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tainted-liquor · 8 months

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✮ 4th Baby Mama‧₊˚ ⋅ 「15.10.23」 ft. Earth42 Miles G. Morales

ingredients; Sugar, kisses, n a lil bit of smiles!

Listen, ik you said make it just one, but a part 2 is going to be made lol

It was a warm day out in Brooklyn, New York. The air gently caressed and kissed your skin, leaving your blue plaid skirt flowing as you trekked through the messy streets of Brooklyn. You paid no attention to the gunshots, explosions, or any of the...cherry-wine tinted 'spills' coming from a random trash bag in the alley. You mumbled along to the music you had blasting through your blue metallic beats, putting a slight pep in your step as Summer Walker spoke to your soul.

"I wanna start wit' yo mama, she shoulda whooped yo ass..." you grunted, giggling to yourself before swinging open the massive oak doors to Brooklyn Visions Academy. You felt rather giddy about the day ahead, knowing that you would be getting robotic babies as part of your home economics class. The problem was that you didn't know who you would be partnered with. It was all shits and giggles, and you were pretty sure the task would be as easy as ever. No matter who you were partnered with! Right?

No.

You made your way to the locker, checking your lashes and light makeup in the small mirror you had placed in the top right corner before placing all your unnecessary materials inside the navy blue metal. You did a quick fluff of your slick low bun and threw on your clear-framed glasses. You opened up your spearmint mentos gum, popping two small pieces in your mouth before closing your locker and proceeding through the bustling halls to find your friends. You lowered your headphones down to your neck, pausing the music and locating your girls all crowded together in what sounded like frantic whispers and sharp giggles. Catching up to the rest of the group, you merged into their tight circle to see what was going on as they all looked down at each other's phones.

"Yooo, what's happening? What y'all lookin' at?" You inquired whilst pulling out your phone and opening your school email. You turned your head to face your friend, Tierra, watching as the cyber-blue hue illuminated her facial features as she stared down at her screen with a hand over her mouth. Layla spoke up, nudging you gently so you could see what she was talking about, "They picked the partners for the...the fuckin' baby project at random!" She giggled, tears pricking her waterline as she flipped her screen to show you what was on her phone. You scanned through the list, eyes widening when you came across your name right next to Miles'.

"WHAT!" You shouted, breaking out into laughter with the rest of the group. "They paired me with my fuckin' ex, at least you got that quiet kid!" Tierra grunted, whacking you on the shoulder with a rolled-up homework assignment. You nearly fell on the floor, gripping Katie's shoulder while she held up upright. The idea of raising a baby, real or not, with a stranger sounded hilarious. You weren't mad, but he wasn't exactly the partner you wanted. You originally hoped for one of your girlfriends, or maybe even a cute guy from the basketball team that you could yap about later. But alas, the forms were out and the choices were final, so there was nothing more that you could do.

You were familiar with Miles; saying hi to him now and again in the hallways and always getting the same upward nod in the process. He was known to be an adept artist who wasn't big on having a large circle of friends, but that didn't mean he was weird. You held your stomach as you wiped your tears, easing into the steady flow of conversation your friends began to hold before it was time for you to head to your advisory. You waved bye to your friends before heading to Mrs. Thomas’ classroom for said advisory, where she covered the school's upcoming events and big tests we needed to be ready for. You fiddled and played with a loose curl in your bun, pulling it down and watching as it sprang back up at an instantaneous rate.

The room was dull and filled with nothing but sleep until the bell rang, signaling for everyone to file out to their next class. You hastily grabbed your things, panicking slightly at the fact that in the next 30 minutes, you would be classified as a ‘mother’. The classroom was warm and comfortable, allowing your nerves to relax slightly as you sat in your usual seat. It didn’t take long for more voices to pour in, loud gossip and strained laughter filling the room as everyone took their respective seats. ”Girl this class finna be the death of me…how we havin’ kids at 8:35 in the morning!” Your friend Jayda mumbled, finally sitting down next to you as your teacher prepared to start today’s lesson.

“Nah that’s what I’m saying…Like, tell me how I got-” you began, cutting yourself off as soon as Ms. Kaylee cleared her throat and stood up from her desk with a warm smile. She spoke, her voice cutting clearly through the silence that hung over the room like a mistletoe over a pair with chemistry as thick as butter, “Alright, everyone! I’m sure you saw the email about your partners for your week-long project, but in case you didn’t have time or missed a couple of lessons I’ll go over everything for a couple minutes before we get started with our gender reveal!” You tensed in your seat, looking over at Jayda with wide eyes and an upside-down smile. The classroom door came swinging open, revealing a Miles who had a tiny matte-black bandage right next to his lip. His uniform jacket was missing, his tie askew, and his sleeves were rolled up to his upper bicep, displaying a ton of tiny scratches and a small bruise above the curve of his elbow.

The teacher glared at him for what felt like a minute, calmly pulling him to the side to discuss his entrance while you glared at him, too. But you weren’t staring because he was a disruption to the classroom. He looked delicious like this…when he was finally out of his usual blue school hoodie and grey slacks. You watched as he nodded at the teacher, towering over her 5’4 stature before you felt a light tap on your arm.

“Ayo, stop drooling girl we see you” Jayda laughed, giving her a firm eye-roll as you watched Miles stroll back to his desk and sit down. Ms. Kaylee let go of a deep sigh, shaking her head before continuing with her speech. She gave a brief explanation of what it was that we’d be doing, what the final goal was, and how we would be graded on our project. She clapped her hands together, setting out a bunch of baby holders and car seats before rolling out a massive case labeled ‘RealCare’. “Alright! When I call you and your partner's name, please come up and grab one bath bomb and a pail of water”

The people around you made quick work of finding their partners and grabbing the necessary supplies between chortles and hushed conversation. Your chest felt heavy as you talked Jayda’s ear off, nearing the order of people that you last saw on the Google form she had emailed you earlier. You perked up as soon as you heard your name, turning around to see Ms. Kaylee check off two spaces on her clipboard before beckoning the both of you to come up and grab your things. You sighed, getting up from your desk and grabbing a plain white bath bomb and a small beach pale filled with lukewarm water while Miles grunted and grabbed a car seat, muscles tensing and flexing under the weight of the surprisingly heavy chunk of plastic. He turned over to look at you, nodding his head back to his desk as a signal for you to follow him while you waited for the teacher to finish reading out the pairs.

“Wassup, Miles” you beamed, pulling up a chair in front of his desk so you could sit face-to-face with him while you placed the sunny yellow pale on the desk, holding the bath bomb as delicately as possible in your cupped hands. He nodded upward, setting the car seat on the floor next to him and cracking his knuckles. His skin was perfectly smooth, his braids laid neatly at the tip of his collarbones and he had a skinny but lean build on him. It wasn’t long after you took note of him avoiding your gaze that the teacher spoke up, instructing you to all drop your bath bombs in the pail of water and then rinse your hands at the sink. You squealed in anticipation, making sure that Miles was watching as you dropped the chalky white bath bomb into the sparkling clear water.

The bucket exploded with color, white foam suddenly turning into shades of bright pink and pastel fuchsia. You beamed from ear to ear, pure joy and excitement illuminating your face as you joined the rest of the class in their shouts of joy, exclaiming their ‘babies’ gender at the top of their lungs. Miles smiled slightly, nodding with a content expression before he leaned back in his chair and looked up at the ceiling. Shortly after everyone's joyful exclamation, the teacher wasted no time in collecting everyone's attention and going over the plan for the next week. “You will need to devise a custody plan with your partner, so this means exchange numbers or whatever you need to do now. You may now all come up and select your baby” Ms. Kaylee explained and gestured to the now-open box.

You went up with Miles, quickly scooping up a pretty baby doll with deep brown skin and curly brown hair. You analyzed her little face, taking in her deep black eyes and light pink headband that came with her matching pink onesie while Miles got your baby bag full of supplies and wristbands. Miles cleared his throat, holding up his phone before mumbling “Just send me what days you want me to get her and I’ll make it work.”

You nodded, putting your number in his contacts and vice versa. “Actually,” he stated, gently taking the baby from your arms and hoisting up the bright pink baby bag. “I got her until lunch today. I’ll come find you and we’ll work sum’ out,” he shrugged as you handed him back his phone.

“Oh aight, bet. What we naming her?” You asked, attempting to reach for the car seat, but being instantly denied by Miles. “Uhh…” he mumbled, visibly blanking at the idea of having to name his baby. “Uhh…Anylah?” He smirked, attempting to cover up the fact he just thought of a name on the spot. You looked him up and down, playing over how the name sounded in your mind before nodding slowly. Miles let go of a deep breath, posture relaxing only a fraction before he reached into the bag to put on both of your orange wristbands.

“Aight, I’ll catch you at lunch,” Miles stated, making his way out of the classroom with a heavy load of baby items and a fake baby. You made your way to your remaining 4 classes, internally groaning at how fast the time was passing by.

“She ain’t even tell us these fuckin babies cry…I didn’t know that shit made noise! It started going off in the library!” Your friend Jayda moaned, attempting to shush her fussy baby she named Mariah. “The fuck you mean you didn’t know they cried…it was literally in the paper she gave us about the babies?” You asked, looking at her like she had a second head. She shrugged, eyeing you with slightly widened eyes and a smirk to silently convey that she didn’t read the forms. “JAYDA!” You giggled, half-shoving her as you opened up the doors to the cafeteria. The line was nothing short of demonic, so you decided to hop a couple of places forward with your friends who had already made it to the cafeteria.

The food was mediocre, but at least it was edible. You sat with your girls for a good 5 minutes, enjoying your food and conversing with each other before you spotted Miles making his way over. He held the baby like a football, making space for himself at your table with a low “excuse me” in between you and Tierra. “Aight so my schedule is weird cuz I have work some days, but I’ll make it work what days should I get this thing?” He asked, his voice low and stoic as he began typing away in the notes app on his phone. You gave him a playful glare, attempting to push down the smirk that was forming on your face. “Don’t call her a thing, this is your daughter,” you joked with an exaggerated roll of your eyes. “But you can take…Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday!” You exclaimed, taking the baby from Miles and checking your calendar. Great, Wednesday!

“My daughter huh? Aight, I gotchu,” he sniggered before tucking his phone in his back pocket. He tapped on the table, shooting you a wink you swear you hallucinated before retreating to his group of homies without another word. Your head dropped down to your fake baby, fighting back a smirk as you submerged yourself back in your conversation.

Whatever you thought this project was going to be, you certainly didn’t anticipate anything from the road ahead.

It was 1 AM, and your arms felt sore from the constant rocking of this baby that weighed nothing less than 7 pounds. You changed what felt like 4 diapers, fed her for almost 20 minutes, and spent your night pacing through your kitchen to calm her down. You whined along with the baby, praying to whoever was listening that she’d be finished soon. You grabbed your phone from your shorts pocket, quickly dialing up Miles as a last attempt. You felt like you were intruding on his private life, but something in this goddamn world has to give.

The phone rang twice, sighing to yourself when you heard the familiar ringtone come to an abrupt stop. There was rustling, what sounded like a low breathy grunt, before Miles picked up the phone. “Yo…what’s good, whatchu need?” he mumbled, his voice sounding sickeningly velvety as he attempted to shake the sleep from his vocal cords. “Uh, hey. Anylah won’t stop crying and I don’t know what to do…Can you come help, please?” You winced, balancing your phone between your cheek and shoulder. He made a low noise that sounded like a cross of a low hum of approval, and a groan of missed sleep before he got up, stretched, threw on a quick hoodie, and knotted his sweats. “I’ll be over in like…a couple minutes” he grumbled, hanging up almost as soon as you could say “thanks.”

He knocked at your front door not even five minutes later, leaving you to drown in his shadow as he stood over you with a tired, blank, and semi-serious expression. The frosty air from the outdoors nipped at any inch of skin it could find purchase, leaving you to beckon him inside the door as quickly as possible. You handed him the crying infant, watching as his eyes widened by a fraction before returning to their initial low post. “Damn, not even a hello?” He chuckled as he took a wailing Anylah in his arms, rocking the baby at an oddly specific angle. “I know you didn’t just pull up to my crib talkin’ like someone's absent baby father…” you joked, rolling your eyes and taking your respective place back on the couch.

“Hello, Morales.” You commented, leaning your head on his shoulder sleepily as he sat next to you on the couch. He nodded, somehow managing to hush the baby within the first 45 seconds of holding her. You huffed, feeling slightly irritated at how he managed to finish what you were attempting to do for over an hour in only a minute. “You were rocking her…too fast,” he slurred, clearly tired as he attempted to hold his eyes open. You didn’t even realize that you had fallen asleep, attempting to reach for the baby before ultimately clocking out for the night.

You woke up feeling groggy, sluggish, and plagued by a small migraine. Both Anylah and Miles were nowhere to be found, feeling around for your phone only to grab a purple sticky note stuck to the back of your phone case.

‘Went back home.’

You sighed, shooting Miles a text immediately that let him know to not disappear like that with the doll. You got ready for school, taking a scalding hot shower and repeating your daily routine of thoroughly scrubbing and exfoliating your face. You threw on your uniform, prioritizing the aesthetic of your uniform as you tugged on some rather cutesy slouch socks. You skipped breakfast at home, opting to grab something from the cafeteria before slipping out the front door and facing the cold air once again. Damn, this day was bound to be long as hell.

You reached school, giggling at your phone down the street as you ‘bickered’ back and forth with Miles.

‘alr alr mb. I didnt think it thru.’

‘Fym you didn’t think it through? I thought I was finna fail’

‘u actin like sb baby mama rn.’

‘Ntm now’

‘my fault’

You powered off your phone, jamming the smooth plastic case into the deep pockets of your black shorts under your school skirt. Today you had a class on burping babies and how to properly dress them for the winter, eagerly anticipating the cute little coats they’d provide for your shared babydoll. You took your seat, silently doodling in your notebook until you heard the familiar cold tone fade into the classroom. “Qué quieres decir? Esta mi mamá del bebé es ahí mismo,” he chuckled, carrying both the baby bag in one hand and Anylah in the other. “Baby mama is craaazy…” the boy he was talking to muttered, looking utterly tired and vaguely annoyed.

He took his seat next to you, giving you an upward nod as he cradled Anylah in one arm while he mindlessly scrolled through his phone with the other.

“Not you calling me your baby mother…”

"It's funny"

Tags ♡

@ashsostrangee @chessboxx @janaeby @faeriesoiree333 @fivestardior @an1bara @bachirasegoist @milesnanana77 @niaurluv @sp1derw1re @ban-al3x @we-loveebony @kae2kaee @dxrlingcc

#atsv #across the spiderverse #into the spiderverse #miles morales #miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles x reader #earth 42 miles #e42 miles x black!reader #e42 miles #earth 42 miles morales #earth 42 miles morales x reader

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tteokdoroki · 11 months

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hi aali!! welcome back!!! it’s so lovely to see you on my dash again <3 I saw your ask game and my eyes popped out of my sockets— would it be alright if you could do

❛ i need to come. please, i'll do anything. ❜ + breeding kink + sero hanta ?

I hope you’re having a lovely day!!

