argue as you shut the door behind you. Didn't even bother knocking when, after thirty minutes, you looked in the window to see that the wind was causing the rain to blow sideways.

You relented. Letting him in thirty minutes earlier. It was a small mercy, even if he was soaked to the bone. You almost felt bad when his chattering teeth were the only thing you could hear.

Almost.

"I take it John told you about our little talk yesterday." You said, going about your business. Engaging in the conversation as if you were talking about the shitty weather that had tried to drown him.

"He did." He gave a sniffle. Running a hand over his beautiful, wet face. Droplets still staking their claim on his skin. "H-he alssso t-t-told us we were on our own in begging for our own f-forgiveness. Ra-ra- rightly s-s-s-so."

You huffed. Guilt beginning to eat at you before you turned, disappearing to the back of the store and coming back with a shirt and a blanket. "You left the shirt here."

He had no shame and wasted no time in taking off his jacket and soaked shirt. His chiseled body exposed to you. It was almost instinct to reach out and touch the soft skin. You luckily possessed some form of self restraint.

"So are you here to promise to make amends as well?" You crossed your arms. You meant it as a sign that you were wanting to create distance, but honestly you didn't trust yourself. It was second nature. Kyle and Johnny were tied when it came to having to always touch you.

Probably why his ghosting sucked so bad.

"I'd like to take you out." You couldn't help the laugh that escaped you. It wasn't until Kyle's face fell that you realized, "Oh, you're actually serious."

He opened his mouth, ready to no doubt give you the same exact promises of doing better that John had given you the day before. Fortunately for Kyle, you didn't have the time to entertain a conversation.

"Fine." You immediately relented. No argument. "That Indian place where I asked you to go four months ago. Seven. If you manage to figure out which place, then I'll be meeting you there. Otherwise you'll be eating alone."

Kyle stood still. Unprepared for the fact that you had... agreed. You actually agreed to let him take you out.

"I can pick you up."

"Not sure what time I'll be getting off today. Might go home first. Might just go straight there." You started opening tasks again. "I have to finish setting up. Seven sharp.

"Seven sharp." He repeated, his smile lighting up the room.

It made you feel sick.

It was 6:45 when your phone started ringing. It was Kyle. Confirming that he was at the restaurant you were supposed to go.

7:00. He had gotten the two of you a table. He'll go ahead and order you a drink. They had mango lassi, but wasn't sure if you wanted to stick to just water.

7:15 He tries calling you. When it goes to voicemail, a follow up text is sent asking if you're okay.

At 7:20, while sitting on the couch you text back. Sorry. Something came up. We'll reschedule, I promise.

If you knew giving them a taste of their own medicine felt so good, you would have done it ages ago. You felt no since of shame in sending it. You hated being petty, but you wanted them to know what it felt like.

John had a lot more of verbal outbursts coming his way and if Johnny was hoping for a chance, he would be lucky if you had sex with him again before marriage.

Ten minutes later, on the dot, there was a knocking on your door. Your food had arrived. Blindly, you opened the door. Only instead of the take out you had delivered, Kyle stood there. Yet again soaked to the bone and this time out of breath.

"How did you know I was here?" Was the first thing that had come into your mind. If anything, he would have went by the shop first, but no. He came here. You weren't the type to deviate from a schedule, but christ. Simon at your date and then the club. John at the shop on your day off. Now this. "I swear to fucking god this fucking stalking-"

"Easy now, Love. No one's stalking you." Bullshit.

Absolute bullshit. They were military. Really important and special connections type of military, but this was bullshit. They were keeping tabs on you somehow.

"I know for a fucking fact that place is only ten minutes away. So you didn't have time to check out my store-- where I should be-- before coming here. So I'm going to ask you again, how did you know I was here?"

"Okay," he shrugged. "Stalking. We're stalking you." Kyle was lying. We he nodded like a bobblehead, you knew whatever was coming out of his mouth was bullshit. The first time you confirmed it was after Johnny had volunteered to make haggis. Kyle told him it was good, no doubt hoping to spare his feelings.

"Kyle." You warned, eyes narrowed and teeth clenched. He paused as if trying to form another lie, but coming up short. Sighing in defeat, he confessed.

"Blocking us didn't stop you from sharing your location." In that moment, you could have strangled him. They had been still using your location. Something you had given them as a way to find you if you ever needed help. Now those assholes were using it for their own benefit.

"Son of a-" you shut your mouth. "I can't do this with you right now, okay?" You didn't confess that your publisher had asked for a last minute zoom call in the middle of your busiest work hour to see how you felt about doing a few meet and greets, all expenses paid.

Good news, but still... overwhelming. You still felt like an imposter. That you didn't deserve the hype you were getting. Your story wasn't that good. Your characters didn't hold much depth.

"Everything okay?" You didn't want to tell him. Didn't want to give him the chance to offer the reassurance you desperately needed for something he had no idea about.

"Why?" You asked, changing the subject. "I just want to know why? With John I get that the job gets stressful and needing someone to take-"

"No," he finished. "That's not an excuse. It's a reason. Not an excuse." His jaw clenched. "There is no excuse for how any of us treated you."

"Then what was your reason?" you asked. "I'm finding it very hard that someone who quite actively avoided me suddenly wants to get back together."

"I slacked off?" He shrugged. "I figured there were four of us and if I wasn't able to be there, it wouldn't make a difference."

"If you're just going to lie, Kyle, there is no point in continuing this conversation." You go to close the door only for his hand to stop you.

He stands there, looking at the ground. Even from the this angle you can see him take his bottom lip between his teeth.

He's nervous.

You step back. Giving him the option of coming in and saying it is whatever it is he needs to stay. He may be an ass like the rest of them, but this isn't exactly a conversation you want to have in the hallway for your nosey neighbors to hear.

He takes the silent invitation. Walking in and not speaking until you click the door shut. "You want the truth?" His voice is soft, but there is something else behind it. Anger?

"No," you say sardonically. "Please. Lie to me." He sighed, but didn't say anything. You were exhausted. The past few days had been a back-to-back rollercoaster of emotions. You were drained. You didn't have it in you for this right now. "Kyle-"

"I thought you only kept asking because you felt bad for me." He said the words so quickly, it took you a moment to process them. He thought.... you felt bad for him? "Like you were still trying to include me even if you didn't want to."

"Why?" Was the only thing you could come up with. You didn't have the energy to try to come up with your own reasoning for his admission.

"Don't think I don't know how I am compared to the them." He scoffed. You always knew the hierarchy of their work, even if you didn't know all the details. John was at the top. Captain and head bitch in charge. Simon was the lieutenant with Johnny and Kyle as Sergeants. Kyle was the youngest of the group by two years, but still. What was there to compare?

"So you're not a Captain or Lieutenant?" you shrug. "Johnny is the same rank as you. And you are the youngest and I'm sure with time you'll get to a position-"

"Black!" He said. "I'm black. I am the only fucking black guy not only in this relationship. I'm the only black guy in the 141, in the unit."

When it came to Kyle, black was the last thing you thought of. You thought of his soft brown eyes or house his hands felt so smooth against your body. How his smile could light up the room and how beautiful, how head-turning gorgeous he was. "I'm just an after thought in everything else regarding the 141, why would you be any different?"

"Ky," you were going to be sick. Was this how he really felt? With you? With the others? With work? "You know I don't feel that way, right?"

"Do you remember that time we went out? That french place?" How could you forget. The maître d' had asked Kyle to put a card on a tab before the two of you were even seated. At first you thought it was preposterous. Why would you make patrons at a fine dining restaurant do that? This wasn't a pub for Christ sakes. Kyle told you not to worry about it and handed over a card.

The two of you never went back.

"Oh my god." It dawned on you. "When they asked for your card..."

"I..." he sucked in a breath. Trying to keep his composure. "It was fucking humiliating. I was a man dressed to the fucking nines with a gorgeous girl on my arm and before I even got the chance to blow my money, I was treated like I couldn't afford it. It wasn't because of what I was wearing or who I was with. It was because of me. Of who I was. Who I am."

"Kyle," words escaped you. Nothing in that moment to reassure him that it never dawned on you. That it stupidly never dawned on you how there were times that people did look at him different. You wanted to tell him that it didn't matter. That you were just as important and lovable and respectable as the others. That you loved him just as much. Words failed you. All you could say say was, "I'm so sorry."

He swallowed, before taking in harsh breath through his nose. "It's not an excuse. I got wrapped up in my own stupid fucking head about how other people looked at me, I forgot it only mattered how you did."

"And you did." You said, aching to reach out. To touch him. Offer some comfort. Hating that he ever felt like he wasn't enough. Knowing the feeling all too well. Even if he was the one to make you feel it. "You did matter to me."

"I know." He said. You were thankful he said it clearly. Not shrugging his shoulders or nodding his head as he spoke. "I'll do anything to matter to you again." He took your hands in his, even though they had ached to hold you closer. But he knew not to test his luck. "If you want to press restart and let's take it back to the very beginning, I'll do that. I will court you and woo you and make you fall in love with me all over again because I will never fall out with you. I can't."

You weren't prepared for this. You had prepared to leave Kyle waiting in a restaurant alone. Now your heart ached in your chest at the idea of letting him ever think he wasn't enough because of the color of his skin.

"It doesn't have to be now or tomorrow or next week or next fucking month." He squeezed your hands the same way had John had. With the exact same intensity and promise. "Just let me try again. I won't let you down this time. I'll put in the work."

"I don't want you to feel like you have to work to make this relationship work, Kyle." You protest, wanting to pull your hands away. Free from the spell his touch had seem to be putting you under.

He smiled. Not enough to show off his teeth, but enough where have of his face lifted up. "It's not the type of work with long hours and a shit commute. Loving you is the same kind of work an artist puts into making a masterpiece. Pouring everything into it and getting something beautiful in return."

Before you could comprehend it, your face was wet. "Kyle." Your lips quivered, a sob threatening to come out. "I never felt like I needed to spend time with you, Ky." You sniffled. "I fucking wanted to. I missed you." You were so close. You needed to reel it in. Get it together.

"I just didn't understand how you could." His confession broke any restraint you had. Your hand flew to your mouth, trying to subdue your cries. When Kyle pulled you to his chest, his arms wrapping around you, you allowed yourself to crumble.

Not even for yourself, but for him.

For the kind heart you now knew broke with every sideways glance from passer-byes. For the hateful and prejudice world you lived in and for how they could overlook such a wonderful man just because of something as basic as the color of his skin.

You weren't sure how long you stood crying. You weren't certain if the knock on the door behind him actually happened or something your mind had conjured to try and pull you from your fit.

Eventually you did pull away from him. Your face covered in snot and tears. Seeing that you still were in need of it, Kyle pulled you back to him, only this time your face wasn't buried into his shirt.

You stood there. His arms wrapped around your back while yours found their home around his waist.

"I used to love when you would come back to my place directly from base as soon as you got back from a deployment." You said, breaking the silence. "I would be waiting like a kid on Christmas waiting to see what trinket made you think of me. You made me feel like even though we were so far away, you still thought about me."

"Always." He said, before his lips pressed against the top of your head. "Not a day I didn't miss being here with you."

The two of you eventually settled down on the couch. Both on opposite ends with a hot cup of tea in your hands and the array of take out containers half empty. You had planned for a night of eating your feelings so there was luckily enough food for two.

"I don't want to say no." You admitted. "But I need time. Before I even think about saying yes to all of this again."

"Not all of this," he reminded. "Just me. I'm doing my part in groveling, let the others figure it out. Or at least that's just what Price told us. Although you would be doing all of us a favor if you talked to Johnny?" Your ears perked up. You hadn't seen or heard from Johnny since Friday.

"What's wrong with Johnny?" You asked.

"Lad didn't cope well with you going on your date." Not that you had fucked him and said it was a mistake.... or maybe he kept that tidbit to himsle.f

"It wasn't a-" you started.

"I know," he said. "Simon happened to be nearby." You shot him a look, letting him know you weren't buying that lie, before he continued. "But he didn't. Fuck you're lucky we were able to drag him out of your apartment before you got back and he made an even bigger fool of himself."

"What are you talking about?" You asked. "What do you mean by drag?"

"Johnny called Simon. Told him you were on a date and to bring your ass back. Although you had made it a point to fuck him and leave-- absolutely no judgement, by the way-- he was going to make it a point to never leave your bed."

"My top sheet..." You had come home to your comforters and pillows on the floor. When making up your bed, the top sheet was missing. You had just assumed you didn't put it on or maybe it was in the wash.

"Refused to put his clothes back on. Me and John couldn't risk carrying a naked, screaming Scot through the streets without making a spectical. So we rolled him up and carried him of like a rug. A very heavy, squirmy rug."

"Oh," your hand flew to your chest. "Johnny." He was the bleeding heart of the group so you weren't exactly surprised. He was also the one who blew up shit, so he was definitely one for dramatics. "So that's how Simon figured out about dinner. But the drinks-"

"Whenever Simon is home, he's your shadow. The only time we don't worry about you is when we know he's with you." That made you roll your eyes.

"You act like he's my guard dog."

"He is."

"Is not." You defended, your conversation from Saturday night coming back to you.

"You're not my body guard, Simon." You snapped.

"Not trying to be," he said. "I was never trying to be."

"He's not." you said again.

"You're right." Kyle relented, shrugging his fucking shoulders.

"You're saying that like you're just not trying to argue with me." He took a sip of your tea. "Kyle!" He sighed before looking at you as if the last thing he wanted to do was continue on the subject.

"He is." He said. "Your guard dog."

"I mean he protects me, but all of you do." He shakes his head, a huff of air going out of his nose, almost amused.

"Not like Simon." He admits it almost as if he were ashamed. "I want to say something." He said it as if he were preparing you for the next words to come out of his mouth would change the course of the night. "I need to say it because it would make me less of a man and even less of a friend if I didn't. But I don't want you to hate me or yourself for it."

Why would you hate yourself for it?

"Fine." you agreed, giving him permission to continue. "I won't hold it against you."

"You were always the one to coordinate things to do. One-on-one dates. Helping John with paperwork when shit got to crazy and you were the only one the uptight asshole would let touch his files." You gave a small smile remembering how John had barked at a recruit to get the fuck out of his office before peppering you with kisses at your arrival. Giving small pecks of appreciation as he explained what he needed you to do and how to do it.

"Helping me after my shoulder injury and staying on my ass about the physical therapy."

"Well someone had to." You countered.

"This past Christmas when Johnny needed to get his sisters gifts so you made a whole day out of it going to see lights and ice skating." Johnny was the proud owner of a freshly bruised tailbone after landing flat on his ass and swearing off skating for the rest of his life. Feckin' ice.

"Okay?" You asked, not really sure where Kyle was headed for this. He had pointed out what a good girlfriend you were, had been. How you had always tried to be helpful and do whatever needed to help your boys out.

He stopped. He looked at you as if he were debating to tell you what he had warned you about. He looked down at the floor before taking his bottom lip in between his teeth.

"Fuck." He muttered.

"Spit it out, Kyle!" You whined, now clueless to what point he was trying to make by all the examples of what a good girlfriend you had been.

He looked at you with the same solemness that a friend looked at another friend before having to call them out on their shit, knowing that the pill they were about to be given would be a hard one to swallow.

"You never did that with Simon."

#simon ghost riley #call of duty #captain john price #kyle gaz garrick #angst #john soap mactavish #angst with a happy ending #grovel

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lovelettersfromluna · 9 months

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⋆ ★ Once again, for the first time ⋆ ★

{Ellie Williams x Reader}

Summary: Being in love with your best friend has got to be one of the most emotionally exhausting things someone can experience, so it’s time you put your foot down and moved on….at least, try to move on

an: God it almost feels wrong to just come back after so long without a continuing chapter to what I’ve been working on, pls don’t be mad at me 😵‍💫. I’ve been really busy you guys! I just got home yesterday and while I know you’ve all be asking for other things, I just haven’t been feeling super inspired to continue them RIGHT NOW, and I feel that’s why I’ve been MIA for so long. While I say I’m not inspired to continue them right now, that doesn’t mean I’m abandoning them! I will be coming back to them don’t worry! For now, I hope this little angsty fic is enough for you all, and I hope you’ve stuck around to read it, and if you haven’t, that’s okay too. Anyways, I’ve missed you all so much, and I hope you like this one 🖤🖤🖤.

Warnings: ANGST!!! Eventual smut in future chapters, Ellie is an oblivious idiot, Quiet!reader, momentary alternative love interest (it’s just for the story I promise 😉), jealous!Ellie, possessive!Ellie, Please let me know if I missed anything!

Part 2 can be read, here!

The warm glow of your tv screen became blurry with each passing second. You could barely make out the erratic movements of the video game characters beating each other to a pulp as Ellie’s fingers tapped away at the buttons on the game controller, soft huffs leaving here lips ever so often. “Fucking dick..” She mumbled under her breath, eyebrows knit in deep concentration, eyes almost growing watery from her lack of blinking.

You on the other hand, you were nearly fast asleep. Cuddled into your sofa, resting your head against a pillow that was propped up against the arm of the couch, a plush blanket draped over your body as you watched your best friend control a scantily clad character to violently fight the opposite person.

This was tradition for you and Ellie. She’d come over, you would force her to study with you because she was often too stubborn to do it without you, you’d order shitty take out, watch her play video games, and then you’d fall asleep. It always ended with her dragging you to your bedroom, staying with you for a bit before she left, and then in the morning, she’d be waiting for you outside your apartment to go to school together.

And that was life, life with your best friend that is. It had been that way since you were practically babies, your routines changing and adapting to whatever phase of life you were both in within that moment, but it was always more or less the same. And you couldn’t complain, you wouldn’t change it for the world.

Not even if you were given the chance to have her as something more.

Ellie had always been a charmer, and unfortunately, the extent of her charming demeanor had made its way to you. It was something you noticed early on, as soon as you were able to decipher feelings of love, you were able to link those with Ellie. When people would explain love to you, or you’d see it in others, you thought of Ellie. You realized quickly after that though, that Ellie was your best friend, and feelings would greatly complicate the long history that you two had together.

And so, you swallowed them down.

It wasn’t like it was painful or anything. Sure, seeing Ellie with other girls wasn’t great, but you coped. Life went on, and you promised yourself you’d never let your feelings get in the way of Ellie’s life, your life, or your friendship.

“Man…I’d let Mileena rip my head off any day…” Ellie sighed out, the girl never a stranger to gawking at the make believe video game characters in her favorite games. You let out a sleepy hum, giving her a nod as you cuddled further into the couch, not fully able to comprehend your friends words due to your sleepy state.

The sounds you made caught Ellie’s attention, causing her to sit forward a bit so she could catch a glimpse of your nearly sleeping face. She chuckled softly, shaking her head a bit as she reached forward for the controller, turning off the console followed by the tv before she stood up, taking your hand in hers and pulling you slightly.

“You have the energy of a seventy year old woman…come on, let’s get you to bed grandma” she teased, and it only causes you to whine softly. The couch is so comfortable, and you’re more than happy with sleeping there for the night just so you didn’t have to move and lose the blissful drowsy feeling that came with the sounds of Ellie playing Mortal Kombat lulling you to sleep.

“I’m fine here…” You tried, knowing that she wouldn’t settle for you sleeping there on the couch all night. And she didn’t need to be told twice, she let out a soft hum, one that almost sounded like she’d leave you there, but suddenly you’re being lifted off of the couch, into Ellie’s strong chest, even stronger arms wrapping around your body, which once again caused you to whine.

No matter how tired you were, how close to sleep, you can’t ignore the burning fire in your chest when she holds you like this. Even though being Ellie’s friend was the furthest thing from painful, it was times like this that it got a little too hard. Ellie was always a very affectionate person, especially with people she was close to, and you happened to be at the top on that list.

So, when she’d do things like this, pull you up into her arms and carry you to bed, or slip her arms around your waist and spoon you from behind when you were watching movies together, or when she’d pull you close to her when you were in a crowded room, it was easy to imagine how things would be if it were different, if you were able to have her in the way you wanted.

Only for a moment though.

Ellie hummed softly as she gently rested you on your bed, making sure to pull your socks off because she knew you’d kick them off in your sleep anyways, and pull the blanket, not the duvet, over your body because it was how you preferred to sleep. She knew exactly what to do with you, and it always made your heart tug.

She smiled softly down at you, watching as your heavy eyes grew even heavier once your head hit your soft pillows. She gave your elbow a gentle nudge before she turned off the lights in your room, closed the door, and left your apartment.

And even though you were already falling asleep, you couldn’t ignore the urge you had to ask her to stay. The urge you always had to ask her to stay with you.

You let out a soft yawn, rubbing your eyes a bit before you began writing down in your notebook again. Your headphones played soft music into your ears, the blessing of a noise cancelling headset always making it easy to study in your college library, for a moment, pretending as if you were the only one there.

Until Ellie showed up.

She gently pulled one side of your headset up, her lips close to your ear as she approached you. “Hey stranger” she giggled softly, causing you to whine as you pulled the headset down to rest against your neck. You gave your friend a soft smile as you set your pen down, watching as she promptly took the seat next to you and tossed her bag onto the table.

“Hey yourself…came all the way to the library to see me?” You teased her, propping your elbows onto the table and resting your head against your hands as you watched her slump down into her chair, oversized hoodie hanging on her broad shoulders, light washed denim jeans hanging loose on her hips, short hair lazily tugged up into her signature half up half down ponytail, pretty strands falling down and framing her face perfectly.

God she was a fucking dream.

Ellie groaned softly, her head falling back as she blew air past her lips, staring up at the ceiling of the library. “I have time between classes…so I came to bother my favorite little scholar” She hummed out, giving you a lazy grin as she turned her head back towards you, causing you to roll your eyes at her words.

“You know, you could use this time to study” you try, narrowing your eyes at her playfully, which causes her to roll her eyes right back at you. “Ahhh, please. You’re probably the only one here that actually does that shit” she hummed out, which causes you to shrug, closing your books and stacking them upon one another. “True, but I have the grades to show for it” you nod to herself before you push your things to the side, turning back to your friend and giving her your attention.

“So? What’s happening. You look like you’re just itching to tell me something” you smirked softly, knowing your friend all too well. Whenever became fidgety, or absolutely needed to find you, there was something on her mind.

Ellie smirked softly, staring down at her ring clad fingers before she let out a soft hum, purposefully keeping you waiting with anticipation before she began speaking.

“Do you think Sofia is into girls?”

For a moment, the twinkle in your eye, and the soft smile on your lips as you watch your best friend drops completely. You’re glad she isn’t looking, because you’re sure anyone would be able to see the visible disappointment written on your face as soon as she says it. You only let it fall for a moment though, because you’re immediately collecting yourself, picking yourself up off the ground and giving your friend a soft, reassuring nod.

