Azuljoie95 - AzulJoie95

— more than i should masterlist

— pairing: riri williams ✘ black!fem!reader

— series summary: riri williams hated you. from the cold stares and the snide remarks, there was no other conclusion to be drawn. the logical response in this circumstance would be to ignore her, avoid her at all costs. you weren't friends, so this should be an easy task. you only had one class with her, and you rarely saw her around campus outside of it. that was until you started dating her best friend. suddenly you'd found yourself thrusted directly into her life, and suddenly her attitude towards you was becoming an issue. you were never one to care what people thought of you, but something about riri captured your need to please. it was easy to convince yourself you only cared because of your boyfriend. she was his best friend, so the two of you needed to get along. he was none the wiser, chalking her coldness toward you up to her naturally standoffish nature. but you knew better. one way or another, riri williams was going to like you, you would make sure of it. (or the one where you're on a mission to make your boyfriend's best friend like you and the two of you end up falling for each other instead)

— series warnings: CHEATING!! (if you aren't into that, don't read), angst, fluff, smut (eventually) 18+, slow burn building a friendship between reader x riri first, lying, sneaking around, friendship betrayal, jealousy, possessiveness, homophobia (reader is just beginning to question her sexuality after growing up in a homophobic household), riri is mean (at first), lots of tension, lots of emotional cheating beforehand, lots of guilt, mentions of riri having some intense nightmares, strong language at times, use of drugs and alcohol, riri falls first but reader falls harder, and just a bunch of mess!

☆ character bios!

summary: a chaotic glimpse inside the world of the more than i should characters!

☆ part one

summary: riri likes to stare, you'd gathered. she hates you, but enjoys watching you. everything she does leaves you flustered and confused, and craving her approval. all of which goes unnoticed by your boyfriend. a party leads to drinking and drinking leads to riri reluctantly driving you home, where she extends a slither of kindness.

☆ part two

summary: headaches, everyone gets them! your most recent one stems from poor decision making. but the one that reoccurs has a name: riri williams. she's in your head, and alone time with her only causes more pain, and more problems.

☆ part three

summary: in riri's mind of monsters, you were an angel. an angel whose attention she begrudgingly vied for. god, she didn't even know the extent in which she needed it — needed you, until you made yourself inaccessible.

☆ part four

summary: consistency is the cornerstone of your relationships: hakeem consistently cares for you, while riri consistently... scorns you. you had grown accustomed to her disdain, even made your peace with it. but when her behavior suddenly softens, confusion takes root, unearthing feelings you thought yourself incapable of.

The Man in the Chair

Pairing: Dhan Rana x Zeke Wallace Word Count: 1.2K Tags: Phobias, Disassociation, Trauma (All mild), Subtle Emotional Infidelity (if you squint?) Summary: Dhan likes talking to Zeke. And he hates that he likes it so much. But he'd never tell Zeke that. A/N: Just a slice of conversation between a grumpy vet and a ray of sunshine techie. You could read this as romantic or platonic tbh.

(Source)

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"Okay, Dhan, you did it. You survived. It's fine."

He took a deep breath, leaning over the sink and staring into his own eyes in the streaky, fogged up mirror.

He knew the door was quadruple locked. He checked once, twice, three times both before and after he got out the shower. And though the silence in the apartment unnerved him, it was better than the alternative. Once he felt semi-safe enough to relax, he played some low meditation music that Margaret recommended for him.

Typically, Dhan had a specific way of doing things: Lay clothes out, iron them, shower, hair maintenance, put on clothes, make the bed, head out. Muscle memory made his routine second nature. In his husband's absence, however, everything just felt...off. Like everything in his apartment had been moved two inches to the left when he wasn't looking, and he'd forgotten how to function.

He'd been trying to spend as little time in the confines of his shared home as possible.

As if summoned telepathically, his music was interrupted by an incoming FaceTime call from The Man in the Chair. He involuntarily felt the corner of his mouth twitch and he mentally kicked himself, schooling his features before accepting the call.

"What's going on?" Dhan said after clearing his throat, "Any updates on the text transcripts?"

Zeke quirked a brow at him, "I mean yeah, but why do you look so...wet?"

Dhan glanced at the smaller version of himself on the screen in confusion. His dark, damp hair flopped over his brows and droplets of water rolled down his face, staining his shirt. The one time chose to wear something other than black.

He did, in fact, look like he'd just survived a drowning attempt. Dhan sighed in deep exhaustion at the prospect of putting in effort to dry his hair, after already using so much energy to just get up and get dressed.

"I just showered, sorry for...this," he motioned to himself tiredly, "I'll get around to it. Eventually."

Zeke let out a good natured chuckle, rapidly typing something on his desktop keyboard as he spoke, "Hey, I'm not judging you! I just figured you were going for a new look. I think we all had an emo phase once, right? Who's to say you can't have another one at like...what? Thirty--?"