☆༉ — HANTA SERO: 0-800-HOT GUY-HOTLINE.

line. ❛ i need to come. please, i'll do anything. ❜

extension. breeding kink + afab!reader + nsfw, mentions of makeup.

things to note. eee thank u baby!! im happy to be back n i hope u enjoy this mwah mwah mwah (also i seem to have a terrible obsession with sero n cowgirl bye)

sero fucking adores you on top for three reasons in particular.

the first is that he can see your face when you cry, getting to look directly up at you while you sniffle and sob because he’s fucking you to high heavens and you need some kind of out let to bring you back down from cloud nine. sero will swipe a thumb under your big glossy eyes, and suck the salty tears from the pad of it just to get a reaction out of you. usually it makes you cry harder, until your mascara is nothing but dark tracks on your cheeks and your lips are wet and shiny from your own tears.

the second is that sero gets to feel you up, touch all over you. his finger tips will cascade from the back of your neck to your throat, dragging you down to slot his cheeky mouth against yours. his tongue then prods and pushes past the seam of your lips, toying with the taste of your sugar-coated and ecstasy dipped whimpers (and perhaps the taste of his cock) on your own. sometimes his hands dip lower, thumbing at those sensitive nipples until they’re budding like flowers in bloom, hanta’ll put his mouth on them too, catch your breasts in its hit cavern when they jiggle cutely as you bounce up and down on his curved length.

you’ve always said that you like how his black rooted hair tickles your skin when he leaves hu kiss across your chest.

but most of all, he likes it when you use him for your own pleasure — as if he’s nothing but a real life dildo and a sack of emotions. “fuckin’…shit honey. you’re fucking me so good,” sero is love sick, as you sink down on his slender cock and circle your hips to make sure you’ve taken it all. “show me how that pussy takes it, baby. wanna see,”

he’s running his mouth, slurring over spit and poorly strung together sentences and he knows you’re not listening. you’re too focused on bringing yourself right to the edge again and getting what you want, his cum in your gorgeous cunt until it’s running down both of your thighs. thrusting downward, both of you share a satisfied moan as sero’s leaky tip bullies it’s way up your glistening walls to bare down perfectly against your g-spot — you gush in response, a fresh wave of your nectar beading perfectly down his shaft. only catching on the blue forked veins that spiral around him.

through the misty veil of lust that clouds your brain, you manage to grasp at sero’s wrist — dragging his hand between your shaky overworked legs to guide him into spreading your pussy lips apart. “y’see me han’, ‘m all wet, all for you.” you tell him earnestly, bathing his throbbing cock in your warmth. you make sure that he gets an eyeful, a chance to observe the crude mix of his milky precum and your juices that run through your parted folds like treacle. “need you.”

before he has a chance to sing your praises, you brace your hands on the broad scope of sero’s chest — lifting yourself up and down in his lap, working yourself on his cock like it’s all that you’re trained to do. seeing himself smeared over your clit, stringing white glazing your thighs only motivates sero to fuck up into you — chasing your high and his own, desperate to see more of his cream inside of you.

or maybe he’s desperate to get you knocked up, see you swell with his seed — churn your insides up real good and have you all bred by him. who knows what he wants? sero can’t even tell, already burying himself to the hilt inside of you, grabbing your hips, your ass, your waist and circling you over him so that your eyes roll back. “i need to cum. please, i'll do anything.” he chants like it’s a mantra or a prayer dedicated to you. “wanna fill you up nice ‘n pretty. you want that, right? you wanna cum on me, pretty baby? make me cum deep inside—“

hanta can’t help but goad you, coerce you into riding him faster, harder — even if you’d intended to drag this one out. “that’s it, baby. use me, fuck yourself down on me. please,” he stutters out. he could die here, sero thinks, and he’d be so fucking happy — watching your eyes disappear into the dark of your skull, your thighs quiver and your chest sway with your sinful movements. “please, , jus’ wanna make’a’mess of these insides, wanna fuck my cum so deep inside it sticks. gotta have you full of me…”

“then cum, hanta. make me yours,” tip of the iceberg and the key to heaven’s gates is when you flip the script, begging for him to breed you. your slick walls start to twitch around him, your release trickling out of you without even a warning. that’s when hanta knows he’s fucked.

a pathetic sob nearly knocks his heart and lungs out of place when he finally hits his high, rope after rope of hot white seed flooding your clenching hole — he grabs your hips so tight that you’ll see fingerprints in the morning and keeps you still on top of him through the aftershocks of your orgasms.

maybe there’s a fourth thing sero loves about having you on top — the way you always beg for his cum in the end.

#sero x reader #sero smut #bnha smut #sero thirst #sero x you #bnha thirst #bnha x reader #mha smut #mha thirst #sero hanta x reader #sero hanta smut #mha x you #✮⋆˙ 0-800-hot guy-hotline #✧ ₊˚੭ — writing #tteokdoroki #✧ ₊˚✉️੭ — new notification #✧ ₊˚🗯️੭ — messenger #autumnalsteahouse #✧ ₊˚🃏੭ — games

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carmyboobear · 17 days

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Blood Orange (Ch 2: The Bathroom)

Carmy Berzatto x Reader (R18, MDNI)

Rating: E (5.7k)

links: fic playlist, pinterest board, ao3 link, ch 1

Chapter Summary: No more fucking your boss. That’s what you’ve been telling yourself, but he doesn’t make it easy, even as you find yourself wanting to scream. Somehow it all falls away when you lower yourself to your knees before him. You don’t know if there’s any stopping this anymore.

Content Tags: work sex, blow jobs, mouth fucking, CUM PLAY, dom/bossy carmy, coworkers with benefits, carmy being difficult, mental illness, they/them reader, gender neutral reader, the usual

A/N: WHEW. It’s here! Thanks for waiting y’all. I think I embarrassed myself writing this one (flushed emoji). It’s ramping up. Next chapter is gonna be big one. Let me know what you guys think, and enjoy! <3

Before you go to work the next morning, you make yourself come on your fingers. It would've been twice if you had more time.

You open your eyes waking from a dream with his ghostly blue eyes and low voice, and you already know you're wet before you even touch yourself. The pads of your reaching fingers chase the tender spot Carmy stroked inside of you, but they don't quite make it. Of course they don't.

Fingering yourself eases the ache for a little while. On the early morning transit with headphones over your ears, you still manage to find yourself aching for him. The music doesn't cover up the sound of his voice, and you catch yourself grimacing in the faint reflection of the dirty metro windows.

This is not a good way to start your second day at work.

Since you left the walk-in yesterday, Carmy's been following you around like a mosquito in the summer, whizzing around your head, buzzing in your ears. You can't rid your thoughts of him. When you close your eyes, you're trapped in the fridge with him, again, and his fingers are deep inside you.

Fuck. You're standing in front of the restaurant, willing yourself to go in. Just stop it, you think to yourself.

You really should be more mad at him. He technically never apologized for insulting you, but you suppose you didn't expect him to in the first place. You didn't usually get apologies at places like this, from people like him. You don't want to get in the bad habit of expecting good things from broken people.

No more fucking your boss, you think resolutely to yourself, and that's the thought you meditate on as you open the door.

By this time yesterday, there were already a couple of people floating around the kitchen. Today, you find dim lights and silence. Your footsteps feel too loud on the white linoleum as you walk to the lockers to drop off your stuff. You can’t pretend to understand the schedule yet.

“Carmen?” You pace around again as you secure your apron with a tie. No response. Surely he's here, at least. Someone had to open the place.

You take a couple more steps when you hear his voice.

“No, I'm not—that's not what I was sayin’.” The direction of his voice sounds like it's coming from his office. “Of course I miss him. Sugar—” A pause. “I know. Yeah. It's bullshit.” He laughs then, you think. You can't measure how genuine it is. “You're bullshit. Look, I'll call you back later, okay? And I'll—yeah, I'll look at it. Promise. Yeah. Bye.”

It's quiet after that. You're standing there, not sure what to do with yourself when you hear footsteps. Sure enough, Carmy pops out of the office, and you catch just a glimpse of something haunted in him before surprise takes over.

“Hi,” you say at the same time he says, “Jesus Christ.”

“How long have you been here,” he asks, as you go, “That's an interesting way to pronounce my name.”

“Um,” you start, and he stares at you blankly, unreactive to your joke. Too early, you guess. “I just got here.”

“Okay. Cool. Uh…” Anxiety radiates off of him, making his hands fidget and run through untamed hair. Not that you were looking at his hands at all. “You’ll be doin’ prep again.”

“Alright.” You expected as such. You’ll probably be on prep for the rest of the week, if not the month. That’s how most places go, but this isn’t most places.

“Your station was dirty when you left yesterday.” You walk up to your station, and it’s spotless. “I had to clean it before I left.”

“Ah. I’m sorry about that,” you apologize quickly. I was preoccupied with other things, you think bitterly to yourself, thinking of locked doors and heated kisses. Not that you’ll mention it. “I’ll make sure to clean it this time.”

“Prep’s gonna be a bit different today,” he says, completely ignoring your apology. You bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from snapping. “You’re gonna inspect produce, and then you’ll prep the stock again. Correctly this time.”

“It was nearly perfect, I just misplaced it,” you mutter under your breath.

“Yeah, nearly.” Looks like he heard you this time. Asshole. He places a box of onions on your station, rattling the table slightly. “Do I have to tell you how to sort out the bad ones from the good ones?” You’re honestly not sure if he means that as a jab, but the way he says it makes your insides sizzle with irritation.

Don’t take it personally, you remind yourself. Don’t. Take. It. Personally.

“How about you show me just in case? Just so we’re on the same page.” It’s a wonder how calm you keep your voice. To your surprise, Carmy doesn’t roll his eyes, doesn’t sigh, he just nods and proceeds. Every time you think you’ll predict him properly, he does the opposite.

You follow the line of his callused finger pointing to brown splotches on some of the onions. Intently, studiously, you examine the dark spots (indicative of mold), the sprouts (initial stages of deterioration), and the mushy areas (a sign of decreasing freshness). He’s talking about details as he seems to do when it comes to food, even elaborating on the farming process, but you don’t quite pick up that part. You just pay attention to the parameters you need to follow.

No more fucking your boss, you remind yourself again, because you catch yourself aching at the sight of his fingers. Your eyes have a hunger of their own, flickering up and down his muscular arms. God damnit. Maybe there’s another reason you can’t quite pay attention today.

“Are you listening?” Carmy’s pointed question snaps you out of it. Fuck. You hope he didn’t catch you staring at his fingers again.

“If I can save it and just chop off the bad parts, then I should,” you regurgitate on instinct. “Those are the best ones to use for the stock. Otherwise, I should just toss it.”

For a split second, all he does is fix you with his focused stare. You feel the intensity of it in your chest, your beating heart fluttering with its weight. No matter how many times you scold yourself for finding him attractive, your eyes can’t ignore what’s right in front of them. You find yourself counting his moles.

“I caught you staring,” he murmurs, “for real this time.”

“I—uh—” Your eyebrows are so raised you’re sure they’re bound to shoot off your warmed face. He’s smiling like he knows something you don’t. You weren’t going to mention yesterday, and after your first interaction this morning, you were sure he wasn’t going to, either. Guess you were wrong again.

“I’ll be in the back if you need help. The others should be here soon.” He’s moving on without giving you a chance to recover. Your brain can’t process the shock. “Just call if you need anything."

Before you get a chance to scrounge up anything to say, you’re alone in the kitchen again.

This time I'm really gonna do it, you fume internally. Because you have a healthy amount of anger management, you don’t let yourself continue that thought.

Sydney is the third person to show up after you and Carmy. You give her a nod and a thin smile as she walks in, and she waves back. Soon after she arrives, the others trickle in one by one. As you're learning to expect, the quiet never lasts for long.

There are tasks circling you just like yesterday that you don't fully grasp yet. Everyone seems to be instinctively following their own schedule, their circadian rhythm matched to the chaotic ecosystem of the kitchen. It’s just as suffocating as it was yesterday. You remind yourself that as a new hire, you don't need to understand the madness yet. Nonetheless, an invisible pressure presses down on you.

“Hey, d'you mind telling me where this produce goes?” A triple stack of filled containers sits heavy in your arms. With Sydney out of the kitchen, Marcus is your next safest option in terms of coworkers. His head flicks up from where he was focused on kneading dough. A streak of white flour is across his nose.

“Oh, that one's bottom shelf, near the back.” He claps his dusty hands together, flour falling between them like snow. “Here, I'll just show you. You know where the walk-in is?”

With Marcus, it doesn't feel like there are any stupid questions. It's a gift you don't take for granted, especially around here. You let him lead you to the fridge again, even though you remember where it is. It doesn't hurt.

“Thanks. I'm, uh, still having a hard time figuring out where stuff goes,” you say after you put the produce away.

“It’s cool. It's only your second day, right?” You nod. “Just takes time. Don't sweat it. You ever work in a restaurant before?”

“Yeah, a couple of times.”

“Then you know what you're gettin’ into.” That makes you laugh.

“Sorta.” You shrug. “To be honest with you, I just need money, and I like cooking enough, so…now I'm here.” You're not quite as honest with how desperate your situation was on the verge of coming, but it's fine. Not really the time and place for it anyway.

“I gotcha. That's how it was for me too, actually.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Well, that's how I started at McDonald’s. That was a while ago now.”

“I see. It's better here, I hope.”

“Hard to say,” he says, but there's a little smile on his face. “For the most part, Michael was cool, but—”

“Michael!” You blurt out, startling the both of you. “Holy shit, I'm sorry. I've just been trying to remember the name of the previous owner for forever now and—wow, sorry. I didn't mean to shout.”

“It's fine.” Marcus has this amused expression, but it dissolves quickly. “You met him?”

“I did. I came here a couple of years ago when I first moved. Just once, but—anyway, what's his deal?”

“His deal?”

“Yeah, like, why'd he give the restaurant away? Carmy said he didn't want it anymore.”

“Oh.” You can't read the way Marcus’ face shifts. “That's what he said?”

“...Yeah?”

“I see. Okay. Uh…” He pauses, scratching the back of his neck. “Look, I know how this sounds, but just try not to bring Mike up for now. It's still kind of a sore subject.”

“Ah, my bad.” Your brain instantly supplies stories of estranged families, sibling spats, and stolen money. You suppose it's a sour sort of relationship—something you're intimately familiar with. “Can I ask what happened, or…?”

“I'll tell you later,” he replies evasively. “You know what else they got you training on today?”

“No idea,” you answer honestly. The nosy part of you wants to hear more about the Berzatto family, but the responsible part of you reminds you to cool your jets. “Carmy just told me I was on produce. Know where he's at? I peeked into his office, but he wasn't there.”

“Oh, he just left.” Your blank stare makes him elaborate. “He's off doing Carmy things.”

“Doing Carmy things?” Looks like the person in charge has abandoned you yet again.

“Business stuff, probably.” Marcus shrugs. “He does that sometimes. He probably won't be back for a while, so I can help you with training for now if you want.”

“That would be great.” There's a remark on the tip of your tongue about poor management, but you hold it. “Is Carmy a better boss, at least?”

“Compared to Michael?” You recognize sadness in Marcus’ pinched brows, even if it's only momentary. “I dunno. It hasn't been long, but this place has been running more smoothly since he started doing things.” Your shocked expression makes him laugh briefly. “I know, it used to be worse if you can believe it.”

“I'm not sure that I can,” you admit.

. . . . .

The next several days at work continue to test your patience. While Carmy keeps you on prep, keeping your tasks simple, he continues to find ways to keep you on edge. You stiffen up every time he enters the kitchen, waiting for him to point out yet another mistake.

Chef, this cut's too uneven. Chef, you're taking too much time on this. Chef, you should’ve cut this part off. Chef, you’re creating too much waste.

Yes, Chef, you always reply, even as his comments become more and more grating. A childish part of you wants to do a worse job out of spite, but another part of you is hungry for his approval far more than you would ever admit. You wonder if he's this tough on everyone.

The incident in the walk-in does not get mentioned again. A childish voice in you wonders if Carmy has forgotten about it. Of course he hasn’t, but every time he critiques you, you wonder about the Carmy who kissed you. You wonder what that Carmy's thinking, because you have no clue.

Has he been thinking of you, too?

This is how things should be, you remind yourself after you touch yourself for the fourth night in a row to the thought of him. Your fingers are wet, and your wrist is embarrassingly sore. I can't have sex with my boss again. I just can't.

Would it be different if he also touched himself to thoughts of you?

You desperately suck your own cum off your fingers, and you wish it were his fingers instead. It doesn't taste the same.

The bright lights are irritatingly bright when you come in this morning. It looks like you're the first person here again, other than Carmy. You hear his irritated voice as soon as you enter, which is clearly a good sign.

“I appreciate you thinking of me, I do. I do. It's just—” He sighs. Looks like he's having another phone call. “I can't come back. Not right now.” Silence. “No, uh, won't happen for a while, I think. The place's fucked.” A shaky breath. “What? What did you say?

“The head chef asked about me?” Carmy's voice has gone tight. “I see. Of course he said that. No, it's fine.” Pause. “...I know what they've been saying. I figured they'd look down on me.” His laugh is hollow and painful. “Look, I got shit to do. Thanks for asking me, but it's a no. I can't.” Another pause, drawn out and tense. “Sure. Bye.”

After he hangs up, you hear him muttering to himself. You can't pick out any of the words other than the curses, but it sounds bad. As you put your things away, you silently pray to the abstract idea of a god to give you both strength of patience. Seems like you'll need it today.

“Morning,” you tentatively greet him when he sees you. He's not surprised by your presence today, it seems. He nods back.

“Morning.” His eyebags are dark with a lack of sleep. Upon closer inspection, his whole everything screams sleep deprivation, perhaps a bit more so than usual. His messy hair seems particularly unkempt today. “You're doing prep again today.”

“I figured.”

“You need to get better about cleaning your station.” His words are full to the brim with irritation. “I keep having to clean it after you.”

“I thought I was—” You stop. Calm down, you think, but it's getting harder and harder to repeat. “Sorry. I didn't realize.”

“I told you the other day that it was dirty. Were you even paying attention?”

“Of course I was!” Annoyance bubbles over inside of you, potent and unbridled. Carmy barely reacts to your raised voice. Somehow, that pisses you off more. The cap on your contained anger has popped off, and there's no fitting it back on. “Are you always like this towards your employees?”

“Like what?”

“Like an asshole?” You're too irritated to hold yourself back.

“Depends. Are you always like this with your boss?” He retorts immediately.

“I don't usually have sex with my boss, so no, I suppose not,” you respond stupidly, and that makes him go dead silent. He narrows his eyes, fixes you with his gaze. Like you're a new problem that needs solving or something like that.

God damnit, you think to yourself. Why'd you have to say that?

“You've been thinking about it.” The air feels thicker, suddenly.

“I never said that.”

“Then why did you mention it?” Shit. “You said you were going to do better.”