“Has being straight ever stopped a girl from being into you Ellie?” You tease her, recalling the frequent times girls claimed they were straight, yet somehow always ended up chasing after Ellie after they’ve had one too many drinks.

Ellie groans softly, shaking her head as she sits forward a bit. “No man…I don’t wanna just hook up with her..or..or be her fantasy or something. I wanna…ask her out or something” she mumbled out, cheeks burning red as she toyed with the shiny rings on her fingers. You blink a few times, trying to find the right words to encourage your friend to do it, to pursue whoever it was that she wanted.

No matter how much the words tasted bitter on your tongue.

“Well…ask her, or you can ask around? A close friend of hers would definitely know if she was interested in girls or not” you tried again, watching as your friend frowned in concentration, eyebrows furrowed, green eyes narrowed.

Whoever this girl was, Ellie was doing her head in over her….

It almost bothered you that this was your first time hearing about her.

“You think? I’ve just…I’ve had my eye on her for a while and I think I’m ready to finally make a move, you know?” She sighed out, and you nod slowly, giving her a soft smile paired with a reassuring nod.

“Then go for it, Els. The worst she can say is no, and even then, there are plenty of other fish in the sea” you assure her. Because it’s true, Ellie never stayed single for long. There were always girls interested in her, or her them, and it wasn’t long until she was introducing you to a new, pretty girl that she’d have on her arm for the next however many months.

She smiled softly as she nodded, your words clearly getting through to her, as they always did. She gives a determined nod, moving to stand up from the chair she was sat at. “You’re damn right there is…hey, I’m gonna try to find someone to talk to, but I’ll catch you later, yeah?” She nods, slinging her bag over one of her shoulders, already walking away from the table as her eyes never left yours.

You give her a soft nod, eyes lingering on her form as you let out a low hum. “Always” you confirm, knowing that it was true. You’d always be there when Ellie needed you.

She beamed back at you, giving you a nod. You could practically see the excitement shining off of her body, seeping through her pores. “And I’ll catch you this weekend! Your place!” She shouted, causing your eyes to widen at her volume, the other students instantly shushing her. You give her a quick nod, your hands fanning away as you shoo her out of the library, a soft giggle leaving your lips.

You ignore the little cracks in your heart, because the smile on her face makes up for it. You know it’ll pass, you know this is merely a phase of your life that you’ll look back on and laugh at once you’ve found the person that was right for you, one that filled up the little holes that Ellie left in your heart.

And oh how you couldn’t wait for that day to come.

You don’t see Ellie that following weekend.

In fact, the last time you actually saw her was that day in the library, with the few times you saw her in and out of classes that the two of you shared.

Ellie ended up talking to Sofia that same day, and it turns out she was interested in girls. From the texts that she sent you that night, she was raving about the day that they had set up after hours of talking out in the courtyard. She tells you she’s sorry, that she can’t make it out to your place for your routine weekend together, and you tell her it’s fine, to have fun and tell you all about the date the next morning.

And suddenly, you can’t remember the last time you spent more than five minutes with your best friend.

You text here and there, and she catches you outside of class when you happen to make it there at the same time sometimes, but you don’t really have lunch together anymore like you always do, you don’t sit outside in the courtyard to kill time between classes together, she doesn’t visit you in the library, all of those things just suddenly stop.

And then she tells you, she’s dating Sofia.

She tells you they made it official after the first four dates, and at first you feel it’s a bit fast, but you realize they spend all of the time that you and Ellie used to spend together, with each other instead, and it suddenly makes sense. Ellie had a girlfriend now, and it was the explanation for the sudden lack of her presence, the absence of your best friend on weekends. While you stared at your tv screen alone, she was with Sofia.

And you were happy for her, of course you were happy, why wouldn’t you be? She was your best friend and she had gotten the girl she wanted for so long, just as you expected she would…

But the happiness you felt for her lived alongside the sadness that you felt. The two emotions becoming tenants in the home that was your heart, sitting across one another, glaring at each other as they battled for control of you, controlling how you dealt with the situation, how you coped with the sudden disappearance of your best friend.

So, you didn’t give either one control, you ignored them both after a while, and you simply carried on as if nothing had ever happened.

Ellie really was the only person you occupied any free time with, opting to be with her rather than anyone else, because it felt good. You liked it when it was just you and Ellie, it was easy, and it was easy to not overthink things and simply be, rather than worry about how you were behaving.

So without her, you simply did all the things you did with her, just on your own.

Ellie tried to make time for you, while juggling the escapades that come with the early stages of a relationship, you couldn’t take that away from her, but you saw how hard it was. You didn’t want her to feel bad, or feel like she was neglecting you, or her friendship, even if she sort of was. You convinced her it was fine, that she deserved to enjoy her new relationship, and that it needed more attention than your friendship ever would, not right now at least.

And Sofia was great. She was beautiful, and kind, and sweet, and after meeting her a few times, you considered her to be somewhat of a big sister figure. Seeing her made it clear to understand just why Ellie was so keen on taking her off the market as soon as she could.

But that seemed to make it even harder to deal with.

It was on days like this one where it hit you a bit harder, Ellie’s absence. You didn’t mind being alone, but walking to and from classes without her constant banter and jokes definitely wasn’t the best, and heading out to the cafes for lunch was far too quiet on your own, but, you prevailed.

You were making your way out of your third and last class for the day, a soft sigh leaving your lips as you adjusted your bag on your shoulder. The week was finally closing in, and you couldn’t be happier. You yearned for the warmth of your home, your cozy little bed, your favorite mug filled with your favorite hot chocolate, it called to you as you pushed past the large doors of your college building, making your way out to the brisk outdoors of your campus.

The sound of quickening footsteps behind you was almost drowned out as you took your headphones from behind your neck, and began setting them onto your head. A hand suddenly pulled them down, forcing them back around your neck, which caused your eyebrows to furrow as you turned around to see who in their right mind would try to fuck with a girl and her music.

You almost passed out when you were met face to face with your best friend.

Seeing her made you realize just how long it had been since you saw her. You tried convincing herself it had only been a few weeks, but you found it hard to remember the last time you were staring up into those big green eyes, and not imagining them instead.

Your frown was quickly replaced with a soft smile, adjusting your bag on your shoulder as you stared up at Ellie. “Ellie…god…I was ready to start throwing punches” you joked, pulling your headset from around your neck and pushing them down into your beg before you looked back up at her.

Ellie chuckled softly, watching as you went about putting your things away. Her smile was so bright, eyes twinkling, cheeks red, all signs that pointed towards the same thing.

Ellie Williams was properly smitten.

“I’ve been looking for you, dork…you’re always hiding these days” she groaned out, which caused you to hum softly, giving her a slight shrug. “Been busy studying Els…I’m sorry” you tried, giving her a half smile.

Knowing that your studying was not the cause of the divide in your friendship, and neither was it you hiding.

She pouted softly, stepping forward so that you two could walk together. “I miss you…” She hummed out, staring down at the Nikes on her feet, nearly swallowed up by her baggy jeans. Her words make your heart tug as you stare up towards the large trees, swaying with the autumn wind, sun peeking in between the thick foliage of the leaves.

“How are you And Sof? Things going well?” You questioned, opting to ignore the way you heart beat faster when she said she missed you. You were also genuinely curious, you wanted to hear more about Ellie’s relationship, you wanted her to confide in you and trust you as anyone else would trust their best friend with their relationship.

Ellie instantly smiled bashfully at the mention of the girl, a soft hum leaving her lips as she nodded. “Fuck…she’s amazing, man. She’s like a fucking dream, I swear, I’m honestly not sure what I’ve done to deserve her” she sighed out, voice sounding so dreamy and love sick, you can’t help but smile.

“You like her…don’t you? I mean…you’re my best friend, your approval is one that’s pretty fucking important to me” she chuckled out as she looked over at you, head dipping down a bit to try and her a glimpse of your down casted face, her hands shoved into her pocket.

Her words make you hum, and you’re giving her a soft smile as you look up at her. Her expression is written with one that is concerned, concerned that you approve of her relationship, that you think she’s making the right move with Sofia.

And you know in that moment, you have the power to break it all. You have the power to rip things to shreds, just by telling Ellie you think Sofia isn’t the right girl for her, because you know she’ll listen to you. You know she’ll take your feelings into consideration, because she trusts you.

“I think she’s perfect for you, Ellie” you breath out, giving her a reassuring smile.

Because just as much as you know you have the power to be horrible, and rip everything away from them both, Ellie doesn’t deserve that, and neither does Sofia. They don’t deserve to hurt for the sake of your feelings, at the expense of what you feel for Ellie.

And the smile you see your best friend shoot your way makes it all worth it, because it’s like she’s been waiting for those words to leave your lips to go all the way, to give herself to Sofia completely and give into her as she wanted to this entire time.

“Fuck…you don’t know how happy that makes me” she sighs out, looking up towards the sky and letting her eyes flutter shut as she takes a deep inhale, and you know she’s truly happy.

And that makes you happy.

“Hey, are you busy next weekend? There’s a party Sof and I are going to, you should come with us” she says as she looks down towards you. You know it’s a bad idea, because it means you’ll third wheel the entire night, tucked away in a corner to avoid watching them make out all night long until it’s time to go home, where you’ll be just as miserable there as you are in your house.

But you know Ellie won’t take no for an answer.

You let out a soft sigh before you give her a nod, paired with a half smile, and she’s already cheering loudly, causing people around you to stare, and you groan softly as you give her a gentle shove, urging her to stop.

“I’ll text you the details! Sof and I will pick you up” she confirmed, and you give her a soft giggle before you nod. “Get out of here…I’ll see you then” you promise, and she’s smiling brightly as she begins walking away.

And despite the fact that it’s the first time you’ve talked to her in far too long, and it was mainly about her girlfriend, you can’t ignore the way your heart ignites for that small interaction on its own, and the excitement you feel knowing you have plans with her in the near future.

It’ll be fine, you remind yourself. It always has been, and it always will be. And with that, you made your way home.

The following week, is when you met Alex.

You were making your way to your first class of the day, the early morning sun shining down on you, giving you only a bit of warmth from the brisk air that swirled around you and the other students scattered about within the large courtyard that served as a main point sprouting out to all other campus buildings.

Your eyes were trained on your feet, a habit you had that had caused you to run into many people, many times. It was an easy way for you to stay deep in thought, focusing on the way your shoes sounded hitting the pavement with each steps, watching as they crunched against leaves.

“Excuse me?” A soft voice broke you away from your locked gaze on your feet, your eyes blinking a few times as you looked up to figure out who it was that was trying to get your attention.

When you laid eyes on the person looking at you, you nearly passed out.

It was a girl, she was tall, with pretty eyes and a charming smile. Her jacket hung loosely on her shoulders, bag draped over one of her arms, a paper in one of her hands. Her features were strong, yet soft at the same time, mixing together both masculine and feminine and almost making your mind go completely blank as her beautiful eyes stared into yours.

“Um…could you help me? It’s my first day and I’m sort of lost” she chuckled out bashfully, her hand reaching up to run through her hair as she tried handing you the paper in her hand. You simply blinked a few times, watching the girl almost in awe as she stared down at you, before you realized you were in fact gawking at this woman.

You cleared your throat, giving her a quick nod before you giggled. “Yes! Yea…sorry..I…can I?” You question as you gestured towards the paper, which caused her to chuckle softly and nod as she handed it to you.

Your eyes scanned over the paper, furrowing a bit in concentration before you zeroed in on the first class she has in her schedule, and it made you smile.

“Oh, that’s where I’m going! You must be the new transfer student the professor was talking about” you explain, your heart beating a bit faster as you come to the conclusion that not only is this insanely hot girl speaking to you, but she’s also in your first class of the day.

She smiles brightly, pearly white teeth flashing your way as she raises her eyebrows. “No way…would you mind if I walked with you then?” She hums out, eyeing you carefully before you look up at her from the paper, giving her a shy smile as you nod. “I wouldn’t mind at all…come on”

You learn that her name is Alex, and that she was supposed to start the semester with everyone else, but there were issues with her documents so she had to transfer instead. The entire way to class, you take your time together, strolling along the pathways and hallways of your school, getting to know one another. You realize that although it’s your first conversation with her, you feel as comfortable with her as you do with…

As you do with Ellie.

When you realize that, you realize that you’d gone the longest without thinking about Ellie than you had in a long time. Alex takes her off your mind completely, because she’s pretty, and her smile makes you swoon, and being with her feels comfortable.

And you reckon you could get used to it.

When you both finally reach your classroom, there are students scattered about, waiting for the professor to arrive and for the lecture to start. You hum softly as you look over at your usual seat, turning around to look up at Alex. “I sit over there…there’s an empty right next to me if you want” you suggest.

The empty seat used to be taken up by Ellie before she started dating Sofia.

Alex smiles brightly as she nods before you can even finish your words, and that alone prompts you to grab her hand and drag her along through all of the seats to get to the two seats tucked away in the corner, the ones you used to look forward to making your way to almost every day that you had class.

When you two are settled, you fall into a comfortable conversation, your head resting against your hand as you listen to her speak. She tells you about her old school, about her favorite books and movies, her favorite music. You’re so caught up in the conversation with Alex…

That you don’t even notice Ellie walk into the room.

She walks in as she usually does these days, laughing softly at something Sofia said, her arm draped around the girls waist, keeping her close. Had it been any other day, she would’ve made her way down to the usual seats in the front that she has recently taken with Sofia, but the sound of our laugh quickly catches her attention.

At first, she realizes she hasn’t heard the loud sound in quite some time. The only thing she’d received from you in the small moments she shared with you were tiny giggles, or small hums, but never that deep, belly laugh that she loved so much.

Then, when she looks at you, head tilting back as you cover your lips, laughing loudly at something she was oblivious to, her eyes finally fall on the person your body is turned towards. A head of short hair and a leather clad, broad back is turned towards her, and suddenly Ellie is frowning.

Because that seat, is hers.

Ellie gives Sofias waist a soft tap, mumbling for her to wait for her at their seats as she presses a soft kiss to her cheek, green eyes never leaving you and Alex as she continues to make you laugh uncontrollably.

She doesn’t think about much, other than the annoyance she feels that someone is in her seat, regardless of the fact that she’d left that seat empty, leaving you alone for weeks on end. All she knows, is that she doesn’t like that someone is sitting in her seat, she doesn’t like that this is the first time she’s heard you laugh in weeks…..

And she sure as hell doesn’t like that it’s this mystery person that is causing that laugh in the first place.

“I know! I can’t believe you like that show too, I was convinced that-“ your words are cut off by the dark, looking presence that is suddenly hanging over you and Alex. It makes you frown softly, looking up to find a very angry Ellie standing in front of both you and Alex.

“Ellie? Hey! What are you doing here?” You question softly, unable to remember the last time you’d seen Ellie up there at those seats with you. The question is genuine, and for a moment you assume something might be wrong, but Ellie’s expression seems to be even more annoyed than when she first got there.

Instead, Ellie completely disregards your question, the girl annoyed with how innocent and genuine your words are, your big eyes blinking up at her with a twinge of worry as you await her reasoning for being there with you. She looks at Alex, her tongue pressing against her cheek before she nods her head towards the seat she’s sitting in. “That’s my seat” she deadpans, not leaving any room for argument.

Alex raises her eyebrows, staring up at Ellie before she turns to you for a moment, humming casually as she gives a half shrug. “I was told no one sits here anymore” she hummed out, staring up at Ellie in a challenging manner. It causes Ellie to scoff softly, rolling her eyes before she inhales deeply, and you know it’s because she’s trying to control her temper.

“Well I do, so you should find a different seat” she barks back, her tone progressively becoming more and more irritated with Alex. Alex simply chuckles softly, clearly taking Ellie for a joke as she sighs out. “Doesn’t have your name on it…so I’m not going anywhere” she finishes off, clearly done with the conversation with Ellie. Ellie raises her eyebrows, finally looking over at you as if to silently ask if you’re just going to let someone speak to your best friend that way.

And it annoys you to no end.

It annoys you because Ellie didn’t care about the seat for the past however many weeks since she’d been dating Sofia, you were sure it had been a good month at least, and suddenly she cares about it when someone is taking up the spot.

Taking up her spot.

You frown softly, staring up at your friend before you let out a soft sigh. “I think Sofia is waiting for you, Ellie” you try, giving her a slight nod as if to remind her that her girlfriend was in fact waiting for her down at the bottom of the sea of chairs. You hope it’ll clear her head, and whatever this sudden urge to come and check up on you with it. You see a flash of something ripple across her face, something you can’t quite make out for a moment, but once you do, it’s clear as day.

Betrayal.

She inhales deeply, eyes never leaving yours, only when they dart over to Alex. She wants to stay and say more, try to get the idiot next to you to sit somewhere else, anywhere else, but suddenly you’re turning your attention back to Alex, a soft smile on your lips as you fall back into conversation with her as if Ellie wasn’t standing right over the both of you. Ellie feels like she could burn a hole through the floorboards with how much it makes her seethe.

And the worst part is? She couldn’t even understand why it made her feel that way.

Soon, she’s stomping off like a child, down the stairs of the lecture room towards Sofia. She gives you an apologetic look from her spot at the bottom where she sits with Ellie, and it makes you so confused because why is she even looking at you that way? As if she was to blame for her girlfriends behavior? You give her a small smile back, and she turns around towards Ellie, her small hands rubbing the girls back gently as she bent her head down and pressed a soft kiss to her head.

You eye them for a moment, but your eyes don’t linger like they used to. You’re quickly looking back at Alex as she speaks to you, making you forget all about the very strange behavior your best friend just exhibited.

“Sorry about that…she’s…she’s great, I promise. I’m sure you two would like each other” you nod, giving Alex a reassuring smile. Alex hums in response as she looks down at Ellie, her eyes narrowing down at her for a moment before she nods. “I’m sure we would” she smiles out, and you can tell despite the rude interaction they just had, she’s genuine, and she seems to want to know more about Ellie.

But you save that for later, because you’d much rather get to know Alex than talk about Ellie.

#ellie williams #ellie williams smut #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x you #ellie tlou #ellie x y/n #ellie the last of us #ellie x you

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tkaulitzlvr · 9 months

Note

Im the type of person that wouldn’t do the silent treatment if Tom got me mad. I would stay out all night and not answer the phone just to make him mad. How would Tom react 👀?

PERSISTENT - T. KAULITZ

synopsis: after a fight with tom, you decide to go out clubbing, much to his annoyance. no matter how many times he calls, you ignore him, bringing him to his own breaking point. and once you come home, he doesn’t plan on going easy on you.

content: angst + mentions of smut, i’ll do a part 2 if u guys want lol

a/n: tom being rough and possessive is so hot like i would purposely piss him off just to see him mad… ANYWAYSS thank u for the req anon!! i’m so sorry if i haven’t done ur request i have like 50 in my inbox so it’s taking me a while but i don’t have an order of how i do them so it’s pretty random what i’ll choose to write but yea pls bare with me!!🙏🙏

“come on, i said i was sorry. you’re being so fucking dramatic.” tom says, standing on the other side of the room as my eyes are fixed on my phone screen, not paying any attention to what he is saying, still liking how the idea of punching his face sounds. he knows that he has fucked up, deciding to forget to show up to my family dinner yesterday, instead rehearsing with the band all day and crashing at bill’s place, not showing up until right now - 8:30pm the next day. and, he had dug himself an even bigger hole, telling me to ‘calm down’ when i expressed my anger towards his incompetence.

“am i?” i mutter sarcastically, refusing to make eye contact. unbeknownst to him, i was texting my friends, making sure that nobody had plans, organising the final details of which bar we would go to, deciding that if tom can stand me up without telling me, then i can go out partying as i please, whether he is aware or not.

he tuts beside me, his slow and tired steps trudging towards me as his figure falls onto the bed, the mattress dipping next to me. he places one hand on my ass, massaging the flesh lightly, his lips meeting my neck as he plants rough, open-mouthed kisses over the skin. i take no notice, continuing to tap the keys of my small smartphone, not at all tempted by his lazy advances.

“please baby…” he mutters against my neck, kissing the skin harshly between his words. “i’m sorry, let me make it up to you, hm? i’ll make you feel so good. just let me touch you princess, you’re so beautiful.”

his shitty attempts to win me over are almost pitiful, my body still as i try to stifle a laugh, a smile spreading across my face as the text that confirms that everyone can make it comes through. i say nothing, detaching tom’s arms from my lower back, getting up from the bed and walking towards the closet, picking out the sluttiest dress that i own, knowing how much tom hates me wearing it.

he watches me from the bed, his eyebrows furrowed, staying silent for a few seconds, yet the second he sees my hands grab hold of that dress, he sits up, his confused voice sounding through the bedroom.

“woah woah woah, what are you doing?” he asks, standing up and moving in front of me, attempting to block my way.

i simply roll my eyes, moving past him and placing the dress on the bed. “going out.” i shrug, my fingers reaching to the hem of my t-shirt, lifting the soft material upwards and over my head, tom watching me do so.

“wearing that? no you’re not.” he scoffs, quickly snatching the dress from the bed and holding it against his chest. i turn around, my upper half now completely bare besides from my bra, tom’s eyes focused on my cleavage, his expression still angry.

“stop playing and give me the fucking dress.” i sigh, holding my hand outwards and trying to snatch it from him.

“you’re not going out. not without me.” he reiterates, his grip on the material staying tight as he looks into my eyes, his tongue poking the inside of his lips.

“yes, i am.” i state, quickly snatching the dress from his hands and running to the bathroom, frantically locking the door before he can get to me, his fists colliding with it as he groans in frustration, a string of curses leaving his lips.

“you’re such a fucking brat, you know that? open the door and quit messing around. this shit isn’t funny.” he yells, repeatedly banging on the door.

however i am too busy slipping the dress onto my figure, adjusting the small straps and brushing my hair into a slick ponytail, applying some extremely rushed makeup, all whilst he continues to shout at me from the other side of the door, pointless apologies and pleads to let him in sounding throughout the bathroom. i hurriedly grab my heels, placing them on my feet and taking one last look at myself in the mirror. i had looked better on nights out, but tonight was about revenge, and whilst i didn’t look my best, i still looked hot. hot enough to drive tom absolutely insane - especially considering that he would have no idea where i was, looking like this all alone his biggest fear, partly out of concern for my safety, but it was mainly because of his jealous tendencies. and whenever i dressed like this, even if he stayed by my side at all times, he became more possessive than ever.

yet right now, i want to make him mad, desperate to get him to the point of utter insanity, seeking some form of payback for what he had done - not caring about the consequences.

i emerge from the bathroom, tom stood inches away from me. he raises his eyebrows, his gaze moving downwards as he studies every inch of my body.

