#I’ve been processing this for the past few hours it doesn’t feel real
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I’m seeing Taylor at Wembley!!!! I’m so excited!!! It doesn’t feel real yet!! And I couldn’t have gotten a ticket without @shimmerinbeautiful so thank you so much, you’re the best 💕💗
#I woke up at 4am for this so I feel a little disoriented#I’ve been processing this for the past few hours it doesn’t feel real#thank you Bella I owe you so much#also I know I’m American but please no one be mad at me#I’ll be living in London then#and I just got one ticket
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meddle about
it’s been a long time coming
big big thanks to @iminlovewithpaigebueckers
for helping me out on the dirty part of this
warning: smut, alcohol, top kate
~
living off campus as an iowa student meant that you could always go out to the bars instead of the frat parties on friday nights
tonight, you went out with your roommate and her boyfriend, knowing that you would either go home alone tonight or find someone to take you home. At first, it seemed like it was going to be the former option. The bars were near empty, with only a few horny freshman that weren’t exactly your type. You had your back to the door ordering a drink when the bar suddenly got a lot louder. You ignored the noise, thinking it was just a group of people that migrated here from a frat party. That is, you ignored it until someone came up next to you and handed the bartender the money for your drink before you had time to.
“I’ve got it babes, don’t worry about it.”
You whipped your head around to be met with the sight of quite literally the most gorgeous woman you had ever seen.
Now, you didn’t feel like you were very short, not at 5’9. But having to look up at this girl who was obviously at least 6’0, that did something to you.
“What’s your name, gorgeous? Mine’s Kate, but you might already know that if you’ve ever watched my games.”
That’s why she seemed familiar. She was Kate Martin, a player on your school’s very impressive basketball team.
“Oh, um, my names y/n”
“y/n, that’s a hot name, what would you say if i said that we should head back to my appartement?”
She looped her arm around your waist, nearly melting your resolve, which wasn’t very high to begin with. In doing so, it allowed you to notice the obvious muscle she packed not only in her arms, but her whole body.
“I don’t know, would you make it worth my time?” You blinked up at her innocently, waiting for a response.
“Oh baby, if i’m not worth your time, then you’re going home alone tonight.”
You followed her out to her car.
The car ride is short as you make your way back to her place. It doesn’t take long for Kate’s hand to find its way onto your thigh. Noah Kahan plays quietly on the radio. Your eyes watch the bright lights blaze past through the window as she drives. You almost don’t notice the way her hand creeps up your exposed legs. The short skirt you’d chosen to wear provides her easy access. Electricity courses through your veins as her hand moves higher. You look over at her to find her to be seemingly focused on the road in front of her. In reality, she is paying the road just enough attention to avoid a major accident. Her real focus is on just how wet she could get you before you walked through the door of her apartment. So far it seems like she is doing pretty well. You just brush off her actions as her being a touchy drunk, but her motives became increasingly clear when her long fingers graze the lacy fabric of your panties. Her blank expression is quickly replaced with a knowing smirk as a soft groan escapes your mouth. She doesn’t move her hand. She just lets it rest on your now soaked underwear. You are close enough to her place that she decides to speed up the process. The alcohol in both of your systems is likely to catch up to the both of you within a few hours. Kate has a lot that she wanted to do to you, and with such little time she would clearly have to move pretty fast. It doesn’t take long for her to pull into the parking garage of her building. She quickly puts the car in park before crashing her lips onto yours. It takes no time for you to melt into her as your lips move against hers. She pulls you into her lap, hands gripping your hips. Her tongue finds its way into your mouth causing you to moan into her mouth softly. Kissing her is utterly intoxicating. She doesn’t even take a moment to breathe, and you don’t want her to. Your hands become tangled in her long blonde hair, just trying to get even close to her. She starts to move your hips against her which causes you to basically grind on her. She finally pulls back after what felt like a lifetime, yet somehow it isn’t enough. You still want more of her. She looks up at you with that same knowing smirk. She has you wrapped around her finger, and she knows it. It was one of the most infuriating things, yet somehow you can’t recall a time you’d been more turned on. Her lips connect with the skin on your neck. Soft moans filled the small space of her car as you practically rode her thigh.
“Kate…” you groan as pleasure fills your body.
“Yeah baby?” She coos against the skin on your neck, still ‘helping’ you grind on her. Her lips return to suck on that one spot that makes you melt, waiting for you to tell her what you need.
“Can we go inside now?” your words were meant to come out strong and seductive, but they sound desperate and needy instead. Kate doesn’t mind one bit. She likes seeing you like this.
“Whatever you want, sweet girl,” she mumbles against your neck, placing one final peck on the sensitive skin. She takes a moment to look at you as she pulls your hair back to get a better view of your features. “You know you’re really pretty right?”
Her words make your face hot as a smile forms on your now puffy lips. Her nimble fingers hook themselves in the door handle, pushing it open. You carefully slide off her lap and step on to the concrete. You immediately pull your skirt down to look somewhat presentable. Kate trails behind you, hand resting on the small of your back to lead you through her building. You both stay silent until you enter the empty elevator. As soon as the doors shut, Kate is all over you. She backs you up against the wall. Her hands resting on your waist. Your lips move perfectly against hers. You both are so lost in the moment that you almost missed her floor. She pulls away, grabbing your wrist to lead you into her apartment.
She quickly shuts the door behind her, pressing your back against the cold wood. Her hands rest just under your shirt. Her lips find their way onto yours yet again. She’s not wasting any time as she pulls your shirt over your head. Her hands roam over the newly exposed skin. Her hands linger on the soft lace bra that matches the panties under your skirt. Her lips make their way down your chest, sucking harshly on the skin. Her hands grip your waist as she finds her way onto her knees, still placing wet kisses along your skin. She looks up at you as her hands reach the waistband of her skirt. After receiving an enthusiastic nod, she pulls the black fabric down your legs, leaving you in your matching set. She pulled herself back up, spinning you around in the process. She walked you backwards through her apartment, continuing to make out with you in the process.
Once you make it to her room, she gently pushes you down onto her soft comforter. You tug at the bottom of her top, hoping to get her to pull her own top off. She happily obliges, unbuttoning her shirt and jeans. She sheds the clothes which leaves her in a simple black bralette and underwear. Her hands stroke your thighs gently as she pulls them apart, settling herself between them. She places wet kisses on your thighs causing you to squirm with need. She giggled slightly as she picked up on your desperation.
“You’re so wet, pretty girl,” She smirked up at you as her fingers traced light circles over your core. “You can have whatever you want. All you have to do is ask for it.” You groan as you realize what you were going to have to do for her to fuck you.
“Kate, please…” you started hoping that it would be enough. It of course wasn’t. She wanted you to actually say the words. “Just fuck me please. I need you.” you whine, her smirk growing. Those words were music to her ears. She pulled your panties down in one quick motion. Her fingers rubbed circles over your exposed clit. Your back arches at the contact, soft moans leaving your swollen lips. She replaces her fingers with her tongue which causes your hips to buck into her face as your hands grip her dirty blonde locks. She laps your wet folds as borderline pornographic moans fill the room. She doesn’t slow down when your legs start to shake. She speeds up her tongue and pushes a finger inside your entrance. This quickly pushes you over the edge, but she doesn’t stop. She slips another finger inside of you, speeding up her thrusts as she sucks hard on your clit. Your body spasms as her fingers curl perfectly inside of you. Your head falls back onto the bed while your back arches. Her tongue is replaced by her thumb as she pulls away to look at you.
You look so fucking perfect like this,” She hums as her head rests against your soft thighs. You are in a state of ecstasy that you can’t form words. Beads of sweat roll down your cheeks as your eyes are fixated on her. It didn’t take much more for her to make you cum for the second time. Her fingers continue to thrust inside of you which causes hot tears to run down your cheeks. Pathetic whimpers fill the room. Indescribable waves of pleasure wash over you as her mouth returns to your pussy. The muscles in your torso contract and your hips buck as she continues to fuck you with no mercy. She pulls up to murmur words of praise as you take her fingers.
“Shhh, it’s okay baby. You are doing so good. Just one more, okay? I know you can do it. Be a good girl for me and take it.” She mumbles against your thigh before placing quick kisses on your inner thigh. Your hand goes to cover your mouth to quiet the desperate groans. Kate quickly notices and pulls your hand away. “Don’t do that. I wanna hear you.”
It only takes a few more thrust before you finish all over her fingers. She fucks you through your orgasms, considering making you cum another time. Your spasming body and tears tell her that you’ve taken enough. She brings her fingers to your mouth which you happily take into you mouth, swirling your tongue around her long lean fingers. She places a soft kiss on your forehead and wipes away your tears with her free hand. She slides her fingers out of your mouth and pulls you into her body. She showers you with praise and kisses as her hands softly rub your back, effectively bringing you down from your high. She was definitely worth your time
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Feel The Petals Falling | Read on Ao3
This is my @mcyt-valentines piece, made for the lovely @mellioops! Happy Valentine’s Day, I hope you enjoy <3
— ☾ —
Grian wipes sweat from his brow as he places another trapdoor along the supporting beam that holds his platform. The process has been slow-going, and truthfully, Grian feels a little silly about not having a proper starter base yet, when so many other hermits do, but he likes what he has so far.
Maybe. Grian squints at the beams. He’s gone for an asymmetrical look, with trapdoors adorning the spruce on one side and signs cleverly wrapped around the other, and he can’t tell if he likes it or not.
Grian sighs, wringing his hands. He’s been staring at this for too long; he needs a break.
Trudging up the stairs he’d recently carved into the stony side of the mountain, Grian debates on what to do. Fishing is always an option, but he’d already been at the docks for hours earlier, with no real luck. What he’s really been itching to do, Grian realizes at the top of the stairs, is fly.
He usually refrains from using his wings until the others have elytra, just to make it fair, but he’s not using them for any useful reason, and for once, fishing doesn’t sound particularly appealing, and the wind would feel nice against his damp skin.
Toes against the edge of the platform, Grian tips forward, wings snapping open and catching the air rushing past him, climbing for the clear blue sky above.
Flapping his wings is a stretch Grian’s needed for far too long. He’d spent most of his time between seasons holed up in his cottage on a private world, coming up with plans for this one, and then gone a week here without any flying whatsoever. It’s a little against the rules, but Grian’s sure the hermits will understand.
Magic Mountain is beautiful from above. The leaves of the cherry trees are pink bunches of fluff, and the petals on the ground are vibrant splashes of color against the soft green grass. The bell, stolen by Scar on the first day, sits proudly at the center of a campsite they’d set up, and despite the promise of Doc’s wrath, Grian smiles at the memory.
Among the pink, Grian spots a hint of tan out of the corner of his eye, alone in the foliage. Swooping down for a closer look, Grian realizes his initial guess of a brown sheep is wrong—it’s Scar, in the zookeeper outfit and matching hat he’d acquired for the season.
Grian lands as softly as he can a few blocks behind Scar, tiptoeing closer until he’s just behind him. Peeking his head around Scar’s shoulder, Grian exclaims, “Hi Scar!”
Scar jumps about five blocks, whirling around with his hand pressed to his chest. “Grian! You gave me a heart attack.” Grian grins.
“Whatcha up to?” Grian asks, folding his wings against his back and brushing a stray petal from his jumper. Hanging out with Scar to procrastinate a build has, famously, not gone well in the past, but even Doc hasn’t had enough time in the season yet to set up a tunnel bore; Grian’s sure it’s fine.
Scar sweeps his arm wide around them, a grand gesture. “Thinking! Contemplating! I’m a very thoughtful man, you know.” Scar gives Grian a wink.
“Uh, huh,” Grian teases, one brow lifted, to Scar’s indignant fluff. “Contemplating the trees? I’m not sure the pink goes with your train.”
“Oh, I’m sure it would go just fine! I could work the flowers into the engine somehow,” Scar proclaims. “I’d have to trade out my hat for a flower crown to go with it, though, and I don’t think even I would be willing to pay that price.”
Peering at the flowers at his feet, Grian remarks, “I’ve never tried making flower crowns out of these, I’m not sure if the stems would be long enough.”
“You know how to make flower crowns?” Scar asks, surprised.
Grian scoffs. “Well, yeah, where’d you think I got all of them during my hippie era?”
Scar lifts one shoulder in a shrug. “I kind of just assumed Ren made them, he seems like the type.”
“Nah, he collected them and I made ‘em.” Eager for an excuse to take a longer break from base building, Grian asks, “Hey, you wanna make some now? You don’t have to permanently get rid of the hat, but it could be fun.”
“Oh, I’d love to, but I don’t know how,” Scar responds with a chuckle.
“I’ll teach you! Let’s see if these flowers are crown-able.” Grian plonks down at the base of the closest tree, settling against the trunk and carefully picking a few flowers. Scar follows Grian’s lead, sitting on crossed legs and resting his elbows on his knees, watching as Grian tries to twist the stems together, to no avail.
“Ah, it’s no use. The stems are too short.” Grian releases the blossoms from his hand, watching them fall.
“I have some lilacs on me, want those?” Scar summons a few of the purple flowers from his inventory, holding them out to Grian in a bundle. Scar’s emerald green eyes are at ease if not a bit excited, eager to help a friend. His hands are warm as Grian’s fingers brush against them to accept the offer.
“Wow, that’s super helpful actually, yeah!” Lilacs in hand, Grian begins to braid the stalks with practiced motions, explaining what he’s doing to Scar as he goes.
Once Scar’s got the idea down, Grian hands him the chain he’s been braiding, starting a new one for himself. Scar’s movements are careful, unsure, but he grows quicker as he gains confidence. It’s clear Scar’s worked with plants before, his grip the perfect gentleness as he manipulates the stems.
“And now,” Grian says once he’s got a fair bit of length, “here’s where we can start adding the cherry blossoms.” Picking up a few of the tiny flowers, Grian sticks them in the gaps between the lilacs, and shows it to Scar.
“Aww, they’re so cute!” Scar coos, adding a few of his own to his chain. “They’ll go spectacularly with my train,” he jokes, extending the syllables of “spectacularly” for far longer than necessary. Grian snorts.
They fall into a companionable silence as they work, the repeated actions comfortably tedious. After a while, Scar shifts from his cross-legged position to leaning his shoulder against Grian’s.
“There’s a perfectly good tree right there, you know,” Grian grumps, with no intention of shaking Scar off.
“Sure, but you’re much softer. And warmer. Fleshier,” Scar hums.
Grian makes a face. “Fleshier? Really?”
“Well, I’d be concerned if the tree was fleshy!” Scar defends.
“There’s bark,” Grian remarks, “surely that counts?”
Scar shudders. “I don’t even want to think about that, with how much I like stripped wood.”
“Did you really have to point that out?!” Grian lightly whacks Scar’s leg, dissolving into giggles that Scar’s quick to join.
The sky is brilliant shades of pink and purple, orange kissing the horizon over the setting sun, by the time Scar’s finished his flower crown.
“For you!” he declares, placing the ring of blossoms and lilacs on Grian. It’s a bit too small to fully encircle his head, so Scar adjusts it to rest upon Grian’s crown. “Like a halo,” Scar says, and his voice is as warm as Grian imagines a real halo would be.
The move is surprisingly sweet, and Scar’s proud grin is infectious. Grian smiles as he finishes his flower crown, carefully setting it upon Scar’s tousled brown hair, securing it where it lays over Scar’s brow. “You look very pretty,” he compliments.
“Why, thank you! We’re very on brand. We should make a rule that all Magic Mountaineers must have one,” Scar jokes.
“Hah! That’d take so long to make. But this was fun.” Leaning against Scar like Scar did to him earlier, Grian looks out over the view, where the sunset sparkles over the river and shines against Scar’s train.