“And I have been. I've been trying to do everything you've been telling me to do.” You don't know why you take a step towards him. “You said you were gonna be nicer.”

“And I have been,” he echoes, and his sincerity makes you roll your eyes.

“Bullshit! You've been nit-picking me all week!”

“We have standards here, and you need to learn how to follow them. That's all.”

“You're right! I'm learning,” you argue, throwing exasperated hands up in the air. “Cut me some fucking slack!”

“Then learn. Improve.” He slams a hand down on the aluminum surface next to you, enclosing you partially in. Being this close to him, you can really see how dark his dark circles are. You could easily move to the side if you wanted to, but something in you stays put. “There's no excuse for a dirty workspace in a kitchen. I thought you would know that already.”

“I'm so fucking sorry, chef,” you spit back with about as much venom as you can muster. Which, right now, is a lot.

That shifts something inside him. You see it flash across his face—surprise, anger, and then…something else.

“Dirty work station and a dirty mouth,” he murmurs. His voice is lower, quieter, and it sounds just like how it did in the walk-in. You hate how that change instantly makes your heart pick up speed. “You think you get a pass to act like this because of what happened in the walk-in?”

“You motherfucker,” you hiss, meeting his glare with your own. “So now you're going to acknowledge it? And for the record, I get to act however the fuck I want. Especially with someone like you.”

“Someone like me.” He doesn't ask you to elaborate. He just laughs, breathy and condescending, and he's so close you can feel his breath fan across your face. “You think you're above all this, don't you?”

“What?” The question takes you so off guard that it almost dissipates the strange mix of anger and arousal simmering in your gut.

“I know it doesn't feel good to have to take orders from someone you hate, but here's the thing. You have to.” He's not smiling, but you swear he's getting some sort of sick satisfaction from all this. Why else would he be saying any of this shit?

“I could leave right now if I wanted to,” you threaten him. “You won't be able to find anyone else that wants to work in this shithole of a place.”

“You're right. You could leave if you really wanted to.” His eyes narrow curiously at you. “Then why haven't you?”

You’re well within your right to leave already—it checks all the boxes. Chaotic work environment. Awful management. General workplace misconduct. Unprofessionalism between coworkers. You suppose you're partially to blame for that last one, but still.

If it's bad, I'll just find another job, you told yourself. You're not sure why you're not listening to your own advice. The simple truth of the matter, though, is that other jobs won't have him. They won't have the man that's been keeping you up at night, the man that you want to simultaneously devour and destroy. They won't have Carmen Berzatto, and for some reason, that's all it's going to take.

You don't understand yourself. It scares you, but not enough. Not enough to leave.

“...I don't know why I haven't left yet,” you say quietly after a while. “I have no clue.”

“I see.” If he's dissatisfied with your answer, he doesn't show it. “Then for the time you're here, let's make one thing clear.”

“What is it now?” You sigh.

“I'm in charge here,” he whispers. His other hand is on the counter now. You're completely blocked in. “I'm the one who runs this place, so you're going to be good and listen to me when I speak.”

“You're not really giving me a lot of incentive, chef.” You lower your gaze to the counters next to you. “Maybe if you gave me something to work with.” You don't mean for it to come out as suggestive as it does, but with him surrounding you like this…

“Incentive?” He brings a hand to your face, tucking his fingers under your chin to pull your gaze back to him. His touch is achingly gentle, but it forces it to look straight into his eyes. Your fidgety gaze catches glances of the dark blue speckles that border his pale iris. “Hey,” he whispers, “look at me.”

You squeeze your eyes shut. Your heart's pounding like sprinting feet thudding on concrete. You can't place what feelings are excitement or anxiety or both, but maybe no separation exists. Shutting your eyes was a weak attempt to temporarily block him out, but now all you can focus on is the sensation of his rough hand on your hot face.

Hesitantly, you open your eyes to face him. Ice blue and dark circles. His intense stare is difficult to match, but you try.

“What do you want from me?” You ask quietly.

“I want you to clean your station. Think you can do that?”

“Don't patronize me. Of course I can. I just—happened to forget.”

“Hm.” He smiles briefly. It's just a bit mocking. “You don't have a good track record so far, so you'll have to prove it to me.”

“...And how would I do that?”

“Depends,” he replies vaguely. “Depends on what you want.”

“What I want? I thought you were supposed to be in charge.”

“When I touched you, you told me you wanted to touch me.” The realization clicks in your head. “Do you still want that?”

You hesitate. Memories of the walk-in flood in. You remember the silhouette of his tight jeans over his bulge, and you ache. You shouldn't say yes. You really shouldn't. A distant voice says, you don't want to do this. What have you been telling yourself? This is a bad idea.

Unfortunately, it's far past a matter of want anymore. It's a matter of need.

“Yes,” you whisper back. Your fate is sealed. “I do.”

That's how you find yourself in the cramped bathroom with him. It's dark with one of the lightbulbs having gone out, making it feel even smaller. An eerie green cast coats the room.

“You're going to show me that you can listen. That you can clean up after your messes.” He's leaned up against the wall, broad hands unbuttoning his pants. Your eyes shamelessly zero in on the motion. “Think you can do that much?”

“Of course I can,” you reply, but it comes out a lot softer than intended.

“Good.” You force your eyes away from the outline of his bulge in his boxers to look at his face. His darkened eyes are trained on you. “Get on your knees.”

Oh, you think. So this is how it's gonna go.

You wish you could say that you hesitate even a little bit, that there’s even a shred of contemplation left in you. However, there isn't any of that remaining. Obediently, you fall to your knees, resting them against the cold, hard bathroom floor. You're at eye level with his unbuttoned jeans. Slowly, you raise your eyes to look at him.

His downturned face is framed by wild strands of hair. Looking down at you casts darker shadows across his face, but not enough to hide his expression. It's an odd mix of hunger and what you think to be admiration. Surely not, but that's immediately the thought that comes to mind.

“Waiting for directions, chef,” you murmur.

“Mm. Right,” he says, like he was lost in thought. “You look better like this.”

“Watch it,” you warn him. “I could still bite your dick off.” To that, he just briefly smiles, and then it's gone.

He's pulled his black pants down just enough to let his clothed bulge hang over the waistband. The sight of it goes straight to the simmer starting in your gut. You watch his veined hand disappear into his boxers. He's doing this far too slowly for your taste.

Finally, he pulls out his cock, nearly completely stiffened, and you can't deny the way you begin to salivate.

You were right. It's big, though not just in length. His cock is thick. You immediately know you won't be able to take the full length of him into your mouth, but what fits is going to be a stretch. You're already imagining how those bulging veins are going to feel against the flat of your tongue.

“Use your mouth for something other than talking back to me. Make me come,” Carmy orders quietly. “Enough direction for you?”

“Shut the hell up,” you mutter, ignoring the feeling of the growing heat inside you, and you pull the reddened, shiny tip of his cock between your lips.

His pre-come mixes with the saliva on your tongue. You savor the taste of his salty musk, suckling slowly, and you hear him exhale shakily above you. Looks like you've been given something of an opportunity to get him back for the walk-in. Not repayment—payback. The distinction is important.

When you pull back, thin strings of spit connect the pink head to your glistening lips. One of your hands moves to hold the base of his cock as you close the gap again. You drag your tongue down the side of his length, licking the thick vein you were eyeing earlier. You feel him twitch.

“Do that again,” he breathes. Without question, your tongue retraces its path, running back over the line of spit it created. That gets you a quiet, strangled moan, and it's music to your ears.

“Is this part sensitive?” You ask as you stroke the vein with your thumb. You suck your way down the vein again, making small, wet seals of pleasure.

“Somewhat.” He sounds good like this, breathless and flustered. A smile twitches on your lips. You lick across the inside of your hand, wetting it before lazily curling it around his cock. He slides effortlessly in your grasp.

“You gonna come already?” You can't help but tease. He's surprisingly reactive, more so than you would've thought. It's not that you're complaining—it's not that at all. The sound of his low groans is making you drip.

“Hah—no. You'll have to work harder than that.” You feel a hand pushing back your hair, and that makes you raise your head towards him. His touch is surprisingly gentle. You watch the movement of his lips when he speaks. “Open your mouth, and stick out your tongue.”

You can't quite figure out what it is about all of this that makes you submit. Just moments ago, you wanted to wring your hands around his throat. It was far too easy to abandon your anger and kneel in front of him. Maybe it's the incomprehensibly part of you that undeniably needs his validation. Maybe it's the soft, low tone of his voice, gentle yet commanding. Either way, it has you obeying with a thought in your mind.

You do as he says. You part your lips and extend your tongue. As your eyes flutter upwards towards him, you're struck with the impression that you must look obscene.

“Perfect,” he whispers, and just the one word sends something of a euphoric rush through you. “Doin’ so good for me.”

You soak up the praise, basking in the warmth of it. Then, Carmy spits onto your tongue, and his saliva slides towards the back of your mouth.

You can't hide your surprise. Your breath hitches, but you don't say anything. Fuck, that should've made you angry, but it just made your clit throb painfully hard.

He drags his thumb down your tongue, slow and sensual. You have half the mind to suck on it until he glides the head of his cock on your tongue, leading it into the heat of your mouth.

“Ah—” You lose the words you were going to say, along with the empty space in your mouth. The tip of his cock's nearing the back of your throat. You breathe shakily through your nose. You were right again—you can't take him fully in. It's enough of a stretch as it is.

“Fuck, that's it…” Carmy sighs. “Just like that…”

His hand holding your hair turns into a tighter grip as you begin sucking up and down his cock. It's an awful mess, the size of him forcing spit to drip down your chin. It's not just that, though. He's thrusting his cock back into your mouth quicker and quicker. You wish he would slow down so you could lean back and suck on his dribbling tip, but his hand has you anchored.

Time slows as he starts fucking your mouth. Your hands fall to your hands. Your knees are starting to hurt. You care surprisingly little about that fact, instead opting to care about rubbing your clit as quickly as possible. When you get your hands under your underwear, you find your whole pussy already smeared in wetness. You've seeped through the fabric.

When he pulls his cock out of your mouth (or rather, when he tugs you off), you think he's going to give you a new order. Or that he's going to say something. You don't realize what's really happening until it's too late.

You watch him bring a hand to his cock. He strokes it twice, keeping his hand tight in your hair, and with a low groan, he comes.

With his hand on you, you can't move away. Not that you try. When the first glob of cum streaks your cheek, you freeze. All you can do is pause as he comes on your face. Even your hand under your pants has frozen, your palm pressed up tight against your pulsing clit.

With each rope of cum across your face, you feel yourself throb. Carmy is a sight to behold as he comes, long-lashed eyes falling shut with his parted, gasping mouth. He's jaggedly fisting his cock as he just keeps coming. You feel the cum starting to drip down the slopes of your skin, even your lips.

By the time he's come down, he's left your face an absolute mess. Your jaw feels heavy, and his cum is hot against your swollen lips. You've come down as well, and it's left you with the irate realization that he just came all over your face without asking.

“You could've at least told me you were gonna come on my face,” you snap. Your cheeks are burning. Your argument feels weak with how worked up you feel over watching and feeling him come, but the irritation is still very real.

“Clean your station, chef,” he responds, infuriatingly smug even as he catches your breath. “Practice makes perfect.”

“Are you kidding me?” Of course. That's what this all was. A fucked up lesson, a twisted sort of discipline.

“I'm not.” He uncurls his fist from your hair. “Stand up—your knees must hurt.”

You pause for a second before you shakily get back up on your legs. One minute he's messily fucking your mouth, and the other, he's worrying over your sore knees. He continues to become more and more confusing.

“You're gonna make me clean up your mess.” You catch your face in the small, shitty rectangular mirror hanging on the wall. God, are you a filthy sight, cum and spit all over your face.

“I had to clean up yours for the past week, so yeah.” He's zipped himself back up. He's clean, not a drop of anything on him. Unlike the mess parading itself on your face. At least there's not any in your hair.

“This is not the same. This is—” You frustratedly search for the right words. He's remaining as stoic as ever. “You didn't even kiss me,” you blurt out, and as soon as you say it, you regret it.

Carmy stills. You can't tell what he's thinking with his unmoving expression. You're sure he's about to insult you again, but then he’s leaning in and sealing his lips against yours.

You're stunned. A small noise escapes you as he kisses you deeply, thoroughly. His tongue drags up a trail of cum and spit up your chin and back into your mouth. Or back into his. You're unsure, with the way they're all blending together.

“There,” Carmy murmurs against your lips. When he pulls back, you see his tongue running across his lips, collecting the pearlescent sheen that was on them.

“Um—” You start and immediately stop. You’re speechless.

“Now clean up.” You hear the sound of distant company. Your other coworkers must be arriving now. “I expect improvement now, chef. Is that clear?”

“Crystal,” you reply bitterly. “I suppose I met your expectations, then?”

“Sure. Closely enough, anyway.” Potent aggravation hits you like a cast iron pan. He drags his thumb in one last infuriating line across your cheek. He sucks it into his mouth and cleans it off. “Don't take too long. I have a lot planned for you today.”

Without waiting for a response, Carmy leaves. He leaves you alone in the shitty bathroom with a now flickering lightbulb, left to clean his cum on your face with water, hand soap, and thin paper towels. You don't know if you've ever been so angry before.

The anger doesn't make the arousal go away. You rub your needy clit to orgasm, your back pressed up against the wall like Carmy's just a moment ago.

As you come with Carmy's cum slowly trailing on your face, you wonder if there is any coming back from this. If there's anything left to be done to stop whatever's happening. You can't come up with any solutions or suggestions. Only one thing is undeniably clear:

You hate Carmen Berzatto, and you're already thinking of ways to get his cock in your mouth again soon.

taglist: @zorrasucia @carmenberzattosgf @thehouseofevangelista @alastorssimp @talas-starlight @jmamas92

#carmy berzatto #the bear #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #jeremy allen white #carmy berzatto x you #carmy berzatto smut #carmen berzatto smut #carmy berzatto imagines #carmen berzatto imagines #my fics #blood orange #ARGHHH ITS HEREEE. i won't lie this chapter was so hard to write #im still having a hard time figuring out what this particular carmy acts like. its difficult. im getting there tho

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teenidlegirl · 4 months

Text

꣑୧ ݁.﹒𝓜𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝓜𝐄 𝓗𝐀𝐋𝐅𝐖𝐀𝐘 .ᐟ

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐧𝐞 ┆ 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫

ઇ ˚ ݂ ֹ ꒰ miguel o’hara 𝓍 fem!civilian!reader ꒱ ! ۟ ׅ ♡

. ˚◞ ♡ 𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚⠀˖ ࣪ ༘ it was a regular, normal day for you until you fell victim of the infamous green goblin. a familiar suit of red and dark blue comes to your rescue but his attitude completely catches you off guard.

. ˚◞ ♡ 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕⠀˖ ࣪ ༘ fluff, angst, violence, swearing, mentions of death, mentions of blood

❛⠀ masterlist⠀⋅⠀next chapter ⠀❜

another normal day of life.

another normal day in nueva york.

another normal day of work.

the irritating sound of your alarm wakes you from delicious slumber. a groan of annoyance escapes your lips, resting a hand on your forehead as your eyes adjust to the sunlight illuminating your room. reaching over to your nightstand, the alarm finally stops at the touch of a button on your phone. you stare up at the ceiling, indulging in a moment of solitude before resuming to the routines of life.

inhaling and exhaling deeply, you finally get out of bed and begin your morning routine. since you take showers at night, getting dressed and breakfast are the only things you have to do. after getting dressed in one of your favorite outfits and doing your makeup, you decide to snack on leftover pizza from last night as breakfast. the last bit of your routine was brushing your teeth. once that was taken care of, you packed your tote bag with personal items and headed out the door to start your day.

most days prior to heading to work, you visit the local café for your usual coffee and croissant sandwich. flying vehicles soar in the sky as you walk over to the café. although you live in a futuristic society with heavily advanced technology, including transportation, a bit of exercise doesn’t hurt. the clicking of your heels echos amongst the crowd of people on the sidewalk as you walked.

you finally arrived at the café and entered. the moment you stepped inside, the barista recognized you with a smile and starts working on your order. after paying your order and waiting a few minutes for your coffee, one of the employees calls out your name. you thank him with a soft smile as you take your coffee from his grasp. standing off to the side by where the little counter of creams and sugar are, you take a small sip to test the flavor. a soft hum of approval and delightfulness escapes your lips at the delicious taste of your coffee. “perfect.”

after saying bye and thanking the barista and the other workers, you exit the café and start walking. while walking and sipping coffee, a sudden loud noise of explosion erupts from behind. a loud gasp erupts from your throat as you covered your head with your arms, protecting yourself from the sudden impact. the smell of fire and smoke fills your senses. blinking your eyes a few times to regain focus, you turned around and looked at the source of the explosion. it was the café, now demolished.

a gasp of horror spills from your trembling lips. unfamiliar faces run past you, desperately escaping the chaotic scenery. adrenaline flows through your body at a wild rate as panic takes over your now fragile mind. what the fuck just happened? your glossy eyes filled with panicked tears scan the area, your body shaking and chest heaving due to heavy breathing. your body desperately tells you to run but your apprehensive and selfless mind wants to help those who are injured. without hesitation, you bolted to the café, disregarding your coffee by tossing it to the floor. fires and smoke erupts from the now demolished café, the sounds of painful whines and coughing echoing in your ears. not only there were fire and debris, a few lifeless bodies lie on the ground with puddles of blood oozing from underneath them. oh your heart aches at the unfortunate sight. those poor innocent souls. carefully avoiding the small pits of fire, you help survivors get out to safety.

a manic laugh echoes the around the building. glimpses of green can be seen flying in the air from the windows and holes. those features seemed very familiar, especially that laugh.

the infamous green goblin.

your eyes widen in realization; another one. as you assist the last survivor out of the café, a small gold ball with a green light flickering at a rapid speed lands on the floor close to you from outside.

as you braced yourself for the inevitable by covering yourself with your arms, you felt a pair of muscular arms securely wrapped around you. the sensation of wind blowing in your face was a sign that you were no longer in danger. very slowly, you opened your glossy eyes and looked up at a familiar figure in red and dark blue. the famous savior of nueva york.

once you were from a safe distance, the tall hero carefully sets you down on your feet. “thanks, spidey.” you flashed him a soft smile.