“no fucking way are you leaving looking like this.” he starts, shaking his head as a sarcastic chuckle leaves his lips. “you must be insane if you think i’d let you. do you have any idea of the kind of people out there? fuck that.”

“since when can you tell me what to do?” i laugh, taken aback by his sudden attitude, pissed off at the way he tries to control me, especially after what he has already done.

“since i’m your fucking boyfriend, incase you had forgotten! only i get to see you looking like this, i’m not gonna let you leave the house alone, letting everyone see basically everything. don’t be ridiculous.” he tuts, narrowing his eyes as i can sense the irritation in his tone. “i said i was sorry. if that’s what this is about, then you’ve proven your point, great job. but i’m not letting you leave, not wearing that.”

“you don’t own me, i can do whatever the fuck i want.” i shrug, pulling my dress up a little higher just to frustrate him more, before rushing out of our bedroom and through the house, quickly slipping out of the front door before he can stop me. he frustratedly calls my name from behind, a chorus of curse words and irritated demands all along the lines of telling me to ‘come back’ spilling from his lips until i close the door, running to my friends car and hopping in.

i look at my phone, already seeing five missed calls and a few texts, some apologising again, others telling me to come back inside. i roll my eyes, putting my phone on silent and engaging in conversation until we arrive to the club, spilling out of the car.

the place is completely packed, excitement oozing through my veins as we rush towards the bar, ordering far more shots than necessary, but in the moment i didn’t care - my mind focuses on one thing: pissing tom off. and i know that the more drunk i get, the more angry he will become, the idea satisfying to me as i pick up the small glass. i hold it to my lips, some lipgloss smudging onto it, my head tilting backwards as i allow the liquid to slip downwards, burning the back of my throat. i wince slightly, the taste strong and bitter, yet that doesn’t stop me as i pick up another glass, swallowing the liquid inside of it as fast as i can, eager to feel its effects right now, tired of feeling sober.

my friend takes my hand as i quickly swallow the last of my drink, following her shaky footsteps, all of us beyond tipsy. we find our way to the dance floor, slotting between a couple too focused on swallowing each other’s faces to realise we had pushed them aside. the alcohol finally sinking into my system, bringing along with it a sense of freedom that i had missed so much. i sway my hips to the music, getting lost in the rhythm, a wide grin on my face.

༻❦༺

i have no idea how long i have been dancing for, or how long i have been at the club for. i probably can’t even count the amount of drinks i have had on my fingers, now completely wasted as i sloppily dance to the music, my arms in the air.

“come on, we’ve got more drinks!” i hear my friend call over from the couch area, her words slurred and almost inaudible.

i smile widely, awkwardly shuffling through the crowd and over to the table, my movements all over the place as i stumble towards the couch, flopping onto it. my eyes turn to the large tray of drinks, filled with an array of shots and cocktails, my hands reaching for whatever drink i can touch first - not exactly picky at this point, i’ve probably consumed every cocktail to exist in the past hour. the sweet taste washes over my tastebuds, it’s bitter aftertaste now normal to me as i swallow it with no reaction, drinking the liquid like it is water, feeling happier with each sip. i place the drink down, glancing momentarily to my phone for the first time since i had left, seeing that tom is calling me again, at least twenty unseen messages filling my inbox.

baby i said i was sorry, come on. - 9:52pm

seriously, this isn’t funny anymore. - 9:52pm

come home now, i’m worried about u. - 9:53pm

where the fuck are you?? - 9:54pm

i swear to god if you don’t pick up the fucking phone. - 9:56pm

do u think this is funny? do u know how worried i am?? answer the damn phone. - 9:58pm

answer the fucking phone. i swear to god once i find out where you are. - 10:01pm

i’m coming to find you. - 10:04pm

i roll my eyes, placing my phone back in my purse and picking up my drink, finishing the last of it and putting the empty glass on the table. the place starts to feel increasingly warm as i decide to get some fresh air, standing up slowly from my seat, almost toppling over from the amount of alcohol i had consumed.

“anyone coming for a smoke?” i ask, turning to my friends.

they all decline apart from one, resuming their conversation over the loud music as the two of us head outside, pushing the doors open, the cold air hitting my face and cooling me down immediately. i open my purse, taking a cig out and lighting it, bringing it to my lips as i inhale, closing my eyes. the smoke fills my lungs, bringing a small moment of calm despite the low buzz still in my body. i exhale slowly, watching the smoke pour from my lips, disappearing into the night as i lean backwards against the cold wall, it’s harshness causing me to shiver a little.

i take a few more drags, holding the cig in between my fingers, enjoying the small moment of peace. the streets are practically empty, apart from the large queue of people waiting to be let into the club beside me, the diluted thumping of music drowned out slightly. the roar of a car engine, one that sounds strangely familiar, pulls me out of my hazy moment, my eyes turning to the source of the sound. i can recognise that car from anywhere - it’s headlights getting closer and closer as i roll my eyes, turning around and attempting to blend in with the small crowd of people outside.

i sigh in relief as my plan is successful - or so i thought. the car drives past me for a few seconds, it’s tyres screeching to a stop as the door opens, tom stepping out of it. his eyes frantically scan the crowd, his entire expression disjointed, chest heaving up and down as he tries to spot me. apparently my attempt at cover doesn’t suffice as his eyes lock with mine, his face softening as he lets out a sigh of relief, rushing towards me.

i groan, knowing that there is no point in running - he will always catch me, wasting my energy trying to escape would be useless. he comes closer, pushing the drunken bodies aside until he is standing in front of me, his face angry.

“jesus fucking christ do you know how scared i was?” he shouts, roughly grabbing me by my waist and smashing his lips to mine. though i can tell that this isn’t to show his affection, rather it is a way for him to release a small amount of his frustration, this not even the beginning of it.

“no way, really?” i question sarcastically, gasping as i pretend to be shocked, still furious for the shit he pulled lastnight, not interested in his feeling right now.

“lose the fucking attitude. don’t think that you’re gonna get away with this. we’re leaving, get in the fucking car.” he says, clenching his jaw and grabbing my hand. though he is clearly furious, he takes it gently, maintaining a steady grip, still careful not to hurt me.

“what if i don’t want to leave?” i challenge, a satisfied smile on my face as i know exactly how to further his anger.

“you don’t have a choice.” he states, rolling his eyes as he begins to pull me towards his car, his breathing heavy, face stern. i know that i have pissed him off, and perhaps gone too far.

he opens the passenger door, and i step in sulkily, knowing that i have pushed my boundaries. i fold my arms, rolling my eyes as he slams the door shut, quickly walking around to the driver’s side, angrily getting in.

“never fucking good enough for you is it?” he mutters, swiping his tongue across his bottom lip as he sighs, roughly clicking his seatbelt on. “i told you i was sorry, but you had to be a brat about it.”

i stay silent, sinking further into my seat as he places his hand firmly on the gearstick, beginning to drive away.

“where’s your fucking attitude now, hm? pathetic.” he scoffs, turning to face me for a second as i refuse to make eye contact, embarrassed at my change in persona, slightly scared by his tone, knowing that i have fucked up.

his foot presses harshly against the accelerator, speeding up, letting out his anger as his hand clenches the gearstick, tugging it roughly, his veins flexing with each motion.

“just wait until we get home. i’m gonna fuck that attitude out of you, maybe it’ll teach you to stop being so stubborn all the damn time.”

i sense the sincerity in his tone, recognising that he is completely serious, deciding to stay quiet to avoid pissing him off further. yet i cannot ignore the aching between my thighs, slightly excited at his threat, secretly desperate to get home so that he can execute his promise.

time seems to work against me, each second feeling like hours as the silence between us only fuels the tension. i have never been so relieved to see our house come into view, waiting patiently as tom pulls in, turning the engine off and staying in his seat. he takes a deep breath, his tongue messing with the metal of his lip piercing before he opens his mouth to speak, refusing to make eye contact.

“upstairs. and do as i say this time, if you want to be walking tomorrow.”

requests are open! as i said veryyy full atm but if i like ur req i’ll do it straight away so keep sending them in!!

#tom kaulitz #kaulitz twins #tokiohotel #kaulitz #tom kaulitz x reader #tom kaulitz angst #tom kaulitz smut #tomkaulitz #tom kaulitz fluff #bill kaulitz

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trashfangirlsworld · 3 months

Text

I'm gonna attempt to make another post talking about stuff I've seen after q's stream, because I saw people say that the last one I made made them feel better, so here we go:

why is he speaking spanish: this is not something I necesserly saw after yesterday, but I did see it last time he streamed a statement regarding qsmp and the fact that he had to start this stream fucking explaining why he's speaking his native language to formulate what he wants to say better is fucking vile to me and anyone that said that last time does not have a right to stay in this fandom or to even talk about this situation.

he does not have a right to sound mad: i'm sorry, but he has every right to sound frustrated, he is not mad at the admins that choose to leave the project, he explicitly says he understand their decision and wishes them the best, he is frustrated at those that have caused damage to the server in the first place and are still the reason why he can't be more open about what's happening. We are talking about his passion project here, of course he's frustrated that this is happening, even if he completely understands why some admins are leaving.

he is enabling hate against lea and others! (people that have leaked information): quackity has every right to cite the reason as to why he can't openly communicate the way he wants to, especially when those leaks have been twisted and used against him by the people that were initially harming the server in the first place (those he fired). He openly says the he doesn't necesserly think that the people that are leaking stuff are aware of how those leaks are actually being used, so he's not blaming any specific person. Actions have consequences, no one is the exception to this rule in this situation.

he says any criticism is invalid!: no he just straight up doesn't. He says he's not bothered by people that give non-constructive critcism and whose goal is clearly to see the project destroyed. If you feel like this statement is a call out to what you have been saying, then maybe you should reflect on what you actually want here and potentially leave. If you have constructive criticism you want to say, once again keep in mind that quackity does not have twitter on his phone and the best way to commuincate something to him is through his public email.

As quackity himself said multiple times, if you're not happy with how things are going and don't want to wait for visible change it's fine, but do not twist and nitpick stuff because you don't want to step away from something if you don't have a "moral" reason to do so. I said this multiple times, but this is just a shitty fucking situation that does not have an easy and quick solution to it, and people will make decisions or mistakes that you will not like on all sides, it does not mean there is malicious intent behind those decisions. Again, we may not know their names and how many there were, but we know who is actually to blame for all of this and I hope quackity is in the process/is gonna be able to sue them. The admins that choose to leave because of any reason have every right to do so, something that quackity himself also expressed on his stream. It is very possible to support them completely while understanding why things are the way they are, as much as everyone fucking dislikes it.

I genuinely hope qsmp is able to come back stronger, however long it takes, because I personally think this project is good and does not deserve to end this way. Much love to everyone, once again remember to have empathy to everyone.

#I might add more depending on what I see but for now this is it #also #do not force the admins to fucking make statements #about if they're leaving or not #let them do what they want #qsmp #qsmp discourse #qadmin situation

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strawberrysainz · 10 months

Text

secret garden. charles leclerc

“ charles joining you on holiday was definitely not planned. you begin to have small revelations. is it the wine, or are you truly thinking about his lips on yours? ”

charles leclerc x reader

a warning— crude language, alcohol consumption, mentions of food, slightly mature. some shitty french, italian, spanish.

word count: 4.1k

Your book seems to begin to blur as the lethargy of a Sunday at five o’clock tends to do what it does best; make you sleepy.

That, and your previous glass of wine seemed to be catching up to you.

The universe sends a saviour in the shape of your friend Lila: she pokes your stomach so you that look up through your sunglasses. You shut the book. It’s something about a twenty-something girl in the 1960s, who joins a hippie cult, and the facts make your head spin (you really couldn’t be arsed to focus while the wine makes you drowsy). You pause the playlist on your phone to look expectantly up at her. She’s a little bit drunk too; her hair is mussed up from laying down on the lounger. The Italian sun was perfect today, white wine flowing while you both tanned the day away. Lila had invited you to her fiancé’s (he worked for Ferrari) house in Tuscany for a week in the summer. It was picturesque and romantic, but he had to work for much of it and she wanted to spend the time with a person who was there constantly. With a getaway promised years ago, she finally followed through, and your second day was just as lovely as the first.

“Up for padel?”

“You mean… le sport?” You answer, giggling slightly. “The wine is in my head now, ma chérie.” You tease affectionately and she begins to tidy up her things to go inside. “Yes, le sport,” she mocks, “‘Tonio invited us to play.” “With who as the fourth?” You ask curiously; Antonio had lamented all day yesterday that he was ‘third wheeling, alone’. Lila pauses to focus on the question, delightfully tipsy, and her hand tries to fold the towel as she thinks. “He invited Charles to come stay too, they will train and plot for the season’s second half together. Now we will third wheel on them.”

You nod then, smiling, and pack up, giggling to yourself about the looks you’ll get from those two when you turn up fabulously drunk. “Is it a hazard to play padel with athletes when the wine makes me slow?”

Lila cackles, bumping her sunglasses back up on her face, sliding on her sundress. “Tonio might flip out on us for being useless, he’s so competitive against Charles. Charles is too nice to say anything. I hope I am his partner.” She snorts, and you laugh too.

“I hope Charles brought proper drinks too. Last time we had a party at Lando’s, that tequila he brought…” you sigh at the memory. “I hope he’s also on summer mode. No offence chérie, but your boy cannot switch off unless he has a friend.” You poke fun at the fact that he will only drink one glass of wine with supper and refuse to get drunk as fuck with the two of you. Lila hits you with the pillow.

💋🍷🍝🫂💌

You two Uber to the padel courts Antonio frequents in Italy, too scared to drive (rightfully so, you’re a bit shitfaced). You drink bottles and bottles of water, staring into each other’s eyes to try and sober up, but the dopey looks make you burst out laughing each time.

You end up napping for ten minutes, trying to sleep off the wine. Then you pat each other’s faces, blinking and blinking, but you end up giving up. Padel with two competitive men will be more fun not sober. When the driver drops you off, he tells you he is praying for whoever you speak to in the next minutes. You two end up in tears of laughter from God knows what. It ends with a hefty euro tip, some swear words and catching Lila from falling onto the street. Eventually you make it to the courts, picking up the two racquets the boys left for you on a bench, and you stare at Lila. “I hope we survive this.” You say seriously, and she salutes. You are in peals of laughter when you reach their court.

Charles stares at the two of you with amusement as you nearly trip over the entrance. “Avez-vous bu tous les deux?” He asks, and he receives just a wink from you, pointing at the small wine stain on Lila’s shirt.

He stifles a cackle as Lila goes to kiss Antonio sloppily, who kisses her reluctantly before gently scolding her in Italian. “Tonio, mon rêleuse, we apologise. We have only received your invitation when the wine was flowing. We also bring a level of entertainment.” You announce, brandishing the racquet. Your bluntness makes even Antonio smile. “Alright, alright. I was planning to put you two together, but maybe we’ll each pair with a drunkard, no?” He nods at Charles, who smiles.

“I’ll look after my girlfriend.” He adds, and Lila groans. “No! I wanted to play with Charles, he’s better at padel.” Antonio looks the most hurt you’ve ever seen a man be.

“Le spectacle de merde.” You whisper, at least you think it is a whisper, to Charles. “Ouais,” he giggles. You smack his arm affectionately. “Tu es tellement adorable,” you say, pursing your lips in a sweet way, and he hugs you with one arm, rubbing your back. “Laisse le vin continuer à parler, oui?”

The way in which you solidly keep hitting the ball on the wire makes him laugh.

Antonio cannot keep himself from raging at the two of you being useless, and tries to calm himself down; Lila falls on the court laughing at his aggressive muttering. You cry with laughter every time she misses the ball (which is more often than not) which leads Charles to request a glass of the wine you had been drinking. Padel has never been more fun, in your opinion: your grip gets looser and your shots stronger with every point. Charles carries your team, and you exchange a fist bump every time. Eventually you two win 11-10, and Lila jumps over the net clumsily to congratulate you both. Carlos settles for a reluctant high five. “Antonioooo…” you drag out his name, and the ridiculous grief of a tiny loss on his face makes you grin. “Can you make your tagliatelle?”

Lila clamours for it too, and he groans. “Whatever.” You two jump into each other’s arms; you end up getting another Uber back to shower and change so the boys can stop and grocery shop as well as buy you drinks, ‘not wine!’ under your instruction. When they get back, you’re slightly more sober, having showered and changed into a bikini (for a night swim) and a linen set over it.

Lila is asleep with her head on the kitchen counter while Charles pours you a rum and raspberry. You’re grateful for the different drink, the headache beginning to pound its way into your head. Antonio starts on the pasta, and you three talk about how their training was, how your poolside day went, the tourists in the city this week, paddock gossip and Charles’ new piano song, which he plays a recording of for you.

“That’s very good,” you compliment, and he blushes. Antonio is busy stirring the sauce while you have revelations. Charles clears his throat, locking the phone, and you set the table. “I’m making scones tonight,” you announce, and in the early stages of waking, Lila cheers with a yawn.

“With what?” Antonio challenges, and you wink. “I brought all the ingredients with. Jam and whipping cream. We can have some for breakfast tomorrow.” “Gotta train harder for that!” Lila jokes, flicking Charles’ arm, who giggles in that stupidly funny way.

💋🍷🍝🫂💌

Stomachs full and content, you and Lila float in the light of the pool. Occasionally you swat a mosquito out of your face, and your second R&R slowly slips away. “Still making the scones?” She asks, and you yawn. “Merde.”

You both laugh.

“Ti piace Cha?”

You stare at her.

“Sei pazzo? He’s most likely got some European model waiting for him in Monaco.”

“Ho visto come ti guardava.”

Your head hurts.

“Ma chérie, Cha could not look at me twice. There is nothing.” Lila makes a disapproving sound, and you splash her.

“Ho sempre pensato che non avrebbe mai potuto-“

Charles and Antonio, holding beers, make their way from the house to the pool. You shut up. You notice that they’ve also been drinking quite heavily, like you two- Charles is much too giggly, and Antonio has that drunken seriousness to him. They sit on the edge of the pool. “Where are those scones?” Antonio asks, and you roll your eyes. “Maybe I’ll make them fresh in the morning.” You yawn, making Charles do the same.

“Cazzata!” He replies, and you laugh with Lila. “Promise. I want to go horse riding tomorrow morning, the farm across the way said I could when we went with the dogs.” Lila shakes her head. “¡No puedo enfrentarme a un caballo, especialmente contigo!”

You snort. Antonio downs the beer. Charles is staring at the moon. “You okay?” You raise your eyebrows. “Just remembering last time I went riding.”

There is an awkward silence.

You can’t gauge his tone, and you make eye contact with Lila, frowning. “Well, if anyone wants to come, I would love to have them.” You clear your throat, and Antonio shakes his head. “Gym tomorrow.” Charles groans, putting down the beer. “Putain!” “You’ll have scones when you finish then,” you smile, and make to get out. “I’m going to bed if I want to get up at seven.”

Everyone wishes you a good night, and you make your way up to your room, still uneasy about Charles at the pool.

💋🍷🍝🫂💌

Your third day in Tuscany continues as you walk into the house; you are greeted by the dogs. The door was unlocked - a classic sign of Antonio leaving - so you knew the boys had left. You opened the large windows after taking off your boots, letting the fresh morning air in. You yawn as you put on a playlist, beginning to bake as the soft sounds of music accompany you to it.

About fifteen minutes later the scones are in the oven, and you set out some things to eat them with - as the plates clink, you hear Lila walking downstairs. “Hi,” she drags out the syllable - you smile at her ruffled brown hair - a dog is leaping up at her - and you wish her a good morning, making coffee for the both of you. She comes to sit on a bar stool, and you grimace at the remembrance of last night - where she slept for a moment or so - and she seems to recall the same. “How did you get up at seven?” She laughs. “My head was killing me.”

You laugh. “I have no clue.” “Wasn’t Charles weird last night? Or was I just drunk.” “No, he was so weird.” You are hungry to gossip (you had gone to bed before you could debrief.) “What the fuck was he on?”

Lila covers her mouth, laughing. Yet again, before you can gossip, the loud sound of the front door opening stops you. You groan and take the scones out of the oven. “Good morning!” Antonio says aloud, and you nod at the two walking in.

Lila kisses him on the cheek. “We have been hard at work.”

You grin. “How was neck day?” Charles rolls his eyes. “As incredible as you think it was.”

You laugh then, putting the hot scones on a plate. “Merde, did you do these from scratch? That’s so good.” “You burn eggs and toast, mate. Anything is so good in your eyes.” Antonio nudges Charles, who blushes furiously and smacks his arm.

You stare at Lila. She mouths some unfathomable sentence to you and you shrug as Antonio reaches for a scone. Your phone starts ringing, interrupting this strange situation, and you answer it. “Salut maman.” You answer.

“Ma chérie, comment est la Toscane? Les bons jours d'été avec toi me manquent, mon amour.”

You make a face that’s screwed up with childish embarrassment. “Tu me manques et la famille aussi, oui ? Je dois revenir en France pour visiter.”

“Papa t'envoie du champagne des cousins, et nous allons faire livrer des fleurs. Notre fille nous manque.”

“Pourquoi tant d'amour ?” You laugh.

“Sans raison.” She says innocently, and you stare at Lila, confused.

“Ton frère va se marier!”

“Quoi!” You shout, grasping your chest.

💋🍷🍝🫂💌

The news of your brother’s engagement leaves you still slightly concerned as Charles hands you some sort of cocktail. You take a sip and grimace at the ratio of rum to whatever else is in there. Charles laughs. “Haven’t they been together for a while?”

You shake your head, detailing that you’d met his fiancé - albeit a nice man - only once before. Antonio laughs. Lila smacks his arm. “You haven’t proposed yet, you cannot laugh.” Antonio’s face is a picture as you gasp for breath with laughter.

The sun sets on a slow evening as you laze by the pool with these people; you adore being in their company, you realise. You are still shaking your head with shock. “I can’t believe my brother is the first sibling to be married,” you grimace, and Charles laughs. “Which Leclerc will marry first, you think?” You ask him. “I don’t know. I think Lorenzo, because Arthur’s young. Definitely not me.” He emphasises with a face, and you laugh.

Hours later, you tell stories of your and Lila’s university days while the boys laugh, details of hookups and too much alcohol paint pictures of pure comedy. “Anyone want a scone?” You announce, going to make one in the kitchen. “I’ll come with,” Charles says politely, leaving the couple to themselves.

You end up pouring another R&R while you spread jam and cream, not eager to experience your hangover tomorrow morning. “Je suis un putain d’alcoolique.” Charles dismisses the thought. “S'il vous plaît, vous n'êtes pas spécial.”