Scar melts against him, and as the sky gives way to night, soft torchlight illuminating the grove around them, Grian and Scar stay like that, slumped against each other with flowers in their hair. The exhaustion of a busy day weighs down Grian’s eyelids, and he gives in to the tempting lull of sleep, the soft breathing of Scar beside him indicating he’s done the very same.
(Reblogs do more than likes!)
#this is intended to be platonic but feel free to interpret it any way you’d like#i wanted to go with team rancher but i didn’t think i knew them well enough to do them justice. so desert duo be upon ye#my writing#hermitcraft#grian#goodtimeswithscar#desert duo
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ch. 6 - december 25
masterlist
"no, i'm just watching a movie, making some cookies to pass the time. rin left yesterday... so it's just me," you stand in the kitchen with kiyoko on the other side of a video call.
you can tell that she's sitting on a couch, tanaka's shoulder resting against hers. their beautifully decorated house sits as the background for the warm environment your screen encompasses. it's hard not to feel jealous of the life that she leads, the loving partner, the amazing home. however, you find yourself remembering your homey apartment, best friend who is better than any life partner.
"if we hadn't gone to ryū's family's home today, we would've invited you over, i hope you know that."
you nod, mixing a few toppings into the dough, giving her a smile, "i know! i'm fine with it, it's finally given me some time to bake something and watch something other than an action movie."
it's rather obvious that your laugh that follows is forced, hoping that you saying it would make it real. and it’s rather easy for kiyoko to recognize just how intertwined you are with rintarō, even if it's not so obvious to you.
"you know, we should go on a double date sometime. since suna is technically your husband," she runs her hand through her hair, lowering her phone some.
you hold back a smile at the sound of 'husband', your eyes focused on the ball of cookie dough in your hand. heat rises to your cheeks as grab some saran wrap to store it in the fridge for a couple hours. "well, just technically, so it'd basically just be a hangout. since you know, i don't know if he'd necessarily be up for date- or if i would even-"
a knock at your apartment door abruptly stops your rambling. your thought process quickly ends and you quickly wipe your hands down on a hand towel. "sorry, i gotta grab this, talk to you later?"
kiyoko gives you a quick nod and an 'absolutely'. you take in a deep breath and make your way to be front door, your clothes old and covered in ingredients. when you open the door, you don't initially see anyone. for a second, you contemplate if it was someone simply knocking and running; however, a large brown bag sits at your feet.
it resembles that of a restaurant's bag, a little note written on it saying 'from rin'. you grab it by the handle and shut the door, smelling your favorite food's aroma. all of your worry melts away as you open it to find a small note and an array of a nearby restaurant's food. you simply can't hold back your smile now as you open the little note.
'y/n, i know we couldn't be together today, and everyone else is busy, so here's something that may cheer you up! if not, i'll make it up to you by watching some romcom when i get back. from, rin.'
below it is something else written in parenthesis, likely from the driver's perspective, '(you have a lovely boyfriend)'. you take in a deep breath and remember the past six months with him, remember the breakfasts he’s made, the memories you’ve made every day. he’s truly the only guy for you and he doesn’t even know it.
tears build up, from a little mix of joy and sadness. joy that you have the greatest man in your life. the man who will pick you up when your hours from home. the man that will make you breakfast when you just don’t feel like it. the very same man who will send you something on christmas just so that you don’t feel lonely.
however, he also happens to be the same man that doesn’t feel the same way as you. that can look so lovingly into your eyes and only feel an ever budding friendship. that can go years without ever saying a word about how the two of them could be more than what they were. it’s a double edged sword and your unsure of where the blade will land.
a/n: i’ve been wanting to write an angsty chapter and i keep putting it off ://
#haikyuu#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu fic#the longest contract#suna rintaro x reader#suna rintarō#suna rintaro#suna x reader#haikyuu suna#suna rintaro haikyuu#haikyu x reader#x fem!reader
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The Preacher's Wife Series: Escape (Part I)
TW: Domestic spousal abuse: emotional, mental, physical, and sexual
Hank’s in love.
Again.
It’s too soon, the wounds from the previous relationship still fresh, still stinging. But he thinks back to feeling Maggie pressed to his side, her hand in his, her head resting against his shoulder. It was one of the only times that he actually followed the speed limit back to her rental, trying to draw out the time. He can’t get it out of my mind just how perfect everything had been. He certainly doesn’t believe in romantic nonsense like soulmates but the feeling of watching Maggie walk into the cabin by herself was like watching a piece of himself go with her.
Maybe he is starting to believe in soulmates.
Either way, the problem remains of her husband and the process of getting her and the two children out of that mansion in La Jolla. He can’t contact Maggie directly so he approaches the next best thing, Maggie’s sister, Stitches. She’s been the medic for a couple years now and hasn’t mentioned anything specific about Maggie and her marriage. She’s hinted at being concerned for Maggie, always excited for Maggie’s visits to Santo Padre. But never has she brought up to the club a fear for her sister’s safety.
Stitches is organizing her medical supplies in the treatment room in the clubhouse when Hank finally tracks her down. He’s only been back from Big Bear Lake for two hours and he can’t shake the conversation he had just earlier today in the truck with Maggie. He raps lightly on the open door.
“Stitch, you got a minute?”
“Yeah, absolutely.” She stands up and immediately starts scanning him, looking for any injuries.
“I’m fine,” he waves her off. “I, uh, I actually wanted to talk to you about your sister, Maggie.”
Concern immediately clouds her face. “Maggie? What’s going on with Maggie?”
“I ran into her, up at Big Bear Lake.”
Stitches’ concern dissipates immediately and she breaks into a big smile. “Oh yeah, she was heading up there for a conference.”
Hank smirked. “Conference.”
“Ah,” Stitches leans against the exam table. “So she told you about her other ‘job.’”
“She did. My mom likes reading her books.”
Stitches’ grin gets wider. “I’m sure the next time she’s visiting, we can stop by and see your mom if you want. It’ll do Maggie good, finding people who enjoy her books. She doesn’t get to have that satisfaction too much.”
Hank smiles at that but then gets to the real reason for his visit. “Has Maggie ever said anything about how her husband treats her?”
All positivity drains from her face. “I know he’s an asshole. Emotionally manipulative and a bully. I’ve been stashing money and family heirlooms for her in preparation for her to leave but she keeps telling me the timing isn’t right yet. Her publisher is also holding on to her royalties as well. Why?”
“She just said a few things that concerned me. Wanted to get a clearer picture from you.”
Stitches’ mouth is a firm, tense line. “What things?”
The words are so bitter on his tongue when he says them. “I think he’s hitting her.”
“That son of a bitch.”
She starts to move past him but he puts out a hand and catches her shoulder. The explosion is expected and he is prepared for it thankfully. “Now hold on. You know if that’s true, we do have to wait on her.”
“Dammit, I know.” She emits a frustrated noise and kicks the small trash can. “Shit. I had no idea he was hitting her or that it was even a possibility. He’s so focused on goddam appearances I didn’t think he would do that.”
“It seemed like she let it slip when we were talking. She said it was never anything to go see about at a hospital or ER. I don’t think anyone knows.”
“Course not. Simon Peters needs to keep his reputation clean or he could lose that money machine of a church. Can’t have a wife sporting bruises and casts…” Stitches pauses in her rant, her eyes going wide. “Oh my God. Her foot.”
“She mentioned breaking it but didn’t say how.”
Stitches returns to pacing the small room, her face thunderous. “I knew it. I knew Simon had something to do with her broken foot. The bones on the top of her foot were just snapped. She had to have metal pins and plates in there to fix it. She said her foot got caught under a box and she lost balance and fell backwards. It sounded fishy to me but she assured me that’s all it was.”
Hank feels that sick feeling settling in his stomach. “What did it look like to you?”
“It looked like someone stood on her foot and pushed her backwards, that’s what the breaks looked like.” Stitches lets out another sound of anger. “Six years! Six years, she’s been stuck in that house with that asshole! And I didn’t…” her eyes flood with tears and she covers her face with her hands. “I didn’t know, Hank. God, I didn’t know.”
“What the hell is going on in here?” Bishop appears in the doorway.
Tears are still streaming down her face and gives both Hank and Bishop the most helpless look. “My sister needs help.”
Bishop turns to Hank. “What kind of help?”
Taza appears at Bishop’s shoulder, peering into the room. “What’s going on?”
“Stitches’ sister needs help,” Bishop says.
Hank fills in the rest of the information. “Abusive husband.”
Bishop nods. “He armed? Security guards? What are we talking?”
“He’s the pastor of a megachurch,” Hank answers. “Lives in a mansion in La Jolla.”
“The kids,” Stitches says. “We need to get the two kids too.”
“Alright,” Taza puts his arm around Stitches’ shoulders. “We will. You talk to her, find out when would be a good time to get her and the kids out.”
“Safely,” Hank adds.
“Safely,” Bishop repeats. “In the meantime, if we have something coming up that needs attention, I’ll make sure at least three guys stay behind to help. You pick them. Okay?”
Stitches wipes her eyes with her sleeve. “Okay. But don’t you have to bring this to the table or take a vote in Templo or something?”
Bishop glances at Hank and Taza, who give him minute nods, and he shakes his head. “No vote needed this time. Sometimes, we’re just all in agreement.”
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Seven for Shelter, Part 1
A World on Fire fanfiction
December 22nd marks the 82nd anniversary of what’s known as the Christmas Blitz, the beginning of two consecutive nights when the city of Manchester and its surrounding area was bombed during World War Two.
I wanted to do something to acknowledge this event for the World on Fire watchers as we wait for season two’s take on Manchester’s experiences at war. So here’s part of a slightly longer fic I’ve been researching for the past few months. I’ll try to upload more soon.
Christmas wouldn’t be Christmas without any presents…
From the recesses of her memory, Lois recalls a favorite book from her childhood that began with four girls bemoaning the war shortages at Christmastime, and now here she was, living what once seemed like a story from generations back and an ocean away. As a girl, her family always pulled something together for her and Tom, even if it was an altered hand-me-down dress or jumper, or a trip to the pictures. Now long past the age of wonder and enchantment, she feels each December stretching out before her like a doorway to a darkened stairwell, drawing her down and down to the cold mundane.
This time last year, she was off to see the world, excited for her life apart from her father and Tom—her real life—to begin. Of course, even then she had already tipped over the precipice that would land her back in Manchester for much longer than expected.
This time two years ago, she was slipping from a day shift at the factory to an evening political meeting to a night practice with the band, blissfully unaware of her options, and staying awake until all hours of the night by choice, completely unaware of the luxury of rest in her own bed.
Now she has two beds: her own in a room too large for her and the baby—and a bench in the Anderson shelter behind home. She hardly sleeps comfortably in either, no matter how much she tries to make it feel like a bedroom. Every time, the baby shivers in her siren suit and wails at the air raid sirens until she gives way to exhaustion and finally sleeps.
Connie must read the fatigue pooling under her eyes. “Have you slept lately?”
It’s the first thing she mentions when she visits for tea—or what passes for tea when watered down to stretch longer. Lois has been saving up for this weekly chat.
Weekly, where once they had torn through town nightly.
Kettle in hand, Lois scoffs and begins to pour. “It’s good to see you, too, Connie.”
“I’m sorry. I meant—thank you, that’s enough—can I help with the baby? With anything?”
“I’ve got it.” Lois sets the kettle back on the cooker and takes a seat across from Connie. “Right now, the baby’s easy to amuse. Watch this.” She leans over to wiggle her fingers in front of the baby’s face, eliciting a delighted coo.
“She’s getting so big…” Connie says.
“And soft as a parkin,” croons Lois.
Their conversation wanders from the baby to work, how the factory wouldn’t hire an unwed new mother (engaged or not), and how Connie and the band were getting on. As they wash the teacups, they trade jokes about the latest confectionary disaster now that even margarine is rationed. Lois recounts a botched attempt at an eggless cake. Connie suggests beetroot sandwich.
Lois grimaces in mock horror. “Only if the rest of the garden doesn’t grow.”
“Hey,” Connie playfully nudges Lois, “Don’t knock it ’til you’ve tried it!”
“Try what?” Douglas asks, entering the kitchen.
“A nice and crunchy beetroot sandwich!”
As Connie explains her cooking process, Lois glances over at her father, absentmindedly noticing he’s wearing his nice jumper. “Going somewhere, Dad?” Lois asks, once Connie’s finished.
He shoves his hands in his pockets. “What? Go somewhere? No, I was just…” he shrugs, “Thinking of making a beetroot sandwich like Connie said.”
Lois frowns. “We don’t have any beetroot.”
Douglas hesitates, then shrugs again. “Then I guess I’ll have whatever’s in the pantry.”
“Okay then. We’re off.”
He’s still fiddling around in the pantry as Lois and Connie bundle the baby into the parm and make their way out the front door. They quickly fall back into conversation. Connie talks about how Eddie has gone again, this time to perform in London with a new band, how she’s gotten used to being in a quiet flat once more until the sirens send her to the nearest shelter.
And it’s nice to have this, someone other than Dad to talk to about mundane and momentous things. As they amble down the street and round the corner, the conversation turns to Vernon.
“Have you set a date for the wedding?”
Lois sighs. “Not yet. He doesn’t have enough leave to get here.”
Connie hums. “Then you should go to him.”
“What? And ask the squadron chaplain to marry us on the runway?”
Connie tilts her head. “Why not? Beats reading the banns around here.”
“I haven’t even met his family yet.”
“But you have written, haven’t you?”
“Oh, yes. ‘Hello Mr. and Mrs. Hunter. We’ve never met before, but I’m marrying your son. I’m a factory-worker-slash-singer from Manchester. Also, I have a baby...no, not with him.’”
Connie grins. “Now you’re sounding more like yourself. Have you heard back?”
Lois drops her gaze and shakes her head.
“That’ll be from the roads, I expect, or another raid on the postal service.” Connie keeps her voice light. She bumps her hip against Lois’s. “You know, I got a letter from my cousin Betty the other day. It was dated October 6th. Apparently, it had gotten stuck in a bin at a service center for weeks. Must have been stepped on, too. There was a footprint on the corner...”
It is an obvious lie, though kindly meant. Lois doesn’t say anything, just listens to the squeaking of the pram wheels and the clatter of their feet.
“Promise me you’ll try again.”
Crick...crick...crick...
“Lois?” Connie grabs the handle of the pram, forcing it to stop. “Look at me. You’re marrying his family, too...no matter what happens. And if they’re anything like him, they’re decent people, too. Not every family’s like Har—”
“This isn’t about that!” Lois snaps. “I just...” she swallows down the lump in her throat, “I can’t let myself think like that. Not again.”
Connie’s free hand covers Lois’s, warm against the December cold. “All I’m saying is try again.”
Lois has known Connie since they were girls. She knows Connie won’t let up until she admits defeat. She nods.
Connie lets go of the pram.
They walk along in silence like that for a few minutes until Lois can’t stand it. “Did you see we get an extra ration of sugar for Christmas?”
“I already used mine.”
“What?”
“My neighbor has four children. The youngest is not yet ten. I told her that since I’ll be with my sister this Christmas, she could have my ration.”
“That was kind of you…but rations are done for each person, not each adult.”
Connie shrugs. “I felt bad being on my own with her like that. These days, all the kids can get for Christmas is an orange, if they’re lucky.” She glances down at the baby. “Who knows? Maybe I’ll give next year’s Christmas ration to you for your baby.”
“Next year?” Lois feels her stomach drop.
All her life, she’s tried so hard not to think of the future, not in any definite terms, anyway. Every day was just to get through the week. Then the baby came, and she still couldn’t see beyond the next month. If things were quiet, she could make herself picture a dress to make for the baby in spring. If the baby didn’t grow bigger and hungrier every day, she’d barely recognize the passage of time at all. Each day feels like a long copy of the previous one...until the Christmas season.