“¿estas tonta? why the hell did you go back there?! you could’ve gotten killed!” spider-man hissed with annoyance and frustration laced in his tone, the eyes of his mask narrowing at you with a definite pissed off expression underneath it.

well damn — he’s got an attitude and you were not expecting him to be rude right off the bat. definitely not a charming knight in shining armor. well, it was pretty stupid of you to wander into danger but your selfless spirit said otherwise.

“well sorry for wanting to help others. they were trapped and scared.” you hissed back, placing your hands on your hips in a sassy manner.

you two are arguing like you know each other or like a married couple. to be honest, it feels kinda weird but you decide not to comment about it since he’s pissing you off right now.

the acclaimed hero looks at you with a dumbfounded expression underneath the mask, astounded by your sassiness. great, you’re stubborn, he thought. he scoffs, you can tell he rolled his eyes under the mask. “help yourself before others. dying by your own stupidities is embarrassing.”

jeez — this guy is a real asshole.

before you could say something in return, that familiar manic laugh echoes the area, causing the man dressed in red and blue to turn around in the direction of the laughter. three other spider-people swing after the green goblin variant.

spider-man turns back facing you. “stay out of trouble, idiota.” he states sternly, murmuring that last part before swinging away, joining the other spider-people afar to deal with the villain.

a scoff of offense escaped your lips, jaw dropped. how dare he call you an ‘idiot.’ what an asshole. how the hell is that guy the hero of this city? honestly, you rather die by a villain’s hand than be saved by that asshole. hopefully you won’t run into him again, but if you do, you’ll give him a piece of your mind.

━━━━━━━━ ִ ۫ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ۫ ݂ ━━━━━━━━

it was one hell of a battle but they captured the goblin and the multiverse is still intact. however, for some unexplainable reason, his mind retraced back to the ridiculous interaction with you from earlier. how stupid were you to walk straight into danger? got a death wish or something? sure, you provided the basic excuse of helping others in need. very selfless and caring of you, proving you’re a decent person with a kind heart. but what bothers miguel so much is that you were willing to sacrifice yourself to help others. he doesn’t even understand why it bothers him so much. he doesn’t know you, nor you do him. miguel is spider-man, performing his duties as the hero of nueva york. tackling and collecting villain variants and anomalies for maintaining the multiverse. acting as leader of the spider society. ensuring the safety of the people.

yes, he has saved numerous lives in various situations. so why were you any different? you’re just a regular civilian who was in need of saving from danger, even by your own stupidity.

sure, your sassy attitude completely caught him off guard. miguel was so dumbfounded that he didn’t believe you were being serious, arguing with him of all people. himself arguing with you of all people, a random civilian he doesn’t know.

“all caught up in that big grumpy head of yours?” lyla interrupts his thoughts, magically appearing in front of him with arms crossed and a playful smirk.

miguel groans in annoyance, rolling his eyes. “funny.” he deadpanned, ignoring her presence by looking at the various orange screens in front of him.

the ai’s eyes narrowed, examining his expression. “you seem strange. what were you thinking of? or i should say, who were you thinking of?”

he can sense the smirk on her face grow wilder, making him internally groan. “no one, end of discussion.” his crimson eyes remained glued on the orange screens, still ignoring the ai.

she scoffs, rolling her eyes. “oh come on, big guy. you were thinking about her, the sassy lady.”

that finally made him look at her, lightly glaring with those crimson eyes. “cállate before i shut you off.” he threatens with gritted teeth, fangs showing.

lyla raised her hands in the air in defense. “what? i’m simply stating facts. it’s just i’ve never seen you cared so much for a civilian before with all that yelling and basically reprimanding her.” she lowers her hands before lightly shrugging.

“lyla.” miguel said in a warning tone, shooting a light glare at the ai assistant.

“just saying, boss.” she offers a smile before vanishing in the air, leaving him with his thoughts.

well, she isn’t wrong. you are just a regular civilian yet he reprimanded you like a child, arguing with someone like he knows. hopefully you actually listened to him and try avoiding trouble in the future. the last thing miguel wants is saving you from your own stupidity once again. and to deal with your sassy demeanor. hopefully that’ll be the last time he’ll see you, but if he does under stupid circumstances like today, miguel will give you a piece of his mind.

ᡣ𐭩ㅤㅤ ݁. 𝓣𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ˖ ࣪ ༘ @loser-alert @keepitreal001 @iamperson12280 @nostalgicdaira @flordelalunas @oharasfilipinawife @cho-coquette @lavenderslemonade @palesatan @awkward-d3rs3-dr3amer @lilscast @beanieboy23 @dorck26 @kakabskbskdnd @4crew

#꒰ ˖ ࣪ . 𐙚 ⊹ ꒱ — 𝓜𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝓜𝐄 𝓗𝐀𝐋𝐅𝐖𝐀𝐘 .ᐟ #miguel o’hara x fem!reader #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara x fem!reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara fanfiction #across the spiderverse #fanfic series

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femininenachos · 1 day

Note

Thank you so much Queen for the vacation au update, much appreciated 🫡 Clarke is a lot of talk no action w that p eating tho

Ye of little faith…

Previously: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

Once again, Clarke finds herself led by the hand through a warren of side streets, the irregular-shaped stone paving burning beneath the cork soles of her flip-flops. She’s still flying high from the exhilaration of the boat trip, but between the blistering afternoon heat and the effects of low blood sugar, she feels flushed and a little light-headed.

As though she read Clarke’s mind, Lexa pulls them to a stop under the shaded awning of an unassuming bakery. The aroma of freshly-baked bread, hot out the oven wafts from the open doorway.

Lexa tips her head in invitation. “Want to grab a bite to go?”

“You did make me work up an appetite.”

And if things shake out like Lexa implied back at the cove, Clarke will definitely need to carb-load for what lies ahead.

They trade smirks as Lexa tugs them over the threshold.

If it’s oppressively hot outdoors then it’s like stepping into a blast furnace inside. Even so, Clarke is drawn straight away to the pastries and savoury treats in the display counter. Emerging noisily from somewhere out back, a great, bearded bear of man enters carrying a large tray of bread rolls. He sets them on the cooling rack before ambling over, a broad smile in place.

“Leksa! Ha yu?” He glances between the two of them, a kind twinkle in his eyes. “Chon ste oyu brana lukot?”

“Dishe ste Klark.” Then in English, “Clarke, meet Gustus. My uncle.”

“Aulana?” He scrutinises Clarke for a second, an eyebrow going up. “American?”

What gives it away, she wonders, a little paranoid that she has a neon sign above her head that screams ‘obnoxious Yank’ in star-spangled red, white and blue.

Still, she pastes on her most winning smile, keen to make a good impression.

“Thanks for letting us borrow your boat this morning. We had such a great time.”

He says something in his own language, most of which Clarke doesn’t catch except “sadrona” (which she makes a mental note to look up later online), but she observes with interest that Lexa’s eyes slide away to fixate elsewhere while a rosy tint stains her high cheekbones.

“What can I get for you?” He directs the question at Clarke, his voice a warm rumble.

She adjusts the sunglasses perched on the top of her head and peers at the array of delicious-looking bakes through the glass. “Hard to choose when it all smells so amazing.”

“Try the fleivatous,” Lexa suggests. “It’s a Polisian speciality, and my favourite: a flatbread stuffed with spices, nuts and dried berries.”

“Can’t beat that glowing recommendation.”

Gustus loosens a chuckle. “Lexa has always had a sweet tooth.”

“That’s not all that’s sweet about her,” Clarke says, low enough only for Lexa to hear. Secretly pleased when Lexa’s face reddens further.

To Gustus, Clarke says: “I’ll take two slices, and a couple of...” She points at a stack of parcel-shaped golden pastries with a beautifully shiny glaze. “What are these?”

”Fetabeik. Phyllo pastry layered with cheese.”

“Oh, yum. Yes, please.”

“I like this one, Lexa,” Gustus says with a wink as he boxes the pastries together.

Lexa sends him a forbidding look that only results in a hearty laugh. For her part, Clarke feels weirdly at ease and unflappable in the face of this man’s gentle ribbing. It’s all she can do to stop herself from beaming at the scowl on Lexa’s face.

“How much do I owe?” Clarke asks.

Gustus holds up his palms, backing away. “No charge.” She opens her mouth to protest, but he waves her off, saying, “No, no. I insist. Just be good to my niece and that’s payment enough for me.”

“Uncle,” Lexa says, groaning.

She snatches the box off the counter and grabs Clarke’s hand too. “We’re going now.”

“Bye!” Clarke tosses over her shoulder with a small wave but she’s already halfway out the door, his laughter trailing after them.

“He was nice,” she says with an impish grin as they continue walking.

Lexa’s lips are pursed, but she says nothing. So Clarke bumps their shoulders and squeezes the fingers entwined with hers. Wraps her free hand around the bend in Lexa’s arm, stroking the soft, warm skin beneath her thumb. “Has anyone ever told you you’re cute when you’re embarrassed?”

It earns a grudging sigh, but then Lexa glances at her and relents. She rolls her eyes a little.

“Wait until I visit you in DC and the shoe will be on the other foot.”

For a moment Clarke imagines introducing Lexa to her own nearest and dearest and how that might go. It doesn’t fill her with as much apprehension as she might expect.

“No risk of running into my family there. My mom teaches at Cornell in upstate New York and my dad’s in Texas for work. They divorced when I was a kid.”

Lexa offers a soft look of sympathy that Clarke meets with a reassuring smile.

“It’s fine. Fortunately, it was amicable.” She pauses. “I mean, it was still confusing and upsetting for me as an eight year-old, but they’re the best of friends now. Both remarried. We spend Thanksgiving and the holidays together.”

“So… what I’m hearing is I should come in late November or December.”

Clarke’s mouth twists. “Do you crack under interrogation? Because my mom won’t give you an easy time.”

“Parents adore me. I’m polite and respectful and very attentive to their daughter.”

“‘Attentive.’” She eyes Lexa amusedly. “I’ll be the judge of that.”

~*~

At the farthest edge of the town new residential developments have sprung up, modern buildings that are more or less in harmony with the surrounding traditional houses: all whitewashed walls and cobalt blue shutters, the flowering hanging baskets that frame the doorways providing vibrant pops of colour in purple and pink. A backdrop of rugged, scrub-covered mountains looms in the distance while a slice of jagged coastline is visible to the west, and it all feels pleasantly removed from the historic quarter where the tourists flock in their droves.

“Here we are. This is my home,” Lexa says, nodding toward a two-storey apartment block.

“Any roommates?”

“No, I live alone.”

“Good.”

The look they exchange makes Clarke’s skin prickle and her pulse kick up a notch.

They climb the stoop and two flights of stairs and Clarke follows Lexa inside. The place is small, the kitchen opening out into a sparsely furnished lounge area, but the high ceilings and sunlight flooding in through the double aspect windows gives it a bright and airy feel. The kitchen window is cracked open, just enough to allow a faint sea breeze in, and the wind chime that dangles above it tinkles musically every now and again.

“Sorry about the mess,” Lexa says, putting the pastry box on the counter.

There’s a solitary coffee mug by the sink with a spoon in it—rinsed out already. Try as she might, Clarke can’t pick fault or see anything else that’s out of place.

“If this is what qualifies as quote-unquote mess then I’m doing adulthood all wrong. My apartment looks like a bomb site compared to yours.”

“Blame military service. Some parts of the regimented lifestyle are difficult to let go.”

“Now you’ve got me picturing you in uniform, and I’m not mad about it.”

A coy little smile sits on Lexa’s lips, and the sight of it propels Clarke forward. She crosses the tiled floor to wordlessly crowd Lexa against the counter and kiss her, both hands gripping the back of her neck as they open their mouths. Warm, sure hands roam down Clarke’s sides to grasp her by the hips and before she knows it, Lexa has her spun around.

Pinned between the counter and Lexa’s frame, back to front, Clarke feels humid breath ghost over her ear, her neck, the join where it meets her shoulder, lips hovering close yet still withholding, and it’s enough to make her knees buckle slightly.

She reaches behind to guide Lexa’s mouth back to hers, greedy for more. A blissful sigh escapes when Lexa runs her palms up, curving around her breasts, only for Clarke to be frustrated by the inconvenient layers of cotton and spandex between them.

They need to be naked. Now.

Driven by that imperative, Clarke twists back around and yanks Lexa’s button-down off her shoulders. The tank top swiftly follows, landing in a heap at their feet, and their lips remain fused while she walks Lexa backwards until they bump into the couch.

Clarke shoves Lexa down and remains standing, gratified by the wide, hungry eyes staring up at her.

Too impatient to put on a performance, she whips off her t-shirt and steps out of her shorts. They’re still caught on her ankle when Lexa grabs her by the waist, pulling Clarke onto her lap and back to her waiting lips.

While their mouths are busy, Clarke lets her hands travel over Lexa’s chest. Feeling her way. Circling hard nipples with her thumbs. A whimper catches in Lexa’s throat and it thrills Clarke to the core. The tugging ache of arousal hasn’t left her since they fled the cove and her belly twists sharply with want as she slips to the floor on her knees between the spread of Lexa’s legs.

Clarke kisses down Lexa’s abdomen, smirking as muscles twitch and contract under her lips, still able to taste the sun and sea on Lexa’s skin. She doesn’t abandon her grip on Lexa’s breasts until her chin grazes the waistband of Lexa’s shorts and she hears the deep breath Lexa draws in, feels her tense in anticipation.

Hooking her thumbs under the elastic, Clarke looks up the length of Lexa’s body, eyes fastening on her chest and the tempting jut of her nipples. Unable to resist, she leans up and takes one between her lips. Runs her tongue around the pebbled areola. Slow swirls at first then faster as she narrows in on the tip and sucks hard. Lexa’s low groan, how she arches into it, fingers sinking into Clarke’s hair, gathering a fistful at her nape, only adds to her excitement.

She meets Lexa’s lidded gaze and the air seems to sizzle, those darkened eyes burning, hungrily watching Clarke’s every move.

Under that rapt attention, she switches to Lexa’s other breast. Mouths all around, eyes remaining glued to Lexa’s while she licks a wet path to the straining nipple, catching it on the flat of her tongue, flicking the tip before sucking it into her mouth.

For the next long while, Clarke gorges herself on every inch of soft flesh until Lexa’s tits are shiny with saliva and a stream of breathy little moans are dropping from her lips. She keeps moving her hips, rocking into Clarke in the pursuit of friction, sighing heavily when she edges away.

Feeling much too smug about the effect she’s having, Clarke wants to grin ear to ear, but she briefly smothers her smile in the curve of one breast. Flattens her hand between their bodies and slips inside Lexa’s shorts.

They both groan as Clarke skims through the wetness, gliding over Lexa’s clit and making her hips jump.

“What do you want first?” Clarke asks, swirling the tip of one finger at Lexa’s entrance. “This or…?”

Lexa’s throat works before she replies with, “Mouth. Please.”

“So polite.”

There’s a teasing undertone, but Clarke has no desire to drag this out and make Lexa beg, not when she’s so tightly wound herself. It’s for both their sakes that she quickly shuffles to the side and tugs the shorts down Lexa’s impossibly long legs.

Clarke can’t help but stare, soaking up the sight of all that glowing tan skin on display. In the haze of lust, she moves on autopilot. She trails her hands up Lexa’s shins to grip her knees. Gently pushes them apart and situates herself between. Her breath catches when her eyes settle low, on Lexa, wet and swollen for her.

It’s Clarke’s new favourite view this island has to offer.

Lexa opens her legs wider.

All the encouragement Clarke needs to hook her hands under Lexa’s thighs and drag her to the edge of the couch. The air is thick with the heady, musky scent of arousal and Clarke breathes it in, filling her lungs. Powerless not to flow forward, to press her open mouth there and drink from the source.

