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belovedmusings · 8 months

Text

It’s just nerves.

Choso Kamo x You x Suguru Geto

Part one of the ‘Two + One’ story. Click for story masterlist.

Explicit Smut 18+ 🚫Minors DNI🚫

Guitarist! Choso Kamo is your boyfriend, and you’ve been together for a year. His previous band broke up and he’s been looking to join a new one ever since, so when he has an audition with a local up and coming one, you accompany him to give him support. That’s where you meet the band’s Bassist, Suguru Geto. The mutual attraction is immediate—but you love your boyfriend, and you resolve to keep your desires for Suguru suppressed, even as Choso is accepted into the band. The question is, can Suguru stay away from you?

Relevant tags: love triangle, sexual tension, slow burn, thoughts of infidelity, guilt, car sex, semi-public sex, accidental voyeurism, unprotected sex, creampie, PWP/Porn With Plot, shy and nervous Choso, Choso is a sweetheart as always, Suguru is a quiet yet confident flirt, Suguru has piercings and tattoos, you are addressed without the usage of “y/n”, AFAB reader with minimal usage of gendered language, reader has no defining characteristics for realism & inclusivity

Recommended songs to listen to while reading: You Right (Doja Cat, The Weeknd), nasty (Ariana Grande), West Coast (Lana Del Rey)

A/N: okay, hear me out. these two are an alt boy duo that i would not mind being tag-teamed by so…here tf we go. This was gonna be a one shot but I live for drama so there’ll be multiple parts.

Read below the cut:

Choso’s leg won’t stop bouncing up and down in the passenger seat as you drive towards the location of his audition.

He’s been looking for his place in a new band ever since his previous one broke up a few months ago, and he’d seen that the city’s most popular up-and-coming band Curse Manipulation posted an ad in need of a guitarist on their Instagram. The two of you like some of their music though you aren’t overly familiar with the band, so he figured it would be a no-brainer to audition.

You know he’s going to be accepted. Choso is an amazing guitarist, and he writes beautiful lyrics, too. Not to mention the haunting voice he can sing with.

You have complete faith in your boyfriend, and he is very aware of your support, and yet he’s still an endearing ball of nerves beside you.

“Hey,” you say softly, placing a hand on his thigh as you reach a red stoplight, easing onto the brake. You give him a reassuring smile. “You’re gonna do great, babe. I know it.”

He smiles half-convincingly at you, which in him is really just a twitch of the corner of his lips, and you can’t help but reach up and lovingly cup his chin between your thumb and index.

“I’ll be right there with you. So you don’t need to worry.”

He sighs, taking your hand in his and giving it a squeeze as the light turns green, allowing you to continue on your drive.

“Thanks,” his voice is quiet. “I just…really do like their sound. The more I think of it, the more I can see myself playing with them. I just hope they agree.”

“They will,” you say surely. “After it’s over, wanna get some McDonald’s? I think there’s a McFlurry with your name on it.”

He chuckles softly and nods. “Sure. That sounds good.”

You flash a grin as you turn onto the next street, entering a residential area with houses nicer than you were expecting. They aren’t mansions, but as you drive through, they’re definitely nicer than yours and Choso’s humble apartment.

“Huh. Didn’t know they made this much money already,” You think aloud, and he shifts beside you, also looking out of the window.

“I read about them a little,” Choso tells you, “Their bassist is a songwriter that’s pretty well-known in alternative music, apparently.”

“Yeah?” You ask, impressed. “So this guy’s a big shot?”

“Kinda,” Choso laughs breathily. “Honestly, I think that’s why I’m nervous.”

“You’re nervous that he’s a professional? A little intimidated?” You ask, and he shrugs.

“Could be,” he admits. “I mean, I know that I’m a good player, so that’s not it entirely. It’s just that if I do get put in the band, things’ll change. They’re gaining popularity, and with the experience he has, the band’s definitely going to get somewhere.”

You hum. “That sounds great. You’ve always wanted to do this as a career—and your stuff deserves to be heard, baby. Maybe you’re more excited than nervous.”

“Could be,” he shrugs, “It’s just a lot.”

“That’s understandable,” you reply, “It’s okay to be nervous. Auditions are scary as hell. But I’m telling you, it’s gonna be fine. We’re gonna get in there, you’re gonna play and blow them away, then we’ll get ourselves some delicious fast food and relax at home.”

He smiles softly at you, and you return it before looking back out of the windshield, seeing your destination approaching. You slow to a stop on the curb at the side of the house, shifting the car into park.

“All right,” You say. “We’re here. Ready?”

He takes a breath and nods. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

—-

A tall, pale man in a white muscle tank-top and baggy sweats greets the two of you at the door with a smile.

“Hi, you must be Choso,” He shakes hands with your boyfriend, “Suguru said you’d be coming. I’m Larue, the band’s drummer.”

“Hey,” greets Choso with his trademark small-smile, “I am. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Who’s this beauty you brought with you?” Larue asks, directing his attention to you.

You shake hands with Larue as you introduce yourself as Choso's significant other.

“Hi,” you greet, giving him your name. “I hope it’s okay I’m here.”

“Oh, of course,” Larue insists. “Come on in. The studio’s down the hall. Just leave your shoes by the door.”

He lets you two into the house, allowing you a chance to look around while you remove your shoes. It looks rather modern and minimal as a structure but the furniture has an eclectic, almost gothic feel to it, green plants livening up the space. It smells pleasant as well—like fresh juniper.

“This way,” Larue gestures to follow him, so you and your boyfriend do, your hand slipping into Choso’s to offer him comfort. He gives your hand a little pulse and you do one in reply as Larue leads you down the hallway, stopping at the door at the end. “Here we are.”

He pushes it open and enters, calling out to the occupants in the room. “Choso’s here for his audition!”

Choso enters first and you follow, entering the cozy studio, lit warmly with lamps, the floor covered in patchwork rugs, a sofa on one end across from a mixing board, and behind that, glass panes that lead to the sound booth, a room that houses the band’s instruments and equipment. Honestly, you’re impressed—you had no clue this band was so serious about their music. It makes your chest swirl with pride. This is the perfect chance for Choso’s talent to finally be recognized.

“Hey there, it’s nice to meet you in person,” a voice pulls you out of your appraisal and back towards the mixing board, where a man sits in a chair, smiling at your boyfriend. As soon as you look at him, his eyes meet yours, and you swear a little shock of electricity runs through you at that exact moment. His eyes flash with something indistinguishable. “I’m Suguru Geto. Bassist and frontman.”

Oh. He’s the singer, too? The bassist? That’s a little unusual, but it’s cool. He’s cool. He has gauges that are framed by long, dark hair, placid and gentle dark eyes, a pretty nose, smooth-looking lips with strong cheekbones and a sharp jawline to match. You can’t ignore the piercings he has on his face, one over his left eyebrow, thin silver hoops adorning his bottom lip in snake bites. Tattoos peak up from his collarbone under his black crew neck, and you trace your gaze down to his hands, fingers free of tattoos but the back of his hands themselves inked up, chunky silver rings making up for the empty room on his dexterous digits instead.

Your mouth goes dry. He’s gorgeous.

His eyes don’t leave you as he says, “who is this angel you brought with you?”

Choso’s hand on yours tightens, bringing you back to yourself. You manage a smile, trying to ignore your racing heart. You stutter as you answer him, cementing yourself as Choso's.

When you tell Suguru your name, and he repeats it, a smile stretches across his lips. “It’s very nice to meet you. Please, make yourself comfortable. Ah, and this is Miguel, our keyboards.”

He gestures to the man leaning against the wall in sunglasses, gold hoops handing from his ears. He smiles and waves. “Hey.”

“Hi,” replies Choso, “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise.”

“Choso, you wanna set up with the amp over there?” Suguru points to the wall near the couch, and your boyfriend nods.

“Yeah, sure.”

You smile at him again, rubbing his arm gently before moving over to the sofa to sit beside Larue on the opposite end. Miguel takes a seat in the chair beside him as Choso sets about getting his guitar from its case, your eyes gravitating back towards the black hole in the room sitting at the mixing board.

You find his calculating eyes already on you, and instead of looking away at being caught, the corner of his mouth turns up. It makes you feel warm all over.

“So,” Larue speaks, cutting through the silence. “How long have you been playing, Choso?”

“I taught myself when I was thirteen,” He answers, taking the chord plugged into the amp and pushing the other end into his guitar. “I joined my band when I was fifteen, but it split because the others wanted to do their own things.”

“Ah,” Miguel chimes in, “That sucks. Everybody’s gotta be on the same page.”

“Yeah, but I really liked being in a band, so hopefully this goes well,” Choso smiles softly, standing up to sling the guitar strap over his shoulder. He checks to make sure the volume on the amp is down before switching it on, experimentally strumming at a few strings until the volume is at a good level.

“All set?” Asks Suguru, and Choso nods.

“Yeah. I really like ‘Love to the Strong’ so I’ll do that one.”

That was one of your favorites of Curse Manipulator. You and Choso listen to it a lot, and you’ve heard him play it before. He was able to figure it out just by listening, once again putting you in awe of him. You know he has this in the bag.

His black-painted nails form the first chord and he starts strumming, effortlessly switching to the next one and the next, starting to sing along like it’s second nature. You watch him with shimmering eyes. Whenever he plays, you can’t help but see him for the star he truly is. Everything about him is just so unique, so special. What had drawn you to him was his appearance, how unapologetically he expresses himself in what he wears, the spiky style he wears his hair up in, the tattoo across the bridge of his nose, the heavy eyeliner around his eyes…you even think about the tattoo of your name he’d gotten over his heart for your birthday in beautiful black lettering, one of many presents to you that day, and your heart flutters.

Wanting to read the room to see how the others are reacting, you look at Miguel first. He’s nodding his head along, brow furrowed with a smile on his lips. Good. He’s enjoying it. You look at Larue next, who is tapping along to the beat with his hand on his thigh quietly, dividing it even further with his foot.

Last, your eyes move to Suguru, who is moving in time with Choso’s playing, nodding with his chin in his hand. He seems to feel your eyes on his, because he meets your gaze in the next moment. That smirk finds its way on his face again, playful, and you feel your heart hammer hard against your rib cage involuntarily. Without looking away from you, he lets his index finger rest between his lips, tongue pushing against it just so you see the black ball of jewelry at the center of it.

Fuck. A tongue piercing.

A deluge of very lewd, very intrusive thoughts slam into you without your permission. What would his snake bites and tongue piercing feel like if you kissed him? Or if he tried sucking a hickey into your neck? How would his mouth feel around one of your nipples? Or, shit, how would it feel eating you out? Does he know how to use that little bead to his advantage? Would he use it to make you fall apart?

The song finishes and Larue’s enthusiastic cheers yank you from your wanton musings, dragging your eyes from Suguru’s poetic face back to your boyfriend.

Choso smiles at you, eyes searching for approval, for assurance that he did well, and you nod without thinking, a smile spreading over your face as you push the thoughts of Suguru down. You can compartmentalize them later—right now, you need to be a supportive partner. Relief washes over his face.

“That was great,” Suguru says, all business again, “I didn’t know you could sing. Would you be interested in doing toplines and backing vocals also?"

Choso nods. “Yeah, that sounds great. I uh, I write too. If you ever wanted to collaborate.”

“He’s really good,” you add, hoping the blush you feel when Suguru’s gaze finds yours again isn’t noticeable. He smiles at you and it makes you so warm, so nervous.

“That’s great,” He says, glancing back at your boyfriend. “Choso, I know it was a short audition, but I think we can all agree that you’re exactly what we’re looking for.”

You see Choso’s face light up, nuanced to most but so obvious to you, and you grin brightly. You knew it.

“Really?”

“Yep,” Miguel voices his agreement. “Welcome to the band.”

“Welcome!” is Larue’s input.

Suguru flits his eyes to you again. “Just what I’ve been looking for.”

Choso doesn’t see where he’s looking though, because he’s smiling at you, but you do see it, and you feel all sorts of emotions.

Suguru wants you. He’s made it obvious enough already, and that fact plays with your sanity levels a disturbing amount. You have Choso. You love Choso. You see yourself staying with him forever, because he makes you happy, and he makes you feel safe and taken care of. You trust him with your life and he’s never done anything to even waver that trust. You have never looked at another man like this the entire time you’ve been with Choso, either.

So why now all of a sudden is a simple glance from Suguru threatening to put you on your knees? What is going on with you?

“Thank you guys,” Choso speaks, oblivious to the turmoil inside of your head, “I’ll do my best.”

Suguru stands up and pats his shoulder. Oh fuck. He’s tall, shoulders wide—he’s intimidating. He looks like he could toss you around like a pillow. Choso’s build is nothing to sneeze at, but Suguru is just…huge. You silently beg for any god listening to take pity on you and force you to calm down.

“Come on, let’s all relax in the living room with some tea and get to know everyone better,” Suguru suggests, looking at you, “How does that sound?”

You have half a mind to run out of the house right now to prevent yourself from doing something stupid like jumping Suguru’s bones on the spot. Instead, you force a smile on your face.

“Sounds good.”

It’s an hour of soft torture on Suguru’s couch. You’re sandwiched between Choso and the arm of the blue velvet sofa, Larue on his other side. Miguel sits in a matching chair off to the right, and in the other one, directly to your left sits Suguru.

It’s obscene the way his legs are spread out, open like he has a third one in the middle and he needs room for it, and that thought keeps repeating in your head, contributing to the worst hurricane that’s ever ravished the shores of your mind.

His arms are no better, elbows perched on either of the chair’s arms, pelvis forward as he slinks lazily. He’d made tea for everyone when you went into the living room and when he handed you your mug, his fingertips brushed yours and it made you feel like a shy teenager with a crush.

You try really hard not to stare at him but your eyes keep gravitating. He’s leading the conversation, and a fair amount of questions have to do with you. You have no choice but to look at him. And fuck, you don’t mind, he’s sentient art. It should be punishable by law how sinfully his pierced lips wrap around the mug to sip at the tea. At one point while you’re talking about what you do for a living, Choso’s watching you as you talk. Since his eyes aren’t on Suguru, it gives the man a free-pass to test your patience. A drop of tea accidentally slides down the side of his mouth and he flicks his tongue out to lick it, stud glinting at you, and you fucking feel yourself start to get wet.

You tear your eyes away from him after stuttering, finishing your sentence and lifting the cup to your lips to give yourself something else to focus on.

Whenever he looks at you, you can just feel it. You feel it like when you stand too close to fire, heat just threatening to burn your skin, and you suddenly have the overwhelming urge to get fucked.

Wow, you think, real nice. You’re disappointed in yourself. You just met this man and he has this much control over your body? He hasn’t even really touched you.

Choso didn’t even have this effect on you. It was a pair assignment in a class you two had together that started it. He was quiet and frankly looked bored most of the time. He never spoke unless he was spoken to, or to ask you something about your assignments. When you were told you had to work with each other for the final, you two grew closer over meetings at cafes while you worked. You remember the first time you made him laugh. It was music to your ears, and it made your heart flutter. That’s when you started having feelings for him.

Everything he did after that was endearing. You started noticing that he would ask you more questions than necessary just to talk with you, you noticed he’d find reasons to prolong your meetings when you worked together, and he’d even pay for the food or drinks you’d order while working. He liked you, and you liked him back, and he was just so pure in his intentions, you fell even harder.

The night before the final was due, you were over at his place to practice. You’d been there a few times, as he’d been at yours too, and after polishing the project, you decided you two needed a break. You saw his guitar sitting against the wall and asked him to play something. He was hesitant, but ultimately couldn’t deny you, so he sat across from you and started strumming and singing a song you’d never heard before.

It was beautiful. The lyrics would put Hozier to shame. You suspected it was an original, too. You were probably biased, but hell, at that moment you knew he was someone you couldn’t let go of.

When he finished, he confirmed that he’d written it himself. You told him whoever he wrote it about was really lucky, and that if it was you, you’d fall in love with him immediately.

That was you opening the door, and he walked through it with earnest eyes and a hopeful smile.

He’s been your boyfriend since, and he’s made you so happy.