Now she’s latched onto the meager festivities like a little girl again, planning a dinner with the precision of a palace chef: swap almond paste for real almonds, make do with vegetables instead of turkey, and whip up an ersatz cream for a cake. The sugar she’d save for the cake and a surprise half-spoonful in her dad’s tea.
But that’s with this year’s rations. What will be left next year?
Would there be a next year?
The memory closes in on her like water. In summer, back before the baby, back when Vernon was just another blue uniform in a crowd, she’d gone to Plymouth with the band, but before they could perform, an air raid siren drove them underground. When the all-clear was given, they got back on the bus and went on as usual, but not to their intended venue. That had been hit during the raid. As their bus rounded the corner to the hotel, she had glimpsed the cratered theater smoking like a collapsed pudding.
They had been merely three blocks away at the time of the raid.
Connie places a hand on her shoulder.
She slowly returns to the surface. “What?”
“I said, do you need to sit down somewhere? Is it the baby?”
Irritation fills her voice. “No, it’s not the baby. Everyone asks that, but it’s not the baby. I’ve worked in the factory since I was eighteen, but surely the baby’s more exhausting than that!”
As if on cue, the baby begins to fuss.
Lois sighs. “I’m sorry. We have to turn back.”
Then the baby begins to smell.
And so they haul the pram around and set off home at a brisk pace. By the time they arrive back home, Lois wants nothing more than to clean the baby, set her down for a nap, then rest on the sofa until her thoughts settle. The last thing she expects is to see a familiar black auto pulled up by the front door.
“What’s she doing here?” Connie asks, as dumbfounded as Lois.
For the past four months, Robina Chase had not once called on the Bennets, not even to see the baby. Probably expects the money took care of that, Lois thinks bitterly. The money is burning a hole in her sock drawer, where it had been since late summer. Each time she reached for it, she reminded herself what it meant to spend the Chase charity and invariably found another way to make do. But one day, she knows, the new mother allowances will run out.
Then a gush of wind sends her shuddering in her coat and calf-length dress, and Lois has no choice but to push the buggy over the threshold and bundle inside. The clatter of wheels on the floor draws her father’s attention.
“Lois?” She can hear his voice from the kitchen.
She glances at Connie with what she hopes is a look of exasperation before peeking into the kitchen. “Yes, Dad?”
Douglas is sat at the table, Robina in the chair next to him. Lois can’t help but read a strain in her father’s smile as he says, “Look who’s come to visit!”
Robina is not the only visitor, it turns out. She has brought Jan and Grygorsz with her. Lois’s mood can’t help but lighten a little at the sight of the brothers. Jan has grown since she last saw him, but his eyes are big and shiny as ever. Grygorsz, she doesn’t know as well—in fact, they have exchanged maybe ten words since they met—but he’s never given her any reason to dislike him. Dad seems to get on just fine with him in the few times he has visited.
With Robina, on the other hand…Lois doesn’t know what to think. One minute, the two are conspiring behind her back to treat her as a charity case, the next, they can’t stand each other. Today’s visit looks like a reluctant olive branch, though. Or the boys are a shield.
“I was just congratulating your father on your engagement,” Robina says.
“Were you?” Lois scans her father’s face. Dad glances down at the table. She makes her voice softer. “Thank you.”
Lois glances at the boys. Jan is beaming in his seat, and Grygorsz has a shy smile.
Robina tilts her chin up with a gleam in her eye. “It is so good to know you have found a suitable man.”
The boys are a shield.
Lois makes sure to direct her gaze to Dad as she says, “Yes. He is a good man. What else did Dad tell you?”
The baby begins to whine behind her. Lois has never been more grateful for the sound.
“Lois!” Connie hisses.
Robina seems to notice Connie for the first time. She nods politely.
Connie nods, eying Robina warily. The baby is so loud, Lois can hardly hear Connie’s polite greeting over the wails.
“Well, the baby needs us,.” Lois says, stepping backward and lightly knocking her elbow against Connie’s, “Right, Connie?” And with that, they whisk the baby up the stairs to the quiet of the bedroom.
Lois is able to contain her anger and indignation for roughly five minutes while changing the baby, then she can’t any longer. “I can’t believe him. Springing her on me like that. And telling her everything!”
“Maybe she surprised him?” Connie suggests.
“No, no. Did you see the table? He planned this and didn’t tell me.”
“Would you have agreed if he asked?”
Lois stares at Connie.
“All year, I’ve heard you talk about how much you can’t stand her, how he is about Harry. But you have a child, Lois, and you are not the only family she has.”
“What? W-whose side are you on?” Lois sputters.
Connie raises her eyebrows. “Do you really have to ask?”
“I just…I want to be done with her! With that family. But every time I think I’ve made a clean break, Dad invites her back in.”
Connie hums thoughtfully and says nothing.
“I’m sorry,” she says. “I’ve just become so angry lately. Every day, there’s something new to set me off.” She swallows and looks up helplessly. “I know it’s no excuse.”
Connie shrugs and sits beside her on the bed. “You’ve been angry since the day I met you, Lois.” She smiles to take the sting out of her words. “We all have our reasons.”
Lois remembers. They’d met soon after her mother died, when Lois was all raw and resentful of every spoiled and complacent child in school who never thought to acknowledge how lucky they were to not have a gaping hole in their chest the shape of an empty table seat. But not Connie. A year older, graceful, and with eyes that could see right through everyone, Connie was everything Lois admired. They got on right away.
She rolls her hand over, palm up. Connie places her hand over hers. “Thank you for understanding,” she whispers.
Connie squeezes her hand. “Anyway, it’s not me you should be apologizing to you.”
“You’re right.” Lois nods and smooths her skirt. Beside them, the baby kicks her little legs in the air, flinging the hem of her dress over her dimpled knees and tummy. “Come on, little one. Let’s go see your Grandfather.” She stands and leans over the baby, trying to calm the child enough to scoop her in her arms.
And then she hears it.
The low wail of an air raid siren.
All thoughts disappear from her mind.
A second siren starts up, this one closer. Then a third, just down the street.
Oh.
The baby’s mouth drops open as a distraught shriek emerges, joining the chorus.
It’s here, she thinks, gazing down at her daughter, it’s happening here.
Then her body moves without her. She snatches up the wriggling baby and holds her tight to her chest. She turns to Connie. “There’s a shelter in the back. I need you to carry that bag in the corner.”
In a flash, Connie is off the bed and across the room. It’s an emergency bag: two itchy blankets, the baby’s siren suit and hers, a tiny unused gas mask, a change of clothes, a first aid kit, and whatever documents she couldn’t fit in her purse.
She can hear raised voices below. The chairs in the kitchen scrape against the floor. She thinks Douglas calls out her name.
Connie hefts the bag with both hands, and the two wordlessly rush down the stairs.
Lois lifts the baby, Connie grabs the bag, and they wordlessly rush down the stairs. Douglas is waiting for them at the bottom, his suitcase already in his hand. He’s kept it in the den.
“Do you have everything?” He asks, voice raised over the pulsing wails of the sirens and the baby.
“Yes,” she says.
All the way down and through the kitchen, Lois has a nagging feeling at the back of her head that she’s forgotten something. She glances around wildly–shoes, bags, Connie’s purse, her purse, coats…
Someone opens the back door, and everyone files out to the Anderson shelter. The moon overhead lights the path.
Still, there’s something missing…
As she steps out of the house and into the freezing night air, Lois remembers what it is. The money in the sock drawer. But there is no time to turn back. The door to the Anderson shelter is low to the ground, and Douglas is behind her.
She stoops low to step through the entryway, then the darkness swallows her.
. . .
Part 2
#world on fire#world on fire pbs#world on fire bbc#lois bennet#help my waking hours are consumed by this two day historical event and how fictional characters in a tv show would react to it!#what started out as a ficlet has become....whatever you'd call this#...and there's still more to come#my fic
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Art Update
Hi, guys! I haven’t blogged about my art journey all month, so I wanted to give you guys an update. I feel like I’ve sort of been in a funk, but, at the same time, I’ve gotten better? Anyway. Here are some highlights from the past month. (Confession: I’m only showing you the ones I’m happy with. I’ve actually made a lot of art that was rubbish too. XD Oh well. All part of the process, right?)
Above is a watercolor landscape that I did along with an instruction video series. I’m happy with the puffy cloud in the center. I also like the colors of the grass in the foreground and the mountains in the distance. In the video, the instructor said they were supposed to be a line of trees, but mine are mountains because I said so. I think mountains look better at the end of a vast grassland.
I also started doing acrylic. I think I’m kind of getting the hang of watercolor, but acrylic makes more sense in my head with putting the darker colors down first and adding the lights and highlights on top of that, so I’m giving it a try.
I have a video series for acrylic painting too, so in one of the lectures we painted an egg in black and white. For my first acrylic painting and not knowing what the heck I was doing, I think this turned out really well. I really like the shadows.
I’ve also been doing a lot of drawing. Below are two pumpkins. They make me happy. The real ones are sitting on our dinning room table now looking all festive for the autumn season.
So, the below was actually a picture in a book I got from the library on drawing techniques. It’s three different ceramic kitchen jars and a coffee mug. It was featured in the lesson on hatching and crosshatching. I thought it looked cool, so I tried drawing it. It turned out really well! The image in the book is probably copyrighted, so I can’t show you a reference photo. You’ll just have to take my word for it that I did a good job with my reproduction.
It’s funny. It doesn’t look like I drew it. I feel like it’s too early for me to have a distinctive “style”, but when I look at the below, it’s obvious that this image didn’t come out of my head. So I must have some sort of basic, cohesive elements that characterize my work. I have no clue what those could possibly be. XD
So, I’ve heard about this thing called “gesture drawing”, but I’ve never learned how one goes about doing it. ^.^; Below is a quick “gesture drawing” I did of my daughter Eiko as she was lying out in the yard. (Yes, she does lie with her leg sticking out in back like that. She also only eats lying down. She’s a strange, beautiful creature, and I love her.)
I tried to do one of my son Noiz too, but he didn’t stay still long enough for me to complete anything. XD
Lastly, here is the final project I did for my drawing class that just wrapped up. It’s my ocarina (dark blue), a tea mug (a slightly darker shade of blue), and a blue and white porcelain bowl containing three clementines. The colors are really pretty together. It doesn’t come across in my greyscale drawing, but know that I thought about the colors when making the composition.
The drawing turned out pretty okay. It’s a lot bigger than I usually work, so the size was a challenge. Looking at it after the fact, there are a lot of little things that I would finesse some more, but I kind of just worked on it for a few hours, got tired, and said, “Good enough. I’m going to bed now”.
There are things that I’m really happy with about this too. The mouthpiece of the ocarina looks really good in person. I also like the way the top of the tea mug turned out as well as the handle. The reflection of the bowl of clementines in the mug also looks pretty good. I think the right-most clementine turned out well. I had a little trouble with shading. It’s so hard for me to shade light, but I think the right-most clementine turned out well.
At the moment, I’m actually taking a portrait painting class. XD I’m super new to acrylic AND portraits, so I’m way out of my depth, but the instructor is very nice and supportive. (She’s the same one who did my drawing class.) All of the other students are way more advanced than I am, but that’s okay. We’ve only had one class, and I’ve already learned a lot. Maybe I’ll share my portrait with you guys at the end of the class. If it’s not too embarrassing. XD
Thanks for reading! <3
#Drawing#Graphite#Watercolor#Watercolor Painting#Watercolor Art#Acrylic#Acrylic Painting#Acrylic Art#Mikau's Art#Still Life#Landscape#Gesture Drawing
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OmegaVerse - Contact Day
POV Saul
Things are getting better and better between Andreas and me. We are far from getting back to our past relationship and unfortunately I don't think we ever will. Too much has happened, too many betrayals on both sides to make it work. Well, to be honest, finally the betrayals are only on my side since it was under Rosalind's control. But in any case, I'm still glad to see that things are getting better.
I'm also glad to be able to train with him again. It's nice to teach students but unfortunately most of them are not a real challenge for me and I rarely fight against them. But with Andreas, I feel like I have to push myself to win and I missed that. Well, it took several sessions before I was no longer afraid of killing him with each blow, now it's better even if I had some scares.
What I didn't miss was his overprotection. He always has been overprotective but I feel like it's much worse since he found out I'm an omega. I hate knowing that he thinks I'm weak or whatever. I haven't changed, I'm still the same man I was before the revelation and yet he's changed his view of me. Just because I need regular contact with an alpha, doesn't mean I need to be watched 24 hours a day by a babysitter, but obviously he didn't get the memo. The next time he tells me to put on a sweater, I'm stabbing him, and this time for real.
But today isn't a training day for us, it's "contact day" as I've started calling it in my head. And that's why we're both sitting on his couch, with a safe distance between us. Before Aster Dell, I would have been lying with my head in his lap or we would have had more contact than his hand on my wrist. But I'm not going to complain, he doesn't have to do that. He could have very well left me to fend for myself with the medication or even prevented me from getting it and not offered any alternatives. So even though my omega is dying for more, I repress my needs and keep my distance.
On the other hand, unlike the first few times, now we can talk a little more easily and about something other than classes. Despite this, I am surprised when Andreas asks me:
"Do you think Sky will eventually forgive me?"
I think for a few seconds before answering him:
"He only got my side of the story on Aster Dell and a wrong side at that. I think when you're able to tell him the truth, things will settle down. It won't be right away, he'll need time to digest and process everything in his head but it will come gradually. I'm sorry to tell you, but right now he thinks you're a psychopath who let a whole village be decimated and that on top of that, you abandoned him and replaced him with Beatrix. You have to admit that this is not an ideal start to a relationship. And despite that, things have already started to improve, right? You spent the day with him on his birthday and he didn't seem unhappy."
I don't ask what they did that day because I'd rather not know. Knowing Andreas, chances are it was illegal. Besides, if I knew what they had done, it would immediately become more concrete and I'm not ready for that yet. I raised Sky for 16 years and I have a hard time sharing him, even if it is with his father.
Luckily for me, Andreas isn't a mind fairy, so he continues as if nothing happened:
"Yeah sure but he's confused about my behavior but I can't blame him. I can't be with him as I am with Beatrix. Already, Rosalind wasn't too happy about our little car escapade the other day, I can't do anything more without arousing his suspicions."
I pat the hand that's resting on my wrist:
"Sky's a smart boy, he'll figure it out when he has more cards in his hand. And anyway, we're going to have to start seriously thinking about a plan before some fairies take matters into their own hands. No matter what our plan is, we'll need the support of some of the students and your son is one of them. You can tell him everything then. And then look, he's started to forgive me even though I'm guilty of the crimes he accuses me of, so there's no reason why it can't go well with you."
"You're right Saul."
I have a big doubt about whether or not he actually believes me. A big part of me thinks he just wants to cut the conversation short. As if to prove it to me, he removes his hand from my wrist. I feel the loss almost immediately but I don't show it.
He stands up and tells me:
"Come on, it's bedtime for both of us."
Then he grabs one of his sweatshirts lying on a chair:
"Here, put this on before you go out into the halls."
He's lucky Rosalind doesn't want me to have a dagger on me...
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3:40am 5/24/23
I NEED TO
Eventually talk about it with him.
But first I need to hash it all out with myself first. Things are hard with jj right now, this 8 yr old attitude, so many days I think ‘if I never saw another kid again, it’d be too soon.’ But I need to work out within myself if that’s truly how I feel or not.