A shiver racks Lexa’s body and she bites off a curse when Clarke’s tongue eases in. Hands tangle in her hair, winding tighter against her scalp, and Clarke relaxes her jaw to work deeper, curling her tongue to draw more wetness into her mouth, the tang filling every space as she emits an appreciative groan. Maybe it’s a product of the local diet, but Lexa is by far the best flavour Clarke has ever had on her tongue.

Pulling back an inch, she pins Lexa by the hips and licks her slowly, deliberately, dragging her tongue up to trace patterns around Lexa’s clit. She mixes firm laps with gentle suction and little nudges with her nose, sometimes lifting her mouth away just to breathe on Lexa while she strains to get closer.

All the while Lexa is practically writhing on the receiving end, gasping and stifling a moan each time Clarke presses her tongue inside, limited by its reach and the growing ache in her jaw to just a few shallow thrusts that Lexa urgently rocks down to meet.

And when Clarke’s eyes flick up to watch, she’s mesmerised by Lexa in the throes. Her hair has dried into a mass of marvellous curls, and Clarke is wholly infatuated with it. That, and the way the sunlight pouring through the windows paints her golden skin, catching the beads of perspiration that dot her throat and chest as she arches her spine and spreads herself even wider, directing Clarke by the grip on her hair.

Lexa’s calves tremble with exertion as she picks up the pace, her gasping breaths becoming thinner and more ragged as she chases the pleasure.

Sensing the unspoken need, Clarke reaches for Lexa’s clit, using the soft pad of her thumb to rub tight, firm circles while she extends her tongue, pushing in as far as possible. Her jaw has gone numb but she powers through, determined not to falter.

As Lexa rocks her hips and Clarke plunges in and drags back out, their eyes lock and hold. In that moment of connection, Clarke sees her name form on Lexa’s lips before she throws her head back against the cushions and stiffens sharply, shuddering into Clarke’s mouth and flooding her tongue.

Lexa is near silent for the big finish, except for the gulping breaths she pulls in as she clenches and shivers and scrapes her nails against Clarke’s scalp.

After a few more lazy thrusts, Clarke withdraws with a rude slurp and takes her thumb off Lexa’s clit. She bends close again, intending to lick up the spill, but a weak tug on her hair draws her focus up. Lexa looks dazed, her mouth hanging open as her heavy eyes search Clarke’s face.

She doesn’t even get a chance to wipe her chin before Lexa urges her up onto her lap and into a deep and dirty kiss, a muffled groan vibrating between them. Palms scorch up Clarke’s ribs to cover her tits, kneading, teasing her nipples while she shamelessly grinds on Lexa.

It’s good, but not enough.

Breaking off the kiss, Clarke sits back on her haunches and reaches for the top piece of her swimsuit.

“Help me out of this?”

Together, they pull it up and over Clarke’s head.

She almost laughs at the reverential look on Lexa’s face once her tits are freed, like Lexa has been blessed with the greatest gift to lesbiankind. Clarke isn’t so conceited as to believe her breasts are a quasi-religious experience, but Lexa sure makes it seem that way.

After a second, Lexa snaps out of her trance and slips her hand behind Clarke’s neck to reconnect their lips. They both whimper into the kiss as they crush closer. The graze of their nipples feels electric, lighting sparks under Clarke’s skin and sending another jolt between her legs.

The muggy heat inside the apartment is stifling by now. Their stomachs and thighs stick together, slicked in sweat, but neither are inclined to separate, locked in a fervent makeout. Clarke is breathing hard by the time Lexa rolls her over and peels the rest of her swimsuit off.

Unselfconscious, Clarke lets her thighs fall open, and Lexa needs no greater incentive to drop to her knees. A moan slips out before Lexa even puts her mouth on her, so hyper-aware is Clarke of the gentle fan of warm breath over her vulva. But at the very last second Lexa veers away to plant kisses on the insides of Clarke’s thighs and she isn’t capable of containing her huff of frustration.

She feels the stretch of Lexa’s smile, but before Clarke can vocalise any complaints, Lexa turns her face and licks up the length of her. Unprepared for the shock of direct contact when it’s been sorely missing, her hips fly off the couch, almost colliding with Lexa’s nose.

“Oh, fuck,” Clarke croaks, a hand shooting out to clutch Lexa’s shoulder, the other grabbing a fistful of the cushion behind her head. “Fuck.”

“I will,” Lexa says, a glint in her eye when she catches Clarke’s. Then she holds Clarke down by the hip bones and lowers her mouth once more.

Clarke’s breath escapes her in a rush, eyes slamming shut. Her body reacts, engulfed by sensation. All scorching heat and the soft, wet glide of Lexa’s tongue as it weaves up through the slick, circles her clit, before dipping low to drag over her again and again, keeping Clarke squirming for minutes on end, rotating her hips in a frantic grind.

She peels her eyes open to look, craning her neck to witness the complete and utter rapture on Lexa’s face. She’s covered in Clarke, lips and cheeks all shiny. And her tongue... Clarke shivers and clenches around nothing at the glimpse of pink muscle lapping at her with purpose, heat coiling tighter in her gut with each deft stroke. Every now and then Lexa presses inside, just far enough to make Clarke choke on a moan and rut her hips up in a useless attempt to force Lexa deeper. When Lexa retreats she uses a little less pressure on the next lick, too gentle and fleeting to give Clarke what she craves.

“Lex,” she pants, a hint of aggravation bleeding into her tone after the fifth or sixth time it happens. She squeezes Lexa’s shoulder.

“What?” Lexa asks lightly, her parted lips brushing against Clarke so intimately that she feels the question breathed into her body.

She stifles a noise of pure need and grits her teeth.

Nearly howls when Lexa takes her mouth away.

“You only have to ask, Clarke.” Dark, dark eyes hold her gaze. “Tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you.”

It’s clear Lexa isn’t toying now. There’s something in the depths of her eyes that speaks of sincere devotion, like it’s her true calling and sacred duty to surpass herself and give Clarke the best damn orgasm of her life. From anyone else, that intensity might be a little frightening, but coming from Lexa? It’s the biggest turn-on, and Clarke is more than willing to put her through her paces.

She throws down the gauntlet with all the cocky confidence she can muster in her current position.

“Isn’t it about time you brought out the strap?”

~*~

The ceiling fan rattles and whirs overhead, merely stirring the soupy, sweat-saturated air around the room. Despite having all the windows thrown open, the scant through-breeze does little to alleviate the dense humidity or disperse the scent of sex that hangs potent and heavy in the air.

Laid flat on her back on twisted sheets, Clarke sweeps the tangle of damp, frizzy hair out of her face with one hand, still trying to get her breathing under control. Her chest is heaving and her thighs haven’t stopped shaking in the aftermath of their last energetic tryst, the second since Lexa brought out the harness and a sparkly purple dildo and proceeded to screw her into the mattress with smooth, deep thrusts and small, quick jogs of her hips until she came with a strangled shout. Now Clarke’s mind is mush and her body aches in the best way, worn out and thoroughly sated—for the time being, at least.

Meanwhile, Lexa is stretched out alongside, flaunting a lazy half-smile as she unbuckles the harness. The bulbous head of the toy slaps wetly against Clarke’s hip bone before Lexa scoops it up and tosses the whole kit over the side of the bed to be dealt with later.

Propping her temple on her fist, Lexa trails her fingers down Clarke’s side, following the curve of her breast and the slope of her ribs down to the dip in her waist, retracing the same path on the return journey, and Clarke can’t control the way her body responds to the stimulus, goosebumps rising on her skin despite the unbearable heat.

Every involuntary twitch makes Lexa’s little smirk edge wider, like she has a newfound fixation with testing Clarke’s reactions, laughing when Clarke finally squirms away from her touch.

“Are you ticklish?”

“Are you?” Clarke threatens, trying and failing not to be charmed by Lexa’s easy half grin, how she giggles and scrambles backwards when Clarke pretends to lunge. “Don’t make me fight you.”

Then she flops back against the pillows and kicks away the covers. “Ugh, it’s way too hot. I feel like I’m melting.”

“Water?”

“Please.”

Lexa slips off the bed and slinks out the room, fully nude and without a care in the world, and Clarke’s eyes stay trained on that audacious bubble butt as she goes, amazed not for the first time that Lexa is carrying all that junk in the trunk. Really, her perfect tush should be a serious contender for the number one visitor attraction in Polis. Clarke almost mourns its disappearance when Lexa turns the corner.

Left alone to examine her surroundings instead, Clarke lets her gaze drift around the room. Like the rest of the apartment, it’s neutrally decorated and spotlessly clean; everything put away. No ornaments, photographs or other personal touches that reflect Lexa’s taste except for a framed piece of art that depicts a lonely, ruined tower surrounded by lush forest. On the wall above the door hangs a distinctive ward that’s a staple of the island’s gift shops: a hand-painted stone with four concentric circles in the shape of a blue eye.

When Lexa returns from the kitchen with a large glass of water, Clarke levers up on one elbow and takes it from her gratefully. After a few greedy gulps, the cool liquid sliding down her throat, she nudges her chin toward the ‘evil eye’ symbol.

“Are you superstitious?”

Lexa joins her on the bed. Glances over her shoulder and gives a slight shrug. “It’s a peasant tradition going back thousands of years, but it doesn’t hurt to be protected from negative energy.” A faint smile graces her lips. “Especially Anya’s when I do something to piss her off.”

“I could’ve used something similar when I dropped by the taverna yesterday.”

“In her own misguided way, she tries to protect me too.”

“From who? Me?”

Lexa tilts her head side to side, neither confirming or denying. She studies Clarke for a moment, something indecipherable in her eyes. A muscle in Lexa’s jaw tightens, then she smiles again, if a touch more guardedly. “Mm. You have serial ‘heartbreaker’ written all over you.”

Clarke gapes at her, half shocked, half offended. She places the glass on the bedside table before she accidentally spills water on the mattress.

She scoffs, “That couldn’t be further from the truth. One, because I work 80-hour weeks on average so how would I even find the time? And two—which is related to point one—the only people I meet are at the hospital, and since they’re either coworkers or patients under my care, they’re strictly off-limits.”

Lexa quirks an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “You’re a doctor?” she asks, honing in on that part and ignoring the rest of Clarke’s protestations.

She runs her eyes over Clarke, like she’s the one fantasising about uniforms now, nevermind that a lab coat, surgical scrubs and a stethoscope aren’t in the same league as combat fatigues.

All the same, Clarke wouldn’t be opposed to some steamy ‘on-call’ room role play, which does an effective job of neutralising her outrage.

She reclines again.

“I am. Clarke Griffin MD, vascular surgeon in-training. About to begin my fourth year of residency.”

Lexa’s eyes, which had strayed below Clarke’s neck once more—so gay, so predictable—leap back up, widening a fraction.

“Sha?” Her gaze turns admiring. “Beauty and brains.”

“And a helluva rack, to boot.”

“The full package.”

A flush on her cheeks, Clarke accepts the compliment, enjoying the flattery.

“Sometimes I question my sanity for putting myself through the stress and the endless grind, working nights, weekends, and holidays while getting paid peanuts. Oh yeah, and not forgetting the mountain of student loan debt I graduated with from med school.”

With a doleful sigh, she stares off into space as she contemplates the decade of loan repayments ahead of her. But she snaps out of it and brightens up.

“Being a doctor is all I’ve ever wanted to do, though. Helping people. Making a difference in their lives.”

Silently, Lexa bobs her head in understanding, but Clarke can tell she’s slipped into her own thoughts.

“What about you?” Clarke asks in a softer voice. She picks up Lexa’s hand and plays with her fingers. “After travel and adventure, what do you dream of doing?”

Lexa lifts her shoulder and lets it drop.

“There aren’t many career opportunities here. The economy is shit, so I’d go to Barcelona or Berlin. Maybe Copenhagen.” She purses her lips as she mulls it over. “I’d like to finish my degree in Political Science. I went to university on the mainland after my year in the army, but” — a flicker in her eyes — “I had to quit halfway through.”

Clarke waits for Lexa to go on, sensing she has more to say when her face cycles through a series of complicated emotions.

“My mother got sick and I came home to help my father and Anya take care of her.” Her jaw works side to side in a microscopic movement before she swallows visibly, lashes lowering. “It was cancer.”

Clarke’s heart clutches.

“God, that’s rough. I’m sorry.”

During her rotation in oncology, she’d witnessed firsthand the devastating effects of a cancer diagnosis on patients and their loved ones; seen battles hard won and tragically lost. To think of Lexa’s mom going through that same hell, the profound emotional toll it must’ve taken on the family, on Lexa herself… Lacking the words, Clarke gives the hand in hers a gentle squeeze, hoping to convey her genuine care and concern.

It appears to shore Lexa up. Taking a fortifying breath, she lifts her eyes and offers the slightest of smiles.

“She’s better now. How do you say it?” She casts about for the translation.

“In remission?”

A nod.

“All clear for four years. And I remained in Polis. Too much time passed for me to return to university. But… I regret not completing my studies.”

Clarke feels for her. Lexa had to put her education and entire future on hold for her family and now she’s in limbo, her ambitions unrealised, hemmed in by circumstances and an income that’s reliant on seasonal tourism. Polis is a wonderful place, but it’s too small to contain someone like Lexa.

Before Clarke can offer any platitudes, Lexa pulls on their joined hands. “Come. Those pastries are calling to me.”

~*~

Out on the terrace, a fresh breeze brings cooler air down from the mountains. A table and two patio chairs overlook the cliffs and the shimmering expanse of sea, the water lit up in streaks of red and orange as the setting sun hangs low on the horizon, the sky a glorious haze of yellow and gold.

Wrapped only in a bedsheet, Clarke nibbles on a fetabeik, the buttery flakes melting in her mouth. She hums in appreciation.

“Good?” Lexa asks, mid-demolition of her own slice.

Clarke catches a crumb on her lip and licks it off her fingers. “So good. I’m gonna have to go back and get some for Wells and Octavia to try.”

“Your friends, are they doctors too?”

She shakes her head, no.

“I was classmates with Octavia’s brother in pre-med organic chemistry. He had a crush on me, but…” She makes a face, enough to get across it was entirely unreciprocated. “Junior year, I got introduced to O at a party on campus and we just clicked. Instant ride-or-die. Wells? He and I go way back. We grew up on the same street, went to high school together, shared some extra curriculars: mathletes, chess club. I’ve basically known him since we were rugrats and he hasn’t gotten sick of me yet.”

Lexa peers at her, nonplussed. “Mathletes?”

“It’s like, competitive math as a team sport. Facing off to solve equations against the clock.” It occurs to her that she just outed her teenage self as a giant nerd and now she has reputational damage to repair. “We won at Nationals three years in a row. Even got featured on the local TV news.”

The smile on Lexa’s face only gets bigger while Clarke digs a deeper hole for herself.

“It’s cooler than it sounds. We had jackets!”

“I’m glad to see you didn’t let the fame and accolades go to your head.”

She huffs.

Shoots a faux glare in Lexa’s direction.

“And I bet you ruled the school,” Clarke says. “Probably had that effortless, cool, collected, zero-fucks-given attitude down as soon as you could walk.”

Lexa dips her chin, still smiling. She plucks at the hem of the loose shorts that sit low on her hips. “Honestly, I was quiet and kind of a loner. It wasn’t until I joined the swim team that I found my confidence and my people.”

Clarke taps her knuckles on the table.

“So you were a jock. Called it.”

Those abs aren’t the product of a weak workout regime.

“Years ago.” Lexa’s lips take on a proud tilt. She catches Clarke’s eye. “But I still like to stay in shape.”

Brazenly, Clarke lets her gaze travel over a trim, toned stomach up to Lexa’s snug black sports bra and the biteable lines of her collarbones.

She casts her mind back to the two rounds with the strap and clicks her tongue. “Well, I’m no fan of the gym, but luckily sex is great cardio. So, in my professional opinion, we should do more of that.”

“How much more?”

She tilts her head, pretending to ponder it.

“Oh… a minimum of two orgasms at least once a day.”

Lexa looks at her at length.

“And when you go? How am I supposed to cope without my fix?”

Part of Clarke dares to hope Lexa isn’t just referring to missing her body once they’re thousands of miles apart.

A hint of nerves enters her voice. “I haven’t figured that out for myself yet.”

Lexa’s eyes don’t leave hers.

“Will you stay?” Off the flash of alarm on Clarke’s face, Lexa appends calmly, “Here, tonight.”

Right.

Of course that’s what she meant. It wasn’t an invitation for Clarke to fucking emigrate.

It takes several seconds for her heart to stop pounding and the heat to dissipate from her cheeks. She weighs the options: functional air conditioning and the guarantee of a restful sleep in crisp, cool sheets at the villa versus waking up in an unfamiliar bed, sweaty, hair in her face and her nose in the crook of Lexa’s neck.

No contest, really.

“Depends. What are you making me for breakfast?”

#cool for the summer #vacation au #clexa fic #clexa #my fic

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ewanmitchellcrumbs · 8 months

Text

Best Intentions - Chapter Two

Pairing: Tom Bennett (World on Fire) x f!reader Warnings: Angst. Word count: ~3.2k

Summary: She deals with the fallout of what she saw at the garage and Tom asks a big question. Series masterlist.