"--Ok, I get it, I look like shit." Dhan couldn't help the snort that escaped from him at Zeke's ribbing, "We can't always look neat and polished like you, rich boy."

Zeke's eyes flickered to Dhan's face on the screen for a moment and he laughed, "I was born with the natural ability to look good. Money has nothing to do with it, bro."

...Bro?

Dhan felt something in his brain twitch. Like the disappointment a child might feel when a parent denies them their favorite candy. He brushed it off. Or maybe he filed it away for later. He couldn't really be honest with himself about whether it was worth exploring further.

"The transcripts?" Dhan continued, rolling his eyes semi-jokingly, "What's going on with them?"

Zeke said nothing, but Dhan heard the telltale *ding* of a new message on his phone.

"I've just dropped the file into the shared drive, and I sent you the keycode for it." Zeke finally stopped typing to face the screen directly, "It's about 238 pages of text, but I've highlighted the important parts between July 3rd and September 22nd. Hopefully that makes it a little easier to skim."

"Thanks, buddy."

Buddy? The word felt like battery acid in his mouth.

"Buddy?" Zeke grinned, "Now I know you're feeling a bit off, today." When his gaze suddenly softened in sympathy, Dhan had to look away to feign interest in towel drying his hair. The younger man's kindness was disarming sometimes. Most times. It took a while for Dhan to get comfortable with it.

He didn't understand what Zeke got out of this other than an occasional gaming partner and someone to bounce bad jokes off of. Sometimes Zeke looked at Dhan with so much genuine care that it made him want to scream.

Stop looking at me like that! Stop fucking pitying me! I'm not a pitiful person. I've been at this for longer than you. Stop making me want to spill my guts.

Stop looking at me like I mean something to you.

"I still feel weird. Like, uh...Like my brain and my body are on different hemispheres, you know?" He confessed, intentionally avoiding eye contact.

Zeke hummed, "I've been there. Sometimes I feel like I'm trying to lasso my brain back into its rightful place, and it just won't budge. Other times I feel like I'm scattered everywhere like little particles of dust while my body stays stuck in this chair. I almost wish that were true. Maybe then this space wouldn't feel so suffocating sometimes."

There was an amicable silence between the two men as Dhan absentmindedly dried his hair.

Finally, he broke the silence and started to ask, "Have you, you know, tried going outside again since the--"

"No." Zeke flatly responded, instinctively pressing his hand to the scar on his forehead, "It's just...I'm not ready yet."

It was understandable. If Dhan's first time facing his fears in ages resulted in an injury that required a concussion check up, he'd be hesitant to try it again, too. Draping the towel over his shoulders, Dhan rubbed the back of his neck.

"It was impressive taking the chance even though you were afraid, by the way. I don't know if I ever, like, said that. To you. About that."

Zeke offered a weak smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. It didn't look right on him. Dhan awkwardly rushed to add, "And, hey, you're gonna have to check out my gaming setup sometime. You can only do that if you visit. You can't get jealous when you see it, though."

He grinned at Dhan. A wide, toothy grin that made his stomach swoop, “Yeah. Yeah, I’d like that. But, seriously, don’t get too cocky. You’ve already seen mine and I’m still adding to it.”

At this, Dhan couldn’t help but smile back at his enthusiasm, even if it wasn’t as big and bright as Zeke’s. Though, could anyone’s smile match his? He allowed his mind to wander for a moment, indulging in the idea that he could never find another person who smiles at him like he does. It was nice to forget the complications of his existence for a while.

“I’m gonna, um, work on these…these files,” Dhan said, coming back into focus to find Zeke working on something off screen. “Thanks for sending them over.”

Zeke offered a casual salute in response, “Anytime, Rana. Call me if you need anything!”

He knew that, to Zeke, that last sentence meant multiple things. And Dhan had to wonder if he knew the effect he had on people.

Did he have this effect on people? Or did he just have this effect on him?

Dhan leaned against the sink again as the call ended and took a deep breath. In through the nose, out through the mouth. He ran his fingers through his damp hair.

Suddenly—for reasons that were completely unrelated to the previous conversation—he found the motivation to get himself together for the day.

"Let's tell the freakin' world!" ABBOTT ELEMENTARY (4x01)

Fontaine likes pretty things

(and yes, that includes you too)

Soo, I don't even know where this came from? Maybe two things.

I just imagined Fontaine seeing something and going 'my baby would look good in that shit'.

And Fontaine would be his lady's #1 fan. Like, no questions asked.

(I also feel like he'll have some unconventional likings, y'know? i don't know lmao it's late)

I'm not sure how long it is, but I sure hope you enjoy it! All feedback appreciated!

warnings: 18+, cursing, use of the n-word, smoking, over all rambling of a sleep deprived writer

Your hair was finally the way you wanted.