I feel sadness and longing and desire and more longing…for a baby, duh. And I make notes to journal ab it, and I later read the note and say to myself “I was just in my feelings, i don’t want a baby or another kid rn, I don’t need to analyze this”
But okay even if that is so, these are my feelings that I am in, yes? Okay so…I need to be deep and real and true w myself. This entire icky topic that I don’t want to name needs to be fully explored. I’m honestly afraid of doing that though because I am afraid of developing the intense-overwhelming feelings I had in 2020-21 about this.. that was so scary. Because it felt like something that would be a bottomless pit of sorrow. It took me by the throat. I thought about kms even…..like when I first found out, the impulse was heavy. Z never brings it up. I’m partly afraid he would be like “you are having such a hard time raising JJ, why are you even considering ALL THAT to have another kid that you will struggle with?” And to be honest. I don’t know. I guess that’s the other thing. I’m afraid of getting myself all invested during the process of analyzing my mind, only to come to the conclusion in the end that I won’t be a good mom a second time and then I’m have to come back around to ‘giving up’. Yay. Hooray. I don’t want to go through all of that. Do you? I’m afraid he’s afraid to talk to me about it because of how emotional I tend to get. I’m afraid he doesn’t talk about it because he doesn’t want to do it. You know I haven’t asked him and have been justifying it by telling myself that the dream I had was his true feelings. (The dream was him facing me with a table between us and he pounds one side of a fist down on the table like BANG and he’s almost yelling, maybe he is. And he says “YOU ALREADY KNOW HOW I FEEL ABOUT IT. I SAID WHEN WE FIRST GOT TOGETHER THAT I DIDNT WANT KIDS.” And it was so LOUD, like the memory of the dream was. It was so vivid. So I told myself that was a ‘vision’ and that’s my answer and if I go bugging him irl, that’s ultimately what the true answer is for him. I’m just so scared. I’ve been having a bpd breakdown like no other tho lately so we should def not talk ab it rn.
5/24/23
I went to sleep for a couple hours and then took julian to school, came back to bed and finally opened Reddit and read more from the IVF boards.
I feel like that’s so out of reach for me. Mostly because of how stressful everything is anyway. But Jesus FUCK 😡😡😡
Yeah I’m wanting to back and read about IVF but I’m also scared of the sadness. I suppose I better get back on my meds. This is not good rn.
~
I’m reading Reddit before work lol. I put a klonopin in my mouth bc I am just that same live wire that I was the past few days. Gosh. I want to take my Effexor but not at work. Maybe when I get off work. Yeah.
Anyway I’m on r/endometriosis and I’m like….I’m gonna cry dude I just need to know what is wrong with me. What is wrong with my body? I just need to know why. Why did this happen to me when I finally had a chance of having a baby with a good partner who loves me and my 8 yr old. And I don’t know what exactly I did, but I feel like it’s my fault somehow and I just need to know which causation I need to be blaming lol. Which version of me is responsible for my infertility and how? Is that a good reason to find out? Just to know? When I’m already hating on myself.. I don’t know. But I do like have a drive to know what exactly is causing this so that I can look at possible treatments and probable solutions. Or not. It could help me make a final decision the other way, too. I mean, it could. You never know what you’re gonna hear next. Especially in dark hallways like this. When you’re already in uncharted (…..lol) territory and feel like your are grabbing around for a life vest while you are also freaking blind. Like…come the fuck on 🤣 “be so fr rn” hah
I’m bout to fuckin cry..
#infertility#laproscopy#endometriosis#fallopiantubeblockage#blocked fallopian tubes#unexplained#but why#ivf treatment#fertility#bpd vent#eedee#college#parenting#communication
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When was the last time you wore a full face of makeup?
I don’t remember. It’s been a long time.
Do you own an iPad?
No.
Who was the last non-relative woman you spoke to in person?
Uhm. Probably our administrative assistant at work.
What’s the most hours you’ve worked in a week?
I don’t know. Probably like 40-45.
Do you believe in karma?
I do not. I wish I did or that it was real.
What temperature is your thermostat currently set to?
Somewhere between 68-70.
What’s a topic you’ve drastically changed your opinion on?
Abortion. I used to be pro-life when I was a kid. That has changed.
Are you a kind, thoughtful person?
I think so for the most part.
Do you know anyone who has a PhD?
Well, my doctor. One of our BCBAs are in the process of getting his.
Who were you dating in July 2010? Or were you single?
Jacob.
How do you feel when you’re the center of attention?
Depends what the circumstances are. But I generally prefer not to be.
Would you rather be a nurse or a mechanical engineer?
Nurse I guess.
Do you like Starbucks chai lattes, or do you think they’re too sweet?
I’ve never had them, but I’m not really a fan of chai lattes in general.
Are you and your SO facebook official?
Yeah. Have been for many, many years.
Do you know how to set a formal table setting for a 3+ course dinner?
No. I’ve never needed to know.
Are you in a good mood today?
Not really.
Do you know anyone who works as a lawyer?
A former professor.
Which would bother you more: being told you’re not likable or being told you’re not sensible?
Probably being told that I’m not likeable, which is ridiculous because I generally don’t really care if people like me or not. It would just make certain things in life a bit easier if people liked me I guess.
Do you have a difficult time relating to other’s emotions?
I don’t think so. I think that is a skill that I definitely have.
How many bedrooms does your house have?
Technically, four. But we turned the second living room or whatever into a fifth “bedroom”. It doesn’t have a closet though.
What was the last electronic item you bought?
My new computer.
Have you ever experienced sleep paralysis?
No.
When you were 15, what did you want to grow up to be?
I think I was on my FBI agent or bounty hunter kick.
Did you ever achieve that?
Lol, no. Now I have the more realistic dream of being a marriage and family therapist and I am working towards that goal.
Have you ever had a dream in which you died?
Many.
Have you bought a bag of potato chips in the past week?
Not that I can remember.
Does the thought of having wrinkles when you’re older upset you?
Not really.
How often do you buy a new phone?
Every few years I guess.
Would you rather live in an apartment in the city, or a cabin in the woods?
Cabin in the woods. I don’t think I would like living in an apartment.
Do you use Snapchat?
Very rarely.
Have you ever driven or ridden on a motorcycle?
I rode the back of my uncle’s once or twice when I was little.
Do you know anyone who’s struggling with addiction?
My mom has a borderline addiction to alcohol.
Are any other members of your household home right now?
Yeah. Everyone except my parents because they’re staying at my brother’s house while he is gone.
What was your first job? And how long did you work there?
McDonald’s. Almost a year at least.
What was your favorite school subject when you were in middle school?
English and choir.
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Sleepovers At The Baji Household feat. A Fed-Up Chifuyu
Summary: Chifuyu just wants to sleep, man, but Baji wants to be a jealous crackhead at 2 AM.
Pairing: Sano Manjiro | Mikey x Male Reader
Note(s): I had a little free time and wrote this. So, please enjoy! ALSO, to the anon that sent me a request a few days ago, I saw it and have it filed on my to-do list!!! I will definitely get to it as soon as I get a break in my schedule :)
"Chifuyu, ya wanna see some real discrimination?"
No. No, Chifuyu does not want to see what Baji means by 'real discrimination.'
Does he tell him that, though?
Yes, actually, because it's 2 in the fucking morning and, as much as he respects the other boy, he wouldn't put it past himself to smother him with a pillow after having his dream of cuddling with a sea of puppies suddenly destroyed.
Unfortunately for his sanity, Baji either doesn't hear him or, more likely than not, doesn't give a fuck, because he's already flopping onto his belly and whipping out his phone to do God knows what.
The dial tone that sounds from the speaker a few seconds later makes Chifuyu cringe, especially since it's only ever been a calm silence fit for a good night's sleep prior to Baji bulldozing through it with his absurd question. (At the very least, he's thankful that the latter has half a mind to keep the brightness on the lowest setting, otherwise, Chifuyu would have had to fight.)
On the far end of the row of carefully-laid futons, you shift in your sleep, eyebrows furrowing together at the noise. Rotating onto your side, you unconsciously reach for Baji, and just when he thinks you're being cute and trying to cuddle him, you smack him in the head.
Baji doesn't flinch, instead, takes his pillow and shoves it in your grasp to keep your unconscious self occupied, so that he can focus on getting through to the person who reuses to pick up (understandably so).
Releasing a frustrated groan after being redirected to voice mail for the fifth time, he dials the number again, muttering an impatient, "Pick up already."
Chifuyu feels sorry for the poor soul on the other end. He would've blocked someone following the first call, because again, it's-
The blond has to squint his eyes up at the digital clock on Baji's nightstand, which confirms that it's already 2:22 A.M, further solidifying the fact that he shouldn't be awake right now. And this also applies to the ever persistent first division captain, who insists on bothering who Chifuyu soon discovers is Mikey from the contact ID that flashes across the screen.
Why Baji is so keen on bothering him is a question he doesn't have the mental capacity to ponder over. The most energy he'll expend is to listen in when the call miraculously connects.
"What...?" comes a muffled voice from the receiver, tone laced in an irked grogginess birthed from a slumber rudely interrupted.
There's an absurdly loud, almost angry, roar of Mikey's name, one that has Chifuyu curling in on himself in a futile attempt to escape a sound that should be illegal at this hour.
But you know what else should be illegal?
The fucking whiplash Chifuyu gets when Baji's deep voice takes an abrupt 180°, switching from its normal gruffness to a squeaky, ear-piercing shrill as he screams, "I love you, love you, love you! Do you love me, too, Mikey-kyun~♡?!"
The room is dead silent.
Not a word. Not a murmur. Not a breath.
Just pure, unadulterated silence as both Chifuyu and Mikey process the words that hang in the air, permeating it with a goosebumps-inducing eeriness from having heard such a...a girly, overtly cutesy screech from Baji.
Then-
"What the fuck? He hung on me!"
Chifuyu opens his mouth, thinks better of reacting to the cursed scene he had the misfortune of bearing witness to, and promptly closes it.
Other people may have sleep paralysis demons.
But Chifuyu?
Chifuyu has Baji.
With both hands partially raised in prayer, he begs for the shenanigans to be over and done with.
They are not.
While his eyes remain closed in a last ditch effort to convince himself that it's all a bad dream, he hears a lot of grumbling happening on your side of the room, courtesy of Baji, who's scrambling around in search of...something. One quick peek reveals him fiddling with a phone - yours, to be exact, as evidenced by the distinctive phone charm of your favorite anime character hanging from it.
"(Y/n), wake up for a second," he hears him whisper. It takes a bit of prompting, until he's able to successfully rouse you enough from sleep to elicit any kind of response, which is, essentially, nothing short of an incoherent, slurred mess. Although, Chifuyu is pretty damn certain he heard you call Baji a 'dickhead' for the trouble.
Unperturbed, he continues shaking your limp form, coaxing you into wakefulness with, "Repeat what I tell you, and I'll let you go back to asleep. Deal?"
You squint your eyes at him, only able to make out a vague outline of his visage in the lightless room. "Promise?"
"Cross my heart, hope to die," he automatically responds with the same phrase he's become accustomed to saying whenever you two made a promise, something done purely out of habit, formed when the two of you were just kids and he wanted to get you to do something absolutely ridiculous either for him or with him. And just 'cause he knows you're more susceptible to complying if he does it, he also interlocks his pinky with yours.
"...Fine."
The approval is his cue to proceed, and it's as he's putting the phone on speaker that he turns back to a regretfully wide awake Chifuyu, mouthing a wordless, 'Watch.'
The phone rings, loud and clear, precisely once and only once.
"(Y/n), what's wrong?" It's important to note that even though Mikey still sounds tired as hell, his tone is much lighter, much happier really, than when it was Baji, which is an offense in itself to the said teen that's off to the side, attentively listening to the conversation unfold.
Then, it strikes Chifuyu, what Baji is trying to do, and fuck does it give him an instant headache.
Meanwhile, your mouth morphs into the dopiest of smiles with the pleasant surprise of hearing your boyfriend's voice, chest instantly overtaken by a warm fuzziness that never fails to make an appearance whenever he's involved. Sappy, you know, but it's true!
A light but firm nudge to your shoulder reminds you of your mission. It's too bad that, teetering along the edge of sleep as you are, the words Baji whispers are barely repeated correctly.
The initial phrase from before, the one Baji greeted Mikey with, is shortened to a simple, "You wuv I...?"
But, without missing a beat, you receive Mikey's confident reply of, "Mhm... I wuv you a lot."
There's a sleepy giggle then - a fucking giggle - before your voices drop to sweet whispers that the third and fourth wheels can't fully comprehend from where they are.
"Where the fuck was my 'I wuv you,' huh?!" Baji whisper-shouts, considerate of your conversation even when ranting and raving. "Shit, I would've taken a simple 'I love you,' too! I've known that bastard way longer than (Y/n), and this is what I get?!"
Okay. Toman's president answers his boyfriend's late night calls faster than he does anyone else's and openly expresses his love for him. So what? Chifuyu wouldn't exactly call it 'discrimination,' per se. 'Favoritism,' maybe if you wanna stretch it, but using as strong a word as discrimination, especially taking into account you two are dating; it's normal? Nah.
"You wanna say 'bye' to them? Mm. Baji and Chifuyu." A pause. "Fuyu, Mikey says 'bye.'"
"Bye, Mikey-kun."
The other person in the room waits, and waits, and waits, and when it's clear that there is no intention to address his presence whatsoever, Baji turns to Chifuyu with an almost scandalized expression, making wild gesticulations with his hands, clearly distressed. "See?!"
Blank blue eyes stare back at him, unblinking. Honestly, it's a common occurrence - Baji spiraling in a nonsensical rage - so it's easy for Chifuyu to block out the muted, jealousy-driven temper tantrum as he takes his pillow in both hands, raises it as high as he can, and-
Sigh.
-lets it flop right back onto his face.
He can't suffocate Baji. Shouldn't. Wouldn't. Couldn't. After all, they're best buds, meaning he has an obligation to put up with shit like this once in a while. (Plus, he'd probably get his ass kicked before he succeeds anyway. Totally not worth the beating.)
"Did you hear? Mikey said he wuvs me," he hears you drawl dreamily as soon as you hang up, sounding very close to clocking back out for the night.
"Yeah, yeah. Cute shit. Happy for ya, dude," Baji huffs. Thankfully, he sounds like he's in a similar state to yours, if the yawn that follows his sarcastic comment is anything to go by.
"...He soooo ignored you."
That warrants a punishing punch to the arm, dulled only slightly by the combination of the thick quilt you're swaddled in and the raven-haired boy's fatigue.
"I'll fucking throw you out right now, (Y/n). Don't test me."
"You won't."
"I will."
"Won't."
"Will."
The conversation gradually dies down shortly after, the exhaustion that took its sweet time getting to both of you having reached its peak with the help of the childish bickering. It takes 10 minutes, maybe 15, before two sets of light snores fill the room.
Finally.
Let it be known that there is a lesson to be learned from tonight's events. Really, there is. Y'know, something along the lines of 'Don't agree to a sleepover with Baji, if you plan on actually sleeping,' or whatever.
Alas, Chifuyu's consciousness fades before he realizes what it is.
~~~
"Mikey, be honest. Who do you love more? Me or-?"
"(Y/n)."
"But-"
(Y/n)."
"I-"
"(Y/n)."
Baji is only momentarily discouraged, sharp eyes glaring at the blond that lays his head on your lap after hi-fiving you. He didn't want to do this, but he's left with no choice.
"(Y/n) or Babu?"
From the way Mikey stiffens up, refusing to look at either him or you in the eyes, Baji knows he has him right where he wants him, has him torn between a cute face or a sweet ride.
"Oi! Don't pretend to be asleep! Answer the damn question! OI!"
(After hours of serious contemplation - even though you told him it doesn't particularly matter - it's revealed that, of course, Mikey loves you more. Babu just happens to trail behind as a very close second.)