Author's note: I don't have a tag list. Please follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications. Community labels are for cops.

She rushes out to the back room once she gets to the shop, sitting down on a palate of unopened tins of beans, and puts her head in her hands. Having spent the entire walk from the garage trying her best not to cry, she has succeeded, but there’s a tightness in her chest and throat, and a heaviness in her heart.

The image of Tom brushing that woman’s hair behind her ear plays on a loop in her mind, the pit in her stomach feeling as though it widens a little each time. She wants nothing more than to go home and hide under the duvet, pretending it’s all just a bad dream.

Reality comes crashing back down when her mum calls out to her from the front of the shop. “Papers are all done! I’m off now, love. You at Tom’s tonight?”

God, she was supposed to go to Tom’s tonight. How could she now?

“N-no,” she calls back, trying her best to keep her voice steady, “I’ll come home once I’ve closed up.”

“Alright, well it’s corned beef hash for tea. I’ll see you later!”

The thought of food turns her stomach. She swallows thickly, pressing the heels of her palms against her eyes, pushing back the way her vision blurs with tears. “Be out front in a minute,” she shouts with more confidence than she feels. “Bye, mum!”

She lets out a heavy exhale once she hears the shop door open then close again, then leaves the back room, determined not to spare Tom a second thought for the rest of the day.

Easier said than done. As the morning bleeds into early afternoon, she feels like she can’t escape him.

She reaches into her pocket, looking for a pen to make a note of which sweets they need to reorder, when her fingers wrap around Tom’s lighter. She pulls it out, turning it over in her hands with a sigh, before placing it on the side of the till. There was no way she’d be going out of her way to give it back now. If he wants it he can get it himself.

There is a steady stream of customers throughout the day, all wanting sweets, newspapers, cigarettes, sugar and various other items, so her mind is given a brief respite. That is until near to closing, when she hears Lois call to her from the stairs that lead up to the flat.

“Would you give me a hand with the pram? These bloody stairs will be the death of me.”

She moves through to the back and up the stairs, smiling at little Vera as the toddler giggles to herself from where she sits in her pram. She grabs the end of it, lifting, and walks back down, as Lois carries the other end.

“You alright? You’re looking a bit peaky.” Lois says, once they’ve set the pram down and she wheels it out through the shop front.

She pauses, taken aback by the question, unsure of how to answer, she can’t possibly tell her the truth.

“Oh…yeah, fine, just a bit tired is all.” She replies with a weak smile.

As she looks up she’s met with the blue eyed stare of Lois, and her heart twists painfully.

Christ, her eyes are so much like Tom’s, it hurts to look at them. If only their lives weren’t so irrevocably entwined.

“Nearly closing time though, eh? Expect you won’t be so tired once you’re round at Tom’s,” she says with a knowing look. “Anyway, I’m off to Connie’s. I’ll see you tomorrow!”

She waves Lois off, flipping the closed sign as she shuts the door behind her, forcing the tears back yet again.

On autopilot, her feet move to take her in the direction of Tom’s flat once she’s locked up, and with agonising realisation she has to turn around and walk back in the direction of home.

She feels numb for the rest of the evening. The tea her mum has lovingly prepared is tasteless in her mouth and goes mostly untouched.

The image of Tom and the woman he was with continues to play on a loop in her mind, until finally she can no longer stand it and takes herself to bed, pulling the duvet firmly over her head.

She is bleary eyed and exhausted the following morning, dragging herself to the shop alongside her mum, to help with the papers. It’s not a job she usually helps out with, and if her mum thinks it odd that she’s suddenly lending a hand then she keeps it to herself.

A few hours later, the lunch hour rush has just died down and she’s tidying the paper sweet bags behind the counter when a familiar voice causes her to freeze.

“Thief!”

She looks up slowly, seeing Tom reach for his lighter beside the till. Her heart drums wildly inside her chest and she swallows thickly, not knowing quite what to say.

“When were you gonna give this back then?” He asks with a grin, before pocketing it. “Been having to light all my fags with a matchbook.”

She feels her skin heat up, biting back the bile and anger that surges up through her throat. How can he be so nonchalant?

“Yeah, sorry…” she says quietly, “I was gonna give it back but then…”

Then I saw you with another woman.

“...then I just didn’t,” she finishes, her voice sounding weak.

Tom quirks an eyebrow, eyeing her with suspicion. “You didn’t come round to mine last night,” he states matter of factly, drumming his fingers softly on the top of the shop counter.

“No,” she says, squirming, avoiding his gaze, keeping her eyes trained on the paper bags in her hands. “I just–”

“Didn’t?” He finishes for her, his eyes narrowing.

It’s then that she looks up, meeting his accusatory stare. How dare he be angry with her? She wants to give him a piece of her mind, and is about to open her mouth to do just that when Lois steps out from the back.

“Thought I heard the pair of you,” she says, rounding the counter. “What you both up to tomorrow night?”

“Depends on why you’re asking,” Tom says, with a smirk and a cock of his head.

“Cheeky!” Lois chides, swatting at him. “Connie’s managed to get us a spot singing at the Ducie tomorrow night, if you fancy it? Been a while since we’ve sung together, should be fun.”

She blanches, not quite knowing what to say, frantically wracking her mind for any excuse to say no. “Won’t you need someone to stop at home with Vera?”

“Your mum’s offered,” she says cheerily.

Shit. Of course she has.

“Oh…oh yeah, I’ll be there then,” she says reluctantly, a tight smile on her face.

“Looks like I will be an’ all then,” Tom says, eyeing her carefully, before looking back at his sister. “S’pose it can’t hurt to listen to your caterwauling if I can have a few pints at the same time.”

Lois rolls her eyes. “Don’t be late! We’re on at seven.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Tom raises his eyebrows and then turns his attention back to her as she stands awkwardly behind the till. “Will I be seeing you tonight then?”

She purses her lips, inhaling deeply through her nose. She doesn’t know what to say, so she doesn’t, simply shaking her head.

“Right”, he says curtly, “tomorrow it is then. Dinner break’s almost over, I’d best be getting back.”

Her shoulders relax once he’s finally gone, and she feels like she can breathe again. There is a part of her that regrets not having it out with him, but she knows her mum’s shop isn’t the place for it. She hopes her rejection of him stings just as much as what she’d been privy to yesterday morning.

Lois looks at her curiously over her shoulder as she moves to go back upstairs. “Something going on there?”

“No,” she replies, going back to tidying the sweet bags, “nothing at all.”

The Ducie Arms is busy when she arrives on Saturday evening, and she finds herself grateful for how hot, crowded and loud it is, no chance of needing to have any awkward conversations.

She keeps a firm grip on her pint glass, eyes scanning the crowd. Those not sitting around tables chatting have gathered near to the pub’s small stage, waiting for Lois and Connie’s set to begin.

She sighs inwardly as she spots Tom in her peripheral vision. He sidles up to her uncertainly, leaning in to be heard above the rowdiness around him.

“Knocked for you on the way here, your mum said you’d left already.”

His breath against the shell of her ear causes her to shudder, and her hold on her glass tightens, focusing on the feeling of the moisture of the condensation that’s gathering on the outside of it to ground herself.

“Didn’t realise you wanted to walk here together, sorry”, she says, keeping her gaze fixed straight ahead.

His nostrils flare slightly, a sign he’s getting annoyed. She bristles, expecting him to say something hurtful, just like he always does when he loses his temper.

“Drink?” He asks, surprising her so much that for a moment her composure almost slips.

She blinks rapidly, taking a deep breath to steady herself. “Got one, thanks” she replies, holding up her pint glass.

“Right. Suit yourself,” he tells her, before pushing through the crowd to the bar.

She is certain that Lois and Connie’s voices harmonise beautifully together, though she is unable to focus on any of the songs they sing. Tom’s intense, annoyed stare feels as though it’s burning a hole in the side of her head. Every time she glances over, he’s staring at her, clearly not paying any more attention than what she is.

As soon as their final song comes to a close, and she’s given them an obligatory clap, she makes a beeline for the doors of the pub, eager to get away.

The relief of the cool night air against her skin is short-lived, as the doors swing back open and Tom follows her out.

“Walk you home?” He offers, hands in his pockets.

“Nah, I’ll be fine, go back inside,” she tells him, beginning to walk away.

Tom jogs ahead, rounding on her, blocking her path. “What the fuck is up wi’ you?!” He stares angrily down at her.

“Nothing, why?” She lies with a shrug.

“You’re acting weird, things aren’t right between us,” he says, sidestepping to stop her retreat.

“We’re mates, aren’t we?” Her voice is meek, in direct conflict with the neutrality she wants to convey.

“I dunno,” he huffs, “are we? You’ve barely said two words to me the last couple of days, you won’t come round to the flat–”

“Pretty sure you’ve got someone else that can come round in my place,” she snaps, cutting him off.

Tom’s brow furrows, his lips pulling back in confusion. “What are you on about?”

Three days’ worth of pent up emotions erupt as she shouts at him. “I fucking saw you, Tom! Came by the garage to give you your lighter back on Thursday morning and saw you with some woman. You were all over each other!”

His expression remains frozen in confusion for a moment, before his eyebrows raise, realisation dawning, and he lets out a soft chuckle. “You’re mardy over that? You’re jealous?!”

Her fists clench at her sides, her body hot with a mixture of anger and humiliation. She’s unsure whether she wants to smack him or burst into tears. “Oh, piss off!” She spits, pushing past him and striding away down the street.

“Wait!” He calls out after her, quickly catching up with her in long strides. “It’s not what you think, I promise. It’s just…” he sighs, “...they tip if I flirt with them.”

She scowls, nose wrinkling in disgust, not slowing her pace. “Is that supposed to make me feel better?!”

“It’s just flirting, nothing more than that, I swear. I’ve been saving the tips, I figure one day the money will come in handy.”

While it’s a relief to hear he hasn’t been messing around with other women, her feelings still weigh heavily upon her, and it’s clear Tom can see it too.

“What else is botherin’ ya?”

She stops, sighing and running a hand through her hair. “What are we doing, Tom? What is this? Mates don’t get jealous like this.”

His face immediately softens, he reaches for her hand, and she lets him. “The money I’ve been setting aside, it’s for the future, our future. Not as mates, whatever you want us to be.”

“Tommy, I–”

“No, wait! I’ll do you one better. It’s Sunday tomorrow, so the shop’s closed, yeah?”

She nods.

“Good, don’t go out. I’ll come to yours tomorrow, show you exactly what it is that we’re doing.”

This time it’s her turn to stare at him in confusion, her lips pressed in a tight line. “What are you gonna do?”

“Just trust me, alright?”

Tom walks her the rest of the way home in silence, a plume of smoke billowing out behind him from his lit cigarette.

When they reach her front door, he leans down and presses a soft kiss to her forehead. The sensation of having him in such close proximity once more makes her tummy flutter. The gesture is so tender that she feels annoyed at how easy it is for her to forgive him. How can she be angry at him when he looks at her like that, like he needs her?

“I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

“Yeah. Night, Tommy.”

“Night, darlin’,” he says with a wink, before walking off down the street.

Her mind races with the possibilities of what he could have planned as she goes to sleep that night.

The following day she’s filled with nervous energy, unable to keep still as she waits for him to arrive. Unfortunately for her, he isn’t prompt with his arrival and it’s not until she sits at the kitchen table with her mum to peel potatoes for their tea that she hears the door knock.

The potato and peeler she’s holding both clatter to the table top, the legs of the chair scraping noisily against the kitchen floor as she stands abruptly, rushing to answer the front door, wiping her hands on her skirt.

“Your mum in?” Tom asks, as she opens the door, eyes bright and a confident smile on his face.

“Yeah, why?” She asks, eyes narrowing slightly. If he’s come round to ask for a quickie on the sofa she’ll slam the door in his face.

“Need to speak to her,” he says airily, brushing past her.

Her suspicion turns quickly to confusion as she trails after him into the kitchen. Her eyes feel as though they’ll bulge out of her head with shock as she sees him get down on one knee in front of her mum.

“Tom, what-”

He holds up a hand to silence her, continuing to look at her mum. “I’ve come to ask for your daughter’s hand in marriage.”

Her mum’s eyebrows shoot up into her hairline, she looks wide eyed from Tom to her, then back again.

For a moment she’s too stunned to speak, and when she finds her voice again it’s quiet and shaky. “Tommy, get up. Please.”

He stands slowly, unsure of himself as his fingers twitch by his sides. She knows that if he had his lighter to hand right now he’d be flicking it.

“I just…I know it’s the proper thing to ask your dad, but he’s not around anymore. Wanted to do right by ya,” he says, and suddenly he’s that little boy again, apologising for pretending to spit in her hair.

“Can we talk?” She asks, her eyes soft with sympathy.

He nods, his gaze lowered and walks out of the kitchen.

“Sorry, mum,” she says, “I’ll explain later, okay? Just need to pop out for a bit.”

Her mum huffs a soft laugh, continuing to peel potatoes. “Fine by me, love.”

They sit on their wall. The same wall that has been a part of so many moments in their lives as they’ve passed sweets back and forth. This time it’s a ring box that Tom passes to her.

She opens it, looking at the delicate gold band nestled within. “It’s beautiful,” she whispers.

“I know it’s not much to look at,” he says apologetically, “was hoping to have a bit more time to save up for something more flash, but maybe I can have a diamond or something added to it once I’ve got the money.”

Her eyes look up from the ring box to Tom. His gaze is so pleading it makes her heart ache and what she’s about to tell him is twice as difficult. “Tom, I can’t marry you.”

“Why not?” He asks, a frown tugging at his brows.

“Because we can’t just jump straight from whatever this is into marriage,” she explains gently, “we’ve never even courted.”

“Courted?!” He says mockingly, a laugh escaping him. “Who d’you think you are?!”

She can’t help the small smile that tugs at the corners of her mouth, as she looks away, embarrassed. “Don’t take the piss.”

“Come on, you and me, it makes sense.”

She chews her lip anxiously. She hates this, hates knocking him back. “We’ve just been mates up until now, you’ve always said that, why do you suddenly want a wife?”

Tom sighs, rolling his eyes. “Just try the ring on, see if it fits.”

“Us getting married isn’t going to suddenly fix everything, Tommy, you’re not well.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

The anger that flashes in his eyes as his jaw ticks and he stares her down causes her to shrink away from him. He’s never looked at her like that before, it frightens her.

“Since you’ve been back, you’re not the same,” she says quietly, turning the ring box around in her hands, “you’re not well. I think–”

“Don’t you fucking dare say shell shock, I swear to god,” he grits out lowly.

“I didn’t say that, I just think you need to speak to someone. Getting married isn’t going to fix anything, Tom,” her tone is pleading, desperate.

“Everything I’ve done, all of it, has always been for you,” he says bitterly. “The thought of coming back to Longsight, back to you, was all that kept me going on that fucking ship. I can’t think of anyone I’d rather spend the rest of my life with, but if you’re able to look at me and not feel the same way then maybe we’re not doing what I think we’re doing.”

A lump forms in her throat, as a void opens in her chest. “What are you saying?”

He swallows, sniffing, fingers drumming nervously on his knees. “Maybe we’re not mates, maybe we’re not anything.”

“Are you finishing with me?” Her voice wobbles, betraying the tears she’s holding back.

“Dunno,” he shrugs, tone suddenly callous as the mask goes back up, “are you giving that ring back?”

She doesn’t want this. Not like this. She sniffs back her tears, cringing at how pathetic the single syllable sounds as it passes her lips. “Yes.”

He exhales, his expression hateful as he nods slowly, taking the box back. “Then yeah, I’m finishing with you.”

Tom jumps down from the wall, walking quickly away and she watches him go. The tears that she’s spent the past four days pushing down spill over in earnest, as her shoulders shake with the force of her sobs.

Not mates. Not anything.