Remembering how you met Choso helps a lot to mitigate the damage Suguru is doing to your psyche, and to keep yourself strong, you don’t look at Suguru again. You fix your eyes on the mug, and a little after the tea is finished, you and Choso decide to go home.

Suguru sees you out after Larue takes care of your mugs, Miguel bidding you a farewell before he makes his way back to the studio. You get your shoes back on, hearing Choso express his gratitude again and agree to return tomorrow so that they can start rehearsing for their next gig.

“It was really nice to meet you.”

Suguru’s eyes are suddenly on yours again and it’s as if that flame that had been reduced to a steady, barely noticeable simmer roars back to life on high. He really is so fucking, damningly pretty.

“You too,” you manage with what you hope is a convincingly easy smile. He holds his palm out to shake hands, and your heart jumps in your ribcage. You fear touching him might rouse a beast within you that you previously had no knowledge of.

Out of courtesy and the obligation to uphold social cues, you lay your hand in his. His palm is warm. His fingers feel rough and firm, no doubt hardened due to his years playing bass. His skin looks nice against yours, you think intelligently, and before he lets go, he gives your hand a strong squeeze. Had you been any less of a person you would have buckled with your newly weakened knees. He has a strong grip.

What on you would he grab like that? Your thigh? Your ass? Your hips? Fuck, your neck?

Your smile tapers at the sheer indecency of your thoughts as he lets go, and you absentmindedly smile at him to try and save face, turning to follow your boyfriend out of the house and down the driveway.

“Get home safely!” Suguru calls behind you, and you hear Choso reply in kind. You can’t muster a response. Your whole body is buzzing. It feels like there are two wolves literally fighting for dominance inside of you. One of them is urging you to go home, to calm the hell down and maybe take out all of your newfound frustration on Choso.

The other one, however, is clawing at your back, trying to drag you back towards Suguru so that you can jump him and fuck him right in the front room of his house.

Obscene. Filthy. You need to get out of here. Who are you?

You make it to the car, but after Choso puts his guitar in the backseat, you hesitate before the driver’s seat.

“Babe?” You ask, and he looks over at you.

“Yeah?”

“Can you drive?”

“Of course,” he answers easily, moving around to meet you at the driver’s side of the car. You hand him the keys, but refuse to move. He tilts his head to the side. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah, yeah,” you nod, unsure of who you’re trying to convince. You’re so torn right now. You feel so guilty for looking at another man the way you did tonight, but you’re also still so fucking horny and your angel of a boyfriend is standing right in front of you.

You decide to make a very lust-induced decision.

“Choso?”

“Yeah?” He puts his hand on your shoulder in concern. “What is it?”

He’s so fucking sweet. It warms your heart but you need something more, something crazy.

“I want you to fuck me.”

His eyes widen, and you can practically hear his heart stutter. He blinks, face reddening. “Well…when we get home, we can—”

“Right here, Choso.”

Another blink. He has no idea where this is coming from—you’ve never acted like this. Sex stays at home, in private.

“…right here? Right now?” He asks, looking around. It’s dark out now, the neighborhood lit up dimly by streetlights staggered up and down the sidewalks. “Outside?”

“In the car,” you say. That’s private enough, right? It should be. He swallows thickly.

“Are…are you sure? What if we get caught?”

You just want it so badly right now. You stretch the truth to get what you desire.

“I’m just so proud of you,” you say, heart feeling heavy. “You did so well today—you deserve it, baby.”

He smiles bashfully at the praise, scratching behind his neck. “I only did because you were here…I can wait until we get back. Don’t worry.”

It’s not working. God damn it.

You make a last-ditch effort.

“I know you can,” you say, getting in his space and touching his chest. Lowly, you add, “But I don’t think I can.”

His dark eyes widen again, an unsure smile twitching at his lips. “You want me that bad?”

It’s starting to work. “Yeah. Please, babe? Unless it makes you uncomfortable…”

“No,” he quickly shakes his head, “Let’s do it. Where do we…?”

You spring into action.

Your hand goes for the lever on the side of the driver’s seat, pulling it and reclining it all the way back.

“Sit, baby. I’ll ride you.”

He sucks in a breath and does as told, getting in the car and watching as you follow, shutting and locking the door behind yourself.

You straddle his legs and kiss him without a moment to waste, threading your hands in his hair. He reciprocates easily, sighing when he feels you pull the hair ties out to let his dark brown locks fall free. His hands find your waist as you start grinding on him to get him hard, relishing in the soft noises it starts to pull from him within minutes.

You think for a moment that this is crazy. You’re actually going to fuck Choso in a car. It is a little dangerous, but that excites you. You’re just so fucking turned on because of that infuriatingly gorgeous bassist…

Choso moans when you grind harder, his hand slipping up the leg of the denim shorts you’re wearing and past your underwear, finding you to be drenched.

“You really did want this,” he laughs breathily, and you feel another pang of guilt. He’s feeling the result of miniscule attention from Suguru. Sick. It’s sick.

You can’t do this to Choso. You need to focus on him. This is happening between the two of you and no one else.

“I did,” you choose to smile back. “Let me have it now, baby?”

He sucks in a slow breath and nods, pupils blown, reaching down to unzip his jeans. You help, popping the button and reaching down to free him from his boxers.

He’s hot and firm in your grasp and you can’t help but stroke him a few times, enjoying the groans it pulls from his throat.

Painfully aware of your own arousal, you decide not to tease him anymore and shift, lining him up with your entrance. Just like that, with all of your clothes still on, you slip him inside, moaning at the relief the pressure of his girth provides your needy walls.

His hands stay on your hips as you start bouncing on him, his brows furrowing, eyes fixed on your face.

“Fuck,” he breathes, breathing ragged and erratic. You hear the wet noises obscenely in the small space, covering his shaft with your essence, and you roll your hips, teasing his tip against the sensitive spot inside of you.

“Choso,” you hiss, aiming there. Recognizing you found it, he starts thrusting up to meet your movements, heightening your pleasure. You throw your head back, mouth falling open. “Oh god baby, yes…”

His eyes flutter shut and you start riding him faster, his jaw clenching as he bites down. A strained grunt escapes with his voice, neck veins protruding, and you move your hands before thinking, wrapping them around his neck.

He groans louder as you apply a tiny amount of pressure, voice switching and going higher. You’re thoroughly wrecking your boyfriend now and it’s making your mound practically weep over his cock, uncaring that the car is rocking with your movements.

Your eyes flit to the side out of the window, and what you see punches heat into your gut so hard you gasp.

Suguru is standing on the balcony of what must be his bedroom, looking right into the window of your car at you, and only you.

He’s holding something between his fingers that looks like a cigarette, smirking down at you as he leans his cheek against his palm. Keep going, his eyes say.

You don’t dare disobey him. The thought doesn’t even cross your mind. You ride Choso even harder, getting the head of his throbbing cock to hammer against the most sensitive part of your insides.

You chance a glance down at Choso, who is still lost in a world of his own, eyes squeezed shut, and you look back up at Suguru, who is taking a drag.

He blows out smoke and it makes you clench hard around Choso.

“Fuck,” moans your boyfriend, “M’close, so close…”

You are too. The cock inside of you is so good, the friction of your shorts on your pearl is starting to overwhelm you, and Suguru watching you with absolutely zero shame is twisting your instincts into knots.

He corrupts you with dirty thoughts just by looking at you.

If it were him, the moment you’d asked to fuck, he probably would have pushed you into the backseat. You’d have been on your hands and knees, or maybe laid out on your back as he railed you so disrespectfully you’d feel him trying to invade your ribs. He’d call you all sorts of names, degrade you for being a slut, for not being able to wait.

You moan louder, feeling so close you’re about to lose your mind. Choso mewls beneath you, voice becoming lost to the whimpers he gets only when he cums.

“Baby, baby,” his voice rings out, “Fuck, I’m cumming…”

You feel it spill inside of you and as soon as Suguru’s smirk deepens, his head tilting as if to say ‘go on’, you orgasm hard.

“Oh fuck!”

Choso grunts as you clamp down on his sensitive member, slowing his thrusts to a stop as you pant heavily. You see Suguru grin and straighten up, lingering his gaze for a moment longer before turning and leaving you alone with Choso once more.

Now without the object of your forbidden desires, you slump forward, laying over Choso’s chest. You kiss his sweaty neck lovingly, embracing him tightly as the post-coital clarity starts seeping back into your head.

“Thank you,” you breathe, “I love you, Choso.”

You do. You love him. Suguru is just a fantasy and he’s going to stay that way. You’re happy with Choso and that’s the end of the story. You’ll just have to avoid Suguru and everything will be fine.

“I love you too,” He replies softly, kissing the top of your head. “Always.”

You close your eyes, biting back a heavy sigh.

I’m so sorry, you want to say, but resolve to make it up to him by just being a better partner to him than you have been, though he’s never complained. You’re not going to let this new infatuation take root.

What you don’t know is that this is only the beginning.

---

Please don't repost or translate! Feel free to reblog/share it you liked it.

A/N: I'm not even gonna lie I'm so excited for this, I have so much hot drama planned you're gonna love it. Comment to be added to my taglist for when the next parts come out!

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queen-of-reptiles · 3 months

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𝙳𝙾𝚆𝙽 𝙵𝙾𝚁 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙲𝙾𝚄𝙽𝚃

description: during kristie's first game at west ham against tottenham no less, her girlfriend is pushing as hard as she can against the wind. so hard she knocks herself out.

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kristie mewis x female reader

disclaimer: this is all just fiction - have fun!

warnings: t*ttenh*m, concussion, mentions of blood and injury, swearing, cute fluff

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y/n just posted on her story

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kmewis19 just posted on her story

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y/n just posted

liked by samanthakerr20, mackenziearnold and 309, 824 others

tagged kmewis19, kyracooneyx, and 8 others

y/n Beginning of Jan dump 😝

view 14, 999 comments

username1: cuteeeee 😭

username2: I love how Kristie is here now!!! 😍

viv_asseyi: We look so good!

y/n: Oh yeah we do!

username3: They sound like the beginning of a joke lmao - An American and an Australian play for West Ham

username4: 🤣🤣

mackenziearnold: LOVE YOUUU 💕

y/n: LOVE YOU MOREEEE 💕

caitlinfoord: I couldn't breathe I was laughing so hard ! 😂

y/n: don't - I giggle when I think about it 😂😂

kyracooneyx: A KNIFE! 😌

y/n: NO! 😶

username5: 😭

kmewis19: My baby <3

y/n: So glad you're finally here !

hawacissoko23: She really is, she wouldn't stop crying without you.

y/n: bro... 😔

westhamwomen: JUST SOLD MY CAR

y/n: TO LUCAS PAQUETA

lucaspaqueta: 💙💙

username6: 🤣

samanthakerr20: 💕💕

y/n: 💕💕

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y/n and Kristie had met years ago, by complete chance. They had never played against each other, but while y/n was on holiday in America happened to run into each other and the rest was history.

Long time phone calls and late night face times became a regular thing for them as they navigated their relationship with a bright smile on their faces.

However, ever since Kristie's big move to y/n's team of six years, the couple had been hardly spotted apart. Not that anyone could blame the two lovers.

They were simply making up for lost time, and months spent without one another by their side. Therefore, they were attached all the time, some part of their bodies always touching.

The west ham girls found it almost hilarious, y/n had come to earn the nickname of the Aussie Storm, from how dangerous she was on the wing, how formidable she was as a player.

Yet, the second Kristie was in her eyeline the once fierce storm turned into a sunny day, the woman's attitude and scary demeanour 180' ing completely.

Currently, the group were stood around Rehanne, listening to her pep talk for the game ahead, the wind was incredibly wild and y/n was grateful that her girlfriend had helped her pin her braids stiffly in place.

The group were huddled in the changing room, Kristie in front of y/n, her back pressed against y/n's chest as the taller woman ran her arms up and down Kristie's sides soothingly.

The wind howled as the group cheered, Kristie pecking her lover's lips in good luck as they ran out onto the pitch. Kristie was on the bench for the start of the game and watched as the game got underway.

It was clear very early into the game, that today's battle was not just a London Derby, but also a derby against the earth's elements. The storm filled wind pushing even the lowest passes off course.

Kristie watched as her girlfriend stood strong, battling with Grace Clinton for the umpteenth time in the first twenty minutes, the blonde Tottenham player being dispossessed by y/n.

By half time, even in the cold wind and even colder air, West Ham managed to be 2-0 up. y/n had hardly stopped, and even in the cold she was covered with sweat.

Kristie moved over to her as she panted, handed her a water bottle as they listened to Rehanne's critics for the second half, before they finally had a moment to breathe.

y/n felt light, as if she wasn't fully in focus with what was going on around her. y/n ignored it, instead taking small sips of her water as Katrina sat next to her, the two national teammates clasping hands.

"You're doing so well babe. Never seen you like this." Kristie says softly after Katrina gets up.

"Ah well." y/n says panting. "London Derby baby." She tells Kristie who grins, pecking her lips as they are called back out. y/n groans but stands up, crouching to get Kristie on her back who chuckles.

"Weee." Kristie says as y/n runs down the corridor and onto the pitch, the two holding their arms out like aeroplanes.

One of their social media crew runs at them camera in hand as they get closer, Vivi in front of them pretending to roll her eyes in annoyance as she shakes her head at the camera.

"Children." Vivi jokes at the camera as y/n races close to the lens.

"Come on you irons!" She grins, laughing as Kristie kisses the lens as she jogs off, putting her down as they warm up.

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twitter/X

username1: Kristie and y/n! I'm crying they're so cute! 😭😭

username2: Vivi pretending to be annoyed at them! The little 'come on you irons', Kristie's kiss. UGH CUTE. 🥺🥺🥺🥺

username3: WE LOVE THE WEST HAM ADMIN SM

username4: It is SOOO clear how much happier y/n is with Kristie here and I am SO happy for her ! 🥺

username5: YESSSSS

username6: I love y/n and Kristie sm 😭

BarclaysWSL: We NEED a relationship like West Ham's Kristie and y/n NOW PLEASE 💳💳

username7: 💕💕

see more comments...

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Kristie had made her debut on the 63rd minute, the blonde pushing against the wind as best she could as she tried her best to hold the ball as she went for a corner kick.

y/n watched proudly as Kristie tried to stop the ball from rolling away with little success, her jaw twitching from it's clenched position which she always did when aggravated.

West Ham were 2-1 up, Tottenham having snuck a goal past them ten minutes ago, in which y/n ended up rolling against the floor making her wince, but stood up quick enough to not be brought off, she just ignored the dizziness she felt.

Kristie kicked the ball finally, the wind pushing it around the air and almost into the net where Becky Spencer managed to bat it away, straight at y/n who pushed forward, trying to beat the wind.

y/n stuck her leg out, hoping to catch the ball and swoop it into the back of the next. Charli Grant, of Tottenham had the same idea but to defend.

y/n pushed her leg, swopping the ball past Becky and into the net, however her leg catches Charli's and with the speed y/n was running at, the girl falls and her head pushes against the goal post.

Kristie - who had ran toward the box in excitement - paused as she saw y/n's body fall lifeless to the ground, blood dripping down on face and onto her kit below as Charli held her national teammates head, crying in fear.

"Medics!" Kristie shouts, racing to her girlfriend, stripping Kristie's shirt off herself, leaving her in her sports bra.

Kristie's hands were shaking as Katrina hugged Charli, trying to calm her crying as Mackenzie held the other side of y/n, whispering begging words for her to wake up as the medics arrived.

Kristie could feel herself being pulled away but she tried to shake her head, tears shrouding her vision as Mackenzie finally got her away, her shirt being left against y/n's head, now dripping with blood.

The stadium was silent as the group crowded around y/n's body, the blood now stopping with the medics working hard and whispering to each other.

Kristie was in Mackenzie's arms, crying into her shoulder as she tried to keep herself calm, Hawa and Vivi were gripping each other tightly, Bethany England by their side as they all paled in worry.

Charli was slowly stopping her tears, staying clung to Katrina who was calming her down with soothing words as they watched y/n be stretchered off.

"Can you continue?" Mackenzie asked Kristie kindly, understanding if she would rather be with her lover.

"She'd want me too." Kristie nods, taking a wipe to scrub the blood off her hands as they went into a five minute water break.