You laugh. “It’s nice that you’re here. I always wanted to get to know you better.” You say off topic, switching to English, the languages getting mixed up in your slowed down mind. Charles laughs and pats your arm. “A drink makes you very emotional,” he jokes, and you make a face. “Be quiet.” “Let’s take a picture!” You switch up, mind spinning, and Charles is laughing as he takes pictures of you making scones with slow limbs, dancing, smiling, spinning.

You take a 0,5 of him in return, laughing at the weird expression on his face. You take selfies, air kissing, pulling faces, until your phone tells you you’re out of storage, and the moment is over, lipstick on his face. You laugh. He’s quiet.

“I can wipe it off,” you say quietly, trying not to ruin the comfortable energy in the kitchen. He lets you do it tenderly with a baby wipe, big expressive eyes staring into yours, wide with the relaxation of alcohol flowing through him. He leans in and you lurch back, shocked at the prospect of you two.

He pretends like he didn’t do anything, the little shit, and your eyes narrow as you pinch his ear. He cries out in pain, and tries to get you back, but you’re running with the scones in one hand and the drink in the other, cackling into the dark night, the comfort of the warmth.

💋🍷🍝🫂💌

The next morning is rough.

You’re woken up with a lurching stomach, violently hungover. You decide a swim under the Italian sun is going to help, and change, going to the pool. Antonio is there, swimming laps, and you hover awkwardly around the pool before getting in. He greets you softly, not wanting to disturb the birds chirping down at the vineyard and the peace of the morning. “There’s this song,” you say, dipping your head into the cool water, relishing this delightful feeling that comes with the activity of swimming like a child. “I used to listen to it every day of my last year of uni. It’s this song that makes me feel so great inside. And I realise that I feel that way when I’m with all of you. Thank you for inviting me.” Antonio looks touched, as much as a guy could at that revelation. “You’ve still got three days with me. That could change your mind.”

You laugh, diving underwater.

From the kitchen window, Lila and Charles are talking, unbeknownst to you. She grabs his arm aggressively as he moves to take the fresh cup of coffee. “Do you like her?” He jumps with fright. “Merde- she’s very nice?”

Lila raises her eyebrows.

He groans. “You aren’t going to ask me if I like like her as if I’m twelve.” “Charles!” She folds her arms, and he casts his gaze to you lazing in the pool.

“No.” He says stubbornly, and he might have convinced her but he hasn’t convinced himself. Lila lets out a huff as she turns back to the breakfast she’s making; he looks down at the floor.

💋🍷🍝🫂💌

Charles offers you wine. You nearly smack the bottle out of his hand. “No.”

The early afternoon is the precursor to your declaration of sobriety for the day; you and Lila take the dogs for another walk, getting dragged by their leashes as they leap and bound. You end up at the gym with her afterwards, sweating out your fatigue, and you try not to stare at Charles as he and Antonio walk in. Another game of padel is offered afterwards, and you two accept, playing away yet another lovely day and beginning of the evening. You’re much better at padel when you’re sober.

Then Antonio and Charles want to go clubbing, and you agree wearily, going back with them to change into some little strappy top and skirt. You have never decided your stance on clubbing - you love a night out somewhere, but the thought of it annoys you now, the prospect of a night in after a long bath sounding much better.

You and Lila pretend you’re back in your uni days, dark eyeshadow and dramatic makeup, perfume stinking up the room. You laugh at the two of you as you slip on some high heels, red lipstick everywhere, mascara accidentally smudging as you absentmindedly wipe your face.

You fix it before you’re running down to the car when you hear Antonio shouting about your tardiness. It’s a 4x4, and you slide chaotically into the middle seat next to Charles, Lila hopping in afterwards, your knee touching Charles’, skirt riding up. You let out a breath as Antonio has a bit of a nostalgic moment - he met Lila on a night just like this, with you two, at a club in Madrid.

“I feel nineteen again,” you laugh, seven years ago finding you again, the smell of Charles’ cologne rooting you back in the present. The driver is chattering on about Ferrari as you get Charles to take pictures of you and Lila, posing, then judging the pictures, high-fiving him for his great photography skills. You post one to your story, all wide eyes and pouty lips, and your followers begin to reply things about all those years ago.

You’re at the club twenty minutes later, a Khalid song sending you out of the car. You grab Lila’s arm and hug her, intensely nostalgic. Charles demands more pictures of you - Antonio agrees - you two must look good. He takes more, and then you’re all taking photos in the street light, and you’re handing your phone to some random girl who takes photos of all of you. She mumbles something in Italian and Charles thanks her very much before you’re all bundled into the club.

💋🍷🍝🫂💌

Charles comes to drape his arm over your shoulder an hour later, sweaty, and he’s got lip gloss on his lips. You point at your own lips pointedly and he exclaims something that’s lost in the noise. He lifts up his shirt to wipe his sticky lips and your gaze is caught on his abs as his hand brushes his chest. You look away hurriedly.

A dull ache propels you onto the dance floor, and some guy leans in to kiss you and you let him, annoyed and jealous. But his breath smells terrible, stale, and you’re pulling away, shuddering, and run to the bar for some water.

You’re still retching like a cat with a hairball ten minutes later when Charles finds you again, and he laughs with confusion. You roll your eyes. “I’m gonna go for a smoke,” you shout in his ear, and he follows you, a hand ghosting your back. You shiver and run out into the heat.

You pull out a box of cigarettes and a lighter out of your bag and you light one hurriedly, the taste of that guy still horrid in your mouth.

You offer the cig, lipstick-stained, and Charles hesitates before you shrug. “I didn’t know you smoked,” he said, and you shrugged. “Only when I’m out.”

He nods then; you lift up the cigarette to his lips. He takes a drag, eyes shining outside the fluorescent light of the club. You breathe, and you can see a teenager standing beside you instead of a man in his twenties, sneaking a smile and a smoke in secret.

💋🍷🍝🫂💌

It’s 2:26. You scroll on your phone as Charles talks lowly on the phone beside you (Leila and Antonio found some friends and decided to stay). You stare out at the moon, the light highlighting your face as you look back at Charles briefly. He’s already looking, and smiles slowly, bashful to have been caught. You can’t hide a smile.

His hand is laying tentatively on the middle seat, and your hand is on your knee. You both stare.

💋🍷🍝🫂💌

He’s pulling out a bottle of wine as you tumble into the house, the night welcoming you back to the villa. Your eyes are wide and his focussed on the glasses in his hand, walking carefully out onto the patio. You fall into a slightly uncomfortable metal chair and he pours a glass in the dark, squinting as you hear some crickets. You accept a glass with a quiet thanks and he sits down next to you clumsily, and the wine sloshes out onto his shirt and he curses quietly. You grin.

One of the dogs pad out onto the wood and the click of its nails makes your nose scrunch and it tries to jump on your lap; with a groan you attempt to shove it off and Charles gets up, laughing, pushing, and somehow he ends up staring into your eyes, bending down, and some force of nature propels you to capture his lips with yours. You let out a little sigh as he wraps a hand in your hair, and he’s pulling you up and the glass is forgotten and it’s twilight hours in the dark.

The trembling anticipation of a new lover ignites a new energy there outside. You wrap an arm around his neck and you both push forward against each other. It’s the kind of kiss where everything just works; your lips slot so perfectly, and his hair feels soft beneath your hazy movements.

The dog interrupts by licking your knee, and you move backward with a shudder. He’s moving in again, shoulders taut, and his arms are smooth as your hands grasp them, bodies moving sensually under the light of the crescent moon above.

Your watch beeps and you look down to see a notification from Lila. You ignore it. Charles is instead running fluid hands over your hips, liquid gold, and you’re melting, drowning in the heavy look in his eyes. It’s as if the puzzle piece has just slotted into place. A newfound frenzy causes you to pull him slowly into the house, bare feet meeting the dark wood below. You nearly crash into a glass window before you’re in the kitchen, and he’s bending your back slightly over a counter, finding your neck with his lips, nipping, sucking, and you’re parting your lips with delight, body moving with his.

His facial hair is scruffy, and the sensation causes you to arch a little and he slams you back down. You moan.

He grins.

A hand flits up your back, under the shirt, feeling the skin, and you shiver when he rubs a thumb over a piece of your spine, and he’s leaning back to study you, cheeks pink in the dark, and he goes back in for a kiss, smiling broadly.

#f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #f1 x you #charles leclerc imagine #f1 x reader #charles leclerc one shot #charles leclerc fluff #f1 one shot #f1 fic #f1

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octuscle · 3 months

Note

this is an urgend call for help! I'm a 29yo teacher in europe and I have a problem with one of my students. He's 18yo, the star of the soccer team and of the whole school. he's looking at me and talking with me in a very special way. So I think he has a crush on me. I've to give him a lot of detention but he seems to enjoy it. Last time he says at the end: "soon you're one of us - your countdown is on...' pls tell me he hasn't used your program. If he has, stop this countdown immediately

According to a scribble in the student restroom, you are supposed to be the school's sexiest teacher for the third year in a row. Someone has sketched your cock next to this note. Obviously life-size, because the doodle is impressively large.

Well, you can't be the sexiest teacher for the third time because you've only been here at the school for two years. Before that you were at university. First in Milwaukee. Then actually only for two semesters in Lund, Sweden. But you fell in love with Sweden. And now you are very happy to have got a job as a sports and math teacher at the sports high school in Malmö. Sport here at the school usually almost automatically means "soccer", but as a native American you have less to do with it. Your sports are badminton, athletics and windsurfing in the summer.

You almost despair of the soccer star. A stinking lazy pupil. Certainly not stupid. But really lazy and uncooperative. According to his coach, he is the most disciplined person imaginable on the pitch. Here in math class, he's definitely not. Absolutely not! "Soon you'll be one of us - your countdown is on". That was yesterday… Today, once again, he didn't even show up for math class. Shit, he's ruining his whole career. Besides, you kind of miss him… He's not just a student… He's also kind of… A buddy! Damn, you can't have thoughts like that with a student!

You are looking for your student on the soccer field. Of course he's there. Of course he doesn't have a guilty conscience. Shit, of course you can understand him. After all, soccer is your life too. It was always your dream to become a professional soccer player. But unlike him, you were simply never good enough.

You try to talk him into his conscience without being such a bourgeois. You want to come across as cool. But on the other hand, you also know that you have to assert yourself as a teacher. It's your last traineeship. You'll graduate next year. Now you're still somewhere between the teachers and the students. It's a shitty situation. And the jock just laughs at you when you reprimand him. He says you'll soon be in detention together.

You are actually a really hard-working student. You are very keen to do well in your exams. You definitely want to work as a teacher at this sports high school. Soccer and math. That would be exactly your combination of subjects. But you can't study tonight. The day as a volunteer at the school was really exhausting. Before you go jogging for another hour, you look in the mirror as you change into your sports clothes. The fucking spots just won't go away. You still look a bit like you're still in puberty. But you finally seem to be growing hair on your chest. Maybe you will become a real guy after all. Whether the soccer star likes hair on his chest. Or if he has any himself? The thought of him gives you a boner!

When you wake up the next morning, you pick up where you left off yesterday. With a boner. My goodness, since you've been doing the internship here at the school, you've been kind of hard all the time. Of course, you've got a whole lot of damn tight guys among the other freshmen at your university… But the boys here at the sports high school are in a different league. They wank wherever they go and wherever they stand. And since you've been here, you've joined in.

You've been given a single room at the sports boarding school for the duration of your internship. You have a washbasin in your room, but you share the toilet and shower with the boys from the upper school. You're 21, hardly older than the guys who will be graduating this year. But you're still not allowed to fuck them. Even as a freshman and an intern, you are formally a member of the teaching staff. What a load of shit! How you'd love to let the star of the soccer team fuck you in the shower. It's obvious he wouldn't be averse either.

The internship sucks. Sitting in class without being able to shape it but already knowing everything is even more stressful and boring than it is for the students. Nevertheless, you try to look like you're paying attention and taking notes. This is actually more of a strategy to avoid falling asleep. You can hardly wait until soccer practice finally starts. You can just play along. You're more of a pupil than a teacher. The coach praises you and says that you're wasting a great talent as a sports teacher. He asks you to take the team star under your wing for a while. He could certainly learn a lot from you. Hehehehehe, you think to yourself. I'm sure you could from him too!

After training, you go to the gym for a bit of strength endurance training. Suddenly the soccer star is standing behind you. He runs his hand under your sweaty jersey and plays with your nipple. Thank God you're alone in the gym. You take off your jersey and he sucks on your nipples like a puppy on its mother's teats. Shit, his smell of wet grass and sweat alone is driving you crazy. With one hand you take your boner out of your pants. With the other, you push his head down. He blows like the devil. And you cum like a fire hose.

A delicate fuzz appears on your upper lip. That's the only good thing about fucking puberty. Your voice is cracking. Your pimples are annoying. And every other morning you wake up in a huge mess in your bed. Every morning that Lars hasn't blown you first. Or you blew him. You're congenial on the soccer pitch. Whatever congenial means. But the coach always says that. You think you're totally congenial in the shower and on the toilet and in all sorts of other places too. The fact that Lars and you met here at the boarding school is damn lucky!

You've been inseparable since you were 18 at the latest. During the week at Intermat, at the weekends either with your parents. Or at his. Your parents are cool. Although you're not sure if they know what you're up to.

Lars and you both think school sucks. You're here to become professional footballers. You don't need fucking math or history for that. Your coach predicts a glorious future for both of you. The man is cool. He's ancient, probably already 30 or so. But much more relaxed than your other teachers. And he'll cover for you if you skip math again. But only if you've used the time for fitness or technique training. If you don't show full commitment, the coach has no mercy.

It is an honor to have been accepted at this school. You have no intention of disgracing the school!

It's a common saying that the two of you only exist in a double pack. Your classmates have turned 'Lars' and 'Zlatan' into 'Latan'. It's no coincidence that your name is Zlatan. Your parents are huge fans of Zlatan Ibrahimoviv. And the fact that you made it to school here in his community, that you are the second Zlatan to become a national player from Rosengård, makes your parents proud. But if you become a national player, Lars will also have to play for the national team. That's a matter of honor. You look at yourself in the mirror. The fuzz on your upper lip isn't quite ready for a cool beard like the one your role model has. And your parents never allowed you to have long hair. But since you've come of age, you've let it grow. It won't be long before you look like the great Zlatan!

You don't like it when Lars and you are put on opposing teams in tournaments. But Coach is right, of course, he needs to train your killer instinct. An opponent is an opponent. Even if you occasionally get shagged by the center forward. And how you get fucked. Shit, your cock is already famous in the changing rooms near and far. But against Lars' beast… You're nothing…

It's pouring with rain. The soccer match was a mud fight. But you won. "As we agreed, the loser has to blow the winner" you tell Lars after the final whistle. "I can't wait to suck your cheesy boner clean" Lars replies with a grin. Even though almost everyone knows that you are a couple, you are usually rather reserved in public. But today… Fuck it!

#male tf #reality change #age reduction #race change #ai image

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chukys-mouthguard · 15 days

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Kinda Tempting pt. 2

Featuring: matt rempe x female reader x mat barzal

Genre: fluff, angst, little bit of smut

Note: i tried my best to refer to rempe as matthew to limit possible confusion of the guys…this was rewritten like 6 times, not entirely happy with it but I know y’all have been asking for part 2 😅🫶🏼 tried to make it so this could continue and we could see both sides of this story

Part 1

“Mmmmm.”

The sun was shining just enough in your eyes to wake you up, immediately making you regret not remembering to close the blinds before going to bed. Though you were a bit preoccupied to remember, chuckling to yourself as you looked at the 6 foot 8 sleeping giant next to you. Now taking notice of his cut up knuckles from yesterday's fight, lightly tracing your fingers over the marks. Earning a soft groan from Matthew.

His eyes fluttering open as he smiled at you, “good morning sunshine,” he stretched as he rolled onto his side, “good morning to you pretty lady.” A smile now on his face as he curled up with his pillow, looking up at you and studying the conflicted look on your face.

“What is it?”

Shaking your head you got up with a sigh, searching for a hoodie to throw on before rejoining him on your bed. “I’m just, thinking.”

“Let me guess….you regret last night?” His words came out with a playful tone, though his face showed a bit of sadness as he sat up and rested his back against your headboard. “Look if I convinced you to do something you didn’t really want to do, and I stirred up a bunch of shit now for you to deal with. I’m sorry, I truly didn’t mean for any of that to happen I just-“

“No, that’s the thing. I don’t regret it. But I feel bad for not regretting it. Am I a shitty person for that?” Matthew laughed along with you as he shrugged.

“I mean, I don’t think you’re a shitty person. I think you’re just, conflicted. I think you’re an amazing girl who is being strung along by her boyfriend, not knowing what the fuck the deal is. Waiting for the day he somehow magically turns back into the guy she fell in love with. But I don’t think that day is coming unfortunately.”

His fingers now entangling with yours as you took in his thoughts.

“I think, you’re unsure what to do. I think your head is telling you one thing, and your heart another. Personally, I don’t know the reason why you won’t leave him. And maybe that’s not for me to know. But I think you deserve so much more. I think you could do better, be happier, be with someone who isn’t gonna be another Mat Barzal.”

“And that’s you?”

Your tone catching him off guard a bit, but he laughed it off. “I’m not saying that, and I’m not saying any of this to try and get you to leave Mat for me. I’m sure you might be thinking I’m that kind of guy right now, especially after last night, but I’m not. I simply am saying this as a guy who thinks it would be an honor to call you his girlfriend. A guy who would take every opportunity to show you how amazing you are. To never make you feel the way you do right now being with Mat. But by no means am I trying to get you to leave him for me. Because I don’t think I need to convince you to do that.”

Just as you opened your mouth to challenge his cocky statement, your phone buzzed on the bed.

“It’s him…” Matthew gesturing for you to answer the call as he got up to get dressed.

“Hello?”

“Hey, sorry about yesterday. Just, wasn’t a good day. You know how it is. But um, I kind of realize I’ve not been the best boyfriend lately. And, I feel like I need to make it up to you.”

While you wanted to believe that he was being genuine, you’d heard this from Mat before. He’d apologize, be a better guy for a few days, then things would end up right back where they were.

“Let’s go grab lunch, maybe do some shopping. Spend the day together and make up for the last few months we’ve been apart.”

Matthew was mouthing the words go for it, and you rolled your eyes at him. His words still on your mind, not sure why you were still going to entertain fixing things with Mat if you just fucked another guy behind his back.

“Um, yeah sure.”

“Yeah? Great! I’ll be at your place in like an hour?”

“Sounds good. See you soon.”

Hanging up the phone you flopped down on your bed face first. “What’s the matter now?” Matthew laughed as he belly flopped onto the bed next to you, trying his best to make you laugh or smile.

“What the fuck do I do? He wants to make up for being absent and everything, and you’re over here telling me I shouldn’t entertain it!”

Matthew put his hands up in protest, “now wait a minute i didn’t say don’t entertain it. I simply am saying to be cautious and look out for yourself. Because, after the way you two interacted yesterday, I just think he’s full of it. But I could be wrong, and this lunch date could change everything. I don’t know. I simply am speaking as someone who cares. I want the best for you, and if that’s him, then great. I’ll still be here for the days you need to cry, or vent, or need to have some fun.”

He shot you a wink as his signature cocky grin found its place on his lips and you shook your head. “Matthew Rempe, you are not going to be some side piece for me while I figure out my relationship.” Standing up you headed to the bathroom to start getting ready for your date with Mat.

“And why’s that?” He called after you, leaning in the doorway as you pulled your makeup bag out from under your sink. “Because, you’re a human being, you have feelings. And I’m not just going to use you like that.”

He stepped in front of you, stealing your attention as he brushed your hair from your face. “But what if I’m okay with it?”

“You are really something else you know that?”

He shrugged as he stole a kiss from your lips.

“Well you make it really easy for me to make bad decisions.” He winked at you, stealing another kiss before heading to the kitchen to grab his keys.

“So you’re saying this is a bad decision?” You gestured to the two of you with your makeup brush. “Maybe, call me after lunch and tell me if you think so.”

He closed the door behind him and you let out a groan, not enjoying the position you were in at all. On one hand, your boyfriend of 2 years who was your first love. But who has checked out and left you feeling like it was time to walk away. Then on the flip side, a younger and wild Rempe, who knew what he wanted and didn’t hide it. Which you appreciated, and found quite hot. But how do you just up and leave Mat, and did you want to? None of this was fair to him, but then again, the way you’ve been strung along all these months not knowing where the two of you stand wasn’t fair either.

“Hey babe.”

Mat smiled at you as you climbed into his BMW. “Hey,” You flashed a smile as he leaned in to give you a kiss, “don’t you look handsome.”

He shrugged, “wanted to look good for you I guess. So what are we feeling, Italian? Mexican? A burger and fries?” Buckling your seatbelt you told yourself to listen to Matthew, let this date happen how it’s meant to happen. Don’t force anything one way or the other, let whatever the hell is gonna happen, happen. “Well we both know you’re always in the mood for Italian.”

“I’m a sucker for the carbs what can i say. Plus a glass of wine doesn’t sound too awful right now.”

His hand resting on the gear shift as he pulled out of the parking garage. The drive to the restaurant quiet, the result of you two being apart for so long that it was almost awkward between you two.

So far, your brain was telling you this wasn’t a good sign that this date was magically going to fix things.

“So, how late did you stay up doing your stuff last night?” Mat asking from behind his wine glass as you chuckled. “Um my job? I was up pretty late doing that stuff. Couldn’t even tell you how long I edited for last night.” Your voice trailing off as you sipped your wine, your palms sweaty just thinking about the secret you were hiding from him.

“I believe it, probably had a ton of footage to sift through.” He didn’t even make eye content when talking to you, glancing over the menu as you rested your chin on your fist with a sigh. “Plus I had extra clips to edit of Matt Rempe since it was his debut and everything.”

Mat laughed as he nodded, “Yeah that kid is something else. A fight his first shift, probably gonna end up with more penalty minutes than minutes on ice this season. That is if he lasts.” You were a bit surprised by his comments, Mat never the type to shit talk other guys in the league. “Hey, he earned his spot yesterday and he’s gonna keep working hard to stay up here. He’s a great guy. I personally think you’d like him, if you got to know him versus judging him…”

Your voice trailed off as your server brought your food. “Okay, no more hockey talk. Where shall I take you shopping? Need a new purse? Some shoes? I know you never turn down shoes.” He smiled at you as he wiped the pasta sauce from his chin.