#tom bennett #tom bennett x reader #tom bennett x y/n #tom bennett x you #ewan mitchell #tom bennett smut #tom bennett angst #tom bennett fan fiction #tom bennett fanfiction #tom bennett fan fic #tom bennett fanfic #tom bennett imagine #world on fire #world on fire fan fiction #world on fire fanfiction #world on fire fanfic #world on fire fan fic

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repunk76 · 2 months

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Rip Her to Shreds [Song by Blondie] Oh, you know her, would you look at that hair Yeah, you know her, check out those shoes She looks like she stepped out of the middle of somebody's blues She looks like the Sunday comics She thinks she's Brenda Starr Her nose job is real atomic All she needs is an old knife scar Yeah, she's so dull, come on rip her to shreds She's so dull, come on rip her to shreds Oh, you know her, "Miss Groupie Supreme" Yeah, you know her, "Vera Vogue" on parade Red eye shadow! Green mascara! Yuck! She's too much She looks like she don't know better A case of partial extreme Dressed in a Robert Hall sweater Acting like a soap opera queen Yeah, she's so dull, come on rip her to shreds She's so dull, come on rip her to shreds She got the nerve to tell me she's not on it But her expression is too serene Yeah, she looks like she washes with Comet Always looking to create a scene Yeah, she's so dull, come on rip her to shreds She's so dull, come on rip her to shreds She's so dull, rip her to shreds Oh, you know her, "Miss Groupie Supreme" Yeah, you know her, "Vera Vogue" on parade Yeah, you know her, with the fish-eating grin She's so dull Yeah, she got the nerve to tell me! Huh, she's so dull Yeah, there she goes now She making out with King Kong She take her boat to Hong Kong Well, bye bye sugar And not a minute too soon

#blondie #debbie harry #1976

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lowkeyrobin · 4 months

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MCYT ; songs from the 60s-90s they remind me of

includes ; tommyinnit, badlinu, tubbo, ranboo, billzo, aimsey, quackity, slimecicle, nihachu, and jack manifold

warnings ; none

lmk if I should remove Jack, Billzo & Aimsey bc ik they don't like x readers/fanfiction but this is just some random blurb idrk

masterlist

TOMMYINNIT

kiss from a rose ; seal

rooms on fire ; stevie nicks

just like heaven ; the cure

call me ; blondie

heroes ; david bowie

you make loving fun ; fleetwood mac

the boys of summer ; don henley

someday ; sugar ray

land of confusion ; genesis

renegade ; styx

linger ; the cranberries

TUBBO

dreams ; fleetwood mac

silver springs ; fleetwood mac

all the small things ; blink-182

jessies girl ; rick springfield

edge of seventeen ; stevie nicks

don't look back in anger ; oasis

bye bye love ; the cars

shout ; tears for fears

starman ; david bowie

sunday ; the cranberries

RANBOO

queer ; garbage

only happy when it rains ; garbage

celebrity skin ; hole

dedicated to the one i love ; the mamas & the papas

take me home tonight ; eddie money & ronnie spector

cruel summer ; bananarama

stranger in my own house ; foreigner

we are not alone ; karla devito

looks that kill ; motley crue

don't you (forget about me) ; simple minds

rhiannon ; fleetwood mac

tainted love ; soft cell

FREDDIE BADLINU

every little thing she does is magic ; the police

all the small things ; blink-182

atomic ; blondie

take on me ; a-ha

another brick in the wall, pt2 ; pink floyd

californiacation ; red hot chili peppers

girls on film ; duran duran

head over heels ; tears for fears

nobodys daughter ; hole

everybody here wants you ; jeff buckley

the boys are back in town ; thin lizzy

BILLZO

just like heaven ; the cure

the perfect girl ; the cure

stupid girl ; garbage

godzilla ; blue oyster cult

the struggle within ; metallica

all apologies ; nirvana

something in the way ; nirvana

nothing else matters ; metallica

shout at the devil ; motley crue

fight for your right ; beastie boys

the stroke ; billy squier

AIMSEY

i just shot john lennon - paris demo ; the cranberries

stars ; the cranberries

monday morning ; fleetwood mac

cherry bomb ; the runaways

every rose has its thorn ; poison

barracuda ; heart

vienna ; billy joel

fade into you ; mazzy star

go your own way (cover) ; the cranberries

only happy when it rains - early demo mix ; garbage

QUACKITY

dreaming my dreams ; the cranberries

linger ; the cranberries

about a girl ; nirvana

brass monkey ; beastie boys

are you gonna be my girl ; jet

the boys of summer ; don henley

something in the way ; nirvana

atomic ; blondie

heart of glass ; blondie

the chain ; fleetwood mac

NIKI NIHACHU

queer ; garbage

stupid girl ; garbage

malibu ; hole

(don't fear) the reaper ; blue oyster cult

friday im in love ; the cure

all i think about now ; pixies

bye bye love ; the cars

after the glitter fades ; stevie nicks

rooms on fire ; stevie nicks

jessies girl ; rick springfield

stars ; the cranberries

JACK MANIFOLD

that's all ; genesis

land of confusion ; genesis

call me ; blondie

uptown girl ; billy joel

bust a move ; young mc

sunglasses at night ; corey hart

i still believe ; tim cappello

sabotage ; beastie boys

don't you (forget about me) ; simple minds

don't bring me down ; electric light orchestra

aliens exist ; blink-182 (memeulous watchers get this one)

CHARLIE SLIMECICLE

fox on the run ; sweet

call me ; blondie

semi-charmed life ; third eye blind

pink cadillac ; natalie cole

take me home tonight ; eddie money & ronnie spector

shadow dancing ; andy gibb

i love rock n roll ; joan jett & the blackhearts

the boys are back in town ; thin lizzy

gloria ; them & van morrison

every little thing she does is magic ; the police

#lowkeyrobin #mcyt preferences #mcyt x reader #tommyinnit x reader #wilbur soot x reader #mcyt oneshot #quackity x reader #ranboo x reader #badlinu x reader #nihachu x reader #foolish gamers x reader #charlie slimecicle x reader #aimsey #billzo #music recs #music recommendation #jack manifold

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catindabag · 6 months

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TBOSAS on Crack short take (59)

*When Sejanus met Coryo*

Ma: I can’t believe that my dearest son is now a handsome little lad.

Sejanus: Ma, I’m 8.

Ma: Still, you’re almost as tall as me and your father.🥰

Strabo: That’s a lie. I’m taller than most people. I’m even taller than President Ravinstill and Monster Cardew.

Ma: Whatever you say, my love.

Sejanus: Ma, just this once, please don’t embarrass me in front of the other kids today.😞

Ma: Ok, dear, I promise. But make sure to share those sugar free gumdrops I bought for you and your new friends-

Sejanus: Yes, Ma, I will.

Ma: That’s my boy! Now, run along and have a great time at the playground, Seji Pie.☺️

Sejanus: Thanks Ma!

Ma: And be careful!

Sejanus: I’ll try! Bye-

Strabo: Son.

Sejanus: Yes?

Strabo: Do you know why I moved our family to live in this terrifying city as soon as the war ended?

Sejanus: Because you’re a scheming old man who wants to rule Panem forever?

Strabo: Yes.😈

Sejanus: Typical Pa-

Strabo: But that’s just the half of it.

Sejanus: Then what’s the other half?

Strabo: *points at an 8 year old Coryo Snow* My son, you see that little white haired boy sitting alone on that bench over there?

Sejanus: You mean that malnourish looking gorgeous boy with the most beautiful pale blue eyes that sparkles like a rare pair of Paraiba Tourmalines whenever he looks at the morning sky?

Strabo: Yes, him.

Sejanus: Why?

Strabo: That boy right there will be your future spouse, my son!

Sejanus: My future spouse?!😍

Strabo: Exactly!

Sejanus: But I don’t even know his name! He might even hate me!😭

Strabo: Well, that’s alright, son, because he’s going to be your future fiancé and marry into our family whether he likes it or not!

Sejanus: How do you even know him?

Strabo: His drop dead gorgeous father and I were very close friends.

Sejanus: How close?

Strabo: Extremely close.😏

Sejanus: So you guys were besties?!

Strabo: More than that.

Sejanus: So you were roommates?!

Strabo: Sure! My beloved Crassus and I were the best roommates!😉

Sejanus: But what if he doesn’t like me?

Strabo: Don’t worry about that. Little Snow will eventually melt and love you forever.

Sejanus: Really?🥹

Strabo: Really. You two are destined to be together, my son.

Sejanus: Destined?

Strabo: Written in the stars, fated by life, carved in the ground by love itself and whatever young couples tend to say nowadays.

Sejanus: So he’s mine?

Strabo: Yes, he’s yours.

Sejanus: Mine!😍

Strabo: That’s right! Now go feed him before someone else does!

Sejanus: Ok! *quickly runs to a sad and lonely Coryo*

Coryo: *is secretly starving* Ugh. I think I’m gonna cry. I’m so hungry right now-

Sejanus: Come home with me!

Coryo: Huh? Who are you?

Sejanus: The man who’s gonna marry you!

Coryo: Marry who?

Sejanus: I’m your husband!

Coryo: Husband?! I’m too young to have a husband-

Sejanus: Do you want a gumdrop, my love?😍

Coryo: Um- Sure? I’ll have one-

Sejanus: Take all of them, my love!

Coryo: Why are you calling me that?

Sejanus: Calling you what, my love?

Coryo: That.

Sejanus: I don’t get it! But here! Have my gumdrops and marry me!

Coryo: Thank you, friend.

Sejanus: Boyfriend.

Coryo: Friend.

Sejanus: Husband!

Coryo: I don’t even know your name!

Sejanus: I’m Sejanus Plinth, the love of your life, the boy of your dreams, and the man who’s gonna marry you!

Coryo: I- I’m Coriolanus Xanthos Snow.

Sejanus: What a beautiful name you have, my love!

Coryo: Thank you?

Sejanus: Tell me, my Snow Angel, which one sounds better? Snow-Plinth or Plinth-Snow?

Coryo: I don’t really understand what you’re saying-

Sejanus: So is that a yes?!

Coryo: A yes to what?

Sejanus: That you’ll come home and marry me!

Coryo: I’m too young to marry you!

Sejanus: Pretty please?🥺

Coryo: No.

Strabo: *is hiding behind the bushes* Marry him, little Snow! Marry my one and only idiot son!

Coryo: *points at Strabo* Who the heck are you?!

Strabo: Your father-in-law.

Coryo: *turns to Sejanus* Why is your crazy old man hiding behind those bushes?

Sejanus: It’s a District 2 thing.

Coryo: Right. So I’m just gonna go home now-

Sejanus: To my place!😘

Coryo: No.

Strabo: My beloved Crassus will be extremely happy if you marry my son, little Snow!

Coryo: *sighs* Tigris was right. I should’ve stayed home today-

Sejanus: I’m rich by the way.

Coryo: So when’s our first date?

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rxgnor0k · 2 years

Text

I Like Watching You Dance - E.Munson

masterlist➢𖤓

summary | In which nutcracker season is at its peak, and spending quality time with Eddie Munson is impossible. Eddie decides to surprise you after a long day of rehearsing, but ends up watching you in awe as you rehearse for your role as the sugar plum fairy in your academy's production of The Nutcracker.

tags | Eddie Munson x fem!reader, ballerina!reader, fluff, ballet fic, Nutcracker season, cute relationship, she/her pronouns used

word count | 1.2k

a/n | hey y'all!!! so I'd like to say that I am ballet dancer myself, so I know my stuff. This fic was very fun to write, especially because it's Nutcracker season right now, and that there was no research that had to be done! Bye!

⚠️ i will not allow anyone copy and pasting my work into any other social platform or site without consulting with me first ⚠️

───────────────────────

Eddie arrived to pick you up after your rehearsal, but you aren’t anywhere to be seen. He looks back down to the note card placed in his lap.

“16700 Dawn Rd, Ronan IN,” he read aloud. “Where the fuck is she?”

Due to your schedule with ballet, you and Eddie were unable to go on any sort of date, even spending some quality time together. He knew how hard it was for you, dancing everyday and all, but he hated not being able to see your face everyday after school and wrapping you up in his arms after a long day.

He looked out of his van window to see the large building with big, bold letters, written, “Balanchine Classical Ballet Academy,” which stood out compared to the white concrete walls of the exterior part of the building. Deciding whether to stay in the van, or go out and see if you were there or not, Eddie chose to get out. As he opens the driver’s side door, a cold gust of wind hits him like a bullet. Quickly, Eddie slams the door shut and goes to find a spare jacket hidden in the trunk. As soon as he finds it, he puts it on, and opens the door once more. The cold air comes back again but because of the big, warm coat Eddie had put on, it wasn’t as bad as it was before. Eddie approaches the large building with a scrunch on his face, he hates how the melted snow feels on his skin.

Once he enters the academy doors, Eddie is met with a busy atmosphere with little girls in pink and blue Capezio leotards and dance moms sewing costumes together while gossiping. All studios were occupied with dancers rehearsing for their production of The Nutcracker which was just around the corner from now. Eddie looks up at the tall walls covered in awards from ballet competitions from prior years, and photographs of very famous dancers. On one part of the wall hung a collection of headshots of the older dancers who’ve won all of the awards as well as bring some pride to the academy. He gazed up to the top and was met with your face. You wore a bright smile with your hair in a neat, tight bun. Right under was a gold plate that had “Y/n L/n, 1st place Winner of the International Grand Prix” engraved into it.

Eddie was interrupted by a voice of an older woman, “Do you need help, sir?”.

Eddie looks back to see a rather tall woman with a cane in hand. He looks past her and sees the group of gossiping mothers with concerned faces staring at him. Eddie realizes the situation and immediately begins panicking.

“Oh, I wasn’t here to cause any trouble, I was waiting for my girlfriend, you see-“

“Stop,” the woman demands. Eddie quickly silenced himself, the woman was awfully frightening. “I know who you are and I know you mean no harm.”

Eddie was taken aback, “How the fuck does she know who I am?,” he thought.

“Waiting for Ms. L/n I presume?” The older woman asks.

“Uhh yea, she’s usually done at 5:00, but she wasn’t outside, so I came in to see if she was here.”

The lady nods, “come with me,” she gestures to Eddie to follow her as they stride across a long hallway, studios on each side of the wall. Eddie’s eyes were glued to the floor, while people move out of their way for the lady to walk by. The loud noises were soon turned into hushes, and the only thing you could hear was the music coming from the studios, the whispering, and the click clacks of the woman’s heels.

Turning the corner, a group of dancers were all packed around a window, watching the rehearsal. They all stood in silence as they watched in awe of the beautiful ballerina. By the sound of the women's heels clicking once again, the dancers snapped their heads towards her away, and quickly gathered their bags and moved along.

“I guess I really am that frightening,” the woman chuckled.

“No shit, Sherlock, you look like you’d kill me with that cane,” Eddie thought, scratching the back of his head.

The woman stops right in front of the window where the prior dancers were standing. Eddie stops as well, and looks into the studio. A ballerina engrossed in the music made her away across the room and into a lift, a man held her high up into the air.

“Here she is,” the woman says, stepping to the side.

Eddie grows closer to the window and watches you. A navy blue leotard hugged your figure, and the black practice tutu you wore complimented it perfectly. The new pointe shoes you put on at the beginning of the day were now completely dead as the ribbons and elastic were holding by the threads. The shank and box were “soggy”, however, that didn’t matter at the moment. Eddie noticed how you moved your arms, it was almost as if they were in a fluid state. He marveled at the sight of you in such a graceful state.

As the ending of the Sugar Plum and Cavalier Pas De Deux came to a close, you sat yourself down while you gasped for air. The dance was so exhausting it left you breathless.

“Beautiful isn’t she?” the woman compliments. “I’ve taught her since she was nine years old. Never failed to disappoint me.”

Eddie nods, unsure of what to say.

You pack up your bags and replace the practice tutu with black trash bag pants. You take your dead pointe shoes off and put on normal everyday shoes. Your french twist, that had been neat and slick back at the beginning of the day, was now messed up with dozens of fly-always sticking at your skin. Your sweat creates a stain on your leotard, but who the fuck cared.

“Bye, Dmitri,” you wave. Dmitri, your pas de deux partner, waves back and says his goodbyes. You bring the bag to your shoulder and begin making your way out of the studio. Upon walking out, Eddie props himself against the door frame, making himself known.

“Eddie!” Your eyes brighten, hurrying over to embrace him into a tight hug. “I was going to call you to pick me up, but you're here!”

“Yea, I watched you do your twirling stuff,” Eddie said, in which he starts to mimic your en dedan turns.

“Wow, Eddie, you’re so funny. Ha ha,” you say, sarcastically of course. “Shit, sorry, you were probably bored. I didn’t think rehearsal would run for that long.”

“What! I like watching you dance, it was nice ,” Eddie wraps his arm around your shoulder while beginning to leave.

“Really? Do you think so? I say that sweat stains and bruised toe nails would say otherwise, but I’ll take the compliment,” you chuckle.

Walking into the lobby, hand-in-hand, the gossiping mothers turn their heads towards your way, staring at the two of you walk by.

“Did you see that?” One of them whispers.

“Yea, never thought someone like her would go for someone like him,” another replies.

“Well, I think they look cute together.”

“I saw them at the park this one time, they looked really happy.”

“I heard someone say that he’s a cult leader.”

“Oh shut your mouth, Carol. No one believes in that kind of stuff anymore.”

You and Eddie try not to laugh when you hear the gossiping. The pretty, kind, ballerina with the crazy, drug addict, metal head? Of course, no one would have thought that it would ever happen!

───────────────────────

a/n: sorry for another authors note, hehe. srry for being gone for such a long time, i had like no motivation to write anything lol. I wrote this fic in honor of Nutcracker season! bye!

Reposts and requests are always welcomed! Make sure to go check ou my other stuff! My masterlist is linked at the top of the page! Thank you for reading my fan fic!