Kristie pulled on her top, listening to Rehanne's talk about how they now played the rest of this game for y/n and the second she knew anything she would let them know.

The game continued, but it was clear everyone was shaken up, passes had become sloppy and shots were off completely, even the crowd was hardly paying attention.

During the 80th minute, Grace Clinton scored, narrowing the gap to 3-2 to West Ham, but no one celebrated, and then Kristie shot her corner on the 88th. The ball flying in due to the wind. No one celebrated.

The ref called the game at 98 minutes, no one complaining about the few minutes shaved off as the West Ham team tore down the tunnel and to the medics room.

The medics explained y/n had already been taken to hospital, the injury not looking past a major concussion and some blood loss, which had been hopefully rectified now they had stitched her up.

Kristie's hands were still stained red and shaking as she sighed out in relief, Charli burst into tears again, having followed the West Ham team.

Kristie's next hour of taking photos and showering was blurry as she drove to the hospital, finding the look of it so different to her home country as she walked into y/n's room, the girl sat up somewhat and wired up.

"Hey my love." y/n smiled weakly, her skin pale and sweaty as Kristie blinked away tears.

"I can't believe you're okay." Kristie sighed out in relief. "I was so worried." She adds and y/n nods, as she shuffles over, letting Kristie slide off her trainers and slide into the bed with her.

"Welcome to London love." y/n chuckled and Kristie sighs out. "It's a rough concussion, but no lasting damage, need to get the stitched taken out in a week, and then ease back into training over the next few weeks." y/n tells her.

"Looks like I'm gonna be playing nurse." Kristie sighs, pressing a relieved kiss to y/n's head.

"Hmm. Only if you wear the outfit we bought at Christmas." y/n jokes and Kristie snorts.

"Dude, gross!" Mackenzie says as she leans against the door way. "Entire teams are here, Spurs girlies too. You feel up to visitors?" Mackenzie asked her.

"Yeah, alright." y/n nods. "We won yeah?" She then asks and Mackenzie chuckles.

"Yeah, your mrs scored a goal." Mackenzie says and y/n grins.

"Had to do it while I wasn't there, huh?" y/n asks Kristie who chuckles and pecks her lips carefully.

"Well, I guess I will have to score one next week." Kristie says and y/n smiles.

"Okay my love." y/n smiles before the rest of the teams trudge in.

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kmewis19 just posted on her story

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y/n just posted on her story

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END

my cutie girl <3

293 notes · View notes

thewintersoldierdisaster · 1 year

Text

a/n: this one actively broke my heart while writing it and i hope i did the topic justice. title came from a song on @pyotrkochetkov ‘s barzy playlist and i just knew i had to write something angsty for it. a bunch more happy and smutty long fics and headcanons are coming! seriously, let me know what you thought of this one - much heavier and angstier than i usually write 😬 ignore any inconsistencies, i’m not an expert on this particular medical procedure or professional hockey team travel

word count: 7k

tw: miscarriage, subsequent emotions

summary: on a mini trip to vancouver to watch andrei play, you suffer the worst loss of your life. andrei is your rock throughout the ordeal

Vancouver is a fun city - maybe not as fun as Raleigh or New York, but fun nevertheless - and you’re excited that part of the Canes’ Western road trip fell close to Thanksgiving weekend so you could join in for a bit of it without having to miss too much time at work. Part of your goal this season, your first married to Andrei, is to see him play in every arena. You’ve managed a few of the east coast arenas so far, but this is your first time out west. Nykki joined you too, so it’s like a mini-girls’ trip rolled into a ‘supporting our men’ trip.

The team’s there before you and Nykki get to Vancouver, having already played in Seattle two days before. It’s actually been slightly more than a week since you’ve seen Andrei in person and you miss him a lot. You’ve been with him for four years now, so you’re used to the travel and not seeing him for chunks of time, but this week feels extra hard. Luckily, after this little West Coast swing, Andrei will be home for a good chunk of time - the quirks of the NHL schedule are always insane to you.

You and Nykki get dinner before the game, discussing her wedding plans. It’s scheduled for early August, but time is already flying. You’re a bridesmaid, but you’ve been pushing off picking a dress, knowing that it’s not going to fit you by the time the wedding happens. Your fingers curl carefully against your stomach, hidden by the table and the bulk of your sweater, your little secret.

Butterflies roll in your stomach, excitement mingling with nerves, knowing that you’re going to tell Andrei the news after the game tonight. It’s so early in your marriage, and you’re definitely freaking out a little bit, but the idea of a little baby that looks like Andrei is enough to help the excitement win out.

“Martin wants to do Bali for the honeymoon,” Nykki tells you while you find your way to your seats. You bought tickets for the lower bowl, wanting to be in the middle of the crowd and all the excitement. The Canucks fans are already a little rowdy, with warmups halfway over. There’s a few Canes jerseys smattered through the crowd, but it’s certainly an uneven match.

You sip at your overly large Coke, your stomach turning a little. Dinner isn’t sitting right with you, but it’s manageable for now. “Bali’s nice, I mean, so I’ve heard. But what’s the weather like in August?”

Nykki points at you, her other fingers wrapped around her beer can. “That’s what I said! I thought it would be unbearably hot and humid, but apparently it’s gorgeous - 86 and barely any rain,” she grins. “I promised he could be in charge of the honeymoon, so I think we’re going to Bali.”

“Well,” you smirk back, “there are worse places to spend two weeks with your gorgeous NHL player husband, Nyk.”

She laughs and takes a sip of her beer, eyes twinkling. “You have a point there. How about you and Andrei? What are the big summer vacation plans?”

You pause, thinking of an answer because you’re anticipating having a newborn this summer, so a vacation isn’t likely to happen. Andrei’s been floating the idea of a mini European tour - hitting Rome and Paris for a few days each before heading to Russia for a little bit to visit family. But you haven’t really committed to plans since it’s only November and you have plenty of time. “We haven’t really talked about it,” you answer Nykki truthfully. “Drei’s been focused on the season and I’ve been busy with work. He doesn’t like to plan anything before the end of the regular season anyway.”

“Superstition,” Nykki sing-songs, putting her beer in the cup holder as she stands for the anthems. You get to your feet, pulling off your baseball hat and holding it over your heart, humming along with both anthems. You shift your weight from foot to foot, stretching out your lower back a little.

The puck drops and the game starts - Andrei’s almost immediately put in the penalty box, complaining and shouting at the ref the entire time he skates over. His hands fly in the air as he gestures, but his passion isn’t moving the ref at all and he takes his seat in the box, slumping down. You laugh, shaking your head affectionately. He’s a sweetheart off-ice, but on the ice, Andrei is a borderline criminal. He’s leading the team in penalty minutes and you’ve definitely heard plenty about how he doesn’t deserve it.

The game clock ticks down, Andrei’s released from the box and immediately scores on a breakaway. You and Nykki jump from your seats, screaming and cheering with the Canes up one to nothing. The Vancouver fans around you glare and chirp, but you and Nykki just laugh, giving back as good as you get.

It’s pure fun to be supporting the visiting team and you and Nykki thoroughly enjoy yourselves, dancing to the music and gossiping during TV timeouts and slower moments. Nykki gets another beer and you refill your soda, your stomach still acting up. The popcorn Nykki gets is too salty and you end up joining the crowd when they start throwing their own snacks at the refs. It’s a penalty called on the Canucks, which is good news for you, but the crowds enthusiasm is infectious.

The fans of the Canadian teams are definitely a little more intense and vocal with their displeasure with the refs, you’ve noticed. A particularly obscene chant breaks out when Brady dances around one of the Canucks’ defensemen to set up a powerplay goal for Brent Burns.

You and Nykki throw your arms up and cheer, screaming yourselves silly. Your stomach cramps a little and it puts a damper on the celebration and also serves as a reminder that you really need to see a GI doctor to determine if you’re actually lactose intolerant or if you have a gluten allergy. You grimace and sit back down, clenching your stomach a little, which seems to help. The rest of the second period flies by and the boys are up two to one.

The people around you start to shuffle off to get more food or go to the bathroom, now that the second intermission has started. You finish the rest of your soda and shift in your seat. Nykki looks over at you curiously. “You okay? You seem like you’re kind of uncomfortable,” she says, twisting her hair back into a ponytail.

“I’m fine,” you hum. “My back is killing me though. I must’ve tweaked it on the flight over.”

“You want an Advil?” Nykki’s already shaking around her purse and you can hear things rattling around.

“Let me go refill my drink, pee, and then yeah, I’ll take an Advil,” you reply, holding the reusable cup to your chest and getting out of your seat. Nykki pulls her knees to the side and you scoot past her, stopping when she makes a little noise. “What?”

“Babe, I think you need a tampon too,” she whispers, gesturing to the back of your jeans.

Your eyebrows draw together. You’re not getting your period anymore. “Tamp-?” The word catches in your throat and your eyes go wide. Your mind spins as the pieces start clicking into place and, as if to serve as the final kick in the ass sign, your lower stomach twists unpleasantly with a sharp cramp. Tears fill your eyes and you reach down to grab Nykki’s hand. “Um, surprise, I’m pregnant, but maybe see should go to the hospital or an urgent care?”

Half a dozen emotions cross Nykki’s face before it settles on shock, but all you can focus on now is the persistent cramping in your stomach. The cramping that’s been bothering you all day and you ignored, thinking nothing of it. God, you’re a terrible mother already.

“Okay, okay,” Nykki jumps to her feet, squeezing your fingers and dragging you out of the row and up the stairs to the main concourse. Her other hand is gripping her phone tightly and she’s jabbing at it with her thumb. “I’m calling an Uber. The hospital is like a ten minute drive.”

You nod, feeling numb as Nykki drags you along, your feet stumbling to keep up as you dart around the people waiting in lines for the bathroom and for food. How could your whole night - your whole life - have just taken a complete one-eighty in the matter of minutes. The cold Vancouver air hits your face like a slap, shocking some feeling back into your body. You wish it hadn’t.

The cramping is worse, the feeling between your legs - blood - like free bleeding during your period, but worse, so much worse.

Your stomach lurches and you rip your hand from Nykki’s grasp, bending at the waist and vomiting into a bush next to the entrance to the arena. “Oh, it’s going to be okay. Let it out,” Nykki’s voice is soothing and she rubs a hand in between your shoulder blades while your stomach seizes and you vomit again, spitting into the dirt.

Tears streak down your cheeks and your throat burns now. “I want Andrei,” you whisper, heart clenching with grief.

“Let’s get you to the hospital,” Nykki guides you towards the rideshare pick-up area, where a four-door sedan is already waiting. “I’ll get a hold of him somehow, but let’s take care of you first, okay?”

You let her bundle you into the backseat of the car and swallow back your tears, pressing the heels of your palms into your eyes hard enough to see starbursts. Forcing yourself to take a deep breath, you try to calm down, you don’t know what’s happening for sure. Even though it feels very much like the end of something, you have to find a little piece of hope to keep yourself sane. The driver catches your eye in the rear view mirror as he pulls out of the arena parking lot, his mouth twisted down in a concerned frown even as his eyes are slightly judgmental. He’s driving you from a hockey game to a hospital - god knows what he’s thinking about you.

Nykki squeezes your knee and smiles gently at you, even as she’s typing on her phone with her other hand. “It’s still intermission, no one’s going to have their phone on them, but I’m trying to see if I can get through to one of the trainers or something. Just stay calm and we’ll figure it out,” she’s no-nonsense and you’re so grateful for her taking control of the situation.

Your lower back complains as the driver hits a pothole and another leak of fluid rushes between your legs. The drive is too long and too short all at once and before you know it, you’re being admitted to the Vancouver General Hospital emergency room and deposited on a bed, a curtain drawn around you. A nurse with warm, sympathetic eyes and a kind smile does your intake, her lips twisting to to side as you’re answering her questions.

“I just found out a few days ago,” you whisper, starting your fingers together. “I haven’t even told my husband.”

“Mrs. Svechnikov,” the nurse pats your arm comfortingly, “we really don’t know anything for sure until we get an ultrasound. Try not to put added stress on your body.”

You don’t even bother correcting her about your last name, the Russian name sounding strange in her Canadian accent. Nykki comes behind the curtain, clutching her phone. “There’s about ten minutes left in the third,” she says. “I can’t get ahold of anyone, but I’ll keep trying.”

“We’re going to get an OB down here and check everything out, okay?” The nurse says kindly, but brusquely, and then disappears back into the main emergency room. You roll your neck so your cheek is resting on your shoulder and a few tears leak out of your eyes.

“You didn’t leave any messages or anything for Andrei, right?” You ask. “I don’t want him to see and freak out.”

Nykki brushes your hair off your forehead and shakes her head. “No, I left a few messages for Martin to call me as soon as he could. I figure I’ll get to Andrei that way. Do you need anything?”

“Just Andrei,” you hiccup a sob, pressing a shaking hand to your mouth. Your other hand hovers over your stomach, afraid to touch it. The bleeding hasn’t stopped, so despite what the nurse said, you know it’s a miscarriage. Your stomach rolls and you press your lips together tightly so you don’t vomit.

“I’ll get him here as fast as I can,” Nykki reassures you. While you wait for the OB, she absently braids your hair back from your face, tying it off in an efficient, utilitarian French braid down your back. She talks as she works, trying to distract you, and you’re grateful for her efforts even if they don’t work. All you can think about is the little life that had been growing in you just a few hours ago. Your heart lurches painfully when you realize Andrei’s going to find out about the pregnancy and the loss all at once.

The OB is a middle-aged Black woman with a slight Canadian accent who introduces herself as Doctor Hayes and she doesn’t sugarcoat the news, which you appreciate. “I’m very sorry, Mrs. Svechnikov,” she sighs, looking very much like she hates this part of her job. “But you are actively miscarrying right now. We’re going to admit you overnight for monitoring and will reevaluate in the morning.”

Your entire body goes cold at her words and you grip Nykki’s hand - you hadn’t let her leave your side, terrified to be alone. A cramp rips through your lower body and you bite your lip hard enough to draw blood. “What-“ your voice is hoarse and you clear your throat, trying again, “what, um, are the next steps?”

Doctor Hayes rests her hands on the guard railing on your bed. “Well, we’ll have you on a hydration IV throughout the night while we monitor the miscarriage. There may be a need for a D and C, to make sure it’s complete and there’s no tissue left behind.” Your face blanches as she talks. “But all of that will depend on what happens tonight.”

“Thank you,” you murmur and she pats your hand gently, sympathetically, as she leaves. You can hear her giving the nurse instructions and you slump back against the pillows, completely drained.

Nykki checks her Apple Watch and grimaces. “It’s Martin. I’ll be right back, okay?”

“Be gentle with Andrei, okay?” You reply, desperately wanting him at your side, but also wanting to protect him from this heartbreak a little longer.

She’s back in a few minutes, after the nurse has started you on an IV. “Martin’s going to bring him over,” she says, sitting carefully on the edge of the bed. “I didn’t tell him why you were here, just that you started to not feel well during the second,” she says. “It sounded like Andrei was halfway out the door before Martin could finish his sentence.”

You nod faintly. That sounds like Andrei. “I hope they don’t get slammed by Rod for leaving…” You twist your wedding rings around your finger, the diamonds catching the fluorescent lighting.

“They won’t,” Nykki says firmly. “He’d have to be a real bastard to punish Andrei for coming to the hospital for you. Besides, someone should’ve been available to get Andrei here earlier! It’s ridiculous.”

“Let him have an extra hour of normalcy,” you sigh, shifting on the bed, sore and uncomfortable.

You’re moved into a private room and given a hospital gown that bares your entire back and ass. A giant pad that’s probably as big as a damn puppy pee pad is wedged in between your legs to contain the bleeding and the IV is tugging unpleasantly at your skin. Nykki’s waiting downstairs to bring Andrei directly to you and you hope he’s here soon because now that you’re alone, the reality of the situation is sinking in and your chest is starting to feel tight. You turn your head and try to bury your face in the pillow, but you catch a whiff of the lingering Tom Ford Lost Cherry perfume you’d applied earlier mixed with antiseptic and sterile hospital smell and your brain briefly registers that it’s a shame, because you really love this perfume and now you’ll never be able to wear it again. Your heart thumps painfully in your chest, a reminder that you’re losing more and more of your baby with each passing second.