This was always Mat’s way of fixing things. He loved to shop, both for you and for himself. So anytime he felt like he’d fucked up, his solution was to buy you everything you wanted without checking a price tag. But the material things never actually addressing the root of the problem that was there to begin with. Simply covering it up with new shoes, a new jacket, or purse.

“I don’t care, wherever is fine. Nothing I really need if I’m honest.” Your tone caught him off guard, at this point you were over this lunch date. Wishing you hadn’t even thought for a second that things were going to get better. “Okay, do you want to just go home and watch a movie or something? Since shopping doesn’t seem to be a good idea today.”

“Sure, a movie is fine.”

Mat decided for the two of you to head back to his place, due to traffic being crazy heading in the direction of your apartment. The car ride once again quiet, Mat a bit unsure what to talk about. He’d offended you when talking about your job and judging Rempe. Shopping normally be something you liked to do with him, but that too seemed to be a bad idea.

It wasn’t that he was on oblivious to the fact that things between you two were different, he just didn’t know why or how he could fix it. Feeling like it was a battle he’d already lost in your eyes. And no matter how hard he might try to prove to you he was still willing to fight, you’d just blow him off. Already moved on in your mind.

“Wow, someone has been decorating. Who helped you with this?” You looked around his apartment shocked, never knowing Mat to be a good decorator. “Well thanks, I didn’t think I sucked that bad at interior design. I maybe had a little help, but for the most part it was all me.”

He smiled proud as he grabbed a bottle of wine and two glasses.

“So, what movie are you thinking?”

Taking your glass you shrugged, “surprise me? You’re better at picking movies than me.” Mat laughing as he placed the stopper back in the bottle. “This is true, let me take a quick look at our options.”

Subconsciously you had practically chugged your glass of wine, your nerves rampant as you didn’t know what the hell you were doing. Clearly you were unhappy, this date not going at all how you hoped. You still were holding out hope, but the more and more Mat didn’t talk to you or kept conversation short, the more your thoughts were racing.

“Do you still love me?”

Mat snapped his head to you, almost laughing as he couldn’t believe you’d asked such a thing. Almost shocked a bit yourself at your boldness to just come right out and say that. “Um, yes? Why would you even ask that?”

“When’s the last time you said it? Do you realize what I’ve been going through these last few months? Hell let’s just say the whole last year. I barely see you! We barely speak, and lord knows we haven’t had sex in months. Not that it matters that much, but we both know you like sex. So the fact we haven’t even done that…Like, are you just waiting for me to breakup with you? Or am I supposed to just wait around for you to start acting like the man I fell in love with again?”

He set his wine glass down, trying to figure out what to say. Feeling like no matter what he said at this point it would probably come across like an excuse.

“I, I don’t know what to say. Because, I don’t have a good enough reason for why I’ve been acting this way. And, you’re right. You don’t deserve this. Maybe, you should’ve given up on me a long time ago. I don’t know y/n, I can’t lie to you and say I don’t notice that it’s different. But I also don’t know what to do to fix it.”

“Kiss me! Hold me! Tell me you love me. Get excited to see me after months of hardly talking. There’s plenty of things you could do. The answer isn’t to treat me to lunch and take me shopping. I don’t need food and clothes, I need my boyfriend. I need to feel like you love me. Like you miss me.”

“And you don’t think I feel that way?”

His tone coming out hurt, his hands running through his hair as he tried to think of a response.

“Notice how you haven’t said it once. Even when I point it out, you say yes and agree, but you haven’t once said it to me. And that speaks volumes.”

Grabbing your phone and purse you headed for the door, Mat quickly running to stop you. “Now wait a minute, I get I’ve been absent and not the same guy I used to be, but I’ve never been the type to let you walk out like this. Please, talk to me. Help me understand what you need from me so we can make things work.”

Retreating to the couch, you sat down with a sigh, not sure what to say. “Mat, I shouldn’t have to tell you what I need. You’re my boyfriend. We’ve been together long enough that you should know me better than this. If you’ve fallen out of love with me, then tell me. If you’ve been seeing other people, then tell me. But please don’t keep stringing me along when it’s clear this isn’t working for us right now.”

He looked at you shocked, the assumption he was cheating hitting him like a train in his chest. “You’re joking? You think I’ve been cheating on you? Please y/n, that’s ridiculous. Where is all of this coming from? You say that I’m no longer the guy you fell in love with, but you’re starting to give me the same energy. I’ve never heard you talk like this…maybe you’re the one seeing other people?”

Stopping in your tracks you looked at him shocked, a slight chuckle leaving his lips as you tried to formulate a thought. “Yeah, doesn’t feel good being accused of that does it?”

“Of course not! No one ever wants to be accused of something like that. You know I love you, I’ve stuck by your side through so much. And I’m sorry if I’ve felt shut out or neglected. But I don’t understand what’s changed, why you won’t make time for me and prove to me that this relationship isn’t lost?”

Mat looked to the floor as he shook his head, acknowledging the things you’d said. Realizing that you were right, things had changed. And maybe he was too focused on his job that he refused to believe he’d dropped the ball.

The two of you stood in silence for a moment, you sniffled as he walked toward you, wrapping you in a hug. Your body completely relaxing in his embrace, this hug was just like you’d remembered. It was what you needed, to feel him hold you tight and reassure you things were okay.

He took your face in his hands, resting his forehead on yours as he softly kissed you. “I fucking love you, and I don’t want to be with anyone else. I don’t want to lose you. I will do whatever I have to, to prove to you that you’re it for me y/n. I’m sorry you’ve felt like I don’t care or don’t love you.”

Your hands anxiously pulling at the hem of his shirt, this was what you’d wanted, needed to hear from him. But at the same time, a part of you wished he would’ve said the opposite. Despite Matthew wanting you to try and make things work with Mat, you knew deep down he wanted things to end. He wanted to be with you, but his heart wasn’t going to let him come between you and another man. That wasn’t the type of guy he was, despite his willingness to see you behind closed doors while you figured your shit out.

“Please, just don’t walk out on me tonight. Stay with me, let me make this right between us.”

Simply nodding your head, Mat had convinced you. His lips crashing to yours as he lifted you off your feet, carrying you down the hall to his bedroom before tossing you on the bed.

He gazed down at you as he pulled his shirt off with a cocky grin, before lowering himself on top of you to bring your lips back to his. “I fucking missed you baby.”

Arching your back against him you moaned into the kiss, your skin practically on fire from his touch. Something you’d been deprived of for so long.

“God I missed you Mat.”

Your thoughts racing as you tried your best to just focus on the moment, ignoring any doubts or worries about Matthew. Mat was your boyfriend, this was the man you loved.

The two of you couldn’t get enough of each other, hands grazing every inch of one another as you both were short of breath. It was as if it were the first time you two were having sex, having to learn what each other liked, explore each other features again.

Mat normally loving to tease you and make you beg, but not tonight. Tonight he needed to show you how much he loved you, how much he cared, how sorry he was for being such an asshole to you. Yet you stuck by his side, and he’d loved you so much for that.

You’d tried to get Mat on his back so you could take some control, but he playfully pinned your arms above your head. “Not tonight baby girl, let me take care of you.”

His words sending shivers down your spine as he sat up, undoing his belt buckle then forcing his pants and briefs down in one motion. You’re gaze not leaving his as his hands traced up your legs, fingers hooking into the waistband of your leggings, pulling them off and tossing them across the room along with your panties.

“Mat, hurry up. A girl has gone months without this, I can’t wait much longer.”

Smirking down at you, he stroked himself as he teased your slit, groaning at how wet you already were. “Fuck baby, I missed how wet you get for me.” Without warning he thrusts into you, the two of you moaning at the feeling, expletives leaving your lips as you feel yourself adjusting to him. Wrapping your legs around him as he slowly began picking up the pace, your nails digging into the skin of his back as your lips longed for his. The kisses not deep enough, thrusts not hard enough, the two of you needing even more.

“Baby, I’m not going to last much longer. You feel so fucking good.”

“Cum for me Mat, please. I’m so close.”

His thrusts quick and sloppy, his breaths shorter as he cursed against your skin. A low groan leaving his lips as he came, the two of you sweaty and exhausted as you tried to collect yourselves.

“Fuck…now tell me why we haven’t done that in months?”

Mat smirked at you as he stood up, leaving to go start the shower before coming back and lifting you off the bed. “Alright, now let’s get you cleaned up.” He pressed a kiss to your lips as he carried you bridal style into the bathroom. The two of you rinsing off before climbing back into bed.

You threw on one of Mat’s t-shirts as he pulled on a pair of sweats. Laying down and holding his arm out for you to find your spot next to him. Fingers intertwining with yours as you lay your head on his chest.

“I missed this, so much.”

You felt him smile at your words, kissing your head as he agreed. “Me too baby girl. And I’m sorry you ever thought I didn’t want this with you anymore.”

The room fell silent as you were content just enjoying feeling normal again, like you’d finally gotten back to where you’d been needing to be. In your head, thanking Matthew for convincing you to even go out on the date with Mat to begin with. For convincing you to see what would happen.

Though a part of you knew it would hurt him to know you were back on good terms. Despite him saying he hoped things would work out, you knew he would still be heartbroken to know you and Mat were making it work.

“Y/n?”

The tone is Mat’s voice slightly changing, catching you off guard as you hummed a response, letting him know you were listening.

“I really am going to be better. Make more of an effort, whether that be calls, or driving to see you more often. I’m going to be better. I don’t want you to ever have to wonder if I’m missing you, if I still love you, or god forbid if I’m cheating on you.”

Your heart sinking at having accused him of the very thing you’d done just the night before. When here he was, trying to prove to you he’d just been distant, but he never lost his love for you.

“I know, I hear everything you’re saying. And I appreciate it, more than you know.”

He’d gone silent for a moment once again, you could sense he was thinking, hearing his heart racing as you laid on his chest. Soon enough, he shot up, moving to sit in front of you. Catching you off guard as you looked at him confused.

“What is it?”

Mat took your hands in his, practically choking on his own tongue as he couldn’t get his words out.

“You’re gonna think I’m crazy, but just hear me out.” Staring at him you were unsure of what you should be expecting him to say. Already happy enough with the fact that you’d, fingers crossed, gotten your boyfriend back. What else could he say now?

“I have loved you from the first day you’d found me at the rink, and shoved your phone in my face asking me to be a part of one of those dumb Tik Tok challenges. You didn’t give a fuck about who I was, just doing your job. And to be honest, that made me want to chase you even harder. Because you weren’t one of those girls who wanted me because of my looks. Or because I was a hockey player. You got to know me for who I was, and you took the time to see me for more than Mat Barzal of the New York Islanders.”

He smiled at you as he continued on, your mind and heart both racing as you couldn’t foresee the end of his sudden heartfelt moment.

“It breaks my heart you’ve felt alone for the last year. That you felt I had fallen out of love with you. But I promise, there would never be anything that could make me fall out of love with you y/n. And, I know you’re going to think I’m crazy when I ask this, but I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

He briefly looked down at your hands in his, taking a deep breath as if to gain the confidence to finally spit out the words he’d been stalling from saying.

“Will you make me the happiest man in the world, and marry me?”

#matt rempe #nhl imagine #matt rempe fic #nhl fanfiction #nhl fics #hockey fic #hockey imagine #matt rempe imagine #mat barzal fic #mat barzal x reader #mat barzal imagine

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kirbyluvr69 · 4 months

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Some Thoughts™

About art, desire and John Lennon

If you're active on the Twitter side of The Beatles fandom you'd know that just yesterday a collage John made for Paul titled "I Only Have Eyes For You" made the rounds and scared people whom, I guess, don't think about visual arts very often. Unfortunately I don't use the word "scared" lightly. People really used the words "disturbing" and "concerning" to describe this piece, with a hint of a "What was Lennon thinking about our poor Paul to make this with him in mind" sentiment that I don't think it's quite fair.

I tried to search more about this collage´s context, but all I could find (without having to buy Julian Lennon's book in which the image was featured) was that it was made in the 50s, while John was still at art college, but to be quite frank, I don't think the exact date matters too much.

What I see in this image first and foremost is desire, plain and simple. Red is a sexual colour, we have naked women sprawled, the head with its mouth open in a orgasm-like fashion, the eyes symbolizing voyeurism. If anything, as a friend of mine also pointed out while we discussed it, this collage is proof of the way John and Paul were so close they were even free to be honest about their sexual desires to one another. Even if the collage was made for another purpose and gifted to Paul later, this sentiment still stands, because Paul was the person he thought would receive this part of himself with open arms.

Is the collage "disturbing"? I guess, in a way. The same way I think growing up in the 40s and 50s in a hyper-convervative protestant society like England and discovering yourself would be disturbing. Even more if you're not entirely straight as an arrow. But I don't think John's talking about this here. This is about his feelings for the opposite sex, and they weren't always nice. Red is also the colour of blood and guts, John was also known for having violent outbursts. Would it not disturb you that the object of your desire also brings up in you violence? I don't think we'll ever know why he felt that way, but here we see that he's aware of it. At least I think so.

I saw another analysis of this collage that somewhat agreed with me, but presented this argument as if this was a bad thing? I don't know exactly what made me think this way, maybe the verbiage, but I'll never think a person exploring the nature of their desire, be it disturbing or not, is wrong. Of course domestic violence is bad and I'm in no way excusing it, but if you're willing to engage with The Beatles, you have to bear in mind they were shitty to the women in their lives in varying degrees much like every man ever in general, and specially at that time.

As a self proclaimed John Lennon Scholar i.e. I Wanna Crack Open His Skull And Look At His Brain With A Microscope, I'm happy this exists, and I think I need a little more time with it myself.

All of this to say: I like it, I think John Lennon was a good visual artist and stop being weird about art.

To lighten up the mood, look at the gay as hell collage John made for Elton in 1975! This one deserved its own post with a lot of tin hatting on my part, but whatever! I love them so much (and yes, I WILL find a way to mention their friendship in every post I make, shut up. One day the Lennon/John masterpost will come).

#im psychoanalyzing john lennon thats what im doing #john lennon #paul mccartney #the beatles #meta #can you call real peoples lives meta?

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momentomori24 · 4 months

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I swear to God, Twitter being able to accumulate so many brain-dead, malicious, pseudo intellectual low lives all in one place at the same time is a phenomenon worthy of being studied under a microscope in a science lab. And no, that is not a compliment.

Thankfully people have already spoken out against this bullshit-- the fact that people needed to is already maddening to think about-- but as someone who got the basic gist of what happened literally yesterday I'll also put my voice out there: Don't you fucking dare try to paint Hbomb as a murderer over this situation.

Somerton may be a lying, misogynistic plagiarist and conman, but he obviously doesn't deserve to die and while I do make fun of the guy, I genuinely hope that he continues to have a life after the dust has settled on everything. Not on YouTube or any social media platform for a long time at least, but just a life nontheless. I don't wish what he's potentially going through on anyone, and I hope that he makes it through this. But regardless of if he does or doesn't-- and God forbid he doesn't-- none of this is Hbomb's fault. It's not his fault, or Kat's fault, or Jessie's fault (because apparently there's people blaming her too cuz WHY NOT), or anybody's fault. All they did was call out his actions, hold him accountable for the harm he's done. They have done nothing to deserve having to carry this on their shoulders should the worst happen. They did nothing wrong. They didn't kill James (he's not confirmed dead yet either btw). They are not murderers. And to the people saying they are: say those words out loud, listen how they sound like, and re-evaluate. Just cease.

And to people like this:

''Oh I'm not blaming him for anything I'm just blaming him for what his audience did because according to HIM you're responsible for your audience'' Yeah, you people can shut your mouths too. Of course you're responsible for your audience, and that includes Hbomb too. However, your tiny, godless little monkey brain can't see why your argument is still rubbish even with that in mind. The difference between James, Internet Historian and Hbomb is that Hbomb never promoted problematic behaviour to his audience. If you promote problematic shit like harassment or misogyny or racism, then yeah, you're absolutely responsible for how your behaviour influences your audience. But that's not what he did. He made it very clear where he stood on those things, literally stating that ''if anyone were to harass Somerton on his behalf they are worse than him and will not see the light of heaven''. He's done his part in making it clear that harassment is wrong, so if someone went out of their way to go against that and harass James anyway that doesn't reflecf on him at all. Also, what the hell do you mean ''hatemobbed'' to suicide? I don't doubt there are people who went to extremes because those bad apples always exist, but most of the things I've seen are valid critisisms, memes and call outs about that guy. If holding people accountable for their actions and poking fun at them a little counts as 'hatemobbing'' (which has Filip calling his critics a ''lynch mob'' energy tbh) what the hell do you call actual hatemobbing then? Do we just let people continue being shitty because calling them out ''damages their mental health'' or ''drives them to suicide'' then? Is that a world you want to live in?

Same thing goes for people like this:

Criticing someone for their objectively bullshit content and wanting them dead are two seperate things. What the actual hell is wrong with you. The plagiarist in question is a person. Those ''harshest critics'' are still people. And because we're people, we care. I'd rather James pump out more plagiarised slop than commit suicide. I'd still hate him for it, but I'd prefer him being alive over the alternative any day. We all do. None of us would sleep easier knowing he's dead just because he wouldn't be ''committing the cardinal sin of putting out a 'pure content mill' video'' because someone taking their own life is horrific-- especially Hbomberguy, how dare you even try to imply that?

And this gets me to the reason I'm furiously typing all this out in the first place: Hbomb is the fucking victim here, so stop treating him like he isn't. He tried making things as right as possible by compensating those that were burned by James through a video where he revealed everything there needs to be known about the guy so that less people fall victim to his actions and lies. To just ignore the harm James was causing while he had the evidence to prove it and platform too big to threaten into non existence should he speak out would've been bad. So he didn't. He did the right thing by sticking with the people James had stolen from, giving them a voice and making them known after they've been scrubbed from the picture by decidedly being uncredited for their works or bullied into silence. He shouldn't have to deal with this for doing the right thing. He shouldn't be labelled a murderer for doing the right thing. He shouldn't have to have the death of a man on his conscience for doing the right thing. People claiming otherwise are obviously wrong, but I can't imagine what all this must feel like right now. Because even tho they're wrong, guilt isn't a rational thing, and I know that if I were in his position I'd still feel like a morally bankrupt individual were the worst to happen even if I knew that it was not my fault. This isn't a funny story. So to add to this dumpsterfire by using it as a prop to bash on a creator you don't like and immediately write Somerton off as dead even when he's not even been confirmed dead yet to do that shows how little these people actually care about the thing they're talking about. They don't care a guy potentially killed himself-- what they care about is using it to paint Hbomb in a bad light because they don't like him. Here they are, posting memes and ill jokes about this very delicate situation while barely a day since the news broke out had passed. It's opportunistic, it's sickening, and literally the exact thing he criticised in his video when talking about 'content mills'. Like, I know none of these clowns bothered to actually watch it, but have some self-awareness. And some shame too, while you're at it.

This long story short: I'm writing this to contribute to the narrative not getting twisted to make Hbomb out to be the villian. Same goes for everyone else. Don't let these people paint them as the villians. If I see another person pull this shit again I will literally bite you and shred you into salad and spit you back out because I hate you so much and I mean that wholeheartedly.

To Hbomb: you will never see this but if you do, take care of yourself.

To the asshats this post is about: Delete your account. Cease all together. Stop talking about this. Just leave him the fuck alone.

#hbomberguy #james somerton #this post took me ages to finish and really grinds my gears #i would not survive on that hellscape with people like this holy shit #really hope this situation turns out for the best #i wrote this while i was frustrated and sleep deprived so apologies for unnoticed grammar i'll correct it later #i'll be keeping my eyes peeled for any updates on this situation this is actually getting scary

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ivymarquis · 1 year

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Blind Date

Me: “why the fuck is this fic taking so long to finish?”

The fic: *is the longest singular piece I’ve ever written for one chapter*

Pairing| John Price x F!Single Mom!Reader Rating| M Word Count| 8.4k Kinks/Content/Warnings| Drinking (everyone is clear headed), run ins with a shitty ex, mentions of abuse from prior relationship, these two are incredibly down bad for each other, oral (m! and f!receiving), protected piv, squirting

There is a certain catharsis in lamenting your dating horror stories with men to a married lesbian who’s over a decade older than you. Kate is always willing to lend an ear, and you’re positive that she gets a kick out of your misadventures in the way so many married people did while listening to their single friends.

“I swear I’m this close to just giving up all together and embracing spinsterhood,” you grouse with a drink in your hand after the work day had concluded.

You like to think your standards aren’t unreasonable. Someone kind, with their head on straight. It felt like finding a man who respects you as a person is becoming too big an ask and you very simply would rather be alone than deal with the endless hoard of men who seem hell bent on destroying any confidence you have in yourself.

“What about the guy you went out with yesterday?” Kate inquires with her head tilted. Must be fun, listening to your ramblings with a devoted partner at home.

“Oh did I not tell you? He was engaged!”

Kate pulls a face like her drink soured on her, matching how you’d felt at the time.

“Even better- guess how I found out he’s engaged.”

“She showed up at the restaurant?” Kate hits the nail on the head on the first try.

“Bingo,” you raise your glass in a gesture of affirmation before finishing it off. “Somehow I ended up being the one getting yelled at in that situation. Un-friggin-believable.”

You don’t abuse your work privileges to creep on people you meet in your personal life, but public record could have spared you if he’d been married. Harder to find out about an engagement from a total stranger who was determined to not let you find out about it and didn’t have social media.

“There’s always the other side,” Kate teases.

“Women scare me too much, I get all nervous.” You could appreciate an attractive woman as much as the next gal but good God you just could not help yourself when it came to men. The subtle way their breathing would change before they made their move, that low timber growling in your ear. The sheer weight of one on top of you as he manhandled you into the bedding-

Dear Lord, you need to get laid. Maybe you’re fixating on it too much because you’ve had an over 2 year dry spell. That tends to happen after a baby though. Especially with a pain in the ass ex who thinks he can pick and choose when to be around (and becomes absolutely incensed each time you remind him he could be consistent or he could stay home).

Kate is thoughtful for a moment, clearly kicking around an idea she hasn’t fully committed to in one direction or another. You can see the moment she decides to proceed with the thought. “Depending on what exactly you’re looking for, I might know someone.”

—

And here you are on a Saturday night, nerves clawing at your belly like a rabid dog.

Most (well, all) of the men you’ve dated you met online. There’s almost additional butterflies beyond the first-meet jitters knowing that the date is set up by a mutual friend.

There’s more at stake, even if the stakes are relatively low pressure. If the guys you met online did something incredibly out of pocket you never had to see them again, and held no qualms divulging the events to friends. Your romantic life has been full of misadventures but has given you a handful of stories, and as strangers you never have to consider any possible fallout in telling those stories.