Taking a step back, you couldn't resist putting your hands on your hips and muttering to yourself,

"Well, damn it he was right."

You looked good.

Plumb purple and soft, the lace basque was dotted with shimmering golden beading. The sweeping pattern accentuated the softness of your middle, the shapeliness of your thighs.

It wasn't that you didn't like your body, lingerie just made you feel...pressured to look perfect. This was different, though. Way different. You even added a spritz of your favorite perfume

The delicateness of the fabric had you nervous to put it on, but now that you were encased in it--you felt sensual. You felt--

"You gonna come out here and lemme see?"

You jumped and answered reflexively, "Yes!"

Fuck.

Before you could stall any longer, you left the bathroom and followed the low sound of music to the front room.

Fontaine made a noise like he felt something good just by looking at you.

He sat in the armchair puffing on a blunt as he rolled another, little clouds crowning him as he took his fill of you.

Fontaine took charge as soon as you came home from work. He had dinner waiting and a bath, only asking that you wear what was in the box that was placed on the sink's counter.

You came close enough to touch, "Well?"

Fontaine hummed and tilted his head to meet your gaze with open look of smug desire, "Don't 'well' me, girl. You like it, right?"

You bunched up your lips, looking around the living room with a neutral hum. You couldn't make it too easy for him.

He reached out to brush the backs of his knuckles along the lacey designs before him, "You said to me that if I got you something that you fuck with, I can get as much of it for you as I wanted."

Ah, fuck. "I did, I-I did say that."

"So that means...what?"

You felt the smile but aimed it up at the ceiling, "Means I can't say nothing but thank you when you bring it to me."

"Hn. Bet you didn't think your man was gonna know what you like?" Fontaine made a show of shaking his head, as if disappointed.

"Oh stop, it ain't gonna stop you from rubbing it in." You said, waving him away.

"Damn straight."

Fontaine slipped the blunt between your fingers, distracting you long enough for him to reach onto the side table to grab a thin box.

Your eyes widened as you watched him pluck off the top of the box to show glittering, matching stockings.

With that box in his lap, Fontaine looked up at you and wore that his best 'please, baby' face--completed by a kiss to your stomach.

What else could you do? You nod and took pull.

"That's my girl."

Fontaine deftly rolled the first stocking down and when you stepped into it, he gently fitted the fabric up your calf. His wide hand smoothed up from your ankle to your thigh, attaching the small clasp of the basque.

When he leaned in to nip at the fabric stretched over your knee, you realized the gold beading matched his grills. Rubbing his cheek in the same spot, you shivered when you felt his beard tug.

You hit the blunt hard a few more times before leaning over him to flick it into the ashtray. Fontaine inhaled, catching the scent of your perfume and groaning softly.

'This man is out of control.'

"These go fuckin' perfect." His words brought you out of your head, "Pretty, pretty girl."

Fontaine always touched you with absolute focus and this time was no different. Helping your other foot into the stocking and clasp, rubbing and kneading your skin until the praises he muttered melted you down.

"You look so fucking good, baby." his voice was rougher than it had been all night, "Ain't nothing pinching? Anythin' feel loose?"

"It feels good. I really do like it, 'Taine, promise."you said as you went into his lap and looped your arms around his neck, "I want to know what else you want to see me in."

Fontaine ran a hand along your flank, "Maybe...Maybe some heels."

"Mhm. I'd wear them for you." You struck your legs in your best attempt at a pin-up pose and watched Fontaine's eyes trace the line "I want the ones with the little pom-pom. Y'know, classy."

Fontaine bounced you in his lap in protest, " 'Course you would. I wanna see that ass in them-in them pointy shits. What are they called?"

"Pointy shits."

Fontaine smacked his lips and you shrugged a shoulder, reaching for the blunt again. Fontaine grabbed the one he tucked behind his ear in time to share a flame with you.

You watched him watch you, unable to stop the grin from forming as he ran his finger tips over beads and lace.

"So...you're going to stare at me all night?"

That grin slipped and gave way to an open look of hunger. Fontaine's hold turned into a soft grip, pulling you closer to him so he could finally kiss you. Slow, searing, promising--over too soon.

When he pulled back, he pressed his cheek to yours.

"Go in our room and put on the pink one. I'll tear that shit up off you--this one's my favorite."

You jerked back, blinking at him.

Now you knew this man was about to be on, but maybe you could beat him there...

You were up on your feet and hurrying to the bedroom and Fontaine was only a beat behind you.

All my followers better reblog this or else gtfo my blog.

Aretha Franklin covering The Rolling Stones hit “(I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction” live in Amsterdam (1968).