You hear him before you see him, the pounding of his footsteps echoing through the hallways. He’s running down the hall, that much is clear, and when you look over at the door, you catch the blur of Andrei skipping completely past your room before he doubles back and skids to a stop in the doorway.

He looks terrible - hair still damp with sweat, the red mark across his forehead from his helmet is still prominent, and he looks like he got dressed in the dark - or an extreme hurry - in a pair of basketball shorts and his button down with the buttons done up all wrong. But it’s the look of complete panic in his eyes that scares you the most. Andrei never looks that panicked.

“Solnyshka,” he breathes, his shoulders dropping from around his ears. In three long strides he’s at your side, holding your hand, and you finally feel like you can breathe.

“Hi,” you whisper before bursting into tears.

“Hi,” he replies softly, brushing his thumb over your knuckles. His grip is almost painful, but you welcome it as you hiccup. “What’s going on, solnyshka?”

Insanely, the only words that come out of your mouth are, “your shirt is buttoned wrong.”

Andrei looks surprised, “what?” he asks absently as his gaze flickers down to his shirt. He shakes his head, “I rush. Solnyshka,” his voice is high and nervous, “what is going on? Neci didn’t know anything. Just that you’re here, in hospital.”

“I…Andrei, I’m so sorry,” the words rush out of your mouth on a flood of fresh tears. “I was pregnant and now I’m not. I lost the baby.”

You’re not even sure if Andrei can even understand you, you’re crying so hard. But one glance at his face and the completely shattered expression it wears, and you know he understood you. His fingers tighten around yours and he’s shaking his head, hair falling forward over his forehead.

“What? I don’t - a baby?” He rubs at his forehead with his other hand, eyebrows pinched together in confusion. “When did you - why didn’t -“

He can’t seem to get a full sentence out and it only makes you cry harder, your entire body hurting with the effort. You know what he’s asking though.

“Last week,” you manage. “The day after you left. I was going to tell you tonight, but…” You trail off, shrugging one shoulder.

Andrei’s head hangs, chin to chest, and he makes a little noise in the back of his throat. “I’m so sorry, milaya,” he says, voice hoarse. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here.”

The worst of your tears are drying up and you shake your head. “It’s not…I had Nyk. I hate that you had to find out like this. Baby and then no baby, all at once,” your voice cracks and you trace the little embroidered A.S. on his cuff, barely able to look at him.

Your husband sighs and drops his head so he can rest his forehead against yours. He smells like sweat and fear and Old Spice and your throat clogs with emotion again. “I thought…” he breathes. “I hear hospital and I think the worst. I thought the worst.”

This is the worst, you think. The worst possible thing. But you know what he means, that he thought something even more awful had happened to you, that he was worried he lost you because he didn’t know there was something else to lose.

Andrei’s lips brush against your cheek, soft and delicate, the rasp of his stubble a stark contrast. You sit like that, foreheads touching, for who knows how long. Andrei doesn’t cry, but his chest hitches and you think he might, maybe, when it all sinks in. You’re all cried out and now there’s just bone-deep exhaustion.

“i’m tired,” you murmur, the words getting lost between you.

Andrei nods against your forehead and pulls back, looking like it takes him a huge effort to sit back up. He cups your cheek and his thumb strokes a careful arc over your cheekbone. You lean into the familiar gesture, comforted. “Sleep, okay? I’ll…I have to call Rod. Get my stuff. I’ll take care of everything,” his voice is steady, but his eyes are clouded.

You nod, your eyelids already closing. Andrei gets up and brushes his lips over your forehead, murmuring that he loves you. Once he’s outside the room, you can hear him talking quietly to Nykki and Martin, but your grief and exhaustion pull you under before you can really concentrate on what he’s saying.

Sleep doesn’t last and you’re awake again after a few hours. You blink awake blearily, confused for a second before everything comes rushing back. Andrei’s scrunched up in a chair in the corner, his chin propped up on the palm of his hand, eyes shut. He changed in the time since he left, now dressed in a pair of jeans and a plain black t-shirt. His legs are kicked out in front of him, a pair of white sneakers on his feet. You don’t want to wake him, but when you shift, a sharp pain pierces your side and you gasp loudly before biting down hard on your tongue to muffle the noise. It doesn’t work and Andrei’s eyes fly open, his entire body jerking.

“Hey,” he’s at your side in a second, “what hurts? I call a nurse?” His accent is thick with sleep and worry.

You shake your head, the pain subsiding. “I’m fine.” And you are, the worst of the cramps are gone, leaving just a vague soreness and uncomfortable tightness in your chest and stomach. “You should’ve gone back to the hotel.”

“And leave you?” Andrei looks at you like you’re crazy. He shakes his head. “I got my bag and Nykki brought yours back. Do you want anything?”

“No,” you reach for his hand and lace your fingers together. “I just want to go home.”

He nods, looking exhausted. “Me too. I spoke to Rod, if you’re discharged later today then you come with us on the plane. If not, I stay and come home with you when you’re ready,” his lips quirk up at the corner when you start to protest. “Is decided, solnyshka. I’m not leaving your side.”

“But…” you trail off, all the arguments that you can think of fading when you realize that you don’t want to be separated from Andrei, not right now. “Okay,” you whisper.

“Good,” he chuckles under his breath. “I don’t want to argue with you.”

“No arguments from me,” you reply dryly, rolling your head so your cheek is on the pillow and you can look directly at him. “Why don’t you try and sleep some more? I’m not going anywhere.”

His jaw tightens a bit. “Can’t sleep,” he replies, even though you had just seen him asleep. “If the doctor comes, I want to be awake.”

You nod again, sore and tired, and Andrei just sits with you quietly for a while before you think to ask, “how was the game?”

He snorts. “We won, but who cares?” It’s such an unexpected answer - Andrei’s never not cared about winning a game - and it startles you into silence.

A nurse comes in a few minutes later, saving you from having to find an answer. She introduces herself as Kayla and speaks in a soft, but firm tone. You’re starting to recognize the undercurrent of apology and sympathy in the nurses and doctors’ tones and you’re beginning to hate it. Andrei doesn’t let go of your hand while she checks your vitals and puts another bag of saline on the IV pole. “The OB will be in soon to do another ultrasound and see if you need a D and C,” Kayla says gently. “But everything else looks good. You won’t be staying another night and I would guess that you’ll be out of here by early afternoon at the latest, either way.”

You nod robotically, not really absorbing what she’s saying. By this afternoon, everything will be over and you’ll for sure, 100% not be pregnant anymore. It’s a gut punch, even though you knew this was coming. Andrei asks the nurse a few more questions before she leaves, but you don’t really listen, focusing on a small stain on a ceiling tile. It looks like nothing at all, just a blob of brown, but the more you stare at it, the more your vision unfocuses, the more it starts to look like one of those stereotypical ultrasound blobs.

You don’t even realize that you’re crying again until Andrei wipes the tears from your cheeks. “Try and sleep again,” he murmurs, chewing at the inside of his cheek. “I think you’ll need strength.”

“Can you get me some water?” You ask, running your hands over the braid Nykki had done. It’s so messy and it feels like she fixed it a million years ago, but it was only four or five hours. It feels like another lifetime, sitting in the arena and joking around with her. From halfway through second intermission to a hospital room at 2 a.m. Certainly not how you were picturing the end of your trip to Vancouver.

You think you must fall asleep again because the next thing you know, there’s sun coming through the window and Andrei’s at your side again, his large hand resting on the top of your head, cradling the crown. Unfamiliar doctors and nurses are in the room and they all speak to you and Andrei, but the only words you hear are “incomplete miscarriage” and “quick procedure” before you’re being shuffled off to an operating room. It all happens too fast for you to even be scared and the last thing you remember before the anesthesia is Andrei by your ear, whispering in Russian to you, the spicy scent of his deodorant filling your senses.

Andrei’s there again, when you wake up, eyes looking red and face drawn. You’re barely conscious, but the sigh of relief he exhales permeates the fog. His hand is warm in yours and you manage a weak smile at him. “Hey there handsome,” you croak and he laughs weakly. “Miss me?”

“You…” Andrei coughs, “I love you very much.”

“Love you,” your words slur a bit. “I wanna go home.”

“Soon, solnyshka,” Andrei promises, stroking your hair. “Soon.” He’s still stroking your hair when you fall asleep again.

When you wake up again, the overwhelming sense of emptiness is what you notice first. Then Andrei comes into focus again, his weight of his head resting on your leg, his hand on your hip. You’re not sure if he’s awake or not, but you gently run your fingers through his hair and he looks over at you, shifting.

“Hi,” he murmurs, dark circles under his eyes.

“Hi,” you rasp back, fingers still working through his hair.

“How do you feel?”

“Sore, tired,” you hesitate, “empty.”

“Yeah,” Andrei’s reply is barely an exhale. “Doctor said we can go, once they give you the all-clear.”

You nod, chewing at your lower lip. “Andrei,” you choke his name, the words coming out like broken glass, “we don’t have a baby anymore.”

“I know,” Andrei replies simply, sitting up all the way and leaning forward to gather you into his arms. You go to him easily, moving carefully and ignoring the pull of your protesting muscles, and bury your face against his chest. He’s in the same black t-shirt and he smells stale now, like he needs a shower desperately, but under that he just smells like Andrei, like home, and you cry into his chest, the fabric growing wet under your face. He just holds you, his arms a strong cage around your back, his hands running up and down your back. Everything in your body hurts, but nothing more than your heart.

Throughout the next few hours, when you’re given a clean bill of health, instructions to take it easy and abstain from sex or using a tampon for three weeks, and discharged, Andrei is a rock. He’s right at your side, helping you get dressed in the soft joggers you were using as pajama pants and an oversized hoodie. He laces up your sneakers for you and carries all the bags out to the waiting Uber. You were discharged in time to make the team flight home, but after hearing Andrei on the phone before the doctor came in for your exam, you kind of suspect that he may have pressed Rod to change the travel plans. You can’t even start to think about what he’s done for you, exhaustion seeping to your bones.

No one says anything to you when Andrei ushers you onto the plane, but Neci gives you a small smile and squeezes your hand when you walk past him. You return the smile, feeling awful that Nykki has to fly home on her own. She’s been texting, checking in on you, and you haven’t answered yet, too distracted to deal with even holding your phone. Andrei bundles you into a seat near the back of the plane and wraps his jacket around you.

“Thanks,” you say quietly, resting your head against his shoulder.

“Anything for you, solnyshka,” he presses a kiss to the top of your head. “Try and sleep, long flight. I have the pain pills, if you need, okay?”

You nod against his shoulder and wrap his jacket tighter around your body, tucking your hands up into the sleeves. Andrei rests his palm on your knee and before the plane even takes off, you’re asleep.

It’s a long flight back to Raleigh and you don’t sleep the entire way, but after a solid three hour nap, you wake up feeling better. Andrei’s asleep when you wake up, his head dropped back against the headrest, his mouth open slightly. He finally looks relaxed and peaceful and you’re grateful, so grateful, for him.

Your whole body still hurts, but your legs are starting the cramp up, so you carefully shimmy out of your seat to stretch in the aisle. Brady and Jarvy wave at you from a few rows up and you wave back, wondering what they know, if they know anything. No one really tries to talk to you, so you assume Andrei told them that you had some kind of medical emergency. Legs feeling better, you settle back into your seat, finally pulling out your phone and connecting to the in-flight wifi so you can text Nykki.

She reassures you that none of the other guys know what happened and that if you need anything when you’re back in Raleigh to let her know. You’re blessed to have such a good friend in her and you thank her, thinking that maybe in a few days you’ll see if she’ll bring Gigi over for some puppy cuddles.

Andrei wakes up about and hour before you land and he gulps back half of a water bottle before he even says anything. Then he tips his head close to yours and whispers, “how are you feeling? Any pain?”

“No,” you whisper back, “I’m okay. Just sore. It’s like being drained after a really bad period. I feel better after my nap.”

“Good,” he pushes the half-empty water bottle into your hands. “Drink.”

“Yes, sir,” you tease, the moment of lightness making you feel a little better. You sip at it slowly, starting to get a little nauseous. Andrei wraps his arm around your shoulder and you lean against him, drawing comfort from his solid warmth.

When you land, Andrei guides you off the plane, his palm reassuring against your lower back. It’s easy to let him take the lead and to not think about anything. He’s got both of your bags and you don’t even put up a fuss when he refuses to let you carry even your purse. You’re just too tired.

Andrei’s car is parked fairly close and you don’t have to walk very far. You lower yourself into the front seat of the Lamborghini, muttering, “I hate this car.” Your stomach gives a protest of pain from having to climb into the car.

“I know,” Andrei laughs a little, loosening up. His string of ugly sports cars is a long running topic of conversation. The last one was orange, the one before that a strange green. This one is electric purple and it’s hideous. His terrible taste in car colors is his only red flag. “Next one will be red.”

“Why couldn’t this one have been red?” You ask, breathing deeply to stave off the nausea. You sink back against the seat and Andrei pulls out of the parking spot. He’s driving must slower than usual and is taking extreme care with navigating the roads.

“This one was only 75 made,” he explains again. “It’s a collectors item.”

“It’s still ugly,” you tease, a smile playing at your lips.

He reaches over and takes your hand, bringing it up to his mouth to kiss your knuckles. “I love you so much, moya solnyshka, and I’m so…proud of your strength.”

Andrei doesn’t look at you when he says it, but his voice gets thick and he swallows roughly. He continues, “it hurts to know there would’ve been a baby in the summer.” So he did the math, you think. “But, this is maybe the wrong thing to say, but I’m glad I didn’t know before.”

It’s not really the right thing to say to you in the moment, but you can’t blame him. You sniff and nod. “I know. I almost wish I hadn’t known either. It was only a week, but I was so attached to…to the idea of our baby.”

“When you’re ready,” Andrei says slowly, turning to look at you while you’re stopped at a red light, “you tell me and I’ll give you a baby. When you’re ready.”

You nod, unable to even think about trying for a baby right now, but Andrei’s words and his earnest expression make your heart melt. You love him so, so much. “When I’m ready,” you repeat, squeezing his fingers.

When you get home, Andrei runs you a shower and joins you after a minute, soaping up your hair and scrubbing down your body gently. You don’t speak while he works and his touch is nothing but chaste. He’s careful around your stomach and between your legs, impossibly gentle with those huge hands of his. You stand under the spray while he gives his own body and hair a quick wash, the heat of the shower starting to make you a little lightheaded. Right before it gets to the point where you think you’re going to have to say something, Andrei flips the water off and reaches out of the stall for a huge, fluffy towel, wrapping you up in it and rubbing his hands up and down your arms to keep you warm. He grabs another towel and wraps it around his waist, gripping your elbow and guiding you back to the bedroom.

You rummage in his drawers for oversized clothes, not wanting anything constrictive on your body. Once you’re comfortable in an old pair of Andrei’s grey sweats and a threadbare Duke t-shirt, you crawl under the covers and curl up on your side. “Join me?” You ask, looking up at Andrei. He nods, silently climbing into bed behind you and gently scooting you closer to him. The warmth of his body is comforting against your back and he wraps his arms loosely under your breasts, avoiding your stomach. Andrei buried his face in your hair and you let a few silent tears leak out of your eyes.

What did you do to deserve this wonderful man?

With Andrei’s arms around you and your heart heavy in your chest, you fall asleep again, but it’s unsatisfying. After a few hours, you need food even though you’re still nauseous. Andrei makes himself a sandwich and warms up a can of chicken soup for you and you eat in bed, a rerun of The Nanny on TV. Andrei doesn’t really get the show - the humor is too specific - but he does like to point out all the outfits that Fran wear and he thinks you can pull off. It’s a nice distraction.

You take the next few days off of work, just to recover, but Andrei isn’t as lucky. You’re mostly fine physically except some lingering soreness, most of your problems are mental. After talking about it on the way home, neither you not Andrei has really brought up the miscarriage.