#mikey x male reader#mikey x reader#sano manjiro x male reader#sano manjiro x reader#sano manjirou x male reader#sano manjirou x reader#sano manjiro#sano manjirou#tokyo revengers#tokyo revengers x male reader#tokyo revengers x y/n#tokyo revengers x reader#baji keisuke#chifuyu matsuno
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So I know everyone has already dissected this scene to its core, but it’s taken me a good 48 hours to digest this and I just needed to get it out.
I’m an aspiring actor, I’ve been training for a long time, with a lot of amazing teachers. I’ve watched a lot of shows and shipped a lot of couples. Some of them beautiful and canon, others, well, let’s just say waiting 22 years and counting for acknowledgement, closure, anything, it’s a damn challenge. I’ve seen a hell of a lot of will-they-wont-they’s, baiting, purposeful ignorance, deliberate fake outs, zero explanations, storylines that basically caused canon disintegration, the works.
In saying that, Dean and Cas were right up there on the list with the other “impossibles” because honestly, I didn’t think the writers would have the guts to do it, but I am so f*cking proud they did. It’s safe to say I’ve watched the scene a good hundred+ times already.
I’ve seen a lot of “controversy” around Dean’s reaction/Jensen’s acting choices and whether or not Dean reciprocates Cas’ feelings, and obviously, I needed to add my own views to the mix.
Just work with me for a minute here.
Dean Winchester is an emotionally repressed trainwreck, and ironically enough, the one that is so full of emotion it hurts to watch. When Cas first starts his speech, he’s confused, really confused because why on earth would Cas start off on a rant now? Billie’s waiting to kill them, he just said he knew something that was more powerful than she was, something that could save them. That’s where he thought this speech was going.
The confusion turns to realisation that it’s a goodbye when Cas starts telling him how incredible he is, how his entire essence is love. Go back and watch the scene again, when Cas says “you’re the most caring man on Earth”, you physically see Dean look down, his eyes searching, he’s actively trying to make sense of what’s happening, he knows what’s coming and you can see him coming to terms with the shock of the words being said to him. He then looks directly at Cas. That look, that was pure shock.
Also, notice how he doesn’t stop Cas from talking? He doesn’t interject, make a joke, doesn’t talk about how there is no time for this now, they’ve got to at least try and stop Billie. He. says. nothing. He listens, he listens like I’ve never seen Dean listen before. Because it’s sinking in now.
When Cas really starts crying, when he says “you changed me, Dean”, you can actually see the pain in Dean’s eyes. He’s no longer in control of his emotions, he’s crying too. He’s never seen Cas like this, so raw, and vulnerable and human. This is the hardest, most emotional conversation they’ve both ever had. They are talking about the one thing that everybody knows, but is never addressed. When it wasn’t talked about, they could deny it, live in the lie. Once it’s said aloud, it’s real and they can’t turn back.
This above series of interactions is the part that kills me the most. The moment Cas says “because it is”, that’s the exact moment of realisation. Look at that last GIF, really look. He’s just worked it out, that he is Cas’ true happiness. He knows what’s coming before Cas even says it. Go back and watch the scene again, they pulled that off so well, the way the music swells at this exact moment. Jensen is giving us everything here, you can see what’s happening in his head - he is Cas’ happiness. He is the one thing on Earth Cas wants and thinks he can’t have. He is the reason Cas is about to die. He knows what Cas is about to say and he’s not sure he’s ready to hear it, not now, not like this. It’s almost a silent plea not to say it, because he knows. Of course he knows. It’s like he can’t quite believe Cas is really, after all this time, finally going to say it.
And because obviously Jensen decided that that wasn’t enough to break us, the loaded reaction when Cas says “I love you” has me nothing but convinced that it’s reciprocated. Because Dean knows. He’s always known. Those tears, that head tilt, that gulp. He’s so genuinely confused that they’re really having this conversation. It’s like he can’t quite believe that this is the reality before him because he’s been living in that denial, in that self-loathing and unlovable layer he believes to be true. He’s been under the ‘what if... but it could never be’ umbrella for so long.
What also makes this real is that there isn’t anyone else around this time. When “I love you’s” have been said before, they have always been able to deflect it, with other people or other words. Now it’s just the two of them. No deflecting, no running away. Dean is forced to hear it, to absorb it, to realise it’s for nobody else but him.
Now, I don’t know if you guys felt this, but when Dean says “Don’t do this, Cas”, he wasn’t just referring to Cas sacrificing himself to the Empty, he’s telling Cas that he can’t just say this, not now, knowing he’s going to die, knowing that Dean won’t get a chance to think, to process, to say what he needs too. I keep staring at that GIF above, Dean is breaking down, I’m almost convinced that Jensen was using an “I love you too, please just stop this” inner monologue for this bit. Look at the way he’s looking at Cas before he realises the Empty has started materialising and turns around. That’s a look of pure heartbreak. Trust me when I tell you, it’s really hard to keep those inner thoughts inside if you’re so in the moment - actually, don’t just take my word for it, read any acting book, ask any actor, it’s so hard to keep that in and sometimes you don’t, and sometimes you do - it’s in both the resistance and the letting go that the gold happens. This my friends, is gold.
Did anyone else hear “Cas, I-”, well, regardless of whether or not it was an “I” or a very sharp breath, the outcome is the same. Dean’s gone into immediate panic mode. The Empty at one end and Billie at the other, and all poor Dean wants to do is gather his thoughts on not what to say but how to say it. I don’t think he comprehended just how little time he had, he was so focused on what was being said that the reality of the situation caught him completely off guard.
Also, I know this post was about dissecting Dean’s reaction, but can we sidebar a minute to talk about Cas as he pushes Dean out of the way? He’s sobbing, he’s fully crying. That hit me really hard, I’ve never seen Cas cry like that, I’ve never seen Misha get to play that level of emotion before and it was the most heartbreaking thing to watch since The Doctor and Rose and Buffy and Spike, to which by the way, I find many parallels between those couples and this scene.
Speaking of crying, that brings me to this: Dean slumped on the floor, ignoring a call from Sam, sobbing his heart out knowing he’s lost everything. Dean-I’m-emotionally-unavailable-Winchester is sobbing. Maybe I’m wrong, but I don’t recall ever seeing Dean cry like this before either, the sobbing was so evident and piercing in that silence. The look around the room, the burying of his head in his hands, that is a classic writers romantic love trope if I’ve ever seen it, they really pulled out all the stops with this one.
So, to summarise, I think Jensen’s choices and Dean’s reactions were absolutely and utterly perfect. They both did it so well that it didn’t break from character that these two emotionally distant and repressed men are in love and finally voicing it. Jensen barely said two words and still managed to cause mass coronary’s across the fandom. That my friends is what you call a brilliant actor. I bow down to the talents of these two amazing human beings.
Before I leave this novel, I have to say there are now a few things I’m going to need from the powers that be to not screw this up, help me manifest this:
1. Dean gets to reciprocate his feelings to Cas in person. So, I’m gonna need Cas back and a very emotional Dean.
2. Dean to be actively dealing with heartbreak in the next episode (unless they decided to bring Cas back that soon, which I wouldn’t put past them at this point).
3. Sam to confront Dean about his feelings for Cas, because out of everyone, he’d be the one to hit Dean with the truth of his fears. Sam knows. Sam is supportive. Sam sees it all.
4. I’m gonna need some physical affection, cause after 12 years of nonsense, we damn well deserve it. A hug, and not just any old reunion hug, a proper, this is different now hug. A kiss because hello, in love out loud now. Forehead touching, handholding, really gonna need the works here.
5. A happy ending for the two of them, one way or another. We’ve never had one, it’s time.
Okay, have at it now, let’s speak these into existence please.
Note: GIFs are not mine, I did not make them, credit to owners who I’m not sure of, but they’re beautiful, thanks for making them. EDIT: I’ve just been informed that these gorgeous gifs belong to @michaeldean and @inacatastrophicmind!
#supernatural#SPN#DeanCas#destiel#deanwinchtser#castiel#15x18#Jensen Ackles#Misha Collins#actor#acting#I ship it#shipper#i love you#spn spoilers#opinion piece#thoughts#my two cents#ships and lattes
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Fic: A Woman Scorned - Part 16
Fic: A Woman Scorned - Part 16
Pairing: Billy Russo x Reader
Rating: R for language and smut.
Words: ~3100 words.
Summary: You’ve been sleeping with Billy Russo for a few months now. Knowing his aversion to emotional commitments, you’re satisfied with your clandestine arrangement until you catch him having dinner with Dinah Madani one night. Then it finally dawns on you. It’s not that he doesn’t want to commit, he just doesn’t want to commit to *you*.
Billy may think he knows you, but he has no idea what he’s just lost…
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15
gif credit: @benbarnxs
Part 16
You were straddling Billy, riding him, your hips undulating atop his body. His fingers tightly gripped your waist, getting ready to take charge so you were underneath him, but you refused to submit. Instead you grabbed his hands and pinned it above his head. As you hovered above him, he arched up to kiss you but you shifted back, instead staring down at him intently. He growled at you before he rolled over unexpectedly, taking you along with him.
As he thrust into you, harder and rougher each time, you began to slide off the bed. In your new position, you caught sight of Adam on the floor. His corpse was wrapped up in a rug, only his head sticking out-
“Hey.” Billy pulled you up so you were now sitting across his lap, facing him. “Look at me. Only me.”
Only a few seconds ago he was biting you as you clawed at him, both of you desperate to possess each other. Your movements had been savage, animalistic even, but now Billy was kissing you languidly, his hand brushing the back of your hair while the other settled on the small of your back. You were directing the rhythm of the thrusts now, setting a slower pace so you could fully enjoy the feel of his cock stretching your insides oh-so-tantalizingly. Your forehead braced against his, you closed your eyes and lost yourself to the flood of emotions that overcame you.
***
It was after midnight. Billy had come home with you and both of you were in bed, you nestled against him while he spooned you from behind. Even though you were tired, you couldn’t sleep. Your brain was working overtime processing everything that happened in the last few hours. He stirred next to you, dropping a tender kiss on your bare shoulder.
“What’s wrong?” he murmured. You may have been fully alert but he sounded absolutely exhausted.
“Are you sure they’ll be thorough with the cleaning?”
“Yeah.” Throwing his arm over you, he covered your hand with his. “These guys are not amateurs. They know what they’re doing. There won’t be any traces of us left in that room.”
“And Adam’s body-”
“Will be disposed of.”
“But how do you know you can trust these guys? What’s stopping them from blackmailing-”
“’cause money talks, babe. That crew is very well paid.” He squeezed your palm. “I’ve used them in the past. No trouble yet.”
With his military career you were already aware of his violent past, but you also sensed he had a long hit list aside from that. When he’d realized your plans for Adam, he hadn’t been remotely shocked at the idea of you killing another person. In fact, as you stabbed Adam repeatedly, Billy had looked at you with such pride and reverence that it had left you breathless.
“What we did tonight, you know what that means, don’t you?”
His voice brought you out of your reverie. You exhaled a deep breath, drawing circles on his palm. “That we’re bad people.”
“No, we’re survivors. We take down anyone who gets in our way.”
“He didn’t come after you,” you reminded him. “You didn’t have to get involved.”
He turned you around to face him. “Nobody threatens you and gets to live after that.”
Your heart pounded in your chest. When he looked at you with such intensity, you were almost ready to believe anything.
He cradled your face, his thumb caressing your bottom lip. “We’re connected now. Forever. Because of tonight.”
You didn’t understand how his words could evoke such conflicting emotions within you. On one hand your stomach fluttered with excitement, he was saying things you’d wanted to hear for a long time, but then there was the fear. Doubt. Uncertainty. You forced a smile, hoping some levity would lighten the situation. “You make it sound like we’re married or something.”
Disgust flooded over his face. “Fuck, no. Marriages end. One day you’re bragging about being in love, next it’s all over. It’s not based on anything real. But we are.” He reached for your hand, which was resting on the pillow between you and him, and intertwined his fingers through yours. “I saw you tonight, the real you. And you saw me. No pretenses, no boundaries. And you didn’t run. You didn’t even flinch.”
“Neither did you.” You lifted your eyebrow. “You were rock hard.”
“I always am around you.”
His words made the heat rise in your cheeks, which he noticed right away. Giving you a teasing smile, he leaned in closer to give you a peck on the cheek. “Are you blushing?”
“Shut up.”
Billy’s eyes remained locked on you, simply staring at you with sleepy eyes. “I don’t like who I was when I thought I lost you. I couldn’t eat, couldn’t work. Every time I closed my eyes I imagined you fucking this other guy, kissing him. Even the thought of you talking to him made me want to burn it all down.”
Your heart ached at how tired he looked. Scooting closer, you started massaging his forehead. When he closed his eyes, you dropped a gentle kiss on each of his eyelids, the beauty mark just below his right eye, before snuggling him tightly in your arms. “Sleep, Billy.”
“You’ll be here when I wake up?” he murmured drowsily.
You smiled. “It is my apartment.”
He didn’t respond, already fast asleep. You tried to do the same but couldn’t; there were too many thoughts running around in your brain. You had assumed you’d feel guilty about taking a life; you didn’t. You remembered the vicious, contemptuous anger in Adam’s eyes when he’d held you at gunpoint, and how he’d threatened to kill others in your team, and all you felt was relief. Relief that he was dead and no longer a danger to you.
Billy stirred next to you, drawing your attention. You reached out to hold him, your touch feather-light so as not to wake him up. He looked calm and peaceful, unlike the haunted and distraught way he appeared earlier in the hotel room. It was still hard to digest that he’d been so unhinged at the thought of losing you. But the thing that resonated with you the most was that he hadn’t been able to hurt you despite all of the anger he’d felt. Growing up the way you had, you were always on alert for things to turn violent at any moment. One wrong comment or an innocent gesture - hell even a lone pair of sock on the floor - had the potential to trigger your father’s temper and turn things violent. During those moments his rage was uncontrollable, and as a result you always worried about how people reacted when they were furious. The fact that Billy hadn’t hit you even though he’d been completely enraged made you realize you were physically safe with him.
Maybe emotionally as well. For so long you’d had difficulty believing he could reciprocate your feelings yet you couldn’t ignore how devastated he’d been. Nor could you rationalize away his emotions. It still felt surreal but he did truly care about you, and the thought filled you with warmth and made your heart soar with happiness.
You brushed your lips against his, hoping Billy’s comforting presence next to you would help you relax. However, fifteen minutes later sleep still alluded you. Eventually you decided to do something useful and work instead. Carefully sliding out of bed so you didn’t disturb him, you tip-toed out of the bedroom. Immediately you felt the soreness in your body, an after effect of the rough sex you had with Billy in the hotel room earlier. Grabbing a nearby throw, you were soon nestled in your favourite spot on the chaise lounge, working away on your laptop.
An hour later you heard footsteps behind you and you turned around to find Billy yawning, clad in boxers, his hair all ruffled.
“Why aren’t you in bed?” he grumbled.
You scooted over to give him space to sit on the chaise but he seemed to have other ideas in mind as he took a seat behind you. You found yourself settled between his legs, your back nestled against his chest, as he caressed down the length of your arms.
“I couldn’t sleep. Figured I might as well do something useful.”
“What corporate shit are you working on?” he teased, playfully grabbing your laptop to look at your screen. You smacked his arm right away, shutting the screen and pushing the laptop away.
Billy purposely rubbed his face against the base of your neck and you started giggling at the sensation of his prickly beard on your bare skin. “Stop,” you whined. “It tickles.” you squealed loudly, trying to jump out of his arms but he held you in a tight grip.
Finally he stopped, and as you struggled to catch your breath, you slapped his arm playfully. “You’re such a jerk.”
He chuckled, hugging you tightly from behind. “That’s for ignoring all my calls since Tuesday.”