Your son is with your mother for the night, allowing you the opportunity to focus solely on yourself this evening. No concern about keeping an eye on him while getting ready, worrying about what possible trouble he’ll get into when your back is turned.

It is hard at times- striking that balance between wanting to be a good mom and also wanting to be acknowledged as a desirable woman who has needs. A lot of men are shitty about it. You’d grilled Kate for every detail of his reaction when being informed of your young son. You don’t need another ambush regarding your disinterest in making it work with your son’s father.

She’d soothed your nerves- he hadn’t batted an eye, was about as worried about your reaction to how often his job pulled him away as you were about him having a poor reaction to being a single mom. You both have responsibilities that have to be placed above a relationship, now go play nice and have fun.

You tell yourself you can have one drink while waiting at the bar of the restaurant you’d agreed to meet at.

White wine ends up being your pick- not quite so easy to suck down as a tasty cocktail full of liquor, but gives you something to occupy yourself with.

You’ve only had the drink a handful of minutes before hearing someone clear their throat slightly behind you, and then your name.

Kate has shown you a photo of what he looks like so you’re not caught off guard when you turn around.

He’s handsome. You expect that but it’s different seeing him opposed to just the photo. Kind eyes, a warm smile on his face as he takes you in.

At least you both seem pleased with the big reveal.

“I’ve got a table waiting for us if you’re ready, love.”

He holds out a hand to let you balance yourself as you dismount from the bar seating, allowing you to steady yourself in your heels.

His hand is warm on your waist as he guides you and you’re already smitten by the time the pair of you sit down.

You’re fifteen minutes into dinner when you decide that so long as he a) is willing and b) doesn’t say or do anything completely deranged, you are going to ride Captain John Price like a mechanical bull at a shitty dive bar at the end of the night.

Perhaps the bar is in hell but either way you have been utterly deprived the past few years and he is checking plenty of boxes for you.

“So you work with Kate?” Starting off on the easy footing- the common ground that leads you both here.

“I do. Not directly- I work more on the tech side. I’m an independent contractor, I basically built the entire system she runs off of.”

“Beauty and brains,” his praise warms you, an impressed expression on his face. “Would explain how we’ve never crossed paths if you were hiding in a backroom surrounded by monitors,” he teases.

“You’re actually not that far off the mark,” not that you hide persay, but keeping that contract keeps a roof over your head and food in your child’s mouth. That keeps you busy. The fewer people who know how to work your program, the harder you are to get rid of.

You may or may not have hidden a few kill switches. Job security you call it. Though it’s not exactly first date material to talk about how you’ve got a government agency in a mutual understanding- keep extending your contract, and the program continues to work.

Either way, you don’t have much contact with the soldiers. Maybe you have passed each other in the halls but probably not- you’re certain a face like that wouldn’t have escaped your notice, introduction via a mutual friend or no. But you decide to utilize that mutual friend to shift the conversation. He’s hedged around talking about his work- on his end, sees that as the thing that might be a deal breaker for you. Probably wants to delay that until you've at least gotten your entrees.

So you go from business to hobbies. And it’s probably not entirely fair, but you’re about to see what his sense of humor is.

“Kate mentioned you’re a big soccer fan?” You make sure your expression is wide and doe eyed as you ask the question.

His eyebrow twitches- caught, no doubt, between wanting to leave a good first impression and biting back it’s football over here, love.

You crack far quicker than you initially plan, the wide grin on your face as you let him off the hook he’s good naturedly trying not to bite.

“Beauty, brains, and a comedian, lucky me.”

“I’m sorry, I had to. In fact, it was in her terms for this,” you make a vague gesture with your hand.

“Trust Kate to wheel and deal just to get my blood pressure up,” he muses as he takes a sip from his drink.

The conversation rolls easily enough- an ebb and flow as one of you poses a question, the other answering before allowing the first to say their contribution to the subject and moving on.

He’s charming, attentive, and a good storyteller. The way he carries himself screams military without being overbearing. He’s relaxed back into his chair and something about the scene in front of you makes you want to climb into his lap like a domesticated house cat.

Being the field captain to a specialized task force it’s no shock that he’s in incredible shape and you find yourself slightly distracted on more than one occasion by his hands and forearms.

The food is wonderful though the company is better- you end up moving back to the bar for fresh drinks and to free up the table for the server.

You spend a good length of time just talking with him at the bar.

John’s attention is on you but it’s clear he’s proverbially chewing on something the further on you go.

“That is the look of someone with a question they’re not entirely positive they want an answer to,” you’ve got a habit of being a touch direct at times. Amazing how it streamlines a conversation though.

“Observant one, aren’t you?” He pauses, takes another sip of his drink. “It’s probably none of my business, but ah- is your son’s father in the picture at all?”

It was your turn to take a drink. This was always such a fun topic of conversation. Frankly the number of men who took your ex’s side when the whole custody arrangement gets brought up alarms you.

But he has a right to his son.

Fuck that.

Your child is not property and you do not give a singular shit about your ex’s feelings- especially if it comes at the expense of your son’s safety. But it saves you a substantial amount of time not wasting energy on someone who could not understand the reason for your decisions.

“The short answer to the question is no. I had already left him by the time I found out I was pregnant, and given I left because he’s a raging alcoholic- with the emphasis on the rage-,” what a nice, polite way to say he is an abusive asshole. Your gaze shifts down towards the bartop, missing the way John’s expression softens as he reads between the lines of what you say. They’re not pleasant memories, but you’re not a wounded bird anymore- you’ve tended to your clipped wings and grown new feathers. “I didn’t want him involved.”

“He ended up finding out from a mutual acquaintance, and while he claims he wants to be around, he hasn’t done much other than blow my phone up at midnight trying to throw his weight around every time he gets a new girlfriend. So I get to be the cold blooded harpy that he gets to cry about- which is fine by me. On paper he says he wants to be involved, but he’s made absolutely no effort to arrange plans or anything while sober. I haven’t seen him in over 2 years. I can’t trust him to be a safe parent, and since he’s not on any official records I get final say unless he wants to go to court over it.”

Your whole little house of cards hinges on the fact that your ex wants everyone to bend over backwards for him while doing nothing for anyone else. All it would take would be one subpoena for a paternity test and your hands would be tied. He is an incredibly functional alcoholic, so there isn’t a criminal record or anything you can do to prove he would be unfit. There’s no proof of the abuse he inflicted on you.

Which means, if push comes to shove, you would be forced to relinquish sole custody and hand your child over for unsupervised visitation.

But that requires effort on his part. And that effort is the only thing keeping your little house of cards afloat.

“Sorry that’s probably way more information than you wanted-“ good job. Everything was going great until you laid out your drama.

“No apology necessary; I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want to know.”

And there’s no lecture about how you should give your ex a chance, that the opportunity to raise his son could make him change for the better. No dissertation on how you owe it to your son to do whatever it took to make things work with his father (that had been a weird way to end a date, and the only reason you hadn’t gotten up sooner and left was because it was such a bizarre conversation you’d half convinced yourself the whole thing had to be a bad dream).

You’re not a wounded bird and on the one hand it’s a good thing to get everything laid out on the table, but on the other you don’t want to sit and mope about your personal troubles. You’re actually enjoying John Price’s company, and don’t want to think about your problems.

And yes you are enjoying the time for what it is but part of you can’t help but also keep an eye out for… any opportunities for a transition.

As hot under the collar as you are, John’s gaze makes warmth coil in your gut in a way that has nothing to do with the wine- he’s being a gentleman.

It’s sweet. He’s being polite and respectful and showing sexual discipline while making it clear he’s interested.

And for all your bemoaning of prior dates with other men who aren’t captains of specialized task forces about how they were too pushy and too presumptuous and a nice dinner paired with drinks doesn’t entitle them to you dropping your panties—

Yet here you sit, hours into a conversation when you’d decided 15 minutes in you want to jump his bones. And you have to be patient otherwise you’re a total hypocrite.

You’re not entirely subtle. The pair of you are perched on barstools again, much closer than the table allowed you to be with the two of you angled towards each other.

Your dress looks good on you. A jewel toned blue that compliments your skin beautifully, the hemline stopping above your knees and loose enough to bounce tantalizingly when you hit your stride walking.

It’s not exactly an olive branch, but it is an offering of sorts when you carefully take the leg closest to John and cross it over the other. The hemline of your skirt slips up your thigh, exposing more of your leg. It stops just shy of exposing the top of your stockings and the clip to your garter. It does show just a hint of the darker border to your stockings, the lace peeking ever so slightly before transitioning to the sheer material that covers the rest of your legs.

You’re incredibly pleased with yourself when his eyes flick down for a split second and linger before snapping back to your face. Got you. He tries to hide behind being caught with a sheepish clearing of his throat. It’s adorable, really.

Your cheeks are starting to get sore from all the smiling and laughing that’s occurred over the past few hours. But he’s pleasant company so it’s a discomfort you’re happy to deal with.

You look past him for a split second- nothing in particular catching your attention but just taking in the scenery of the restaurant behind you. Your eyes are back on him in a moment only for your brain to process what it saw after a delay.

There’s no fucking way-

Yes. Yes there is. Your ex is mingling in the background, and you don’t even realize the smile on your face has fallen to a flat line like all the previous giddiness is draining out of you and pooling on the floor below.

It would not take a captain of an antiterrorism task force to see your sharp shift in disposition, so John notices immediately.

“Everything alright, love?”

Maybe he won’t see you. Maybe, if there is a God and he is merciful, your ex won’t look in your direction, won’t see you, and you can continue your cheerful plan of trying to seduce your date.

And whether there is not a God or he is just not merciful- either option remains with you having the same shit result. He turns his head and makes direct eye contact. God damn it.

You look back to John. You’d hoped you could move past talking about your ex for the evening. “Remember how I said I haven’t seen my ex in over 2 years?”

There’s a twinge of relief on his face- the look of a man grateful to not be the cause of your displeasure.

“Let me guess- he’s right behind me?”

“Not quite “right behind”, but yes. Hopefully he’ll just-“ a short huff off agitation leaves you as you cut yourself off.

So much for hoping he’d simply mind his business and stay with his group. He’s making his way towards the pair of you at the bar, and you can tell he’s had a good number of drinks in his system just looking at him.

You’d become extremely proficient at gauging how drunk your ex is at a glance. A skill you developed while still with him and one that doesn’t seem to have faded.

This is, you know without question, going to end up being absolutely humiliating for you. You just know it.

“I am going to go ahead and apologize now for whatever is going to come out of his mouth,” you inform John.

His hand finds your knee, giving a light, reassuring squeeze. “It’ll be alright, love.”

“Well what do we have here?” is the warning shot letting you know he’s not going to show any form of civility.

“Hello, Michael,” you greet cooly, mind spinning a hundred miles an hour trying to figure out how to end this conversation as quickly as possible.

“You don’t have time to answer my texts but you’ve got time to go out. That’s good. Good to know you’ve got your priorities in order,” he starts.

“Answering your texts isn’t even remotely on my priority list, you know that.” You’re trying incredibly hard to keep yourself from being outright nasty but a whole lot of old wounds float up to the surface at the sight of your ex.

Maybe your new feathers aren’t as filled out as you’d initially thought. You feel raw and exposed and it’s difficult to think. You know what you should do, how you should handle it- and there’s still that one little part in your brain that is keeping tabs on John and his response to all of this.

“Your priority should be my son-“ he starts,

“-who is with his perfectly capable grandmother for the evening, thank you,” you finish for him, jaw set tightly. “Why are you here?”

The direct question is aggressive but you know the cycle with him too well to allow him to steer the conversation. He’ll run you in circle after circle until you’re so frazzled you can’t discern left from right.

“Can’t say hello and introduce myself to your new fella? Come on now, where’s your manners?”

Your eyes widen as Michael reaches a hand out- there is no way this asshole is about to grab you in public.

Quick as a snake, John runs interference and drapes his arm across the back of your chair, his fingers holding the shoulder furthest from him lightly.

The entire length of your back and shoulders are blocked by the SAS captain, forcing Michael’s hand back as there was no easy place for it to land that wouldn’t also be touching John.

Up until now, John has been quiet and assessing the situation. Not bowing up or trying to assert himself- letting you deal with your ex and navigate the situation for yourself.

The look on his face is downright unpleasant to put lightly. This is the man in charge of an elite task force, who barks orders at soldiers who drop everything at once because he told them to-

-and you don’t feel so exposed anymore. You find yourself sitting up a bit straighter only for John to gently stroke his knuckles against your shoulder in a soothing gesture. The gesture isn’t a miraculously grand one, but one that makes you realize you’re not alone in this situation even as disorienting as it is. And if you’re being honest with yourself, the upright posture and shifting of your thighs isn’t so much a stress response to your ex as you keying in on John’s response to the whole situation.

“John, Michael- Michael, John. There, now you’re introduced.” Go away now please.

Your ex is too drunk and too full of himself to see the writing on the wall, and continues to poke the bear. “Well, since she doesn’t seem to want to give a proper introduction-“ he sticks an arm out, and you can’t help but notice how the simple gesture causes him to need to correct his balance. Good lord it was barely dark out and he’s already-

Well. Not your problem. Not anymore, at any rate.

John is sitting to your left, his right arm the one that’s draped across the back of your chair. The pair of you flash a quick look to each other, John lifting his arm from your chair to take Michael’s hand and-

God.

Damn.

It.

The exchange is actually as hilarious as it is embarrassing (You can’t quite decide if it’s all the second hand cringe variety, or first hand because Look, John! Here’s the father of my child! I sure know how to pick a partner! Is still coiling in the depths of your stomach). You’d prefer if it simply never occurred at all.

You can see your ex’s forearm flexing as he shakes John’s hand. The microexpression that flicks across your date’s face confirms your suspicion- Michael is (for some reason) trying to use an overexaggerated grip to establish some sort of dominance in the situation.

The quick really? that reads on John’s face rapidly turns to a bemused and subtle if that’s how you want to play then, a barely noticeable shift in his own grip resulting in Michael wincing.

“Captain John Price,” his tone is easy, betraying none of the pissing contest your ex instigated and is failing miserably to get one over on John.

Your ex mumbles his full name, clearly realizing that whatever his brilliant little plan is a) isn’t so brilliant to begin with b) he might just be alert enough to acknowledge the fact that he clearly has no true plan. He came over with the intention of being an asshole and has been flying blind the entire time.

There’s one woman from the group your ex split off from who is watching the three of you keenly. If you were to guess, she is probably his new girlfriend.

You can’t help but wonder- does she know enough to know that this is routine behavior for him? That he throws himself headfirst into a situation he hasn’t planned out- isn’t sober enough to plan out? Situations that don’t need to occur just so he can throw his weight around? Too petty to give a genuine “Hello, how are you? It’s been a while. I want to talk to you about Sam when we’ve both got some free time?”

Everything is vindictive. Constantly worrying about not being undermined and being respected to the point he gets in his own way. Actively sabotages his own opportunities. In dire need of therapy to work through his issues because you know the alcohol is how he copes and you’d sympathized at first but the reasons became excuses and then he’d started blaming you and-

-John places his arm on the back of your chair again and you pull yourself out of your mental spiral.

“I think your date is waiting for you, Michael. Best not to keep the lady waiting.” John observes, his tone neutral despite being a clear dismissal.

“You’ll be hearing from me later. I want to see my son.” Michael’s ignoring John’s presence but taking the hint.

You don’t fling a final barb at him. The venom has been drained out of you and you just want the interaction over and done with. Let him have the last word. You just want him gone.

You merely cast a look over at the woman who is Michael’s date for the evening and hope she’s got better sense than you did- that she leaves before he sinks his claws in her too.

The weight that settled in your stomach upon first seeing him is finally lightening up on you. You know you’ll wake up tomorrow to a barrage of phone calls and text messages that you won’t answer. It’s probably not good you’re so desensitized to the idea that it barely registers as a problem. Merely one of life’s many inconveniences.

“You alright, love?” John’s voice helps you shake the last of the tendrils that cling to you.

“Yes. Sorry. Wasn’t expecting to run into him of all people tonight, is all.”

“Never fun being ambushed, is it?”

You take a bit of a risk- you know enough about his job but he’s steered the conversation away from it every time the topic would naturally shift that direction. You know how Kate’s work can go and you assume his is very similar. “Well you’d certainly know more about that than I would.”

It works. The two of you break out in grins, and you find yourself no longer worrying about Michael and your focus readily settling back on John where it belongs.

At some point- long after the single cube in John’s drink has melted, and the condensation of your wine glass has soaked the bev nap underneath it, and more importantly long enough that you don’t feel that you’re fleeing the restaurant- the suggestion is made to go back to John’s. “No more surprises, hm?”

You gladly follow him. You’d taken an Uber to get to the restaurant, anticipating drinking and hoping to go home with him, so you have no worries about your own car.

You can easily see him being the type to give you a quick, chaste kiss on the doorstep after safely dropping you at home. In another universe you’d appreciate the restraint, enjoy fleeting touches over the course of a few dates that get more intense each time before finally finding yourself in his bed.

In this universe however, you don’t have to wait. Don’t want to, either. You get to indulge your earlier impulse of crawling into his lap, knees spread wide on either side of his waist. Lowering your hips allows you to feel him and what exactly he’s packing between his own legs. Your hips cant in short motions and heat coils heavy in your gut.

From the feel of things he’s proportional and John is not a small man. There’s a brief flicker that runs through your mind that you might be in over your head with him. The pent up lust and desire stifles that flicker. You’re more than game to see what a night with him ends up being like.

His hands are warm against your skin- one cupping the back of your head and keeping you close as the pair of you make out, the other settles on your hip and keeps you steady as you grind down on him.

You are possessed with the desire to get his cock in your mouth.

It’s cute how his face follows yours as you pull away from him.

“Help me with my dress?” Your question is perfectly innocent as you turn your back to him, presenting the zipper that runs down the length of your back.

His pleased laugh warms you, a shiver of desire and anticipation running down your spine as his breath fans across the back of your neck.

You’ve got a surprise waiting for him underneath your dress, partially revealed as one of his hands holds the top of the dress steady while the other draws the zipper down.

You gave him the hint you were wearing stockings when you’d baited him back at the restaurant, letting the heavy fabric of the dress fall to a heap around you before kicking it off to one side.

Turning back to face him, John seems quite enraptured with his surprise.

The lingerie set is a matching shade as your jewel toned dress, the garter belt clipping to the sheer black thigh high stockings.

There’s always that split second hesitation when revealing yourself to someone- the anxiety of if they’ll be pleased with what’s presented to them.

John is the first person you’ve been with since you’ve had your child, and the slight anxiety quells quickly at the look on his face.

John looks like he wants to eat you alive. Any insecurity is knocked firmly aside by desire quickly ramping back up.

Placing one hand on his thigh to steady yourself as you lift a leg to take your shoe off, John is quick to stop you. “Leave them on for now, love.”

It’s a request but it’s not. Really that doesn’t surprise you- he is someone who is likely used to having his whims accommodated to. You find yourself having no urge to defy him, nodding in compliance. If John wants your heels to stay on, then they’ll stay.

He guides you between his legs, enough space between his knees for you to slot yourself in. With him sitting on the bed he’s shorter than you standing straight up in your heels. Bending down to give a quick, teasing kiss you let yourself drop to your own knees.

“You don’t have to-“

“I want to,” you assure him with doe eyes and are rewarded with him settling into the bed as your hands go to work on his belt.

Unable to resist teasing him, you mouth at his bulge through the thick fabric of his pants. You’re rewarded with a soft cant of his hips, having his belt undone and working on the button and zip of his pants in record time.

Your earlier suspicions are correct. John is a big boy in more ways than one. You want him in your mouth- now.

While you’re occupying yourself with getting his pants off, John shucks his shirt and shoes.

He is, simply put, delicious to look at. From the broad muscling to the thick dark hair running from his chest down his abdomen. He doesn’t have the hard chiseled abs of a man who lives in the gym but the sturdy build that comes from having useful, functional muscle that’s put to work.

And that’s incredibly hot. He’s girthy as hell in your hand as you give a few strokes before putting your mouth on him.

You’re not entirely certain if deep throating him is going to be an option, but by God you’re going to try.

“Bloody hell, love.” John grunts while you bob your head up and down the length of him. You’re gauging just how much of him you can get in your mouth- where your threshold is before your gag reflex wants to kick in.

He’s petting you. Doubtless trying to fight the urge to fist your hair, his hips struggling to stay still on the bed.

You want him to. You feel feral, all the pent up sexual energy you’ve been storing for God-knows-how-long welling up all at once. You want this man carnally and your brain presently thinks having your hair held in place and your throat fucked is a fantastic idea.

John clearly has other plans, restraining himself and letting you work at your own pace. That low, deep breathing paired with his soft grunts and voiced encouragements stoke the flames of your arousal hotter.

Eventually you do need air, pulling off of him for a moment. Your hand works his shaft and teases the tip of him as you lean forward to run your tongue up and down the length of him, dropping a bit lower to lave at his heavy sac. He jolts which only encourages you to do it again.

You know your eyes are one of your better features- you’ve heard the compliment enough times both in and out of the bedroom, holding John’s gaze as you lick him back up the length of his shaft and circle the head once before having caught your breath enough to wrap your lips around him once more.

The second time around you’re able to get a bit more of him down your throat, but not all the way. What you can’t reach you stroke with one hand, the other resting on his thigh to help balance yourself as you work. You can feel the tension building in his thigh as he gets closer, pleased with yourself.

It’s a heady feeling. You don’t know exactly all the dirty details of his job but understand enough to know you’ve got a powerful man at your whim right now and that scratches a deep seated itch in you.

“Good girl,” his praise washes over you, warm and welcoming. “Just like that-“

You’re intent on sucking the soul out of him, all doe eyes and hollowed cheeks with those painted red lips. Eventually he gives into the urge to grab a fistful of your hair. He doesn’t do anything to interrupt the rhythm you’ve settled into, letting you move as you see fit.

He bites out your name and you feel the muscles in his leg drawn tight. “I’m getting close, love.”

It’s not quite a question. You give your not-answer by doubling down on him. You’re so close to having him in your mouth all the way to the base. You don’t want to back off. What you do want is for him to finish down your throat.

You get your wish. John’s fist tightens and you let out a grunt as his thrusting results in your nose pressed against his public bone.

The taste of him doesn’t really register as he spills inside your mouth, your focus on breathing through your nose and keeping your gag reflex down.

He’s petting your hair again, praises falling freely from him and soft apologizes. “Lost myself for a moment there, love. You alright?”

You keep your mouth hilted on him for a moment to prove a point- you’re fine, he didn’t push you past threshold- before finally releasing his softening cock.