Two days after the miscarriage, the team is playing at home and Andrei’s right there in the middle of it all. You don’t watch the game, still too raw to watch hockey after what happened in Vancouver, so it’s a little shocking when he comes home with a blackened right eye and a cut across his nose and part of his cheek. “What happened?” You yelp upon seeing him, getting carefully to your feet and reaching up to lightly touch the side of his face.

Andrei grunts. “Distracted, got hit,” he winces when he moves his face.

You feel awful, knowing he was distracted because he was worrying about you. “Luckily it didn’t need stitches,” you say softly. “Can’t have anything ruining that pretty face,” you tease him lightly.

He gives you a tight smile and his gaze flickers down to your stomach, covered in an oversized sweatshirt. You catch his look and brush your thumb over the edge of his jaw. “I’m okay. You don’t have to worry about me so much,” you say. “I’m tough. I’m strong.”

“I know,” Andrei sighs, dropping a kiss to your forehead. He hesitates, wanting to say more, and you wait. “At the game,” he says slowly, “Burnsie, Staalsy, they had their kids there. I couldn’t help…I was picturing…”

Oh.

Your heart cracks right over the scabs that had been forming the past two days and fresh pain floods your veins. “Drei…” you’re not even sure what to say to him. You knew he was sad, but you hadn’t really thought about how deep his feelings went.

He smiles sadly at you. “Today, it hit me,” he says, twisting his lips. “We lost a baby.”

“Yeah,” you reply, throat tight. “We did.”

Andrei pulls you close, twisting his hand in the end of your ponytail. “I wasn’t expecting it to hurt like this, when I didn’t even know for very long,” he murmurs and you can feel a few tears drip onto the top of your head. You wrap your arms around his waist tighter.

“I don’t think that matters,” you mumble. “It hurts no matter how long you knew about it.”

You can feel Andrei’s head turn, his cheek pressing against the top of your head. You just stand there in his arms, holding tightly to the only other person that’s feeling the same pain as you. The longer Andrei holds you, the more you feel your fragile heart mending itself, the steady beat of his heart a constant under your cheek.

After that, things slowly start getting back to normal. You’re physically healed and cleared to resume normal activities. Andrei’s not so distracted during games. You can go hours, days without thinking about the baby that’s gone.

Andrei mentions it, off-hand, about a month after you get home from Vancouver, after he’s back from another quick road trip. “We could’ve been telling our families about the baby at Christmas,” he’s clearly been thinking about it.

You nod, a little startled by his comment. “Probably, yeah. Or we would’ve told them already, too excited to keep a secret,” you smile a little to yourself, thinking about how Andrei almost spoiled his proposal twice before he actually popped the question because he was so excited.

He grins at you, dimple popping, and pushes a slim box across the table at you. “Early Christmas present,” he says, answering your unasked question.

Looking at him suspiciously, you pop the lid on the jewelry box, finding a thin gold chain bracelet with two delicate charms on it - the common blue and white Greek mati to ward off the evil eye and a little horizontal cross attached at each end to the chain. You trace your fingers over the chain and look up at Andrei.

“A little luck?” He says, lifting one shoulder. “I saw it in a store window, in Long Island, before we played. Made me think of you.”

“Thank you,” you murmur, getting out of your seat to kiss him softly. You trace your tongue over his lower lip and desire stirs in your stomach, something foreign after the last few weeks, but oh so familiar. You’re not quite ready to have sex yet, but it’s a good reminder that you will one day soon. “It’s perfect.” You hold out your wrist and Andrei clasps the bracelet on.

“Whenever you’re ready,” he says, reminding you of the promise he made in the car.

“Whenever I’m ready,” you repeat, crawling onto his lap and letting him hold you. The thought of getting pregnant again doesn’t make your chest feel quite as tight anymore, doesn’t get the panic alarms ringing in your head. Andrei’s been so patient and gentle, making everything just a little bit easier to bear.

Every day just reminds you that as long as Andrei’s by your side, you can handle anything life throws at you.

He kisses the side of your head and holds you close, chasing the shadows of grief away.

#andrei svechnikov imagine #andrei svechnikov #andrei svechnikov fic #andrei svechnikov x reader #andrei svechnikov x you

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wildemaven · 8 months

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meant to be | javier peña

-> pairing: javier peña x f!reader

-> wc: 1645

-> content warnings: 18+ blog; domestic javi, established relationship, unprotected p in v, fluff, talks of starting a family, reader has zero descriptive features

-> a/n: this was posted on my other account and i am moving it here now. it is also a rewrite of an older fic i did with frankie.

masterlist

Fall is settling in nicely in Texas. The days are still warm, but the weekends no longer hold as much daylight as they did weeks ago.

Everything transitioning into its autumnal journey, your yard drenched in rustic hues and sunshine.

You and Javier both loved taking advantage of the nicer weather, wanting to soak up as much of it as possible before the shift into a colder season, deciding to spend your evenings on the patio as the days wound down and the sun set behind the pasture on the west side of the ranch.

Chores were the first thing that needed to be tackled. Divide and conquer seemed to work well for you both. You took on the inside duties of laundry, dusting, and food prep, while Javier managed the outside— mowing, tree trimming, truck washing.

Bed made with clean sheets, a load of dirty clothes placed into the washer– the previous load hung in the backyard on the clothesline, dinner prepared and waiting– your list of to-do’s dwindling as the day went on. Now you find yourself planted at the sink of dirty dishes, your kitchen window a front row seat to the old barn, your eyes glued on your husband as he washes his truck.

His striped sky blue shirt encapsulates every detail of his back, sleeves tight around the bulk of his arms, muscles flexing as he scrubs the soapy sponge back and forth across the metal surface– and you thank whoever designed his well-fitted jeans. A week's worth of dirt slowly slid off the sides of the old ranch truck, a prized possession that had been passed down from Chucho when Javier had decided to take on more responsibilities around the ranch.

It has been two years since moving into the home Javier grew up in, wanting something big with the hopes of starting a family in the future. Chucho insisted you both move in, stating the house was far too big for just him— he moved into the ranch’s guest house down the dirt road. Memories tucked to every corner of the house, old family photos still hanging in the very spot his Mama placed them.

Javier must sense he’s being watched when he turns towards the kitchen window, catching your eyes on him. His gaze lingers a bit, soap and water dripping from the sponge in his large hand. He shoots you a wink with a smile that makes you instantly weak.

“Shit!” The mug you had been washing slips from your soapy hands into the water below, water splashing back at you, soaking the thin material of your dress, your attention drawn back to the sink and the remaining dishes. Somehow Javier still makes you flustered after all these years with just a simple look thrown your way.

Glancing back out the window again to find Javier is no longer there, the suds freely dripping off the truck door and sponge discarded on the ground. The creak of the screen door lets you know exactly where your husband is as you proceed to dry the drinking glasses and place them in the cupboard. His shuffling around in the living room does little to help you know what he’s up to.

“Javi?” You call out to him as you finish putting away the last of the plates and bowls, wiping the counter off before you go in search of your husband.

The slight crackle of a record starting makes you aware of his location– the living room. His old collection of records and record player had been boxed away in the attic after he moved away. Last Spring, while you were putting away the winter blankets, you stumbled upon his music collection– something from nearly every genre. You pulled everything down one weekend while he was busy in town with Chucho, having everything set up on the bookcase and a record going when he got home. It became a habit that one of you would slip on a new record, windows open allowing the breeze to carry the songs throughout the house.

A familiar tune begins, it instantly brings a smile to your face.

“Wise men say...”

The low timber of his voice sends a tingle down your spine any time he sings your wedding song. For such a reserved man, who refuses to indulge in karaoke, he jumps at any chance to serenade you within the walls of your home— one of the many things you love about him.

A set of arms wrap around you, welcoming you back from your walk down memory lane, pulling you against his chest as he begins to move about the kitchen with you. Your bodies swaying together as the music continues, his face nuzzled in close to your cheek as he hums along with the song.

“Like a river flows

Surely to the sea

Darling, so it goes

Some things are meant to be…”

Your body leans into him, the rest of the chores fully abandoned as you both waver about the kitchen, savoring how easy it is to create new memories in your home.

“You sure know how to get out of chores Peña.” You tell him just as he spins you around so you’re facing him, looping your arms around his neck while his hands settle on your back— Javier singing along completely ignoring your comment.

“If I’m not mistaken Querida, I’m pretty sure you were hardly putting an effort into yours.” He teases you before grabbing your hand to send you twirling around. You can’t contain your laughter, living for these spontaneous moments of ease with the man you’re so completely head over heels for. Your body is pulled back into his, resuming the energetic flow between the two of you. A sweet rhythm of bliss now strumming through your body as you melt into his arms.

“Hmm, I don’t know what you’re talking about…” Hiding your smirk into his warm neck, knowing full well what he’s referring to.

“That wasn’t you gawking at me through the window—“

“I was not gawking, Javi!” As you playfully pat his chest. “I was just admiring the view.”

“You were in fact gawking. I think I clocked you at 10 minutes from the first moment I noticed you hadn’t moved.”

“You are so exaggerating!” He’s definitely not wrong though, it’s hard to pull your eyes away from such a thing of beauty.

“How about we take this to the bedroom, Querida– and I’ll show you exaggeration!” He taunts into your ear.

“Javier! Your truck is half washed in the driveway— and I know you’re going to be pissed about the soap drying on it right now. Plus, I already made the bed.”

He’s dragging you back towards the stairs that lead to the bedroom, his infectious smirk displayed across his stupid handsome face, your body doing little to stop itself from his magnetic pull.

“I’ll just wash it again. I’ll even set a chair up for you to admire up close. Get you one of those ice cold beers too.” He says as he falls back into the bed, pulling your body on top of his.

“And I’m pretty sure this won’t be the last time we dirty these sheets this weekend…” His voice muffled against your neck, his lips planting kiss after kiss as he pleads his case– you easily succumb to his antics.

His hands work at the line of buttons that trail down the front of your dress, your own undoing his buckle before working at the button and zipper of his jeans– he hisses as your hands hastily move over bugle straining behind his jeans.

Your dress is open and hanging off your shoulders as you slowly sink down on Javier’s cock, the stretch of him a welcomed adjustment, his length hitting something delicious as you settle at the base of him.

“Fuck, Javi!!” Hands splayed over Javier’s firm chest for support, your head thrown back as a rapturous whine pours out into the room, a slight bounce to your breasts as you move— the cups of your bra pulled down, the cool air has your nipples pebbled and tight. Javier is taken by your angelic state— you're a sight to be seen.

Javier’s fingers are digging into the meat of your thighs, the slow stuttering roll of your hips as you move over his cock has him worked up faster than he has anticipated.

“Querida— Shit! Baby, I’m not gonna last— you look so good riding my cock like that!” His hips bucking up at the feeling of your cunt clenching around him.

“I’m right there with you, Amor!”

A few swipes over your throbbing clit and a string of quick thrusts, both of you cresting the euphoric peak in unison.

You collapse on top of Javier, a strong arm wraps around your waist, a hand cupping your neck, Javier determined to keep you as close as possible— you fully melting into his touch.

Breathing ragged and hearts racing— bodies perfectly satiated and filled with an intense love for each other.

“I should probably get up and get dinner started. That should be plenty of time for you to rewash the truck.” You don’t show any signs of actually doing so, too relaxed to care about finishing the rest of your chores.

“Or— we can just lay here a little longer. Save the food and truck washing for tomorrow. We can go into town later and get dinner instead.”

“A man after my heart. I’d marry you if I wasn’t already.” He rolls you off him onto your back, hands roaming over your dewy skin as he kisses you slowly.

The lull of the record player echoes through the house as the music fades out, clothes and sheets are thrown about the bedroom, the day’s plans forgotten as you both seek out a more exhilarating afternoon.

#javier peña #javier peña x reader #javier peña x you #javier peña x female reader #javier peña x f!reader #wildemaven writes #pedro pascal

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sgiandubh · 4 months

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When you do not know a thing about the issue at stake...

...perhaps it's better to remain silent.

Some of you know, others don't - and that's fine - but my main field of expertise is labor law.

I just read this in anger and disbelief:

Look, lady. I don't care who the hell you are, what you do for a living or why you felt entitled to answer those insistent questions on your side of the fandom. I suppose you are North American and have no idea of how things work on this side of the pond. It is fine: I might know what a Congress filibuster is, for example, but I'd be severely unable to judge the finer points of competence sharing between Fed and state level.

The difference between you and me?

I keep my mouth shut and/or do my own research before opening it in public.

Have you no shame to write things like: 'It was discovered clothing factories in Bulgaria and Portugal made it and how workers were exploited, mostly women, because these factories were in special economic zones in these countries exempt from EU employee rights and regulations.'

HOW DARE YOU? What strange form of illiterate entitlement possessed you to utter such things with confidence, comfortably hidden behind a passive voice ('it was discovered')?

Portugal joined the EU in 1986. Bulgaria (and my country) joined the EU in 2007. I have given 5 relentless years of my life to make this collective political project a reality, along with hundreds of other people my age who chose to come back home from the West and put their skills to good use for their country. In doing so, I rejected more than 10 excellent corporate job offers in France and China. To see you come along and write such enormities is like having you spit in my face.

Article 4 of the Treaty on the Functioning of the European Union (aka The Treaty of Rome) is formal and clear, as far as competence sharing between the EU and its Member States goes (the UK was still, back then, a full member of the EU - it quit on February 1st 2020):

That means that ALL the EU regulations are being integrated into the national legislation of the Member States. This is not a copy/paste process, however. And because it is a shared competence area, the Member States have a larger margin of appreciation into making the EU rules a part of their own. While exceptions or delays in this process can be and are negotiated, the core principles are NEVER touched.

Read it one hundred times, madam, maybe you'll learn something today:

THERE ARE NO SPECIAL ECONOMIC ZONES IN THE EUROPEAN UNION. THE WHOLE FUCKING EUROPEAN UNION IS A SPECIAL ECONOMIC ZONE, THIS IS WHY IT IS CALLED THE SINGLE MARKET.

What the fuck do you think we are, Guangzhou? We'd wish, seeing the growth statistics!

Now, for the textile industry sector and particularly with regard to the Bulgarian market, a case very similar to my own country. Starting around 1965, many big European textile players realized the competitive advantage of using the lower paid, readily available Eastern European workforce. In order to be able to do business with all those dour Communist regimes, the solution was simple and easy to find: toll manufacturing.

It worked (and still does!) like this:

The foreign partner brings its own designs, textiles and know-how into the mix - or more simply put, it outsources all these activities. The locals transform it into the finished product, using their own workforce. The result is then re-exported to the foreign partner, who labels it and sells it. In doing so, he has the legal obligation to include provenance on the label ('made in Romania', 'made in Indonesia', 'made in Bulgaria' - you name it).

The reason you might find less and less of those 'made in ' labels nowadays at Primark and more and more at Barbour, Moncler and the such is the constant raise of the workers' wages in Eastern Europe since 1990 (things happened there, in 1989, maybe you remember?). We are not competitive anymore for midrange prêt-à-porter - China (Shein, anyone?), Cambodia and Mexico do come to mind as better suppliers. To speak about 'exploited female labourers in rickety old factories' is an insult and a lie. They weren't exploited back in the Eighties, as they are not now (workers in those factories were and still are easily paid about 50% more than all the rest) and the factories being modernized and constantly updated was always a mandatory clause in any contract of the sort. Normal people in our countries rarely or ever saw those clothes. You had to either be lucky enough for a semi-confidential store release or bribe someone working there and willing to take the risk, in order to be able to buy the rejected models on the local market.

If I understood correctly, you place this critical episode at the launch of the limited SRH & Barbour collection, for the fall of 2018. How convenient for you, who (I am told by trusted people) were one of the most vocal critics of S during Hawaii 2.0!

And as far as Barbour goes, it never pretended to manufacture everything in the UK only:

This information is absolutely true. You can read the whole statement, signed in October 2017 by one of their Directors, Ian Sime, here: https://www.barbour.com/us/media/wysiwyg/PDF/Ethical_Statement_October_2017.pdf

And a snapshot for you:

Oh, and: SEDEX is a behemoth in its world, with more than 75.000 companies joining as a member (https://www.sedex.com/become-a-member/meet-our-customers/). Big corporations like TESCO, Dupont, Nestle, Sainsbury's or Unilever included.