“I’m still not unblocking your number,” you retorted. His beard scraped along your shoulder, making you squeal again. “Okay, fine. Sorry!”
“Swear that you’re not gonna block me again.”
You turned around in his arms, resting on your knees as your arms looped around his neck. Smiling down at him, you nuzzled your nose with his. “Swear that you won’t act like an asshole again.”
“Can’t really do that.”
“Exactly.” He tucked your hair behind your ear. Butterflies fluttered in your stomach at the tender affection on his face, the warmth of his gaze spreading slow, languid heat throughout your body. “You should go back to bed. You still look tired.”
“I’ve had a rough week.”
You pouted your lips. “I know. I’m sorry.”
“Want to make it up to me?” he asked, cocking his eyebrow at you.
”How? By sucking you off?” you teased, running your fingers through his hair.
“Move in with me.”
Your hands stilled on him, finding it hard to breathe all of a sudden. At first you thought he was joking but the solemn expression on his face made you realize otherwise. You moved away, putting much needed distance between the two of you.
“That’s not funny, Billy.”
Maintaining a rigid posture on the chaise lounge, he shrugged his shoulders. “Not meant to be. I’m dead serious.”
“You know that’s ridiculous, right?”
“Why? ‘cause I wanna keep you safe?”
“The threat is gone. I took care of it.”
“We took care of it,” he said pointedly. “A threat which you didn’t even tell me about.”
“I explained that to you already.” Feeling defensive, you started pacing the floor. “You promised you’d have your guy stop tailing me.”
“Sure. As soon as I know you’re not gonna keep things from me again. You moving in will help with that.”
“So if I don’t move in, you’ll have me followed 24/7?” Anger surged through you, you were so furious you wanted to scream. “That’s fucking blackmail.”
“Relax. No need to be so dramatic about it.”
You grabbed the closest cushion you had and flung it at him, enraged by his patronising tone. “We barely know each other-”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” he interjected, finally moving to stand up. His eyes were pitch black, his jaw clenched. “You and I killed someone tonight! You took my hand, my knife, and we stabbed the bastard in the heart with it, together. We fucked while he drew his last breath and now you’re feeding me this bullshit?” He stormed towards you. “No! I’ve seen your darkness and you’ve seen mine. There’s no one else in this world that knows us better than we know each other.”
You shook your head, flabbergasted by his reaction. “This is insane. I can’t move in with you. We haven’t even gone out on a real date because you said I was boring!”
“If you believe that then you really are a fucking idiot!”
You stiffened, his words ringing in your ear. Fucking idiot. Something your father used to call you repeatedly, his tone full of hate and vitriol when he lashed out at you. It started with a fucking idiot then spiralled into bitch and whore and everything else hurtful under the sun. You swore to yourself you’d never accept being spoken to like that by another person yet here you were, being insulted again by someone who was supposed to care about you.
You retreated back from Billy, careful to keep your distance from him, and leveled him with a cold glance. “Don’t you ever talk to me like that again.”
Your voice may have been deceptively calm but there was a storm brewing inside you. You desperately needed some space. As you moved away from Billy and headed to the kitchen, he tried to block your path but you immediately pushed him away. “Don’t touch me!”
You quickly sidestepped past him and entered the kitchen, heading for the cabinet where you kept your bottle of whiskey. Pouring yourself a glass, you slowly sipped the liquid to soothe your frayed nerves and forget the memories Billy had just unleashed in you.
***
Even as the words left his mouth, Billy knew he’d made a mistake. He regretted what he said instantly, even more so when he realized how much the words had stung you. The last thing he wanted was to cause you pain but he couldn’t seem to help himself. The more he tried to hold on to you the more you slipped through his fingers.
After giving you a few minutes to calm down, he entered the kitchen behind you. You were standing in the opposite corner, drinking the hard stuff, which further signalled how shaken you were. Billy knew Scotch wasn’t something you enjoyed, you only drank it when you were messed up.
“I’m sorry,” he apologized. “I shouldn’t have said that. It won’t happen again. I swear.”
You didn’t acknowledge him, and it hurt like hell.
“When I think about you pulling away from me, it makes me lose my mind.” He swallowed audibly, desperately trying to get through to you. “I’m all in when it comes to us but it feels like you always have one foot out the door.” He took hesitant steps towards you while your eyes still remained on the countertop, refusing to meet his gaze. “I keep fucking up but I’ve never felt this way before. I don’t know what I’m doing. I just can’t lose you, Y/N.”
“I’m not built like you, Billy,” you finally spoke, turning to look at him. “I have doubts. I’m constantly dealing with insecurities. It takes me time to trust people, and I just can’t rush into things head-on.”
“And I’m someone who hustles. I go after everything I want with guns blazing. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t have Anvil.”
“But I’m not a thing, Billy. I’m a person, and you can’t push me into doing stuff I’m not ready for.”
He exhaled a resigned sigh. “I know. It’s ‘cause I get paranoid when it comes to you. You’re a closed book and you never tell me anything.” His eyes scanned yours, his stomach clenched with anxiety. “I don’t even know how you feel about me.” It was the first time he’d voiced that thought, something he didn’t even realize he felt until this very moment. You wanted him, that he knew, and you’d even confessed you loved him once but he didn’t really believe in that bullshit. What mattered to him was if you needed him as much as he did you. The idea of not having you in his life drove him insane, but did you feel the same way? He didn’t think so and it bothered the fuck out of him.
You set your glass down on the counter before reaching out to cradle his face, your soulful eyes meeting his emotional gaze. “I want to be with you, Billy. I like you so much that it scares me.”
Your words brought with them a tidal wave of relief that swept over him like a calm breeze. It was like he could breathe again. He pulled you close, his forehead against yours as he simply held you. “Don’t be scared, babe. I don’t bite.”
“That is a complete fucking lie,” you retorted. “I still have the marks from earlier to prove it.” Your smile faded again as you held his stare. “But I need you to be patient with me. You can’t bully me or get mad if I don’t want to rush into things.”
He nodded his head. “I won’t.”
“I’ve only ever had myself to rely on. And the thought of trusting you? Relying on you? It scares the hell out of me. Because there’s always a voice in my head that’s reminding me I need to go back to being alone when we end things.”
“I need to kill that voice.”
You chuckled, reaching out to loop your arms behind his back. “It shuts up eventually. It did in the hotel room when I saw how fucked up you were without me. That’s when it sunk in you actually do like me.”
“It took you that long to believe it?”
You gave him a sad smile. “Yeah. You did tell me I was boring.”
He groaned right away, regret washing over him. He should never have said those fucking words to you. “You’re not boring. You’re smart. And hot.” He kissed your left cheek. “And sweet. And funny. And mine.” Then the right cheek. “And when you lecture me about cybersecurity, I get so hard.”
“Whatever. You’re the one who wanted to know more about the topic,” you grumbled.
He grinned, giving you a tender peck on the lips. “I can listen to you talk for hours and hours-“
“Shut up.” You pressed your palm over his mouth.
Wrapping his arms around you, he lifted you off the ground and started carrying you back to the bedroom. “Forever actually, if you’re naked.”
“Not once have I lectured you naked.”
He dropped you on the bed. “Yeah, exactly. Time you start.” He jumped into bed, rubbing his beard on your face again as you started squealing.
A few minutes later you were both panting for air, staring up at the ceiling. “Just to make it clear, I’m not moving in,” you huffed through laboured breaths.
He turned to look at you, smirking. “Fine, but I’m taking you out tonight. Proper date and all.”
The most beautiful smile graced your face. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” You were a ray of sunshine beaming up at him and Billy’s heart felt so full he worried it would explode. If he could, he’d freeze this moment forever.
Part 17
A/N - As always, your wonderful feedback is what keeps me inspired to write and post consistently. I was initially nervous about this chapter because the characters experience a gamut of emotions but it was necessary. I hope you like and enjoy this chapter. Feedback, as always, is very much appreciated and feeds my soul :)
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Naive (1)
Masterlist
Pairing: demon!Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader
Summary: Of all the humans Wanda has met, you’re suddenly her favorite.
Warnings: 18+ ONLY, dark!fic, demon things™️ (be warned that this shit will get much darker in the future), subtle hand kink (don’t @ me)
A/N: special shoutout to the anon that inspired this fic series, I hope you enjoy this weird combo of AOU x IW Wanda. also if you have any previous knowledge of demons, throw it out the window before you read this because I guarantee that things will not add up here lmao
-
Wanda’s favorite thing about interacting with humans is her effect on them.
Walking through a crowd is fine. She’ll brush a few shoulders and rattle a few unsuspecting adults, flash solid black eyes at kids that either stare or scream. It’s temporary and brings a bit of fun to an otherwise dull day.
The real joy comes from direct contact. Wanda travels miles away from her apartment building, choosing different stores, restaurants and cafés just to keep things interesting. A new cashier each time. She’ll have an air of friendliness about her that isn’t exactly fake; she finds most humans to be charming, despite their fragile minds.
“Will that be all?” Roy--according to his name tag--asks with a grin and Wanda nods in response. “Okay, your total is $21.14. You can just swipe or insert your card in the machine there.”
Wanda inserts her card carefully, complimenting the decor as she waits for the transaction to be completed. After returning it to her wallet, she flashes a soft smile at Roy as he hands her the receipt, purposefully brushing her fingers with his. As his skin makes contact with one of her rings, she notices the goosebumps rising along his arm and hears his breathing pattern change.
“Roy? Everything alright?”
She hears the concerned voice of a coworker as she makes her way to a table to wait for her meal, already seated by the time Roy coughs in an effort to collect himself.
“Yeah, just feeling off I guess. I’ll be fine.”
A chuckle falls from her lips as she watches the poor cashier attempt to return to his previous state of mind, finding the urge to smile and wave when his eyes cut over to her. His voice trembles when he calls her name and he stands as far away as possible when she approaches the counter to grab her order.
“Thanks for everything, Roy.”
Sensing that he’s startled enough without it, she keeps her other tricks hidden in her sleeves and simply walks away, holding her laughter until the doors close behind her. A good meal with a side of human interaction, her absolute favorite.
-
The next day brings Wanda to a bookstore around lunchtime. She takes a minute to browse the aisles, taking an exceptionally long time lingering in the section harboring books on angels and demons. The stereotypes amuse more than upset her like they used to in the beginning.
“Is there anything I can help you with?”
Wanda turns to make eye contact with the employee behind her, about to ask a question for the fun of it when a laugh catches her attention. Her gaze redirects to the café counter straight ahead, and a warm feeling washes over her when she hears the laugh again.
You’re genuinely entertained by the elderly woman purchasing a bagel with exact change, and Wanda manages to catch the end of the conversation as she draws near.
“Safe to say, I haven’t worn the blouse since that day.” She bids you farewell with her bagel and receipt in hand, eyes twinkling as she observes Wanda on her way past. “You have such bright and beautiful hair, dear.”
“Thank you,” Wanda responds with sincerity, attention locked on you while approaching the counter. “Hi.”
“Hey,” you greet her with a voice much calmer than the one you use with most of your other customers. “What can I get you today?”
You watch the orange haired woman turn her head to study the items behind the glass, taking the time to do your own inspection. You admire the dark red jacket that covers most of her torso, gaze lingering on the multiple rings hugging her fingers that seem to be smoothing nonexistent wrinkles in her dress, almost in a nervous fashion. It brought you a bit of comfort, assuming that she was affected in the same way.
“What do you recommend?”
“Oh, well…” You walk over to open the glass case from your side of the counter, naming each item as you grab it. “I usually have this pretzel that’s stuffed with spinach and cheese and this brownie. I can heat both of them for you, if you’d like.”
“I would love that,” Wanda responds in a grateful tone, placing a bottle of water on the counter after taking it from the fridge. “And I’ll also have one of these incredibly overpriced waters.”
You begin her order with a laugh, and she watches you ring everything up with the speed and expertise of a seasoned employee, wondering how she’d gone this long without running into you. The total price is brought to the digital screen just before her card is inserted, and she takes the time to quickly slip her rings into her pockets while you’re taking the pretzel and brownie over to the miniature oven. The last thing she wants to do is scramble your brain before she even gets the chance to explore it.
“Here’s your receipt,” you announce while giving Wanda the slip of paper, your eyes lingering on her hand for a moment before looking at her again. “Your food should be ready soon.”
“Okay, thank you…” Her sentence trails off as she searches for your name, the letters rolling off her tongue with ease when she finally locates it on the apron covering your chest.
“You’re welcome…” You trail off in the same fashion and she catches on quickly.
“Wanda.”
“You’re welcome, Wanda,” you repeat as you hand her the water bottle before she can walk away.
Less than two minutes later, you approach the table she’s taken over with two small ceramic plates and a sheepish grin.
“I should’ve asked if you were going to stay a while, but I can grab some bags if you need to go.”
Wanda shakes her head with a laugh as she takes them from you, startling you when she doesn’t react to the excessive heat radiating from the dishes.
“This is perfect.”
She takes her time with eating, and your attention is drawn to her between customers, grateful that she’s too busy with her phone to notice your stares. On the other hand, Wanda’s mind is filled with thoughts of you. What you look like when you think she can’t see you glancing over, what you smelled like when you were close. The nerves, the kindness, the desire to learn her name despite her being just another customer to you. She knows that you noticed her missing rings, but she’s already prepared with a cover story. A two minute conversation has her dying to pick your brain more, learn your habits and become more familiar with your body, beyond a simple brush of your fingertips. She already wants you to herself, just the way you came, without her interference for now; that’ll come later.
A good meal with a side of human interaction, her absolute favorite.
-
Despite Wanda leaving an hour before your shift ended, she lingers in your thoughts on the bus ride and walk home. You find yourself recalling her kind smile, fidgeting fingers and the scent of her perfume when she passed you on her way out, and you’re so deep in your memories that you end up colliding with your apartment door.
“That’s not going to get you inside any faster, dear.”
Your cheeks burn as you face Ruth for the second time today, the first time being earlier when you sold her a bagel.
“I know, Ruthie,” you respond sheepishly as you pull your keys from your pocket. “Is everything okay? You’re usually in bed watching a cowboy show by now.”
“I’ve been waiting for you to come home so I could talk to you.” She checks to see if the hallway is empty before opening her door and waving you over. “Come on, quickly.”
You scurry into the apartment behind her, taking in the scene before you while she locks the door. Having visited her before, you know she keeps the television at a higher volume, but it seems louder than normal.
“I know I might seem like I’ve lost my marbles, but I wanted to warn you about that woman you saw today....The one with the bright hair.”
“You mean Wanda?” you question, eyes widening when she nods. “Warn me about what?”
“There’s something off about that Wanda, if that even is her real name.” She snatches her arm out of her robe and brings it closer for you to see. “I’ve had these chills since I brushed against her earlier. Something’s not right with her. How do you even know her name? I’ve never seen her before.”
“Hey, it’s okay,” you assure her as you help her slip her arm back in the sleeve. “I only know her name because we were having a friendly conversation and she used mine. I was just being polite to someone I’ll probably never even see again.”
“Just be careful,” she pleads as you head toward her door again, and you offer your best attempt at a relaxed smile.
“I’ll be fine, Ruthie. Get some rest, okay?”
You hear her lock the door behind you as you make your way back to your own apartment, rushing through the process of unlocking the door and securing it once you’re inside. As much as you don’t want to let Ruth get you worked up over a stranger, you can’t help thinking about the odd little things you noticed earlier.
It isn’t unusual for someone to linger after buying food or drinks from your counter, whether they have homework or even just a phone to keep them busy. Wanda seemed to be waiting for someone the entire time, and you remember hoping that she wasn’t on a date, despite not wanting her to be stood up. But she simply slid her phone in her pocket and departed with a friendly wave as if nothing had happened.