He’s pulling you up to him after that, an open mouthed kiss that flusters you considering he just came in your mouth. “You’re just a treasure,” his voice purrs in your ear. “Only fair I return the favor, hm?”

He guides you to lay on the bed, knees hanging over the edge before he turns to settle between your legs.

He starts at your neck. You’re ticklish at one spot his lips, squirming in his hold with a giggle. “Sensitive, hm?”

You nod out a “mhm,” that breaks into a breathy moan as he works his way down your chest. Rather than removing your bra his hands work to pull your breasts free from the cups before paying particular attention to your nipples.

His hands are warm as they roam your ribcage, the heat of his body seeping through the lace of your outfit as his fingers trail across your skin and the delicate material.

“You’re so soft, love,” you don’t quite know how to respond to the compliment, mewling wordlessly in pleasure at the attention.

That seems to appease him as he kisses his way down your sternum and to your belly, the expanse of most of it covered by the fabric of the garter belt.

His eyes flick up to your own as his lips travel closer to the apex of your thighs. Where you’ve been lying patient and pliant in his grasp, the eye contact draws something tight in your core and you squirm again.

The next thing you feel is teeth as he nips you. “Be a good girl for me,” he tells you, soothing the soft throb of his bite with his tongue.

You force yourself to still as he moves lower, lower, lower- taking his time and having you thoroughly worked up before moving to the next patch of skin.

When he’s down far enough he slides one of your thighs over his shoulder, that arm looping under your arm and banding across your abdomen.

It’s his turn now to mouth at your clothed sex.

He pulls the gusset of your thong aside after a moment of teasing, his lips descending on you.

“Oh,” your hand immediately finds purchase in his hair, a pleased whimper escaping you at the feel of John’s tongue.

John feasts on you. There’s not much else that can be done to describe it. It’s lewd and wet as he laps at you, the flesh of his tongue doing little to soothe the burning ache inside you and only ramping it up.

Those eyes are wicked as he gazes up at you from between your thighs. The hand resting on your lower stomach is pressing ever so lightly, like John wants the pressure there but not too much yet and you’re once again struck with the idea you might be in over your head with him.

“John, please,” you beg. It feels good but you need more, lust clouding your brain as your hips rock against his face.

“You need to be patient, love. I’ll take care of you. Just relax, hm?”

It dawns on you that he’s probably running down the clock until his refractory period is up. That he doesn’t want to get you going too quick and then be stuck not quite ready to perform.

It’s an assumption, and you’re not 100% sure that you’re correct, but it’s a solid enough option that you move forward with that in mind.

The thought almost makes it easier to relax into the bed- the idea that John is going to pleasure you with his mouth until enough time has passed and he can get it up again. That he’s not just mindlessly toying with you with no end goal in mind.

It feels good you’re just stuck being greedy and wanting more stimulation despite knowing that won’t happen until John decides he’s ready to give you more.

You almost jump when the fingers you’ve been waiting for make their presence known. His mouth moves to focus on your clit, lips making a seal and sucking on it. You cry out, hips canting as his fingers gently rub at your labia.

He starts with one, gently sliding it in and out of you. Your back arches in satisfaction of having something to clench on and rub against. It’s more satisfying than just one of your own- that was for sure.

“That’s it love,” John praises you while easing a second one into you.

The second finger is what you were looking for, stimulation wise. John pets and strokes you, thumb gently working over your clit in soft circles before putting his mouth back on you.

He doesn’t just find your g-spot. John’s fingers are placed so they hone in on that spongy bit of tissue tucked inside you. He doesn’t let up on it, tongue working on your clit as you arch your back helplessly and moan.

That pressure is back on your abdomen, the hand not currently stroking you to nirvana pressing down on your belly.

You moan and buck against his hold. Your orgasm is creeping up on you and it’s like he’s determined to make you squirt.

“You keep that up and I’m gonna make a mess,” you warn him- not entirely certain how he’ll respond to the prospect of you squirting on his face.

John looks delighted and you realize that yes, you are in over your head with him.

There’s a mischievous glint in his eye as he pulls back from you, “You promise, love? Don’t tease me.”

Oh dear God- Next thing you know he’s reaching over you to pull a pillow from the top of the bed, wedging it underneath your hips before returning to his place between your thighs.

You’re flustered at how eager he is to see you squirt. His mouth is back on you, sucking on your clit and making your legs shake as two fingers go right back to abusing your g-spot, his free hand pressing on your belly increasing the pressure that is mounting by the second.

There’s nothing else for you to do but grab a fistful of his hair and hang on. “Please- oh! J-John! Right there,” at your encouragement he locks in on the spot that’s got you arching your back and your thighs trembling.

“That’s it, pretty girl. Show me,” he’s moaning encourments against your skin and you feel like a bow drawn tight and ready to snap. You’re so, so close.

The sounds he draws out of you- both from your mouth and between your legs- are filthy and vulgar and you don’t care at all as he gets you teetering just on the edge.

You’re practically gasping for breath, eyes screwing shut as the hand not buried in John’s hair fists the sheets next to you. You babble his name, chants of John all your brain can muster.

All that pressure coiling in you snaps and gushes out, literally and metaphorically.

“Good girl, making such a mess for me,” John’s praise has you flushing hot while his fingers work you like he’s making sure he can wring out every single last drop.

He stops when you have nothing left to give him, a trembling mess shivering in his hold.

Your brain at some point made the windows shut down noise, needing a moment to settle as you process what John just did to you.

This is the hardest you’ve cum in ages, certainly better than the orgasms you’ve given yourself during your little dry spell.

You return to the land of the living with his lips on yours, tasting yourself as he soothingly strokes your side. “You back with me?” He asks, eliciting a nod from you.

“Please tell me you have a condom,” your tone is pleading. You still want to ride him but you’ve learned your lesson about practicing safe sex. Once was, in fact, all it took for things to go off the rail.

“I do,” he stands, moving to the nightstand and opening a drawer.

Now that your legs feel somewhat compliant you sit yourself back up.

No sooner than John’s got the condom on then you’re guiding him back down, having him lay on the edge of the bed.

It takes a bit of maneuvering, getting yourself situated so your heels don’t catch on his sheets, but you’re straddling him with the leg closest to the edge of the bed hanging over the side as the opposite leg folds underneath you. You hover over him while getting everything lined up. The position of your legs allows you to alternate which one is supporting the brunt of your weight, a factor that is going to be fairly important once you’ve hilted yourself on John.

Even with how pliant your body is it takes a moment for the head of him to breach you.

“Oh,” you let out a breath as you sink down on him. You’re not able to get all the way to the base of him on the first go, getting your weight underneath yourself and lifting almost completely off of him before dropping down again. You get a little further this time, a moan escaping you.

“That’s it, love. Nice and easy,” his voice coos in your ear, that low timber having you liable to melt.

He’s thick. Not in a way that’s insurmountable to manage, but you have absolutely no complaints with how he fills you and anticipate being pleasantly sore in the morning.

Two more slow bounces have you sinking low enough to hilt yourself on him, taking a moment to enjoy the sensation of sitting fully on his lap.

One of his hands braces on your hip, the other his thumb circles your clit. You squirm at the stimuli, relishing in the feel of him before getting to work.

This is what you’ve been drooling over all night. Your reward is very well earned in your opinion. Moaning lowly as you bounce up and down, your movements are initially slow and languid but pick up speed as you get your bearings. John’s heavy exhales and grunts when you clench only serve to wind you tighter.

“You feel good, pretty girl? Hm? You like bouncing on my cock?”

You flush- a ridiculous notion given how you’re quite literally hilted on his dick-, face hot from the dirty talk.

The hand on your hip helps guide you to a pace that’s pleasurable for the both of you, eyes rolling as he thrusts his hips in a way that makes you see stars. “Yes! John- yes! Oh it feels so good,” your voice a low purr as he delivers on every fantasy you’ve had this evening.

The stretch of him in you feels absolutely incredible, knocking the air out of you on each bounce. It doesn’t take long until that knot begins to form again, growing steadily as you rise and fall in his lap. The press of his finger circling your clit draws staggered moans, bracing on him for support.

“Been thinking about this all night,” John grits out. “Wanted to flip you over the bar top and have my way with you right there on the dining room floor.”

You moan at the confession, feeling less like a rabid dog with no impulse control now you know you’re not alone in the intense desire that had struck once you’d laid eyes on him.

“Probably wouldn’t have- ah! st-stopped you,” you tell him. The grip on your hip tightens at that, another moan escaping you as you bounce on him.

Your eyes roll in pleasure, cunt practically fluttering from the way he keeps getting you to clench. The thickness of his girth doesn’t just let him keep hitting that spot in you with lift of your hips so much as the mushroom tipped head of his cock drags across it.

“Aren’t you just a fucking treasure,” he praises.

Your thighs are burning, eased by the position of your legs and John’s grip helping you but becoming more present with each wet clap of your sex against his lap. It almost helps you tip closer to another climax.

Your eyes squeeze shut, a staggered breath escaping you.

“Eyes on me,” he tells you and you comply immediately.

“John, please I’m so close,” your thighs are shaking again, threatening your already precarious balance.

“You need more, pretty girl?”

You shake your head. “No-no. Just don’t stop. Please don’t stop!”

And bless him, he doesn’t do anything to fuck up your rhythm. The fingers circling your clit keep the same tempo and pressure perfectly, his free hand still helping guide you up and out of his lap before sitting you back down.

You know you’re about to come but are caught off guard by how sharp it is as you squirt for a second time.

The sight of you spurting across his abdomen nearly severs any control John has left. The next thing you know John’s abandoned your overstimulated clit in favor of rolling you onto your back, your heels clattering to the floor from the motion. Your legs go instinctively to clamp around his waist for security- only one of them does, the other stopped by wet fingers gripping your thigh by your knee as he spreads you open. His weight is held on the forearm bracing next to your head by the time you process the shift in position.

“You alright, pretty girl?”

You can’t quite get your words out but manage a nod. “Ye-yeah,” you eventually stagger out as he waits for a verbal confirmation.

With the comfort that you were fine, that gives John the assurance he needs to seek his own pleasure.

More than satisfied with your two climaxes, you lay limp and pliant in his grasp while he chases his own end.

The wet squelch of his cock splitting you open with each thrust was loud and obscene although you were too far gone in the blissed out pleasure to care. Your whole body feels delightfully tingly, your head swimming pleasantly.

You clench down on him a few times, more for his benefit than anything else. You’re spent but more than willing to help him across the finish line as he buries his face in the crook of your neck, muttering praises that are punctured with short, sharp thrusts before he stiffens as his own climax hits.

The two of you have both broken into a light sheen of sweat by the end of things. After a moment to recuperate John stands with a “I’ll be right back.” (And you unabashedly enjoy the view of his ass while he retreats to the bathroom.)

True to his word he returns shortly, evidently having disposed of the condom with a towel in hand for you.

The pair of you get yourselves clean and sorted. Before you can decide how you want to ask, John seems to already know what the question is.

“You don’t need to leave, do you?”

Again it’s not entirely a question, but still gives you an out if you want to take it.

You don't want to take the out.

#john price x reader #captain john price #john price #x single mom reader #cod x reader #cod mwii #my writing #now I gotta name this bitch because I totally plan on a whole series and the other characters can’t be calling her love all the time lmao #i wrote and coded this whole thing on my phone because my laptop has once again quit on me

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thefallennightmare · 7 months

Text

Just Pretend-fifteen

*gif created by me. feel free to use, simply give credit*

Parings: Noah Sebastian x Musician! Reader

Warnings/Tropes: language, angst, fluff, smut, star-crossed lovers, right person/wrong time, cheating, talks of mental abuse.

Summary: “I can wait for years, heaven knows I’m not getting over you.” A story about two star-crossed lovers, that always find their way back because their souls are entwined. The universe desperately attempts to bring them together, no matter what the cost.

Authors Note: it so mf late and I have to work tomorrow. so y'all better enjoy my loves!

Collaborating With: @thescarlettvvitch(better give her all the love as well)

Tags: @thescarlettvvitch @ozwriterchick @waake-meee-up @notingridslurkaccount @niicoleleigh @sammyjoeee @xxrainstorm @dominuslunae @notmaddihealy @malice-ov-mercy @crimson-calligraphyx @iknownothingpeople @writethrough @thebadchic @blackveilomens Claudia on Tumblr @tobe-written @blacksoul-27 @loeytuan98 @loverofagoodbeard @comfortcharactercraze @lma1986 @plutonikchaos1 @spicywhenspeaking @lyschko666 @somewhere-diamond @hi-fancy-seeing-you-here @koskeepsake @bngurngheart @shilohrosechicken

READER

My heart hammered in my chest as I took the next right, the familiar neighborhood coming into view. I peered to my right, making sure the gift basket was still buckled in place, and the excitement of seeing him again made my stomach flutter. My flight landed less than an hour ago but instead of going straight up, I loaded up my car with all of my bags and came straight to his house. The talk with my father was still loud in my mind.

My father and I had a long talk yesterday. He could sense something was causing my inner plagues. He caught on quickly; he knew the slightest changes in my demeanor.

Oie vie, that sounds familiar.

We discussed everything that happened, from top to bottom; even the veil of intimacy- I was modest, using a simple statement of course, this was my dad. But, I couldn’t lie to him- he put his hand on my shoulder and said.

“I’m sure you think that I don’t understand what you’re going through, but I do. It’s just that sometimes, our future is dictated by what we are in our most current state, as opposed to what we want and actually need.”

We talked more after that; it was opening the curtain that was in front of my eyes. The curtain of Noah and I- the one I only peeked through this whole time. The curtain needs to open.

“What are you going to do?” He asked, pulling back from a gracious hug. We were standing in the large airport, my flight minutes away from being called.

There was a long pause as I mewled the words over my tongue.

“I don’t know,” I finally answered.

We stood together for another minute, just holding each other.

“Follow your heart, Y/N. Break the chains that bind you.” My dad held my face with both of his hands and I could see his eyes glisten.

Was he emotional? I couldn’t be sure.

We hugged again, and I laughed. “Who knew you were a poet with words like that.”

He mocks gasped. “Where the hell do you think you get from?”

“True.”

Less than a block away, my phone buzzed and as I pulled up to the stop sign, I glanced down at the new message.

Chase: sweets, we need to talk to you. Call us when you can.

My heart dropped a little, worry filling me, but I didn’t want whatever he had to talk about ruining my plans so while still stopped, I quickly typed a reply.

ME: I have pretty shitty service where I’m at. What’s up?

As I drove again, my heart began beating loudly in my chest as his house came into view, his car sitting in the driveway.

He’s home.

Pulling to a slow, I reached for my phone ready to text him but the new message from Chase gave me immediate pause; my stomach dropping straight down to the pits of my stomach.

Chase: Noah went out on a date. He’s seeing someone.

My car idled in the middle of the road as I read the message repeatedly, the words like a dagger through my chest.

No, it can’t be true. Maybe it was a mistake, a misunderstanding.

Chase: sweets??

A loud horn jarred me from my froze state and with a choked sob, I pulled over the car to the side of the road, two houses down from his.

Tears burned in the corners of my eyes but they didn’t fall. My fingers hovered over his contact, debating whether I should call him. Maybe if I told him I was coming to see him, he would explain everything.

“Coming up next on Octane,” the loud voice from the speakers made me jump, heart still beating hard in my chest as my teary eyes stared at the radio on the dashboard. “A brand new single by Virginia native band Bad Omens. Here is Nowhere To Go.”

Fuck, I almost forgot about their new song.

“Why's this always gotta happen to me? I should have known. I never fail to never learn from mistakes, still throwing stones. Blood signed we made it a pact. Yours dried out, you took it back.”

I choked on a sob as Noah’s words dug the knife deeper into my chest. Tears still pooling in my eyes but not yet falling.

“Hear me out, I'm sorry, but I'm a little less than sold. I've been around, heard all the stories you said you never told. You're used to speaking in tongues to feel like you're in control. Now you've got nowhere to run, now you've got nowhere to go.”

The emotion in Noah’s voice made me rest my head against the cool window, letting it ease away the burning warmth that spread through my skin.

“Tell me what's mine and tell me what's yours. Why I never got a say, never got a choice? Tell me what's mine and tell me what's yours. Why I never got a say, never got a choice? Tell me what's mine and tell me what's yours. Why I never got a say, never got a choice? Tell me what's mine and tell me what's yours And why I never ever got a fucking say? Oh.”

Now the tears fell freely into my lap as my body shook with sobs, it falling silent against Noah’s strong voice, his emotion, hurt, and anger blasting through the speakers.

“Are you ready? I'm in the driver's seat now. Oh, oh.”

“Mother fucker,” I cursed myself through sobs as I smacked the steering wheel not once, not twice, but three times.

I never meant to not give him a say, I never meant to not allow him a chance, it was never the intention to blindside him; it was a shield, a mask I wore the night I left that hotel room, and clearly; one of the biggest mistakes of my life. Noah was right, I had nowhere to go. As I sat in the driver's seat, grieving over the consequences of my fearful and irrational actions, the song ended, and I sat in silence. I heard the air conditioner hum, the humming almost hid the sound of my beating and broken heart.

You did this, stupid girl.

While driving over to Noah’s, I didn’t know the outcome of what would happen as I practiced what I planned on telling him. But now, as the tears and makeup dried to my face, I knew only one thing; I fucking love Noah, and I waited too long.

Chase: Y/N, please let me know you’re okay.

With shaky hands, I clicked on Malcolm’s contact name, the ringing of the phone echoing throughout my small car.

“Buttercup, where are you?”

At hearing the sheer panic in his voice as he rushed out the words, I broke down in sobs yet again.

“I fucked up, guys,” I cried.

“No, sweets. You didn’t.” Chase sighed.

I nodded even though he couldn’t see me. “Yes, I did! Did you not hear their song? He’s seeing someone else!”

“Why are you there, Y/N? It’s only going to hurt you,” Malcolm said.

Through blurry vision, I stared up at Noah’s house as a light upstairs turned off and I couldn't help but wonder if that was his bedroom.

“I-I don’t know. I just thought that maybe,” the words came out in a jumbled mess and I did my best to compose myself with a deep breath.

“Come home, sweets. We miss you. We can sit on the couch in front of the fire and you can tell us about how the rest of your trip went. Salem misses you, he hasn’t stopped meowing at your door.” Chase suggested.

I peered over to the gift basket on my right. It was filled with a variety of gifts I brought back for Noah with a handwritten note taped to the front; one that will go unread now.

“Okay,” I said, defeated. “I’ll be there soon.”

After hanging up with them, I let out a few shaky breaths to compose myself as I stared at myself in the mirror, wiping away the tears.

Get your shit together.

With a longing glance toward Noah's house, I quickly typed out a message to the Hollow Omens group chat before pulling a U-turn and heading back home.

Me: The new song is amazing! I’m proud of you guys! Can’t wait to hear what else you have up your sleeves.

JOLLY

As I ascended the stairs, phone in my hand, I read the thread in the Hollow Omens group chat.

Malcolm: We’re throwing a welcome back bitch party at our place Friday night for Y/N. All you have to bring is yourselves. We’ll provide everything else.

Y/N: no, no party. Please.

Chase: too bad. It’s already been decided.

Folio: fuck yea, we’ll be there! Nick and I are flying in Thursday night.

Me: We missed you, Y/N. Can’t wait to hear all about your trip.

As I was passing by Noah’s shut door, his text popped up in the chat. He returned home from hanging out with Bailey a little while ago and immediately held up in his room.

Noah: bringing my date, that cool?

Y/N: 🆒

I ran a hand over my face at how stupid Noah was being. It was one thing to ask Malcolm or Chase separately, but asking in the group chat where he knew Y/N could see was a new low. Orie was passing by the hallway so I pulled him to a stop, filling him in on what happened.

“He’s a fucking idiot,” he shook his head

Still, in front of his door, I went to knock on the door but I froze; soft music playing through the wood.

“Is he listening to Cher again?” Orie wondered with pulled brows.

“He loves Cher,” I reminded him.

“Noah is playing back time on again.”

My head snapped towards Orie to correct him. “That's TURN BACK TIME. That’s the title.”

“Oh excuse me,” he held up his hands.

“You’re lucky I was the one to correct you and not him. Noah is serious about Cher.” I snorted before knocking on the door.

The music stopped. “Come in.”

Noah spun around in his computer chair and nodded towards us. “What’s up?”

“Have you lost your mind?” Orie asked.

“What are you talking about?” Noah shook his head, confused.

“How do you go from dumb to dumber this fast?”

Now he looked towards me. “Excuse me?”

“You could have texted Chase or Malcolm to ask about bringing a date. But in the group chat where Y/N could see, why the fuck would you do that?” I questioned.

“Why not?” Noah shrugged nonchalantly.

He’s your brother. You can’t hit him.

“I don’t know if you’re trying to make her jealous or what, but if this blows up in your face,” Orie shook his head while leaning against the wall.

“It won’t, like I told you guys before, I need to at least attempt to move on,” Noah turned back towards his computer, loading up Twitch.

“Okay but, I don’t think-,” I started.

“Let it go,” Noah spoke over his shoulder, not bothering to glance my way.

“This isn’t an attempt to move on. You’re doing this on purpose and it’s messy, Noah.” I examined.

“Dude- don’t, I don’t need a lecture. It’s just casual. Bailey and I are just hanging out-that’s it,” he explained before motioning towards his door. “Can you close the door behind you?”

With a long breath, Orie and I shared a look before retreating out of his room.

READER

The sudden commotion coming from down the hall gave me pause as I stared at myself in the mirror, wondering if it was worth walking through my door to socialize. I compiled a list of excuses to use to get out of this little welcome-back party tonight but every single one Chase and Malcolm saw right through.

“My painting class ran late. I might not make it.”

Malcolm was there at 6:30 to pick me up; right on time.

“I’m on my period and the pain is terrible.”

Chase snickered. “You had your period last week.”

“Salem isn’t feeling well, I should take him to the vet.”

As Salem was doing his usual evening zoomies around the house as he played with one of his many toys that littered the floor throughout the house.

In the end, my excuses did nothing to keep me from this party tonight so much to my dismay, I forced a fake smile on my face. It wasn’t going to be easy tonight knowing that not only would Noah be here, me seeing him for the first time in almost two weeks, but also knowing he wasn’t alone.

He brought a date.

Good for him, I told myself. He deserves to be happy.

But you wanted it to be with you.

Forcing the thought to the far depths of my mind, I took a deep breath to steady myself then left my room to follow the commotion of the noise.

Holy shit.

The living room was packed with more people than I expected, music playing in the background. Besides Chase, Malcolm, Byran, Matt, and the guys of Bad Omens, there were a few unfamiliar faces.