I am not Bulgarian, but I know all of this way better than you'll probably ever do. The same type of contracts were common all over Eastern Europe: Romania, Poland, the GDR (that's East Berlin and co, for you) and even the Soviet Union. I am also sure your Portuguese readers will be thrilled to see themselves qualified by a patronizing North American as labor exploiters living in a third-world country with rickety factories.

You people have no shame and never did. But you just proved with trooping colors you also have no culture and no integrity. More reasons to not regret my unapologetic fandom choice.

I expect an angry and very, very vulgar answer to this, even if I chose to not include your name/handle. The stench of your irrelevance crossed an ocean.

#fandom #shitshow

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chadfallout76podcast · 3 months

Text

"Deah Shroud!: A Nick Valentine Mystery" EXPLAINED and AMA

It never occurred to me to do this last year, but a lot of people have asked me questions about our Fallout 4 play in the last year in the Discord, so I wanted to open an AMA but also explain "Death Shroud!" and some of the broader themes involved in it.

**SPOILERS AHEAD**

Part 1: Pre-production

Before I get into the story, I wanted to explain how this production even came about. Over the years after working together on some official community projects with Wes Johnson through Bethesda, we became good friends. I took a couple of his acting classes and he talked about the Fallout For Hope charity initiative I started and asked for help in organizing the gaming community for his Alzheimer's Association fundraiser. The idea was to host a month-long digital event of discussion panels, game shows, improv and a play with as many different voices of video games, film and TV as we could round up. In our second year of his VoiceAPalooza fundraiser, I wanted to do an original old time radio show and see if could bring back as many of the cast that we could from Fallout 4. It was Wes who first suggested an adventure with his Silver Shroud character (that he voiced in Fallout 4's radio plays) teaming up with Nick Valentine (voiced by the amazing Stephen Russell). Valentine is, for me, one of the best written, unique companions in Fallout lore.

So, I reached out to Stephen Russell who had joined us before for charity work and he was all in on bringing Nick Valentine back to life! After that things moved fast with Bethesda's Pete Hines and Emil Pagliarulo joining us to have some fun for a good cause. We tried to get EVERY companion from Fallout 4 that we could, but schedule wrangling is tough, and some people are just impossible to track down or find. Matt Mercer would've loved to have joined us as Macready, but unfortunately scheduling didn't work, so the best we could manage would be a holotape (the only reason our snarky gun running merc had to take the big sleep in the story).

After having everyone plugged in to reprise characters, it was time to put fingers to keys and find the story...

Part 2: The Deep Lore

The origin of this story started with a thought: how would the NPC's and characters we love perceive modification of their universe by us? We, as players aren't the true creators of this universe or these characters (Bethesda is). If anything, we the players are the equivalent of "lesser gods", reshaping it in new ways, unexpected and subjective ways, and sometimes even chaotic ways (I'm looking at you avalanche of adult mods with realistic jiggle physics and Thomas the Tank Engine Vertibird).

It started with a mental image of the small ways in which we start out modding games, or even the first mods we (using the "Engine of Creation) actually create. I had a mental image of Magnolia doing her thing, singing away sultry in a crowded and smoky third rail when she looks one way, back the next and sees new curtains. A subtle thing, something a little startling, but in a universe where recreational drug use is met with a YEEE YEEEE WHEEEE...a change you simply dismiss as being overtired or a little too juiced.

I'm a sucker for old time radio. I grew up listening to classic radio horrors like The Whistler, Suspense, and Lights Out on vinyl records and cassette tapes when I'd spend summers with my grandmother on a little island off the coast of Canada. Getting the tone, feeling and sound to stage an old-time radio show was the easiest part of this whole process...it's baked into my brain lol. The key of course is finding the right narrative voice.

Enter: Bill Lobley. If you play Fallout 76, he is the announcer for the "Tales from the West Virginia Hills" holotapes, but before that he's a prolific voice actor, maybe best known for his role as the truly vile Jeremiah Fink in Bioshock: Infinite. He has a FANTASTIC transatlantic voice for old time radio and was perfect as narrator in the script.

Part 3: What Is Going On?!?!

I had the base idea, the voices to pull it off, but what was the meaning and message of the whole thing? I always start there. From a meta experience level, the story is about dealing with subjective reality that’s being torn apart. After Fallout 4 launched in vanilla, we the players changed that world and reshaped it with mods. The small changes in perceived reality are meant for the omniscient player (us) and are not meant to be perceived by the characters themselves...and yet, what if they were? And if they were...WHY?! The answer was right in front of me: there's a difference between something born into a world and something MADE into a world.

You take someone like Magnolia or Nick, both synths, that obviously weren’t naturally born from two people. They were conceived as an idea...a human idea sure, but still they were made, not born. Without even needing to say in the script, the Trickster from the Grognak comic books who shouldn't exist yet does IS also an idea. Some MADE into a world but not born...a different world sure, but still the creation of it. Nick, Magnolia, any synth as ideas themselves would sense that the world was wrong and being changed in a way no one else would because of fundamentally who they are and what they represent.

Everything that unfolds is because Nora as a keystone event in the Commonwealth, a focal point of the causal nexus making her a unique entity in that world. A causal nexus is the link between a cause and its resulting effects and ignore the science mumbo jumbo, because here's an example of how that works:

The Sole Survivor, Nora, listened to Kent's message, chose to answer him and put on the outfit of the Silver Shroud. As a unique figure she shifted perceived reality of everyone in the Commonwealth by becoming the Silver Shroud, acting like him and making people believe that a fictional character exists.

Unfettered belief and faith in an idea = manifested reality.

Rejected belief and faith in the idea = dispels that reality.

This HAS happened before in Fallout lore in the instance of people with horrifying backstories and personal tragedies choosing to become someone else such as the Mechanist (Fallout 3 and Fallout 4) or even the Ant-Agonizer (Fallout 3). This time however it was a unique figure who did this, a figure fated and meant to reshape the Commonwealth for good, bad or ugly.

This opened a door, the door through which another figure could influence and enter a new universe provided it take the form of something already in it...a reality side-step into the form of the Mechanist. Concurrently, the moment that happened, reality counterbalanced by making the Silver Shroud who was already believed to be real BECOME real as the ying to the Mechanist/Trickster's yang.

Now at home in reality, the Trickster found himself very much alive and unbound by story but had very little power to do much at all. He needed something more, an idea and faith that already existed in the Commonwealth with the infinite universe of ideas made, but not born like himself. His goal wasn't power, it was to sow chaos, reshaping reality into a realm for any and every idea despite the consequences to reality itself.

So what did he need? The belief in the Old Gods and a focus point of belief in the idea: a staff. The universe is as adaptive as it is remarkable and where the Mechanist had its opposite: the Silver Shroud, the Trickster needed its twin: enter Sheogorath...because what better staff to tear apart and reshape reality than the Staff of Sheogorath. There is a quest added in the new Skyrim Anniversary Edition in which you can build it for yourself with a few items: Branch of the Tree of Shades, Ciirta's Eye, Fork of Horripilation. In this universe it would have to fashioned with things FROM this universe.

Two eyes were needed:

The eye of a True Believer: Kent Connolly

The eye of a True Seer: Mama Murphy

Affixed to the top of a staff of the purest heartwood from a Twice Born Tree. Living wood from Harold, born a man who eventually mutated into a living tree.

Lastly, it had to be soaked in the tears of ages end: barrels of radiated blessed waters courtesy of the Cult of Atom.

The Trickster had no magic of his own in this universe in which to act, but thankfully courtesy of some powerful allies, he was able to make contact with shadowy cults and worshippers of the old gods who gave him the name of someone truly of faith in the old magic to make all of this work: Jebediah Blackhall, who in this spin of the universe did unfortunately get his hands on the cursed book: the Krivbeknah.

Finding allies was all too easy, as the events post main quest left the Commonwealth changed. To many, the Sole Survivor and his/her companions would be hailed as heroes. To others, they would be villains, particularly in light of what Nora CHOSE to do to the Railroad to end the synth threat for good. That's a lot of blood on the hands of heroes...

As the Mechanist/Trickster, Blackall and the Lombardos began using the staff, its changes and shifts in reality rippled backwards through time, as changing one specific thing would change its entire existence. You change some curtains and the manufacturer of those curtains only every made one pattern...the world object becomes changed universally. Tapping into the Engine of Creation to make these changes, leaves anyone MADE not born aware of them as they don't fit into the design as it shifts around them. Nick, Danse, Magnolia would all feel and see it, be thrown off for a bit before settling into the changed reality state.

At the climax when everything starts falling apart and you get everyone from GlaDOS and the Joker strolling on in, the only way to end it all is to separate the Trickster from the Staff and restore the saved intended state of reality. The Silver Shroud finds himself powerless against the Trickster...only someone from this universe would be able to intercede, hard wired into the Engine of Creation itself as an existing element connected throughout its framework and history. After sending the Trickster off packing to the moon (thanks GlaDOS), but its a little too late for reality. It collapses around them, finding themselves elsewhere...the point between the mind, creation and the outcome of reality.

After the Shroud fades away, Nick has the power and choice to roll the universe, his universe back along the tapestry of choices that led him here. They all were haunted by the choices they made the first time around, something Nora couldn't live with...that ultimately led her relationship with Danse to fall apart. So Nick decides to go back further, as far back as he can go and he finds himself back in his office with Ellie waking him up.

There are consequences to what he's done, that he's not yet aware of, ones that will become clear in our next episode. The synths remember, as he remembers...Danse, Magnolia and everyone else remembers the fall of the Institute. They all find themselves at their starting point, moving towards their intended fated position to encounter the Sole Survivor. For Nick? He's starting down the path that will led him to be held prisoner and meet the Sole Survivor for the first time.

As he'll soon discover however, things don't play out the same way this time. Moreover, while he was rolling back reality to an early saved state, he made a huge mistake and completely forgot about something and someone so incredibly important...

You'll have to wait to see what that is...

#death shroud #chad: a fallout 76 podcast #chad: a fallout 76 story #fallout 4 #fallout for hope #wes johnson #fallout #fallout fanfic #nick valentine

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ohsalome · 9 months

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How does a state become fascist? How did Russia do it?

A special kind of nationalism is needed here. To convince people that you were once great. That once you were a military empire — and then you were humiliated. This is what Hitler once said: “Germany was great, had colonies in Africa, but we were humiliated at Versailles

Under the terms of the Versailles Peace Treaty of 1919, which ended the First World War, Germany had to get rid of its numerous colonies in Africa, China and Micronesia, cede significant territories in Europe and pay reparations to the victorious states of the war in the amount of $442 billion at 2012 prices.. Our empire was taken from us, and our people in other countries and former territories faced genocide. We need a strong ruler to come and restore our empire. To show that we are a big powerful player. And Iʼm ready to do it.”

Putin behaved the same way. He even said that if Russia does not regain its greatness, it will destroy the world.

Also, often in countries that become fascist, there are many economic problems. And nationalism, this feeling of power, can replace food — you will draw your happiness from this feeling, or from the awareness of yourself as a German or a white American. After that, you say that representative democracy is evil. That it allows the existence of LGBT people and the like, that the state is weak because of democracy. Fascism appeals to conservative, religious people who would not call themselves fascists. He tells them: we will protect you from your children becoming gay, from someone destroying your churches. And they often call all their opponents communists. And they get votes. Sound familiar, right?

[...]

It is ironic that the Russians, who were once rightly regarded as the victors over fascism and who now practice fascism, call their war "anti-fascist."

It is necessary to pay attention not to words, but to ideology. Putin can say that he is a liberator — but he is closer to Hitler than to Brezhnev, to Peter I than to communists. And this is an important argument in favor of why the Russians should not leave a single piece of Ukrainian land. For the same reasons why it was not possible to leave, for example, Warsaw under the Nazis.

Now Putin is talking about Ukrainians like Hitler was talking about Jews. He says that there can be no Ukrainians, only Russians, and that all Ukrainians are actually Russians. This position means that he is going to get rid of everyone who speaks the Ukrainian language. That is why all this delusion of the West about territorial concessions must stop.

#ukraine #war in ukraine #russia #russian invasion of ukraine #politics #russo ukrainian war #russian invasion in ukraine #fascism #nazism #yale #Jason Stanley #political philosophy

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tomsparkyr · 2 years

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𝐁𝐄𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐀

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

summary: after a match, mason has to be interviewed as per usual. this one a little more exciting as the woman behind the camera is his girlfriend.

masterlist

mason mount x fem!reader

I LOVE THIS CONCEPT !! ps sorry i deleted it

writing this while pretending that loss didn’t happen,, fucking hell roll on west ham😅

warnings: fluff, there’s literally none, oh my bad writing

word count: 1K+

please don’t steal any of my work, thank you !

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐒𝐄𝐀 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 won their first match after a sour spat of defeats at the beginning of the season. The team was buzzing, the fans were wild, the stadium was loud as ever as the Liverpool fans poured out the premises as soon as they could.

Mason had carried the team, scoring two goals and gaining an assist with the third for Sterling. To say you were proud was an understatement. You watched him celebrate with the fans at Stamford Bridge, a home win for his belt of pride.

You could have stood their and stared at him all day like that. His wide smile and laugh you could practically hear from here, the crinkles around his eyes showing just how much joy he was in in that moment; leaving you content as you couldn’t wait for his big bear hug you would receive the second you were in private.

Your relationship with Mason was far from public, absolutely. Imagine the scandals if rowdy football fans found out that Mason Mount, Chelsea’s Starboy, was secretly living with his longterm girlfriend, who— might I add— is the voice you overhear on every Premier League match, before and after. The one holding the microphone to your favourite player spilling positives and negatives, after commenting on their performance for the previous 90 minutes.

People would jump straight to conclusions, assuming Mason was sleeping with you just to earn the positives from the press. Or if you making out with Chelsea’s heartthrob just to earn this job. It was a relationship written for the headlines. Hence, why you kept it so quiet for the current year long relationship.

A hand on your shoulder brought your attention off of Mason, turning around and seeing one of your fellow colleagues signalling that it was time for the interviews.

Now it wasn’t like you got unprofessional during these interviews, never to put it lightly. But yet again, have you ever had to interview your boyfriend who was probably the most annoying person to keep a secret? The man would crack a smile at anything and those wide eyes could be read by borderline everyone at home watching this on TV, not knowing the guy personally.

This was far from your first time interviewing Mason. But seeing his giddy run over to the platform and goofy smile on his face as he watched you set up the microphone for him, you knew you’d be in trouble this time.

You both straightened your posture as the voice of the cameraman was heard behind you, “And we’re rolling!”

You both looked at each other for a moment before starting, his smile widened and cheeks turned a blush rosey. You felt your skin get hot under his gaze, even though you’ve done this hundreds of times, Mason always had that effect on you.

You cleared your throat, “Hello, Mr Mount.” Mason snorted at the nickname and ducked his head down to laugh momentarily, realising he was on national television and had been called that name multiple times by tens of other people.

You closed your eyes and shook your head to restrain yourself from giggling along with him. “Congratulations on your two goals and assist.” You nodded at him adorning a smile, letting him know that you truly meant that comment.

He looked to the side to hide his growing grin and responded with a remark to your previous comment, “Thank you, Ma’am.”

“That’s—“ You cut yourself off with a small giggle that erupted from nowhere and coughed slightly to cover up your mistake, face turning red as you saw Mason pull his features together to stop himself from bursting out laughing. It wasn’t all that funny in reality, but when you’re in the moment, it seems like the funniest thing in the world.

Mason’s lips were pressed together tightly to stop laughter before it began, nodding at you to continue what you had started saying before you interpreted yourself.

“That’s alright, Mr Mount.” There was the nickname again, you paused to breathe before continuing. “How do you feel after a win so important like this? Liverpool are a tough team to beat, correct?”

Mason looked up at you with a grin, dimples prominent and hair messy on the top of his head. “Yeah, it was a tough game, great team and we just got lucky I guess. You know, when your missus is in the crowd, you gotta impress her somehow.” He winked, hinting at you but leaving the audience oblivious.

You blushed profusely, itching your neck to calm your nerves, the only man to make you feel this way watching you. “Lucky woman, huh?”