You especially remember her waving at you with those ringless fingers, and wondering silently where the intricate jewelry had disappeared to. Obviously you just assumed that the rings were tucked away on her person and not dumped in the trash, but she doesn’t seem like the type of person to give up on her accessories in the middle of the day. Part of you--a part that you didn’t dare to address--wondered if she’d emptied her hands to send you a subtle sign. No, that can’t possibly be it.
Sleeping proves to be difficult with so many unanswered questions floating about, but you eventually give into the act. A few hours later, you peel open your eyes when you think you hear something in the room. The digital clock that sits on your bedside and serves as an alarm and occasional radio reads 3:34am, and you’re just about to close your eyes again when you hear another sound. You raise your head to turn toward your closet, and a scream is trapped in your throat as you catch sight of a figure in the shadows.
The next time you wake, the sun is out and your alarm is blaring on the nightstand beside you. Your gaze flickers over to the closet as you reach out to silence it, your heartbeat dropping slightly when you don’t see anything other than clothes. Deciding that you must’ve been dreaming, you shake away the fearful thoughts and head to the bathroom to start getting ready for another day of work.
The only thing you haven’t decided on yet is whether you want to see Wanda again.
#wanda maximoff#wanda maximoff x reader#wanda maximoff x you#avengers x reader#marvel x reader#frosty's dark!fics
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The Past Can Break You - 3
Pairing: Bucky x Reader
AU: Avengers
Summary: You and Bucky have been dating for aa few years. As far as you’re concerned he is the one. But what happens when a blast from the actual past shows up?
A/N: Ive seen a lot stories of Bucky getting his first love from the 40′s back. And I’ve always wondered... what would happen if he was dating someone already? Reader is from this time. Not proofread.
Warning:
--
Bucky tried for several hours to try and get you to open the door. You ignored him, not wanting to see him because you were so angry with him. He promised he would change and make more time for you, and then he leaves you in the middle of sex for her! Dot is his priority, as far as you’re concerned. You roll your eyes as you think about the “trauma” she had. You know she is using their past to manipulate him, and he is being stupid and letting her. Well now he must face the consequences for his actions.
You stare up at the ceiling of your old room as you again, for the millionth time, hear the knock and pleads of your boyfriend from the other side of the door. “Please, baby. Open up. I’ll let you scream at me, you can even hit me. I know I deserve it. Just let me see you, please,” he begs.
God this is getting pathetic, you thought. You sigh and figure it’s time to give him an earful and some food for thought. You walk over to the door and unlock it, before opening it to reveal Bucky looking disheveled. He still has no shirt on, just his sweats from last night.
“What could you possibly want me to say to you, Bucky? You obviously made your choice in this. You are allowing Dot to manipulate you to keep you away from me. She wants you back, and it’s completely obvious. You say you want to prioritize me, but you prioritized her! I’ve tried to be calm and understanding to what she is going though, but enough is enough!” you yell, causing Bucky to flinch.
He opens his mouth to speak but you continue, “Ever since she found out that we are dating, she has made it her sole mission to separate us. Do you even care that your actions are killing me? Do you even care that I have cried myself to sleep so many times at night that I forgot how to fall asleep without crying? Do you even care that you are shattering my heart with your actions?!” you yell as tears fall down your face.
Bucky now has tears falling as well as he takes in your words. He didn’t realize just how bad he had made the situation. He needed to fix this. He couldn’t lose you. You were the best thing that has ever happened to him, and he can’t believe that has been so stupid. He walks up and wraps his arms around you, allowing you to cry in his chest. He buries his face in your neck and cries also.
You don’t know how long you have been standing in your doorway crying, but after some time you pull away. Bucky looks at you with sad eyes, “Tell me it’s not too late for me to fix this. I-I don’t want to lose you,” he says in a raspy voice.
You sigh and look down, “I think I need some time to think about things. You need to figure out where your priorities lie. I’ll stay in here for a bit until I’m ready and then we can talk, okay?” you ask.
It breaks your heart to see the distraught nature of Bucky’s face at your words, but you need him to understand how his actions have made you feel. He nods and quickly pulls you into a hug and then slots his lips on yours in a heated kiss. When you pull away he looks you dead in the eyes, “I’m going to make this right. I am going to show you that you, and you alone are what I want and need. That you are my top priority. I promise,” he says.
As he turns and walks away, you can’t help but say, “Don’t make promises you might not be able to keep.”
Bucky stops and looks at you sadly. He really messed up. He finally turns away and walks back to your shared room, that he will now live in alone. When he closes the door he slides down to the ground and openly sobs. How could he be so stupid. How could he not see what was happening. Now he might lose the love of his life because of his past.
--
Dot is sitting in her room, feeling rather victorious. She overheard your argument with Bucky, and knows that now that you are separating yourself from Bucky, she will have a better chance to win him back. She sighs at the thought of having her love back with her. She was surprised that he didn’t take her back immediately, as she was his first love. Yes, ok so it was like 80 years ago, but I mean the fact that they were both together after all this time, must be fate.
Suddenly her door opens and shows the man she has been thinking about. Dot looks up and smiles, “Hey Jamie! What’s wrong?” she asks, deciding to pretend she is innocent and knows nothing. Always worked with guys. So easy.
“We need to talk, now,” Bucky says, anger evident in his voice.
Dot’s smile disappears. She figured he would be upset, but not angry, and not at her. “What’s going on?” she asks with a furrow of her brow.
“This is over, Dot. Whatever you are trying to do, it’s done. I know you are dealing with a lot, but you need to start figuring it out for yourself. I am done putting you before Y/N,” he says.
Dot can’t help but roll your eyes. “Oh is she upset with you again Jamie? I mean I understand being slightly threatened by our past, but she obviously doesn’t trust you. If she can’t trust you, then she isn’t good enough for you. Maybe it’s time for you to cut your loses and return to me,” Dot said.
“She has every reason to be upset! I’ve neglected her! I just want to know... are those panic attacks that you have even real,” he asks.
Dot feigns being offended, “How dare you! Of course they are! Look at all I have gone through! I volunteer for something back in the 40′s and wake up in 2020′s. There is a lot of thoughts and feelings I feel and I don’t know how to process them! Is she saying I am lying?”
“I am saying you are lying. You always seem fine when we are together, but the moment I go to my girlfriend you start freaking out. You are trying to keep me away from her,” Bucky says, his voice raising.
“I feel comfortable with you, Jamie! I love you! Of course I feel better when you are near! It’s not my fault you tried to move on! But tell me this, if you don’t love me like you did, and you love her, why then did you constantly leave your girl for me? You obviously are still in love with me! So dump the girl and let’s be together!” Dot yelled.
“You’re crazy! Seriously you are delusional! You use me being a good friend and a gentleman against me to separate me from the woman that I truly love. Well it stops now! You need to get your ass in gear because it will take me nothing to turn you out of the compound to fend for yourself. If Steve and I can make it work, so can you. And your trauma is nothing compared to what we have gone through. So get yourself together and figure your life out. I am done playing these games with you!” Bucky says before leaving Dot’s room.
Dot sat there stunned at the last outburst. If Bucky thinks that she will go down without a fight to the death for him, then he doesn’t know her at all. Dot always gets what Dot wants. No matter the cost.
--
Bucky knocked on Natasha’s door, trying to calm himself down from his conversation with Dot. Nat opened the door and immediately tried to close it, “Nat please! I need your help,” Bucky begged.
She rolled her eyes and allowed him in. He sat there and told her everything about what happened last night, and this morning with Y/N and Dot. Natasha smacked him upside the head at least 4 times for being dumb. When he was done explaining everything he looked sadly at Natasha, “So will you help me? I have a plan that will allow Y/N the time she asked to think, while also showing her that she is my priority. She is the love of my life. Please?” Bucky begged.
Nat knew how much you and Bucky loved each other. She knew how happy you both were, so she agreed to help. Bucky laid out the plan to Nat and they both agreed to set it in motion. Bucky felt better already. He told off Dot, got your best friend to help him, and now all he needed was to win you back. He hoped he wasn’t too late.
--
Chapter 2 / Chapter 4
Dot is trouble! What plans does he have up her sleeve? Will the reader forgive Bucky? Does he deserve it? 🤷🏻♀️Feedback is appreciated!
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Backseat | Lee Know x Reader
genre: absolutely filthy smut
warnings: brat tamer! idol, sub! reader, afab reader, masturbation, choking, hair pulling, marking, handcuffs, pet names, degradation, praise (brief), humiliation, swearing, overstimulation, impact play, oral sex, interfemoral sex, fingering, use of the colour system. this is written under the assumption that all kinky acts performed have been discussed many times prior. consent is important and limits should always be discussed with any partner
requested: nope, this came from my own perverted mind
word count: 5.1k
taglist: @bxngchxn @jisungsplatforms @etherealeeknow
a/n: welp, i definitely went overboard on this. count this as my apology for the angst lately. this is absolutely disgusting filth and i hope you enjoy :) this also isn’t proofread (i say like i’ve proofread anything i’ve written) so if you see any mistakes feel free to let me know and i’ll fix it :) also i was kidding when i said i'd finish this at 5am but it's literally 5.03am so that's a bit funny lol
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To say you were annoyed with Minho would be only somewhat accurate. Frustrated was probably a better word. He’d been teasing you the entire time you were both out for dinner with your parents, spending a large portion of the time with his hand resting on your inner thigh. His touch had you on edge all night, especially when his fingers would occasionally migrate upwards, slowly stroking at your clothed sex.
He always seemed to do it while you were talking, catching you off guard each and every time. More than once your voice was cut off with a quiet whine and you had to come up with some excuse to your parents. You’re not sure how much they actually believed your measly excuses, but they didn’t question you further, probably not wanting to know what their child was actually up to.
Once dinner is over, and you’ve said goodbye to your parents, you and Minho head towards his car. You don’t speak to him the entire way, frustrated with him for having the audacity to tease you in front of your family. You weren’t truly upset with him, and he was aware of this. You were just embarrassed.
Finally reaching the car, Minho unlocks it and opens the passengers-side door, holding it open for you. But you weren’t about to ignore his earlier actions, wanting to play on your annoyance for one end goal in mind; being pounded into the mattress when you get home. And so, choosing your first act of defiance, you step past Minho and get into the backseat, slamming the car door behind you.
Minho huffs, rolling his eyes at your childish move. He closes the passenger door, walking around the car and climbing into the driver’s seat. The engine rumbles to life and Minho pulls out of the car park, beginning the 30 minute drive to your shared home.
You sit in silence, ignoring the glances from Minho in the rear-view mirror. It’s obvious that your act of climbing into the backseat has irked him, but you want to continue winding him up further. A devilish idea pops into your mind; the perfect way to tease him in return. You finally look forwards, making eye contact with Minho’s reflection. You smirk at him, and his eyebrows knit together in confusion, wondering what you’re planning to do.
You don’t leave him wondering for too long, propping one of your legs up on the car seat next to you, dress rising and putting your underwear clad pussy on display for Minho to see. You watch as his eyes flick downwards, quickly looking back up as he realises what you’re about to do.
“Don’t you dare. You know the rules,” he warns, his voice dark and threatening.
All his words achieve is making you needier. You say nothing, just continuing to stare at Minho in the mirror, as you bring one of your hands down, using your middle finger to rub circles against your clit. The small touch has you whining, the combination of Minho’s earlier teasing and the tense atmosphere in the car mixing to make you extra sensitive.
Your breathing slowly begins to pick up as your arousal grows, beginning to soak through the flimsy fabric of your lacy underwear. Your other hand comes up to your breast, groping yourself over your dress. Minho watches your brazen display, making sure to keep a watch on the road in front of him as well. You partly expect him to speed up, rushing to get you home and teach you a lesson, but he doesn’t. He stays steadily at the speed limit, not even once going over. He wants to drag this out. He wants to see just how far you’ll go with your little act.
And you’re more than willing to show him.
You slide your underwear to the side, quickly sliding one of your digits into your slick walls. Minho adjusts his rear-view mirror, positioning it to where he has a good view of your lower half. He watches the way you pump your fingers in and out of your pussy, curling the digits against your sweet spot. You exaggerate your moans, knowing how much Minho loves to hear you. And all you want is to get him as worked up as he made you.
The hand working on your breast slides down the front of your dress, and you pinch one of your buds, tugging gently before pulling your hand away and sliding it down to your clit. You press the pad of your middle finger against the nub, rubbing against it just as you were before while your other handworks your core. The combined simulation has you nearing your peak, your body beginning to tingle in just the way that it does when you’re close.
Minho swallows, trying to supress his groans at your actions. Your moans rise in pitch, turning into desperate whines as you try to push yourself over that edge and into bliss. You rub faster against your clit, but what is the true catalyst for your release, is the moment you make eye contact with Minho again. His eyes are dark, darker than you’ve ever seen before. And they hold a conflicting look, simultaneously begging to see you cum on your own fingers and warning you to stop breaking the rules.
The moment your eyes meet his in that mirror, you cum, body shaking as you continue fingering yourself through your orgasm, riding out your own high. You only pull your fingers from your fluttering walls once you’ve stopped trembling with pleasure, your body falling slump against the seat. Your heavy pants are the only sound in the car as you recover from your orgasm.
Another thought pops into your head. You’ve already come this far, what’s one more daring act? You bring your slick coated fingers to your lips, staring down Minho as you suck on them. Your tongue dances around your digits as you clean them of all of your juices. Only once your fingers are clean, do you pull them from your lips with a dull pop.
You pull your attention away from Minho, instead facing the window. Your breath hitches as you realise you’re only a few streets away from your shared home. The knowledge that punishment for your daring actions is only minutes away fills you with an excited fear, your pussy already trying clench around nothing.
Minho remains silent, no longer looking in your direction at all as he rounds the final corner before pulling into the driveway. He turns the car off, still not saying anything as he climbs out of the vehicle. He opens your door for you. Part of you want to remain defiant and exit via the other rear door, but you know better. You’ve pushed things far enough. You climb out the door that he’s holding open, swallowing dryly when he closes it gently. His actions are calm, too calm, and your mind whirls with the possibilities of what he has in store for you.
He locks the car and you both walk towards the house. You’re expecting him to do something as soon as the front door closes behind you both, but he doesn’t. He’s still too calm. He hangs the keys up on the key hook and takes his shoes off. You take yours off as well, watching him the entire time for any hint of what’s to come. You get nothing.
He starts to make his way upstairs towards your shared bedroom, and you know to follow him without him even saying or signalling for you to. The walk to the bedroom feels as if it drags on for hours, your heart drumming loudly in your ears, the sound of Minho’s footsteps seemingly echoing off the walls around you. Your hands grow clammy as the nerves truly set in, but more than nervous, you feel excited. This is exactly what you wanted. You wanted the rush that being a brat provides, pushing all the right buttons to get exactly what you want from Minho. It’s been too long since you’ve been absolutely used, and you’re more than ready for the fun that’s about to ensue.
Minho walks into the bedroom, you trailing closely behind. He stops at the door and you step past him. He closes the door, something he doesn’t normally do, and you know you’re in for the time of your life.
“Strip.”
The sound of his voice startles you, the nerves having you on edge. You stare at Minho for a moment, eyes wide while your brain process what he said.
“Don’t make me repeat myself.”
Authoritative. That’s the best word to describe the tone of his voice. Strong, commanding, it leaves no room for arguing, and you find yourself doing exactly as told. Even as your dress hits the floor, lacy lingerie joining it, Minho still doesn’t look at you. Instead, he’s busy rolling the sleeves of his dress shirt up. His movements are languid, lazy, he’s taking his sweet time getting to you.