“What happened to a small party?” I teased Malcolm as I took a cup from him and took a small sip, the alcohol burning down my throat. “Oh, shit. What the fuck is this?”

The liquorice-tasting booze lingered on my tongue long after.

“Ouzo. Brought by Jesse Cash,” Malcolm nodded behind me.

My eyes widened as I turned around, eyes immediately connected with the guitarist and clean vocalist of Erra. My heart beat faster, my inner fangirl trying hard not to break free. I’d been a fan of theirs for years.

“Holy shit,” I stammered. “I’m not shitting on your alcohol choice. It’s great.”

Jesse smiled. “I hear you’re big into Greek mythology and thought it would fit to bring a popular Greek drink.”

I raised my cup to him in thanks before taking another small sip, this time the burning eased its way down my throat.

“So, you live with Noah and Jolly?” I asked Jesse.

“Yeah with Michael and Orie,” he answered just as two other unfamiliar faces appeared on either side of him.

I recognized Orie’s name as the one who directs their music videos the other I wasn’t completely familiar with. As we exchanged hello’s, Michael informed me he’d been a friend of Noah’s for a while and was in another band. After a while when Jolly and Nick joined the group, I began telling them about my trip to Japan until I felt a burning gaze to the side of my head.

My heart broke at the sight in front of me.

Noah was leaning against the wall, a small brunette standing up against his chest as her fingers played with the beads of his rosary, twirling it in her fingers. Whatever she was trying to talk to Noah fell on deaf ears as he bore his eyes straight down to his feet. Almost as if he knew I was watching, Noah gazed up towards me and when our eyes locked, he gently pried the rosary out of his date's hands, pushing her away slightly.

I coughed, embarrassed for being caught staring, and turned towards the couch sitting next to Chase.

“Are you okay?” He asked, ice-colored eyes peering over his cup towards Noah.

“She seems nice,” I spoke low while messing with a loose strand on the ripped part of my jeans.

Chase hummed low in his chest. “She’s practically throwing herself on him in front of everyone. It’s weird.”

Playfully, I smacked his chest then finished my drink with a wince, setting the empty cup on the table in front of me just as Michael sat on the other side of me.

“So, Hollow Souls in your band?”

I nodded with a small smile. “Yeah; me, Chase, and Malcolm.”

“I listened to your first two albums but can I say how excited I am for your new stuff,” Michael leaned against the couch, resting his arm across the back of it.

“We are too. There’s a new way we want to go, musically and lyrically, that’s going to differ from how we used to be.”

We continued to chat for a long while, Chase jumping in every once in a while, until someone sat on the couch across from me, his long legs stretching out to brush against my calf. Noah gave me a small smile.

“Hi,” he said.

I forced my best smile, ignoring the girl who sat next to him with her hand on his thigh.

“Hey.”

“You look good,” Noah nodded towards me. “Have a good trip?”

“Yeah. I love my dad and had a lot of fun but I was ready to come home.”

Noah's eyes glinted. “Missed us?”

I shrugged while crossing my legs over at the ankles as I leaned back against Chase. “I missed Chase terribly. I don’t know how I went on without him after he left.”

A rouse of laughter echoed throughout the living room but the girl next to Noah watched with curious eyes.

“Hi, I’m Bailey,” She sat forward while extending her hand towards me. “It’s lovely to finally meet you. I’m a huge fan. ”

Noah and my intense gaze never broke until the hand shook in front of me again, almost reminding me to shake it. Breaking away reluctantly, I smiled at Bailey.

“Oh, hi. Nice to meet you as well,” I carefully shook her hand.

The burning gaze drilled into me as I let go of Bailey’s hand, subconsciously rubbing my palm on my thigh. Noah watched the two of us with intense eyes, darting back and forth with such speed.

“This guy talks a lot about you,” Bailey squeezed Noah’s thigh, making him stiffen.

I cleared my throat, blood draining from my face. “H-he does?”

She nodded with a smile. “Noah is a huge fan of Hollow Souls. I saw you guys on this last tour and needless to say, I was jealous that I couldn’t see him fill in with you guys those last few nights. I bet it was amazing performing together, having Noah’s great vocals with you. I mean, not saying yours are bad. But Trey’s always overshadowed it with his lyrics.”

My shoulders went rigid for two reasons; Trey and his lyrics.

Chase clicked his tongue before drowning down the rest of his drink. Malcolm, who stood behind the couch, reached over and squeezed my shoulder, knowing how deep I was about to go with this conversation.

“I write all the lyrics for Hollow Souls,” I informed Bailey.

Her eyes widened, still not removing her hand from Noah’s thigh. “I didn’t-. I read things online that said it was all Trey.”

I bit my lip, knowing that it wasn't her fault and she shouldn’t face my wrath. But it could have been because Trey was still such a sore subject for me or the fact that her hand was now grazing up and down on Noah’s thigh. Dr. Poulos told me I was running, and even Noah told me subliminally I was running. They were right and now look where it got me. Me, staring at another woman touching what was rightfully mine.

It didn’t work because the words slipped through my lips before I could stop them.

“Do you believe everything you read online?” I raised a teasing brow.

The tension in the room was thick, something everyone but this poor girl picked up on.

“No. I’m really sorry if I offended you, Y/N. It wasn’t my intention. I’ve just been a fan for years and always thought Trey wrote the songs,” Bailey said.

My jaw clenched but before I could retort, my phone rang, silencing all my words.

“Hello?” I sighed into it.

“Hi dear. Why so somber?”

My face broke out in a large smile at hearing my dad's voice. “Hi, dad. How are you?”

“Good, just got back from a run and wanted to check in.”

Malcolm smacked my shoulder. “Put it on speaker. I want to say hi.”

Rolling my eyes, I clicked the speaker button. “Dad, Malcolm wants to say hi.”

As the two of them talked, I dared a glance over to Noah and Bailey, and my stomach drop at the sigh; they were having their own deep conversation, her hand still resting against his thigh. Blinking away the tears that stung, I let out a shaky breath as my dad’s voice caught my attention.

“Dear, how did things go with what’s his name? Did you tell him the truth? Oh fuck, I can’t remember his name. OH! No-?”

Quickly taking the call off the speaker, I jumped from the couch and darted into the kitchen.

NOAH

Everyone tensed as Y/N scurried out of the room with her phone pressed to her ear. Even though Bailey was rambling my ear off about some topic I wasn’t paying attention too, I missed why Y/N abruptly left the room.

“Where’s she going?” I nodded toward the spot where Y/N previously sat.

Nick cleared his throat. “Her dad was calling to check in.”

“Why are you just sitting and zoning out then?” Bailey giggled. “What’s with the tension?”

Jolly shook his head with a smile. “There’s no tension. We’re all trying to figure out what song to listen to. Any requests?”

Something wasn’t adding up so after excusing myself to grab another drink, Bailey’s hand finally detached from my thigh. As I walked into the kitchen, I noticed Y/N was leaning against the counter, back to me and phone pressed to her ears. Her eyes were pinched closed by her fingers.

“No Dad, just leave it alone…. She seems nice, I can’t do that to him, it was a silly thing to even consider.”

My brows furrowed as my heart beat rapidly in my chest, wondering who she was talking about. I shouldn't eavesdrop, the gods know how much I hate that shit, but I couldn’t move. My feet were frozen in place as I stuffed my hands deep into my pockets.

“Look it’s not worth it now. I waited too long.”

Waited too long? For what?

Y/N talked for another minute then hung up with a sad sigh, slowly turning around with a shocked expression as she noticed me standing there.

“Noah! Hey! How long have you been standing there?” She shifted on her feet.

“Just walked by,” I lied. “I needed another beer. Everything alright with your dad?”

“Oh yeah, totally.”

We stood there in an awkward silence; something that wasn’t common between us.

“What’s that?” I wondered while pointing behind her.

Y/N raised a brow as she peered over her shoulder to the dining room and let out a small chuckle; my heart coming to life at the sound.

“Chase’s fish tank. The thing is fucking huge and why does it need to be seen through, I don’t know. But it’s his hobby and I’m not one to make fun of someone's hobby,” she said while walking over to the large fish tank.

It was one of those that you could look through and see whatever or whoever was standing onto the other side. A variety of colors, sizes, and kinds of fish swam slowly back and forth. In the awkward silence, I stared at the mustache of the catfish my eyes gliding over the tank, looking at it instead of her. Peering back at me was a pair of the most exquisitely beautiful pair of eyes.

Those angelic eyes. I accidentally pushed my face closer to the glass, she chuckled a little. We were still silent, not sure what to say exactly. She was ethereal, truly, on the other side of the tank. We now realize it was just the two of us at this moment. It was then that I noticed the large basket on the table behind her; a piece of paper with my name tapped to the front.

“Is that for me?” I asked while standing straight.

Y/N followed my gaze, staring at the basket for a long moment before snatching the paper off of it.

“Yea. Just a few things you wanted me to bring back for you.”

Her eyes never met mind as she fiddled with the paper between her fingers. I never got the chance to ask what was so important about that flimsy paper because Bailey’s voice called out for me.

“Noah! Can you grab me a beer on your way back?”

JESSE

I had to admit, privately in the corners of myself of course- Y/N was absolutely stunning. Even I couldn’t deny that. The first few minutes of speaking with her, she definitely had an allure. I could see why Noah was so captivated at first.

But to say I was perplexed was an understatement.

I knew my friend; I knew his little quirks, habits, his way around words, and lack thereof. He knew how to get off scot easy. I observed Noah and Y/N, the awkward moments that only selected of us knew.

Fuck.

The elephant was only getting larger with one passing moment. I wanted to get up and start yelling “Cut the shit! You love each other!”

I hated this mess that was sitting on the left of me.

Noah’s actions were almost mirroring hers. It was painful to watch. The twitching, the shifting of eyes, the touching of hair. Noah’s hair was so long- he would touch the strands and twirl it and when she laughed too hard with Michael, I almost thought Noah was going to rip out a strand.

A few other things I noticed? Bailey filled up her drink twice. Y/n watched her like a hawk, and Noah watched her watch Bailey.

What a fucking hellhound of a night.

Bailey was a nice girl, but even I could see her head was too blown up into Noah land to realize she was a mere plot device, a way of distraction from the one across from her. Poor naïve thing.

Not being able to take it anymore I glanced at Noah intensely, taking off my glasses. He looked back; he knew what I was getting at. I shook my head, direction to the hallway “

We need to talk my eyes said.

Noah sighed before slipping away from Bailey, who was staring down at the contents of her drink, body swaying slightly. But when she noticed Noah was leaving, she grazed his back while he did. Noah froze for a moment before shrugged his shoulders, her touch falling from his back.

I quickly looked to Y/N and realized she was watching the two of them over the rim of her cup, usual bright eyes dulled from the alcohol and the sight of Noah with someone else. He never left her vision- even if she thought he did. And she was the same. That shrug was small, but it did its job.

Once out of earshot, I crossed my arm over my chest. “Noah-.”

“Jesse,” he cut me off with my name. “I can’t deal with any more bullshit lectures tonight. Seriously, I’m a grown man.”

“Are you?” I raised a brow while pointing back to the living room. “Because the shit is extremely uncomfortable for all of us. You’re acting like some teen throwing a toy around, waiting for a reaction.”

“That’s fucked up,” Noah’s eyes narrowed.

“Well, am I wrong?” I shot back.

He sighed and I could tell he was tired of it. He was tired of the constant telling him what to do, and what to say; from all of us, but he was so fucking stubborn. Noah had to have been one of the most intense friends I’ve ever encountered. I love him, but, this was even breaking me down mentally.

All I wanted was for my friend, and my new friend to wake the fuck up.

“Look dude,” I sighed while running a hand over my chin. “I won’t say anything. But this is just uncomfortable, please understand that?”

“I do, but it doesn’t have to be. I’m trying to test the waters. I’m sorry for dragging you all into this.”

I patted his shoulder. “We’re here for you man, we know what this is doing to you. We know Baley isn’t where your head’s at. But I have to ask; you already know about Y/N’s condition and why she walked away. What’s the point of this?”

Noah rested his hands on his hips as he stared down at his feet before lifting to meet my gaze. “She won’t talk to me. I mean Y/N talks to me- but she won’t let me in. She doesn’t trust me enough to tell me the truth. And that fucking hurts, Jesse.”

“This isn’t it brother, come on, you’re better than this,” I tried to reason.

“Am I?”

My shoulders fell at the Scorpio's stubbornness. “Yeah, you are and Y/N knows that. She’s distraught out there, Noah.”

“I just need her to tell me herself,” Noah opened his arms wide to the side before they fell, slapping his thighs. The sound bounced off the walls of the hallway. “I need her to need me.”

With a deep sigh, I eventually nodded before wrapping an arm around his shoulder, leading us back into the living room where Noah’s eyes immediately caught Michael and Y/N standing far off in the corner of the room, talking amongst themselves.

It was about to be a fucking zoo soon.

NOAH

I stared at the floor, my shoes, and anywhere that was avoidant to her gaze. I was avoidant of the woman in front of me. She was throwing herself at me, that much I could tell. Angel looked so beautiful, it’s all I could think of. Her beauty was unparalleled, it couldn’t be outshined by anyone.

She was glowing; the trip did wonders for her, and I was happy to see it. I wasn't, however, happy with the situation I was in, Bailey on my left- that was one thing. Michael was telling Y/N a joke, something about Japanese mice, I couldn’t fucking tell.

I was counting to 10, something my therapist, Dr. Poulos suggested I do when I find myself in situations I can't control.

“I don’t see what’s so funny,” I grumbled into the rim of my beer bottle.

“I didn’t say anything funny,” Bailey answered.

A low noise rumbled in my chest as I continued to watch Michael and Y/N. I wasn’t worried about Michael- so why my jaw clenched and my tongue kept moving I wasn’t sure.

No, I fucking knew. I wanted to stand across from her, encasing around her space. I wanted to be the one who told Y/N jokes.

I began twisting my hair with my fingers-a strand was sure to snap off if it didn’t already.

Michael chuckled while glancing at me, noticing my twisted expression. My beer was tight in my hands, I kept fiddling with the paper on the bottle; a distraction is what I kept running into- always a fucking distraction.

Michael lifted his arm to cough into it, a silent way of telling me he knew I knew.

It was innocent; I wasn’t even mad at him. I just yearned for the comfort of Y/N’s laughter directed at me. Bailey chuckled at something I said a little ago but it did nothing- not even an artery moved. I only felt one emotion; guilt.

I stood there thinking it didn’t matter. Y/N was the one I wanted, all I ever wanted but knew I need a fucking miracle.

“Oh, fuck yes!” Malcolm cheered while reading something on his phone, catching all of our attention. “My House is being released tomorrow!”

“Shut the fuck up, really?” Y/N quickly left Michael's side to jump over the couch in between Chase and Malcolm.

I couldn’t help but smile seeing Michael standing there alone.

“I thought the label wanted to wait at least another month,” Chase said.

Malcolm shrugged. “The email said that with the successes of Bad Omens new single, they wanted Hollow Souls to release one.”

“You’re welcome,” Folio raised his beer in the air.

“My House?” Bailey said. “I’m stoked you have a song ready to be released out into the wild already. Damn! What are the chances you and Noah’s band have songs out during the same time, it’s like you wrote it at the same time or something.”

Everyone in the room, besides Bailey, shifted uncomfortably, and I finished my beer in two long gulps.

“I like the title,” I said.

Y/N gave me a curt smile before giving her attention back to Malcolm, who had his phone poised ready to record a video.

“Hey everyone, it’s Malcolm from Hollow Souls. I’m here with some friends.”

He peered the phone towards Chase, who threw up a peace sign, then to Y/N who gave a small wave. “Hi! We just wanted to come on Instagram to let you all know that our new single My House will be released tomorrow night. It’s going to be different from things we’ve released in the past but we’re still so excited for you all to hear it!”

Chase was next to pull out his phone before Y/N’s electric voice began playing through the speaker.

I feel you in these walls. You're a cold air creeping in. Chill me to my bones and skinI heard you down the hall but it's vacant when I'm looking in. Who let you in?

Shit. My entire body and essence became electric upon hearing the new vocal range from Y/N. The rawness of her voice told us everything we needed to know.

“Alright, that’s all the sneak peek you guys get. Listen, tomorrow on Octane at eight to hear the whole thing,” Chase pointed to the screen.

Once they finished their video for Instagram, Bailey was on them before they even had the chance.

“I love the lyrics, Y/N. What’s the meaning behind them?”

I gently grabbed her hand, already having a feeling I knew what this new song was about. “They probably don’t want an interview right now, Bailey.”

“No,” Y/N spoke with confidence. “It’s fine. The song is about taking your life back. When something is toxic and hurting you, you need to let go of it, no matter how hard that can be. Almost like you’re not trapped under that person’s gaze anymore when they judge you when they tell you what you want or what you can and can’t do. It’s about kicking them out. I had help, but it’s been freeing.”

She rested her head against Malcolm's shoulder while linking fingers with Chase.

My eyes immediately locked with hers as I took a deep inhale and then a low exhale. You could almost hear a pin drop it was that quiet.

“Fuck, that’s so good, Y/N! I’m happy for you.”

My hands shook at my sides as Jolly turned his attention towards me, sporting his typical Dad Omens expression.

“Told you,” he mouthed.

Pushing off of the wall, I stalked into the kitchen for another beer; my third one in the last 3 hours. However, I walked right past the fridge to grip the sink, letting my head fall as I let out a shaky breath.

You’re such a dumbass. Always overthinking shit that has nothing to do with you.

I screwed my eyes shut tight, forcing the thoughts out of my mind before they burrowed themselves deep.

Soft footsteps echoed behind me as I felt her familiar presence at my back. “She’s really sweet.”

My face jerked as I winced, still facing the cabinet so she couldn’t see my face. The guilt for once again overthinking a situation that could have easily been fixed with a simple conversation.

“Yeah, she’s okay,” I admitted.

I sucked in a breath as I turned to face her, realizing how close she was. The familiar pull of the string that bound our hearts together glowed brightly. I felt it pulsating deep within my chest.

“Just okay? Where’d you meet her?” She wondered.

I cleared my throat. “The record shop.”

Y/N hummed while gazing up at me through lashes and I hoped she couldn’t hear how loud my heart paced against its cage in my chest.

“What did you think of Nowhere To Go?” I asked in a low voice, fingers itching to reach for her to pull her close, closing the last little of bit empty space between us.

Her jaw ticked, something I noticed right away. “It was fantastic.”

I raised a brow, testing the waters because I wanted to know how she truly felt. “Yeah?”

Y/N’s fingers played with the end of my rosary necklace and I shuddered a breath, not daring to let her know how bad her presence was affecting me.

“Noah, I need to-.”

“Y/N! Salem got stuck in the closet again!” Chase called from the living room causing her to jump back in surprise.

“Uh, shit. I should go,” She threw a thumb over a shoulder, a red hue covering her face.

I nodded. “Ye-yea. Sure.”

There was only one thing on my mind as I watched her retreat into the living room.

What the fuck was she going to say?

NOAH

We all piled into the studio, waiting patiently for eight pm. Orie, Michael, and Jolly were taking up space on the couch in the room while both Nicks sat on the floor, playing some card game. I was too preoccupied to care. Jesse sat with me at the computer, watching me as I almost counted down the minutes. My knee bounced with anticipation. We spent the entire day recording our next song, hoping to have it released within the next few months. My phone blew up with texts from Bailey but I ignored each one of them, not wanting the distraction.

Jesse smirked while eating a bag of chips. “Excited?”

I threw him a sideways glance. “Fuck off. Feelings aside for her, this is big for Hollow Souls. It's their first song without what’s his face. It could make or break them, but we know it’ll fucking make them.

“Shit, Noah!” Nick all but yelled. “It’s eight! Turn it on.”

Quickly turning to Octane, we heard the DJ’s voice blare through the speakers in the room.

“Alright, are you guys ready for some new music? This comes from LA’s own Hollow Souls; which became a three some recently. A lot of fans were upset with the departure of Trey but unlike those fans, I’m fucking stoked to hear this new direction they’re going. Here is My House!”

“I feel you in these walls. You're a cold air creeping in. Chill me to my bones and skin. I heard you down the hall. But it's vacant when I'm looking in. Who let you in?

Once again, Y/N’s voice brought chills all over my body and I leaned forward to rest my elbow on the desk in front of me.

“Never thought that I would feel like this. Such a mess when I'm in your presence. I've had enough, I think you've been making me sick. Gotta get you out of my system. It's my house and I think it's time to get out. It's my soul. It isn't yours anymore. It's my house and I think it's time to get out. Yeah, I think it's time to get out.”

I danced in my seat to the music; the drums resonating deep in my bones. I knew Hollow Souls were worried about the change in the band, instrumental-wise since Y/N was taking guitar lessons from their guitar tech. But since she wasn't quite ready for the release of this song, their guitar tech filled in. Regardless, it was fucking perfect.

“You walk around I can hear your pace. Circling my bed frame. Now we're face to face. Head on my pillowcase. But darling, you can't stay.”

“Don’t even try to overthink that line, Noah!” Jolly spoke from behind me. “It’s clearly about Trey.”

I flipped him the middle finger, not letting his words wipe the proud smile off my face.

“Haven't you heard? I'm not yours anymore. I'm not yours anymore. It's my soul, and I think it's time to get out. Haven't you heard? I'm not yours anymore. I'm not yours anymore. It’s my house.”

“That’s my angel,” I rested my chin in my palm, still sporting the brightest and widest smile.

I was so engrossed at the end of the song that I didn’t catch the shared look between Jolly and Jesse, them each sporting their own smiles.

My fingers worked fast to type out the new message.

ME: Hey, that song is great! angel, see!? What the hell were you even worried about. You are the heart of the band, I knew you and the guys would kill it!

Y/N's response was almost immediate, and I couldn't help but wonder if she was waiting for me to text her.

Angel 🪽: Thank you, mochi. That means a lot coming from you. 🖤

ME: Always.

For the next few minutes, I chatted with the guys as we thought about ways to make our next single a step head of Nowhere To Go. But I couldn't stop staring at my phone, needing to talk to her again.

ME: Hey again

Angel 🪽: lol hi again.

ME: Just really wanted to say I’m proud of you, Angel. I’m glad I saw you last night.

Angel 🪽: Thank you, mochi. Again! Truly. Always a pleasure seeing your face.

I stared at that reply for what felt like minutes. She was tiptoeing around me, and this time it was my fault. I think I’m fucking this up.

#noah sebastian #noah sebastian and reader #noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian reader insert #noah sebastian smut #enemies to lovers #right person wrong time #starcrossed lovers

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