“The best.” He tilted his head, responding. His gaze was fixated on you, thinking you were the most beautiful person the ever grace the earth, wondering if he was lucky enough one day to call you Mrs Mount, ironically.

A hand on his shoulder shook him from his thought, looking up a meeting eyes with his Head Coach, Graham Potter.

“I’ll take it from here, Mason.” He nodded with wide eyes, initiating that if he answered one more question, the entirety of people watching on their TV screens right now would 100% figure out the relationship between the two of you, no one looks at someone that way if they’re only gonna spend the next minute and a half with them; more like the rest of their life.

Mason nodded at his Manager, smiling at you before he left. The cameras cut not long after you interview Potter, the man welcoming and open to answering your non-pestering questions.

As you were packing up your things, Graham tapped you on the back and said “You know you could just make out with Mason on camera and it would be just as obvious to what the Hell I just watched.” Chucking and slipping out the room as if it was nothing, leaving you stunned as it seemed that everyone was already aware of your relationship with Mason behind the camera.

this was SO BAD IM SO SORRY

#mason mount fluff #mason mount smut #mason mount x reader #mason mount #mason mount angst #mason mount imagine #mason mount fanfic #mason mount x you #mason mount masterlist #mason mount x footballer!reader

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bittersweet-kelly · 11 months

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The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe Malfunction

Summery: You and Henry had been dating for a few awhile now. Both of you had been invited to his friend's costume themed birthday party. Which you mistook for an early Halloween party. While dancing with Henry, you hear something ripping.

Rating: Explict. 18+. Minors do not interact.

Pairing: Henry Cavill X Female Reader

Warnings: Smut, size kink, big cock, big balls, hyperspermia, crying, alcohol, descriptive sex, spanking, biting, bulges, alcohol, unprotected sex (Wrap it up), spit, pet names, name calling, female c-word, ripping of clothes, pop culture references.

Word Count: 3,462 (Sorry)

Disclaimer: I do not own Henry or have any connections to Henry. This story was made by me and my own filthy mind from the wanting of henry to ruin me in more ways than one. This is my first fanfiction that I've written and published. I'm usually a role-player on MMOs and online games. Although my first language is English, I have dyslexia so expect grammar mistakes, spelling mistakes and sometimes sentences that could seem confusing. Not beta'd or proof read. Header made by me using pictures on the internet.

*****

Why, oh, why have you left it to the last minute to try and find a costume for a party you’ve known about for at least two weeks! You spent all day looking around town for something to wear. It’s Halloween how hard could it be to find a costume? As you found out, unless you fit in children's costumes... It was very hard. Heading home you finally remembered you had costumes back from your time in college.

Rummaging at the back of your closet you fished out a plastic storage box that was rammed with old costumes you wore during your party days. Pulling out the costumes. A flapper, a sexy nurse, a sexy nun. Scoffing at your younger self for the costume choices. You sat on the floor humming and ahhing trying to figure out what to wear. Your thought process was interrupted when your phone buzzed. Reaching for your phone a smile forms across your lips as you read the name that popped up. Opening the message, it reads

‘Hey baby, can’t wait to see you tonight. 🦁’ Seeing his messages always send your butterflies fluttering. You sat there for a good minute holding the phone to your chest. As the feeling fades and your mind comes crashing back down to reality your face is left with a furrowed brow. Looking back at your phone you typed a message back.

‘Can’t wait to see you Hen-bear. What you wearing tonight??!’ You waited for an answer that would never arrive. Shrugging your shoulders, you grabbed the Witch outfit. It was Halloween after all, can never go wrong with a Witch.

After showering and getting yourself ready you get a call from Henry.

“Hey [your f/n], car will be picking you up in about 10 minutes. Then it will come to mine and we’ll arrive together. See you in a bit, baby." He finished his sentence with a roar, which made you chuckle slightly albeit slightly confused and taken back by it.

“Okay see you then sweetie." The call ended, and you had 10 minutes to make sure you looked good and presentable. Standing in front of the mirror you look over yourself. Making sure the make-up was right and not too clowny. You wanted to look good after all. Your main concern was the outfit that was a couple of years old... It fitted okay when you were standing still and breathing in slightly... In the years since putting on the witch costume you’d become more of a woman to love. You weren’t fat by any means, but your body was softer and there was more to grab. The black lace and crushed velvet dress hugged your body in all the right places, looking more like Morticia, from the Addams family, than the wicked witch of the west.

Hearing the car pull up, you make a quick dash for your small handbag. “Housekeys? Check. Lipstick? Check. Aaannndddd... Phone. Three for three.” You gave yourself a small victory cheer before shutting the door and getting in the car. While sitting in the car you do the most English thing anyone does in a taxi or an Uber. “Are you having a nice evening? On for long? Have you got many jobs after this one?" You and the driver small talked for about 30 minutes by the time it took you to get to Henry’s place. While Henry walked down the driver to the car, you were able to ogle at him. He wore a crocheted lion hat that had a tasselled mane that came down to his broad shoulders. A tight Muscletech tee that hugged his muscular frame. The tee looked stretched over his bloated biceps and stuck tightly to his pecs, almost giving the illusion of support. Could his shorts be any shorter, you thought to yourself. A slutty 4-inch seam on the inside showing off his powerful legs.

As he got in the car, he filled most of the back seat with his mass and might. His legs spread out in different area-codes. “Hey babe." He leaned over pressing his lips to your cheek for a quick kiss before putting his seat belt on. “Looking great." He winked at you, making your toes curl and your fanny to flutter. He then spoke in the voice he uses for when he’s being Geralt of Rivia. “Hmm. Fuck. I do like sorceresses." He then laughed, lightly slapping his massive hand down on your thigh to comfort you. Either your face must have been embarrassed or looking like you’ll pounce on him in the car. Not that the two of you have fooled around in a car before...

“What’s with the costume?" You ask him, casting your eyes over him once more. Taking in all the mountain of man beside you. Your eyes fell on the large mound at his crotch. Henry was a big guy all over, and sometimes had a hard time hiding his bulge. You quickly butt in before he answers your first question. “Shorts so short, your boxer briefs are sticking out passed them." You chuckle, playfully nudging him with a hand of yours only for said hand to be engulfed by his mitts as he held yours. Using his thumb to stroke over the back of your soft hands.

“First of all... I’m a football mascot for England. One of the three Lions." With his free hand he pointed to the Lion hat. “Lion. And football gear." Using his index finger and thumb he plucked at the tight fabric, letting it snap back into place against his body. “Secondly... I’m not wearing boxer briefs. Just briefs... Which." He looked at you with a knowing look. “There’s a lot to fit in them. Can’t wait to take them off." With the same breath he leaned into you again to whisper. “I hope you’re not wearing –any-.” Feeling his stubble tickle the side of your face made you squirm in your seat. The warmth of his breath in your ear. Heavens. You sat there hoping you hadn’t left a wet spot on the seat. Henry’s wish wouldn’t have been hard as you didn’t wear any. The undies you had created the line around your waist and butt cheeks.

“I didn’t realize football mascots were for Halloween.” You smirked over at him, your eyes drinking in the sight of your lover. Henry’s eyes widened in realization.

“Fuck!�� He threw his head back into the headrest and covered his eyes with his free hand. “I forgot to tell you... It’s not a Halloween party. Derek’s Birthday is close to Halloween and he’s ended up hating it. So when he has a party, it’s things other than Halloween." You started to panic. The last thing you wanted to do was to look out of place. It would be like the scene in Mean Girls where Lindsay Lohan turns up as a ghoul and everyone else looks hot. Cavill laughed to put your mind at ease. “Just say you’re Morticia. That’s from a movie, doesn’t need to be Halloween." He let go of your hand and slipped it behind the small of your back to hold you from a seat away.

Once the both of you get to the location of the party, you toss aside the witches hat you were going to wear. Aren’t a witch no more! Joined at Henry’s hip, due to his hand on your ass, the two of you do the rounds greeting the people and his friends. Usually, your head came to Henry’s chest, something you loved; those furry pillows to rest your head against when he was shirtless. With the heels you wore, you came up to his shoulder. Admittedly both of you liked the size difference.

After a while you let Henry do his thing. You’ve met his friends a few times, but you weren’t in with the crowd. You find yourself at the bar, just chit chatting to the other girlfriends, all while doing shots and drinking vodka lemonades. Henry comes up to the bar to get a refill on his pint of lager, stealing a kiss every time. Which makes everyone ‘aww’ and giggle at you.

As the night continued and the more drunk you got, the music started to sound better and better. Plus the kids had all gone to bed, so the real dance floor fillers were coming on. Being drunk enough you wandered on over to Henry when he was speaking to his friends. You grabbed his hand and another gripped his bicep. “’Cuse me, I’m going to steal my boyfriend." Playfully you tugged on Henry’s arm. “I wanna dance with you." You felt Henry’s disapproval. Henry never danced unless he was getting paid to and had choreographed the dance beforehand like his fight scenes. “Please?" You begged, looking up and him with doe eyes. Pleading to him. He scoffed.

“Fine." He groaned. “But on the way home we’re stopping off for a kebab!" Both of you laughed while making your way over to the floor where people were dancing. Henry mostly stood on the spot, tapping a foot on the ground and throwing a hand up in the air to pump it. Sensing his awkwardness you grabbed both of his hands and then began to dance with him... For him. Feeling flirty, your hands trailed along his torso, every now and then groping his pec muscles to give them a squeeze. It’s only fair, he comes up behind you and reaches around and puts his hands all over yours. Your hands glide down his torso while you lower yourself in front of him, your face now greeting by his crotch as you were crouched in front of him. He simply shook his head while chuckling at your antics. To stand back up, you slowly rose pushing your hips back to make your ass stick out. You then turn around to have your back to him. With your back resting against his front, you slide down his body until you’re crouching again, you turn your head to the side to be knocked by Henry’s bulge in his shorts. How his shorts managed to hold back the mammoth of a cock he had between his legs was a miracle. The fabric was stronger than your mental health.

You hummed with a smirk across your lips while looking up at him. His eyes filled with lust. If you weren’t surrounded by people, he could have pulled his cock out to slap it against your face. You felt a hand grip your armpit and with his assistance you were standing up straight. “I love how big you are." You whispered loudly due to the music, all while chewing on your bottom lip.

“I’m glad I wore underwear, otherwise my cock would be sticking out of the bottom of my shorts. And you’ll have to deal with the consequences.” He stared you down; unsure if he was angry with you or trying to keep cool. You shrugged his grip off; you were too drunk to really care about the consequences. Turning back around to face him. The song then called for a ‘drop low’ which you were more than happy to oblige to. Hoping your knees wouldn’t give out as you quickly dropped to the floor in the sophisticated dance move called the ‘Slut Drop’. Over the music you heard this loud ripping noise. Shooting straight back up to stand, your hands reached around behind your back.

" I think my dress ripped. How bad is it?" You asked Henry to look. He shook his head while laughing.

“That’s karma." His eyes then fell onto your rather large split. “...”His eyes widened. “It’s barely noticeable." His voice raised an octave. You knew he was lying and it must have been bad! In a panic you rushed off to the toilets, luckily this place had individual unisex toilets that the door could be locked. Once inside you look in the mirror, having your back facing it and your head peering over your shoulder. Henry’s words rung in your ears. ‘It’s barely noticeable...’Your bare ass was on show!!! You cursed yourself! Why did you go to commando? Foolish! The rip started at the midpoint of your lower back and went down all the way to your thighs. Someone tried to open the door. “Honey you in here?" Henry asked. You unlocked the door only to swing it open. Grabbing Henry with both hands to pull him in with you; only to relock it.

“It’s barely noticeable?! BARELY?!” You confronted him. Henry raised his hands defensively.

“It’s dark out there... Plus I had strobe lights in my eyes." He deflected. “And here’s you thinking my shorts would be the ones to rip." He tilted his head back to laugh. While you stood at the mirror trying to see how you could salvage the outfit. While your ass was out in the open Henry took the opportunity to slap his hand against your cheek. Leaving a red handprint on it. You let out a yelp as it stung and took you by surprise. "I should sign it like the Walk of Fame." He moved to stand behind you, his hands now on your hips. His grip pulled your hips back so the top of your ass was pressed against his crotch. “Think you can tease me in front of my friends?" He growled in your ear. “Should have fucked you there and then on the floor. Show everyone how much of a slut you are for me.” He lowered his head, feeling his breath against the nape of your neck. “Show ‘em how well you take my big cock.” His stubble rubbed against your soft skin before feeling his lips press against your skin in lust filled kisses.

You couldn’t help but moan softly at his touch and kisses. His words made your legs go weak. You felt Henry’s mouth at the beginning of the rip, his lips peppering your skin. His beard tickled against your lower back which sent shivers up your spin. Just as you were in the moment of heaven you felt Henry sink his teeth into your butt cheek. You turned your head over your shoulder to look down at him, you playfully swatted at his head. “Oi." Henry looked up at you with a smirk, his hands reaching for the rip and extending it, so it reached the end hem of the dress making it one big split in the back. He stood back up, his hands on your shoulders to force you to lean over the sink. Using a foot, he kicked your legs to spread them further. His hand moved to his face, licking his three middle fingers to get them wet. You soon felt his fingers rubbing against your labia and his middle finger dipping inside of you. His finger felt so good inside of you. When you first started dating, one finger was enough to send you over the edge. Now you’re more accustomed to Henry and his size, you’ve upgraded to 2 fingers.

Henry laughed. “Someone’s eager. Fucking wet already." He brought his hand up to his mouth to taste you. He hummed. “If only my cock wasn’t begging for a release, could eat you out. But someone wanted to tease the kraken." Keeping one hand on your shoulder to keep you in place, leaning over the sink. Your hands gripping the sides of the basin. His free hand wiggled his shorts and briefs down far enough for his cock to spring forth. Due to the size and weight of it, even when Henry was hard his cock fought a hard game with gravity, making his member bow down to the ground. His hand gripped his cock at the base of his shaft, his little finger sinking into his ball sac, to position himself. At first he glided his cock between your lower lips, getting his dick all greased up using your juices. Soon you felt his tip push against your body. You look back at Henry in shock.

“We usually use lube." You pointed out to Henry. “You’ve never gone in dry before." Henry raised the left side of his brow at you.

“With how wet you are, there’s nothing dry here.” He retorted only to pull his hips back to see his own cock. He drew spit from his mouth to aim it at his member, then used a hand to massage the spit into the head of his cock. Realigning his cock with your pussy, his hand and hips aided his dick to enter. Both of you let out a moan as your body finally accepted his appendage. “You feel great." He reassured you. The hand that helped his cock moved to join his other hand around your waist. His thumbs dig into the dimples on your back. Slowly he begins to grind his hips back in forth, allowing you to adjust to his size. Doesn’t matter how many times you have sex, he always felt huge and your felt tight to him.

Sensual moans escaped your mouth, you were trying to be quiet knowing you were in a bathroom and on the other side of the door there were people who could listen. “Your cock is huge." Henry chuckled at your quip. His grind turned evolved more into a thrust. Forcing more of his fat inches into your body.

“Get ready." Henry warned you as his thrusts become stronger and faster, feeding your body more of his member. His balls swung back and forth slapping at your labia, and clit while swinging back to hit his thighs as his hip crashed into the cushions of your ass. With ever thrust you felt yourself colliding with the ceramics of the sink. Moving your hands from the basin you reached out and planted your palms against the mirror. Your moans got louder and more uncontrollable. “That’s it...” He growled into your ear. “Make everyone hear you being fucked by me.” With every forceful move of his, you felt your legs get weaker at the knees and joints. You feel his hands move from the sides of your hips to the front, giving you support. All your weight was lifted by his strength. Your feet dangled in the air, even with heels on. Henry was lost in lust. Your moans and cries did nothing but spear him on. His cock acted as a piston, steaming in and out of your stretched cunt. You were at the mercy of him, nothing but a toy for his cock to erupt in.

You felt tears roll down your cheek as Henry ploughed into you from behind. His grunts echoed around the room, along with your moans. Your body felt a mixture of pleasure and pain. His cock was scratching at all your points due to its size, driving you crazy. The girth stretched out your velvet tunnel while the length of it always pressed against your cervix. You often thank the gods for making you hardy. With how powerful his thrusts were, the tip of his cock slammed and knocked against your cervix, causing you pain and the reason why your face was wet with tears.