You sit yourself down on the edge of the bed with a huff, impatience getting the better of you. Even the view of Minho’s exposed forearms isn’t enough to keep complacent for a moment longer, and the sound of your huff is what finally makes him look at you for the first time since you orgasmed in the car.
His eyes are dark again, and it’s as if they bore into your very soul. He takes a step towards your sitting figure, unbuttoning one of his top buttons. If you were to ask him why he undid the button, he’d say it was to allow himself some more breathing room. But you both knew that the real answer is that it’s for show.
He stands directly in front of you and reaches one hand towards you. You flinch back slightly, not knowing what to expect after earlier events. He pauses, waiting for you to move back forwards, and it’s only when you do that he continues moving. He places his hand on the top of your head, gently stroking your hair.
The tug is unexpected. He waits just long enough for you let your guard down before he grabs a fist full of your hair and pulls. Hard. Your scalp stings, but you love it. The yank draws a whimper from your lips, and Minho smirks almost evilly at the sound. He holds you by your hair, head tilted backwards as he stares you in the eye.
“I wonder what I’m going to do with a whore like you,” he says, voiced laced with something akin to feigned sympathy. Pretending to be sorry for you over the punishment that’s instore for you.
“No, you don’t,” you reply, both of you knowing full well that he’s not wondering at all. He has plans for what to do with you, he’d had almost the entire car ride to plan.
“You’re right,” he admits. A small chuckle leaves his pretty lips as he still stares down at you. “Now get up.”
He releases your hair, and you slowly stand up. He switches places with you, sitting himself where you previously were while you stand before him. He taps his thigh with his index finger, and you know what he’s telling you to do. You straddle the toned muscle, lowering your hips until your pussy is resting against the fabric of his pants.
Your hands rest upon Minho’s shoulders while he leans backwards, his arms propping his body upright. You stay still, waiting for his go-ahead before you start grinding against his thigh. He doesn’t give it. Instead, he attaches his lips to the column of your throat, sucking harshly. He drags his teeth against your skin, making you shiver at the sensation. Only when the entire expanse of your throat and chest is covered in marks does he give you the nod to start riding his thigh.
The first drag of your hips has your body shuddering, the pressure against your clit delicious. None of the following grinds feels as good as the initial one, they feel great but it’s just not quite as electrifying. Minho leans forward, bringing one of his hands up to your face. He prods at your lips, prompting you to part them. He slides his index and middle fingers into your mouth, reaching as far back as he can and pressing down on your tongue, aggravating your gag reflex.
You choke on his fingers and all he does is chuckle, sliding his fingers out of your mouth. He moves his hand down, wrapping it around your throat and squeezing. The restriction to your airflow is euphoric, it drives you closer to your release. You adjust your leg, and your knee lightly grazes Minho’s bulge.
Your eyes widen slightly, it hadn’t considered just how hard your actions would make him. He hisses quietly at the accidental contact and you smirk. You know you shouldn’t do it, but what can you say? It’s too much fun being a brat. One of your hand moves south, cupping Minho’s constricted cock. He snaps. His other hand comes up and all you can register is the sting of your cheek seconds after his palm strikes against it. You’re still in slight shock when his grip on your throat tightens and he pushes your body away, forcing you off of him, only releasing your throat once you’ve slipped out of reach.
“Now you’ve broken the number 1 and number 2 rule.” The look in his eyes is lethal, you’ve broken the two most important rules all in one night. That’s a first. Usually, you could eventually persuade Minho to give in to what you want despite being a brat, but you had a chilling feeling that you wouldn’t get your way this time. “Kneel.”
Not wanting to make things worse for yourself, you drop to your knees. You feel small, Minho leaning over you making you feel like his prey. And you absolutely loved it. He grabs your chin between his index finger and thumb, tilting your face up towards him as he leans in close to your face.
“I’m gonna make you wish you were never a brat.”
The words seep into your core, his voice laced with a sweet poison and you know; you have to be good from here on out. It’s not often that just a sentence alone can stop your bratty behaviour for the night, but the way he says the words is nothing short of a warning that you’re not going to get what you want.
“But first, you made a mess on my pants,” he lets go of your chin, allowing you to look down and see the wet patch that your slick left behind on the fabric. “And you’re gonna clean it up.”
Your eyes shoot back upwards to look Minho in the face, unsure of exactly what he means. And he chuckles sinisterly at your confusion, absolutely loving that you don’t know what’s coming.
“Lick it clean.”
Your face immediately begins to burn as the realisation of what he said sets in. He wants you to lick your juices from his pants. You both know that your slick has soaked into the fabric and that you licking it will only cause a bigger mess, but that’s not what this is about. Minho wants to humiliate you. He wants you to be ashamed, for your face to burn in embarrassment as you do something so dirty as licking the mess you created from his pants.
And it’s working.
You’re slow to move closer to him, balancing yourself on your knees with one hand on his clean thigh and the other on the bed next to his other leg. You look Minho in the eye, silently begging him to not make you do something so humiliating, all he does in response is place a hand on the back of your head and roughly push your face closer to the mess. He doesn’t let go until your tongue is pressing flat against his pants, licking a stipe up the pre-existing wet patch. It’s faint, the taste of yourself, but the filthiness of the act has you moaning. You try to keep quiet, not wanting the further embarrassment, but Minho already heard you.
“Pathetic,” he spits out, and you moan again at the degradation.
You continue licking at his pants, and it’s not long before all you can taste is the fabric itself. Minho doesn’t care, however, as he doesn’t signal for you to stop. He’s thriving off of this, you can tell from the twitch of his bulge that he’s loving the sight in front of him. He lets you continue for a few more moments, before pulling your face away by your hair.
“Get on the bed,” he orders, and you do just that, scrambling to your feet and climbing on the bed.
You lie in the middle, your head resting against the pillows as you watch Minho stand up. He crawls up the bed until he’s hovering over you, and you feel so small under him. You’re caged between his arms but there’s nowhere else you’d rather be. You don’t think, just wanting to get this show on the road. You reach up, grasping one of his shirt’s buttons in your fingers. Minho is quick to react, grabbing your wrists and pinning them above your head.
“You don’t fucking learn, do you?” He holds your wrists together with one hand, his grip none too gentle, as he glares down at you. You can’t help but cower under his glare, making you feel even smaller.
Without letting go, he leans over to his bedside table, opening the draw and reaching into it. You’re too busy staring at his face to register what he’s retrieving, but when you feel the cold metal and hear the steady clicking sounds of the cuffs closing around your wrists, your attention snaps above your head. He cuffs one wrist, sliding the connecting chain around the metal bar at the head of the bed before cuffing your other wrist.
You tug against the restraint, testing the limits of your reach. The way the metal digs into your skin makes you whimper, but you love it. Minho slowly runs his hands down your sides, groping at your thighs. His fingertips leave goosebumps in their wake, making you shiver in anticipation. He slowly moves his body down your own, until his face is right in front of your dripping core.
He places sloppy kisses to the insides of your thighs, occasionally sucking harshly on the skin before continuing kissing. You moan at the feeling, wanting to tangle your fingers in his hair and bring his lips to your clit. But you can’t. You’re subjected to Minho’s unwavering patience as you’re squirming under him. A harsh smack to the flesh of your inner thigh has you stilling, the small burn of the contact causing you to clench around nothing.
“Stop moving.” He goes back to his teasing touches, and you struggle to remain still. The tension in your lower half building to an almost unmanageable extreme.
“P-please.” The beg leaves your lips before you can stop yourself, and you can feel Minho’s smirk against your skin.
“Please what? What do you want me to do?”
“Please make me c-cum,” you whisper, completely embarrassed to be begging for anything from Minho. You expect him to laugh at you, to tell you that you’re not going to be cumming at all tonight as your punishment for acting up. But he doesn’t. He says something worse.
“Don’t worry, kitten. You’ll get to cum soon enough.”
It’s the way he says it and you finally know what he has planned. Overstimulation. Overstimulation isn’t one of your favourite things. You didn’t particularly love it, nor did you hate it. You and Minho had had the conversation a few times about what sort of punishments are allowed. Overstimulation had come up a couple times as something that you don’t love but can tolerate enough to allow as a punishment. He’d asked you a few times if you were sure, wanting confirmation that you weren’t going to allow something that you didn’t want. You’d assured him, saying that you liked it enough that you’ll let him do it on occasion.
That’s probably why he chose this particular punishment. You’ve been a major brat and while it’s got to be something you at least enjoy; it’s still meant to be a punishment.
There’s no warning before his lips attach to your clit, immediately sucking harshly against the nub. Your hands immediately try to grip his hair, but they can’t. You whine, trying desperately not to buck your hips up further into Minho’s face as he licks and sucks at your folds.
The metal digs further into your skin, uncomfortable, barely bordering on painful, but still entirely tolerable. It doesn’t take long. In fact, it’s embarrassing just how quickly he brings you to the brink of pleasure, dangling over the precipice’s edge, ready to tumble over into your second orgasm of the day. Minho keeps you there, dangling off that ledge just because he can. It’s one of his favourite things to do, to make that knot in your stomach tighten impossibly tight but not give you enough to let it unravel.
He’d done this to you so many times, he’s almost perfected his technique. Applying pressure that’s a fraction too soft in a spot that’s a fraction off from exactly where you need it. He loves toying with you, seeing just how far he can push you before letting you cum.
The bedroom is noisy, filled with the clank of the handcuffs’ chain against the metal bedframe, your desperate moans and Minho’s tongue lapping at your dripping folds. All the combined sounds mix together to create a filthy concoction that truly adds to the vibe of the night’s events. It’s arousing. But the only sound you can focus on is your heartbeat thrumming in your ears as Minho finally pushes you over the edge, allowing you to cum. Your eyes squeeze shut, and your body convulses with the pleasure, your orgasm more intense than any you could provide yourself.
Minho’s mouth doesn’t let up, not even after you’ve finally come back down from your high. The tingles of pain brought about by the overstimulation are almost overwhelming, but you don’t want to stop. You’re enjoying this more than you thought you would. But there’s no way you’ll tell Minho that; he’d never wipe the smirk off his face if you did.
He keeps going, adding his fingers to work your walls alongside his mouth. Your back arches, your body non-stop shaking, and by your fourth orgasm, there’s nothing you can do to stop the tears from flowing down your cheeks. Minho looks up at your face, noting the fucked out expression and tear stains, and pauses.
“Colour?” he asks, voice soft and gentle for the first time since dinner.
Your brain is foggy, clouded over as you try to think, contemplating what to respond.
“Y-yellow,” you say, deciding it’s better to give yourself a moment for your brain to clear.
Minho pulls his fingers from your core in response, placing sweet kisses along your thighs, his hands rubbing your sides soothingly while he waits for your go-ahead to continue. It’s a couple minutes before you give him the nod. He asks you once, twice, if you’re sure. The last thing he would ever want is to do something when you’re not ready or don’t want to.
“I’m sure,” you say, smiling at him softly.
“Okay, just one more, kitten. You can do that for me, can’t you?”
Any words you were going to say are immediately replaced with another moan as his lips reattach to your clit, his fingers delving deep into your walls once again. You’re sensitive. Far more sensitive than you’ve ever been before. And the fact that it only takes a minute for you to reach your release again just adds to all the humiliation you’ve experienced in the course of a single evening.
Just as he said he would, Minho pulls away once you’ve recovered from your orgasm, sliding up your body and connecting his lips with yours. His swipes his tongue across your bottom lip before delving into your mouth. You can taste yourself on him and you love it. You moan softly into the kiss, but it doesn’t last nearly as long as you would’ve liked before Minho is pulling away and climbing off the bed. You whine at the loss, but quickly shut up as you watch him finally undress. He undoes his buttons slowly, your eyes following his every move with such desperate desire. He tosses his shirt to the side, quickly ridding himself of his pants and underwear as well. He hisses as the cold air hits his throbbing cock, leaking a small amount of precum. Mentally, he had all the patience in the world to drag this out. But physically he was aching for a release. He climbs back onto the bed, quickly manhandling you so that you’re flipped over, arms crossed at the wrist, further restricting the amount of movement you have. He runs his hands over your ass cheeks, delivering a few well placed smacks to each before gripping your hips tightly. He lifts them up so that you’re laying there with your ass in the air and your face pressing into the pillows.
He reaches a hand down between your legs, gathering some of your wetness on his fingers. He wraps his slick covered hand around his cock, pumping himself slowly, coating his length in a mixture of your wetness and his precum.
“You know, if you’d been good, you’d actually be getting fucked tonight,” Minho says, feigning sympathy.
Your head snaps to face him as much as your position allows you to, your eyes wide as you realise what he’s just said. He chuckles almost sadistically at the look of confusion on your face.
“B-but-”
“No buts, kitten. You know that your actions have consequences.”
You whine at that, but you know better than to argue with him. You know that if you try to talk him into fucking you, then he’ll just make sure you don’t get a dicking down for a whole month. And that would be a nightmare.
He slowly drapes himself over you, holding himself up with one arm while he places his cock between your thighs, resting against your pussy. He uses his legs to push yours together, effectively sandwiching his cock at a pressure he desires. You whine again, your throbbing cunt aching for him to be inside, but you know you’re not going to get it.
Minho slowly begins to thrust, and the drag of his cock against your slit feels better that you expected it to. It feels good, nowhere near as good as if he were actually inside you, but still good nonetheless. He slowly starts to speed up, chasing his high that he’s been putting off all night. The soft grunts that leave his lips are music to your ears. You moan, as much as you love having Minho pounding into you, having him to this is still so much fun.
He continues to thrust, and you can tell he’s already getting close. All the build up to this moment had him painfully hard so it’s no surprise that he’s already near his end. What is surprising, however, is that you’re near your finish as well. You never would have expected his actions to feel this good and it has the knot in your stomach tightening. And Minho can tell from the pitch of your moans.
He adjusts his hips so that he’s rubbing against your slit harder, the head of his cock applying just enough pressure to your clit every time he thrusts forwards. The extra sensation is what does it for you, causing you to cum one final time with a particularly loud moan.
“You’re such a slut, cumming just from this,” he says breathlessly. He’s not far behind you, the feeling of your shaking thighs enough to push him over the edge. He thrusts once, twice more before cumming with a loud groan, burying his face into the back of your shoulder.
He takes a moment to recover before pulling away, slowly standing up and setting about cleaning you up. Your body feels heavy as he moves around you, and you barely notice him carefully unlocking the handcuffs and placing your arms on the bed. Hardly registering him moving you under the covers. He grabs a tissue, quickly wiping his cum from the top of the covers before ultimately deciding to just put it in the washing machine in the morning. He looks at you, smiling at your tired form. As much as he loves having kinky fun with you, he loves this more; being able to see you all sleepy and soft. It’s adorable.
He walks to his set of draws, quietly pulling out a pair of underwear and pulling them on. He turns back to you just as you lazily open your eyes. He heads back over to you, placing a gentle kiss to your forehead.
“Cuddles?” you ask quietly, looking at him hopefully.
“Of course, my love. I’ll just grab you a glass of water for the morning and then I’ll be right back, okay?”
You nod and he stands, quickly heading out to the kitchen and rushing back, glass of water in hand. Even though he’s gone for barely longer than a minute, you’re almost asleep when he returns. He places the glass on your bedside table before quickly climbing into the bed next to you. He pulls you into his chest, slowly running his fingers through your hair soothingly.
It’s nice, how peaceful the moment is, and it has you falling asleep in mere seconds. Minho smiles when he hears your quiet snores. He reaches over to grab his phone, being careful not to jostle you too much and he sets himself an alarm for a reasonable time in the morning while still making sure it’ll go off before you get up. He wants to make sure he gets up first so that he can make you breakfast for when you awaken. Only when he sets the alarm and puts his phone back down does he finally allow himself to close his eyes and fall into a peaceful sleep, holding you in his arms.
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