Henry’s grip around your waist tightened and you felt his fingers dig deeper into your skin. With one more forceful slam, his hips buried his cock deep inside of you. Your pussy felt his cock throb, pushing against your already stretched walls. He tilted his head back while his cock unloaded its load. At first it oozed out before gaining momentum and shooting forth a powerful shot. It felt like minutes for Henry, standing in bliss while his balls unloaded his cum deep inside of you. He cummed a lot. Which made sense with the size of his family jewels. You swore it felt like he made you bloated whenever he came. As his climax weakened, as did he. Letting go of your hips, his torso laid on top of yours. “...Fuck.” He huffed out, only for his cock to slip out, while it softened, from your gaping pussy.

He stepped back, looking down at you while you flopped over the sink with your Bambi legs. His semen seeped out of your body, dripping down your thighs. “Let's get you home and in bed.” Stuffing his cock back into his briefs and shorts. At least now he fitted inside them a bit better after blowing off some steam. He picked you up, as you weighed nothing to him, carrying you in the bridal carry. He unlocked the door and stepped out. Naturally there were people standing close to the door. “She had a moment." Henry confessed before walking out of the building and putting you in a taxi to take you home.

#henry cavil x y/n #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill smut #henry cavill #henry cavill fanfiction #smut #size difference #fanfiction #henry cavill x female reader #size k!nk

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freeworldallahexecutivembaclass · 5 months

Text

I got 2018 GQ Man of the year honors shared with me as Henry Goulding thank you to him for accepting that award for us m I've been getting man of the year since 2015 - 2020 then got 2021 , 2022 that one I got from Jail , Time magazine man of the year 2022 shared honors with New York Yankees player Aaron Judge and named the 16th captain of New York City in New york city history thanks to the New York Yankees and Aaron Judge of the New York Yankees 2022 all the while in prison I got those awards true story probably one of the first to get awards and bring the world toward me wherever I'm at and congratulations to my cannabis stores in New York City I sponsor them just pull up in your truck or Benz run in the store where Kay Jewelers was at Down Town Brooklyn New York and buy some weed run in the store get your sneakers from the Jordan store 🏬 then your clothes from Macy's and get you some good weed where the Kay Jewelers was at and do you brother enjoy yourself things are getting much better , anyway this is my schedule for 2024 and imagine a school that teaches these subjects from a black royal couple Jay Z and Beyonce the Carter family .

Roc Nation university

My 2024 daily schedule - Recording artist

school schedule on Roc Nation campus everywhere I go is there campus

My personal class schedule :

Operation management for dummies Small business for dummies Quality control for dummies Retail business kit for dummies Music business for dummies Home recording for dummies Management Branding for dummies

Class upon class and so much subjects to learn this year balanced with staying fresh and getting athletic , just learning academics and athletics after physical fitness training then working and recording music . I'm moving on from this page now hopefully helps everywhere that needs it this is my last post on my social media page .

This page is very true

Very true sponsored by Jay Z , Kanye West , Beyonce Knowles Carter and their daughter Blue Ivy and me their son the new son Allen Henry aka Free World Allah aka SIR we sponsor this page thank you it has been fun thanks .

You are welcome for my help on this page to the people MK Michael Drayton keep your career going we love the music and your style please keep us in tune your music is hot and I support it and I know your fans love your music you going platinum true story your music hot we friends for life love your old brother and friend we will always be brothers to each other friends congratulations on your wifey and all that you doing real good living good music good and stress out of your life he good music good greatest quotes about good old friend of mines , thanks for everything . I believe in sportsmanship playing the game fair I got my second chance and second stage let me play let me compete let me play my sport rap music is my sport and I got a second chance and second stage for it , congratulations to Vado and our mutual friend MK Michael Drayton making his way back to the stage and music recording booth player and coach for real I learned a lot from him when we grew up together his mother and aunts and cousins raised me where family and sometimes sadly that don't change I'm still family to our aunts , cousins , nephews and nieces all in Chicago and New York City and happy to see ESPN announce his return to the stage , music videos a d recording congratulations to Harlemites Cam'ron , Jim Jones , Dave East , MK and it is excluding me this season I'm going left with ROC Nation Jay ordered me to get my education my second chance at that getting my life together I finish that on time I get to play with my other teammates over there at Roc Nation , but congratulations to my old stomping grounds and them make it back to the front of the room and front of the stage and ESPN announcing it that is big congratulations now I go off in my journey and my process .

youtube

My story

A beautiful woman got my heart a couple of beautiful women got my heart I think you know them they are famous girls famous women , wish me luck with a good life I'm looking toward my curse being broken so I could do what I love record music either way I am going to record and perform music like my second stage said I rather just do it without this curse on me this voodoo hex I want them off me so olI could live my life in peace but I'm going ahead with my projects later this year and compete that is the only revenge or vengefulness I would of felt but I'm focus and see only good things about me my perspective is fixed about everything about me I finally love me and it is all because of God my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ that is major putting God first in my life now it make life all the more better for me now thank you for letting me share that with you goodbye 🫂 and take care of yourself 💖 .

#Youtube

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corndasby · 22 days

Text

Patch 1.9 Full Event Summary! (Live Updates)

The 1.9 event summary got posted! I ran the patch notes through google translate and combined them with some translations from the official server. If I find anything else major I will update. Skin/Character previews can be found in my previous post, and I'll post some new character kit rundowns later! I will tag every spoiler post with the version number, so add that to your filters if you don't want to see anything about it.

Things You'll Care About

Full translated list is after this section.

Free Six Star for everyone: Semmelweiss, a mineral support that drains ally health to give them buffs based on their missing health.

First banner: Lucy, an intelligence DPS/support that spends Electricity to give their incantations extra effects, such as hitting more targets or buffing ally afflatus damage.

Second banner: Kakania, a plant support/tank/sub-healer that absorbs a portion of damage taken by allies and uses it to enhance her self-healing and damage.

Lorelei is a star afflatus five star support/sub dps. Her incantations haven't been released but her i1 Passive gives a buff depending on the most common card type in your hand, and her i3 passive gives her moxie when critting with her ult (Just Star Things). She is obtained from the new roguelite mode so may be accessible to players starting after 1.9.

Free Sonetto skin for logging in!

New skins for Mesmer Jr., Desert Flannel, Voyager, Regulus, and Jessica.

Thirty combined free pulls just for logging in. I'm sure clear drops will be showered on you elsewhere in the event.

Special banner for a single 6* rate up selector (If you win the 50/50 on this banner you get to choose ANY six star up until 1.6 excluding JNZ! This is a crazy good deal and you can pick up anyone you missed before the next saga of the story)

New main story chapter of course. Chapter Six is called Vereinsamt. Apparently, 1.7 is not a direct continuation of 1.5, but 1.9 will combine the two for a proper ending.

Brand new roguelite mode. The reception to 1.6's attempt was pretty poor, so I think this is a revised version that will be left in the game permanently.

New story events for Lucy and Kakania.

New anecdotes for Eagle and Semmelweiss.

New maps for Three Doors! I enjoyed the Mesmer storyline so I'm interested.

Reruns of all the skins from 1.1 - 1.4. The London wilderness will now be permanently available in the shop.

All of the standard stuff you can find in events. There's a shop, new wilderness, free items all over the place, and puzzle side events. Uttu is going to be there. You know the drill.

Edit 1: They're finally adding a system to let you seamlessly connect water tiles in the wilderness. No more dumb transition tiles!

Edit 2: They're adding new animation upgrades to older skins!?!? Confirmed list so far: Jukebox Bkornblume, Halloween Sotheby, Halloween X, Jukebox Matilda, Summer Pickles, Wild West Tennantt.

Full List

Some of these are literally just titles in the patch notes so if I don't elaborate that is why!

Free Sonetto skin

Shop crystal drop reset (I think this means the "first time buy" bonus is reset?)

Special banner: free single 6* rate up selector (If you win the 50/50 on this banner you get to choose ANY six star up until 1.6 excluding JNZ! This is a crazy good deal and you can pick up anyone you missed before the next saga of the story)

New main story chapter: Vereinsamt

New story event: Lucy

Limited collection: Thoughts Alone in a Tank.

New story event: Kakania

Event: Practice of Phantom starts.

New permanent gamemode: Roguelite

Three Doors: new maps

New function: select BGM on suitcase lobby

Anecdotes: Eagle and Semmelweiss

Mane's Bulletin: Abyss, Opera, and Lord of Dreams

UTTU: Mesmer Jr. skin

New function: event atlas

Limited collection: Promise of the Lake

New Jukebox: Desert Flannel skin

New skins: Regulus, Jessica, Voyager new skins

New Wilderness set: Laplace

New packs

Patch 1.1 skins rerun

Patch 1.2 skins rerun

Patch 1.3 skins rerun

Patch 1.4 skins rerun

Patch 1.1 Wilderness is added to the shop permanently

Event starts: Little Steel Gold Rush

#r1999 #reverse 1999 #gaming #vertin #schneider #vernetto #1.9

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theresattrpgforthat · 6 months

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Hey so I’m a uni student IE very poor and I really like GMless games so I wondering if there is any free or pay what you feel like GM less games? Bonus points for either cute animal type games, world building or superpowers game.

THEME: Free/Cheap GM-Less Games

Hello friend, I think I have a really awesome collection of games for you to try out. I tried to focus on lighthearted games that fit at least one of your themes. All of these games are either free or pay-what-you-want!

Rats in Space, by Jay Writes.

The year is 2392. A colony of rats have found themselves stowed away on the Endeavor, a cruise-class luxury spaceship. They live in the lower decks, nibbling on wires, stealing the engineer’s lunches, fighting off pest-bots. It’s a simple life. One day, a member of the colony discovered something: Velindian Cheese, the most treasured kind of cheese to all rats in the sector, hidden in the ship’s Kitchen. The colony got together, and they have decided: they must get that cheese!

Rats in Space is a one-page GM-less TTRPG where you and your friends take on the role of Rats on a spaceship. Your mission is to get the Cheese that's hidden away in the ship's kitchen. A silly game with psychic rats, robot cats, and depressed space captains.

This is a goofy little game with a simple enough premise: get the Cheese. You set your little rats up with stats, and then roll on the Inspiration table to determine what obstacles are standing in the way. Conquer three obstacles and you’ll get your hand on a little cheesy snack! However, if you lose your collective morale, you are forced to panic and scatter - and no Cheese for you. Rats in Space is great for light-hearted hi-jinx, and is very very cute.

Class Protector, by Chloe Sutherland.

Strange things happen in your high school. Horrors lurk in the dark, unnoticed by most in the school. Fortunately, there’s one person who always seems to be in the right place at the right time. She’ll deny it but all the gossip ties back to her and the unexplainable powers she seems to wield.

You are not the Chosen One. You are everyone else.

A simple GM-less game using a deck of cards. Act as the students of a high school secretly under threat from the supernatural, develop the Class Protector and her mysterious power through their rumours, then discover which theories were correct.

Class Protector is a game of high school bystanders creating a superhero through myths and rumours. You’ll take turns drawing cards and using prompts to help you figure out who exactly your protector is and what she can do. During the final round, you’ll witness her fight with the Big Bad, and determine how many rumours are actually true - and whether you survive. If you like a game with suspense, told from a unique point of view, you might like this game.

The Guides of MechaFauna Valley, by BESW.

“THE GUIDES OF MECHAFAUNA” by B. West is a game made for children, by a young park ranger barely out of childhood themself. I reproduce it here as I found it: photocopied on a sheaf of mint and salmon office paper, the pasted-on images sometimes almost illegible. But the game is playable and the glimpse of my friend’s future childhood is captivating.

This game is described as a cooperative, feel-good card-using roleplaying game. It is a game about a caravan of travellers making their way through a national park populated by mechanical beasts. As guides, you are responsible for ensuring that the caravan makes it through safely without endangering the local wildlife. The game expects all players to play a Valley Guide, but there is also a character sheet that is available for the group to use together: The Valley Voice. This game is currently still in beta, so it looks like another character sheet is in the works!

While there are still pieces missing, this is already a 20-page game with a hefty oracle full of prompts. If you like a game about exploration and adventure, but without the pressure of character endangerment, you’ll probably like this game.

Star-Spawned, by Penguin King Games. (@prokopetz)

One unearthly night, a ray of colourless light descended from the stars, and under its warping radiance, creatures unlike any the world has ever seen were born. They do not know the world, and they do not know themselves. Unfortunately for the world, they're quick learners!

Star-Spawned is a GMless, oneshot-oriented tabletop RPG in which you don't know what your own traits do when play begins. The names of each group's stats are randomly generated using morpheme chaining, and characters are created while having absolutely no idea what they mean; figuring that out forms the greater part of play.

Star-Spawned is a world-building game in that you discover the world as you discover yourselves. Players generate Facets and assign ratings to them without knowing what those facets do beforehand, and then experiment with their use as they play. Players will take turns describing what they want to do, and when one character takes the spotlight, the rest of the table provides the setting details. You finish the game when you have a definition for each facet on your Discovery sheet.

This game has a lot of breadth, and can explore a lot of different settings and kinds of adventure, and the place where you start will probably determine a lot about the tone of your game. If you enjoy randomness and figuring out a mystery together, you might like Star-Spawned.

Wonderfall Reinvigorated, by J.C. Pereira.

In this violence free, diceless and GMless game, you play as curious kids who are living in a hotel and secretly transform into pets. Your goal is to reinvigorate Wonderfall by befriending the leaving villagers and guiding the sparse visitors, to make this town habitable again. Uncover truths while growing up in this outlandish town.

This is an exploration game more than anything else. Players each create a town secret, and use drawing references to build the Hotel and its surrounding locations. You draw cards to help determine the kinds of locations that you’ll visit. The game comes with a bunch of random tables for character creation, locations, secrets, NPC information and more. You’ll draw cards from the Destiny deck every time you need to overcome a challenge, and use Aces to represent their hobbies that will help them solve problems.

I like the ways this game gives your characters adventure without resorting to violence to solve their problems. I think this game has a lot of potential to tell Studio Ghibli-like stories, so if you like that genre, you might like this game.

RPG From the Other Side, by stuffed tern.

a wizard has transformed one of your bandmates into a large raccoonyou’re going on a quest to change them backbefore they forget who they arethe band’s all coming with you (yes, even the raccoon) the power of music is on your side. you will see this through.

RPG FROM THE OTHER SIDE is a one-page TTRPG for one or more friends embarking on a quest of music and mayhem.

The text mentions a GM, but GM-less play is possible with players doing collaborative storytelling, or using a system such as Trophy.

This is a simple one-page rpg with a humorous premise - you’re trying to turn your raccoon band-mate back into their human self. Setup includes determining your goal, your characters, and your special weapon or ability. Your characters have a resource called Stardust, which gives you d6s to roll in challenging situations. You can spend Stardust to lend aid to a teammate, or lose it when you take harm, but you can also gain it back if you give up a memory that you cherish.

There aren’t any prompts to help guide your play after the initial setup, so this game is best suited for a group that is comfortable with a lot of improv.

2 Month Magical Girl, by Dondougo.

In 2 Month Magical Girl, you play as ordinary magical girls. Your days are relatively ordinary, as you study and hang out at school. At night you hit the town, as well as the various malicious magical beings that prowl it. You make memories, you make friends, and the next day you wake up and do it all again!

But something's changed, and things are getting weirder by the day. Illegible symbols are appearing everywhere, the weather is stuck in a cloudy haze. What's even weirder is that your magical powers seem to be hiding something from you. As if they're trying to keep you from understanding the truth behind what's really going on.

With time running out, you're left wondering what else is being hidden from you and what it all means. What will you do when the truth is finally revealed?

This is the chunkiest game on this list, with 98 pages of rules, lore and character options. There are 5 playbooks to choose from, making character creation relatively simple to follow, and a font of roll tables to help facilitate GM-less play. Definitely worth checking out!

#tabletop games #indie ttrpgs #dnd #game recommendations #asks #gm-less games

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