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gumballavocadoharry · 19 days

Text

Estrangement (follow up) 1:

Posted. My new post to my blog 'Go Getter' was already finished and was sent in for the public to enjoy. My feet dangled slightly off the soft cushiony magenta swivel chair I had invested some money into. For comfort this good, especially when spending long grueling hours staring at a vivid screen, it's obligatory to have congeniality. I propelled myself up; stretching my aching back and ruffling my ombre hair that had a color of caramel tracing the ends, and my natural sandy brown that I darkened led more towards my roots.

I clenched my hands into fist before straightening them wide out as if I were falling from a building and my hands were spread, desperate to grab on to something. After stretching every muscle in my body from my protracted writing shift, I rambled downstairs for a cup of tea as a token for another post well done.

The kettle bubbled as I waited patiently in my favorite living room chair, that rocked back and forth and had the coziest backing to it. It wasn't until my phone started ringing loud enough to startle me half dazed that my eyes vaulted open and darted themselves to my telephone. I purposely waited until the answer machine came on and the caller would be revealed.

"Hey Kaitlin....it's yn, your mom. I was just checking up to see how you were doing and if you're alright," Her voice ricocheted with unease, culpability and inquisitiveness. "It's been 3 years since we've last seen you and.....oh well it's just a mother's intuition. Maybe I'll see you around...bye." Click!

I tortured myself, making myself bitterly fatigued in holding back an eye roll that I fruitlessly achieved. "Mother's intuition?" I pondered loudly. Ha! What a joke! I don't need a mother like her....I don't need a mother at all anymore...like I ever had one. How did she even get my number? The thought of my mom having my home number in the first place was beastly. Afterall, I meant it when I promised I wouldn't see them again. The hissing of the kettle interrupted my deep engrossment in how in the world mom even knew someone who had my number. I quickly turned off the stove, and raced back into the living room to call and have my number changed again.

Chances are, if mom has it....so does dad, and that was a BIG NO-NO.

I sighed a sigh of relief when my number was changed. I spent the next hour texting everyone important my new number, but it was worth it. Only then did I feel alleviate enough to enjoy my hot tea....that I heated in the microwave. I plopped the black tea bag into my vehemently hot water filled mug and watched it bleed through as the water sizzled it in. I scooped in a couple sugars before sauntering in my kitchen nook. I couldn't quiver the tragic thought of myself reconnecting with my family, or should I say parental units. I contemplate on my siblings from time to time, especially Kira. She should be 10 years by now, in fifth grade with her favorite baby blue and yellow backpack with the anime faced crescent moon.

Maybe Kameron and Kristopher are famous or established athletes, Kimberly has her academics, so that lands her as a teacher or professor possibly, Kylie loves art so maybe a painter for her....so that just leaves mom and dad. I haven't heard much particulars on any of them, but I finally came to terms that it was requisite with all the calamity that I had escaped at the hands of my parents. I accepted that they were living their lives with acclimatization of me being a couple miles away, and that I myself have finally become the same with my own; even to the point of adding an addition to my 'world of fun'.

Angus. He was a couple feet taller, standing lanky with black messy hair that was occasionally brushed into a shaggy mop cut, where his bags flowed neatly above his eyebrows. His piercing grayish blue eyes would confine my hazel ones, daring as to not look to his mauvelous tiny kitty lips. Adrenaline drumed the more my mind would recapture the moments I had with him over the summer, a few short story posts that were marginally mirrored off him. I could die with his bulky arms wrapped around my waist and my head pillowing his shoulder blade. A goliath to me, but a gentle giant that would run through hail and fire just to see my face or to hear about my derisory day on the computer.

I beat myself to a pulp if I feel like I'm not giving my half of the invisible agreement to Angus because of my loveless background. He's the first person besides Kira who showed me an authentic side of life....one filled with laughter that causes your sides to ache, that makes your cheeks sting whenever he smiles at you, holding flowers or a new teddy bear behind his back like fingers crossed and one that makes you burn an internal promise to cherish every waking moment with him like it's the last time you'll ever see his smile, or his laugh or his heart.

I had finished my tea faster than anticipated. That was it? I thought before taking the cup to the sink and pressing my back to it. Sunlight gashed my back with it's florid rays, as it was indeed powerful enough to sneak around the daisy patterned sink curtains I had hanging up, and flash me with it's thick amber radiance. I licked my lips before draggin my bare feet across my hardwood upstairs to my bedroom. Maybe I needed answers, maybe I needed closure. The thought came as a shrug to me, like if someone shrugged their shoulders in an unsure manner like they couldn't be certain of the consequences that follow. I flopped in my swivel chair and conducted a internet investigation of my own, looking up every members name and what their profile was connected with.

Kimberly was now engaged to someone named Pete and as theory, she worked as a professor in "Limbgere's instutite of learning." Kylie was an art curator, studying to become an established artist, Kristopher was a sports doctor; inspired by basketball injury that took him out for the season, he decided to take his course in medicine, and Kameron was a professional soccer player. Kira, being the youngest was still in school and mom and dad.....dad still worked as a professor and mom was the typical homemaker like she was when I left home.

I swallowed a little stupefy as to how much of everyone's life was left from me. It was my decision of course, no one else's but mine. But I guess it still pierced that everyone seemed to forget about me so easily. Kimberly's engaged and I had no idea, so I guess it's no surprise the aftershock started kicking in. I mean I'm sure they've seen my Instagram posts; boyfriend posts, awards I've won for bestselling blogger. And my short stories that have won special achievements. In fact....Kristopher follows me. I only noticed this a few months back despite him being one my loyal followers for years. So it perturbed me on his silence. He was one of the ones I could bear my heart out when I reached a breaking point, and he returned it with chill hug and "You'll get through this."

My unsettled thoughts began to make me feel queasy. I wanted to scream, cry and swear at the top of my lungs, cursing everyone down to the big white house and my medium sized bedroom that I haven't even dreamed of in 3 years and 30 blocks away on the other side of town.

Ding! My melodramatic rumination was intervened with an email.

Dear Kaitlin,

You are invited to the 55th annual publisher awards this Friday! You have been nominated for 'Best short story' and 'Best blogger/ Writer!' We hope to see you there! Congratulations!

Sincerely,

The Publisher Foundation

A lump that was sheltering in my throat was finally released with a excited exclaim. Hair, makeup, nails, dresses all ran through my mind anticipatory. I couldn't believe I was nominated and let alone invited! This was a highly exquisite ceremony and words couldn't express my gratitude for such an acknowledgement!

Angus, being the first person I shared this invigorating broadcast with, took a delightful share in the rousing engagement I had. "Kaitlin, I've gotta rent a tux and arrange a special dinner for afterwards," My cheeks turned a deep crimson at the thought of being completely spoiled on the night of a special ceremony, that had already taken dominance in my mind. "Aw Angus, you don't have to do that,"

"I wanted to. After all, you've done so much and I need to make it up to you. Especially with this job that's been taking up too much of my life." Angus had inquired a job that he was planning to retire from due to the harsh elongate work and the smothering of the periods it occupies during the week. Angus would come to my house with achy numb fingers and languid shoulders that led his back into a slump. I was glad he was going to quit this nugatory job, as it was killing him in front of his very eyes.

After our conversation, I immediately arranged for fancy dress and heels that would match the jewelry I would adorn myself in. I laid out the prepossessing ocean blue ombre dress on my bed, admiring the painting like cloth that I would be wearing in a couple days. The realization sent a exciting chill through my spine. I could picture it; rouge colored lipstick, silver diamond earrings with a matching bracelet and silver heels. And of course my hair was to be styled in a beach wave bun with a french braid trailing itself around my head.

It was all set. I was officially ready.

I had just put the finishing touches on my eyelashes. I curled the fake hair into the perfect curve, that brought extrinsic to the silver and blue mixed eyeshadow and black velvet eyeliner to my hazel eyes. My heels clicked modishly against ligneous pavement that was a straight path to the bedroom door, that would lead me down the stairs to open the door for my escort. "Hello Angus," I greeted him, sashaying my hips as if to bring heed to how my body hugged the dress and how I modestly glistened to his appeal. "You look stunning! That color...." Angus was tongue-tied in his astonishment. "You're gorgeous." He simply stated, in a matter of fact like there was no question about it.

I returned his plaudits, and allowed our arms to twine together as we walked to Angus's silver van and drove off the ceremony. The dem yet bright lights were what flashed my eyes first besides the cameramen flashing their cameras towards the upcomers who were all competing for the special achievements being given tonight. I took a few pictures, did a couple interviews before finding my seat and joining Angus in sitting down for a little while.

Although, it bored me to death seeing everyone mingle, and a few attendees had asked to meet me, so I excused myself from my boyfriend and joined in the chatter before the show. "Kaitlin, you look rather beautiful tonight," Tiffany, the girl who owns the fashion blog who I occasionally allied with was looking stunning in her sparkly cream gown that she donned a matching shaw with. Although despite her formosity flashy dress, her strawberry red lipstick is what I noticed first besides her dangling diamond earrings. "I should say the same for you too Tiff! That shaw and those earrings!"

Even through her thick blush, I could see her beaming flattery cast itself beyond the artificial makeup. While glancing over her shoulder, I noticed familiar green eyes revert themselves in my direction before turning away. It shook me. I remembered those eyes, emerald colored ones that garmented brumal distant looks, and repugnant stares. Manly eyes that only one person I knew could wear so boldly around me.

Dad.

My sandpapered throat swallowed only drops of my internal distress. I couldn't bare to be in a room with that man despite my earlier curiosities. The minute Tiffany turned her attention to another guest, I darted as far away from that area in the large auditorium hall as possible. My heart banged loudly, as the thought of such nightmares could return to me on my night. How did he get here? Why is he here? How, just how? I didn't think this could get worse but.....on my luck, anything was possible right? "Kaitlin?" I turned to see Kameron standing there in awe before he raced to me and embraced me into his much thicker arms than when I had last seen him. "It's been so long."

I hugged back, looking over his shoulder and seeing Kim and Kylie following shortly behind and....Kira. The little girl who saved my life. Tear bubbled over as I greeted my siblings with tight hugs. "Katie!" Kira wrapped her little arms around my neck that I returned feeling fondness growing thickly in the form of of lump in my throat. "Kristopher's with mom and dad." That icy feeling hit again. It pinged hard enough to arouse vigilant protection on myself and Angus. "They're here?"

"Yeah, remember? Dad always had been a part of the publishing foundation because he would offer books and other important reading material to them." I hit my forehead with my hand mentally. That's why! I remember coming here faintly because of his connections to the program and with other professors of the publishing foundation!

"Oh right!" "Look how much times have changed, now you're here and you're nominated for two awards!" Kylie added. "She is?"I turned around to be met with those green glacial eyes again. Some things never change. Dad looked stunned and dumbfounded as him and Kristopher walked side by side to the rest of the group. I nodded almost bombastic. "Yep, they nominated me for best blog and best writer and blogger."

"That's amazing!" Mom had now showed up to this family reunion. "You deserve it." I swallowed pride and thanked my mother for her guilty compliment. Things hadn't changed. "You look so beautiful honey, I didn't know you added ombre to your hair. How's things been going?"

I flinched a little when she said "honey." "Oh very well thank you, you?" "It's been good. You know Kimberly's getting married and Kira is on her last year of elementary." I smiled wide of Kira. She has come so far and I couldn't be more proud of the little girl who I had to bitterly say goodbye to.

"That's great! Congratulations both of you!" I pretended to not have cyber stalked them. "Who's Angus?" Kristopher brought up. Of course he would know, as he became friendly with my Instagram over the course I've been running it. My parents head perked like a they had just seen a mysterious flash. I cleared my throat of a chagrin position. "Angus, he's a friend...my boyfriend." I don't understand why I mentioned that last part. Maybe a piece of me wanted to give a small insight to my life to the outsiders looking in. "Well that's great, is he here?" I kicked myself internally, regret was already sinking in and drowning me. "Yeah, but I think he's in the bathroom." I patted myself for my competent lie.

"Alright ladies and gentleman, let's get started." I heard the announcer say. I trollied to my seat that was next door to Angus, who was sipping champagne. "Tonight is the night of the Internet awards, where we celebrate bloggers and writers who gift us with wonderful content on their personal websites or a public one that's filled with tons of other writers. So tonight we honor these ones with awards. You've voted and so now we will tell the winners of our favorite writers."

My stomach did leaps as I thought about the awards. How shiny they looked, how sophisticated the design looked and how well it would display itself on my office shelf. I glimpsed over to my father who was also anticipating the ceremony. It would be preconception of me to think my father didn't deserve such achievement for his life's work. After all, the last time I stepped foot into the college he labored at, his speech and assignments to the students were exceptional. His precision and timeliness were astonishing. The high society professors cavalier whenever dad's speeches ring through their connections.

But without downgrading myself, I at least tried to be good writer. I don't know exactly how dad felt about me being nominated or being blogger in the first place, but that doesn't change anything. I swallowed my abhorrent thoughts and put on a number one smile for the show.

The announcer announced the nominees and then the winners; show going on faster than expected. It only picked up when dad was invited on stage to give a speech.

"I know tonight is very important, we're all dressed fancy for this special evening. Writers are what make the world and blah blah blah," I tuned him out and just sipped my champagne. I got up to use the bathroom, and as I stood up, my father's eyes met with mine. Those icy ones had now turned into hesitance and downhearted. Almost scared with my reaction to the turned tables. But I was simply excusing myself to the lavatory on an unbiased notice. I looked in the mirror, staring hard at myself with candid orbs. My eyes; fresh, my smile; unalloyed, my face.....guiltless. I didn't have to hide behind a facade of a sugary persona to be accepted again or to dismiss everything that's happened in my life.

I put on a more aplomb face and goose stomped myself out to my chair. Good job lieutenant.

Dadhad finished his speech and excused himself to his seat. I shifted my eyes quickly to the man who had tormented me for all my life, to see him shift his attention to me. He gave way to puppy dog eyes that hinged on predicted disappointment from my 'shallow' escape to the bathroom. I reverted my eyes back to the stage and continued my attention there until they would announce my category. "The nominees for best short story are, Maya Tutwell, Kaitlin Styles, Ruby Hoffman, Lance Griffin and Parker Deseto," Hepulled the ticket out of the envelope.

"Kaitlin Styles!" A hyper amount of adrenaline raced through my body like electric bolts. I zipped on stage, not caring that my dress was trying to introduce my cleavage to the audience, although I did adjust myself before turning to the crowd.

"Thank you all so much! I would never be here on this stage if it wasn't for any of you. When I first wrote this story, I had just moved a couple miles away from home, into a new apartment and I had just started my job as a blogger and I had no idea it would lead to this. The story was inspiration off of a personal experience in life and in love and it was difficult for me to convey at first. But I did it and I published it into the story you all know now. I wanna thank my boyfriend Angus for his limitless support and adoration, my friends and fans who made this possible for me tonight. Thank you, I love you so much!" I wiped the faint mascara tears and watched as I stood beyond the crowd, yet a second time since my graduation. I could see Angus who was clapping and whistling with immense pride, a few friends who clapped the loudest among the thousands of crowd goers and my family who clapped with confusion and botheration. Except for my siblings who were delighted at my second wind.

Mom tried to stand for a ovation but, It wasn't necessary....so I exited the stage with that thought. I didn't win best blogger, but I didn't care. I won something and that was enough for me. Angus kept continually kissing my cheek as we left. I had my new beautiful trophy in my hand as I walked arm in arm with my guy. In the corner of my eye, I saw my dad headed my way.

He approached me before I could take an escape route to Angus's car. "Hey Katie," I slightly narrowed my eyes to dads. I looked at him distrustful of what he was planning and I knew he could sense that. "Could I talk to you for a minute?" I signaled for Angus to excuse himself, as he took the award and ventured to the car. I turned my attention back to dad. I raised an eyebrow to signal to for him to explain what was the reason he pulled me aside. "Kaitlin, first I wanna congratulate you on winning best short story tonight....I'm very proud of you."

I nodded, just pondering on where this conversation was going. "Look, I won't be coy in the way I was when I last saw you. I know you hate that, especially from me. I miss you, your mom misses you, we all do. It's so painful to know that when you left, you wanted nothing to do with this family, and you changed your number, we didn't know where you lived and it's been years since we've last spoken. But that's not what I wanted for us, to end on such a grim note. It hurt to see you have a boyfriend, be in a successful career and just accomplish so many things, without us being there to see it all. I mean we are all proud but.....we just miss you. We love you Kaitlin and......could you ever find it in your heart to forgive us for everything so we can be a complete family again?"

I looked down. "If I'm being honest, I don't know. What you and mom did was disgusting and no one should be treated with such repugnance. I mean the only reason you say that is because I made a name for myself without the credit of your professor status, without Kameron's soccer career, without anyone's help and maybe that's a kick in the shins to your pride. No, I don't regret not speaking with you or mom. Maybe everyone else, but not you. Mom called only a couple weeks ago with the same speech of how she misses me and all that except I didn't pick up the phone, I let it go to voicemail before changing my number without any closure of how she got a hold of it in the first place. And besides, you have your children, Kylie, Kameron, Kristopher, Kimberly and Kira with all their successes. Why should I be the missing puzzle piece? My life is complete."

I could tell that last sentence shook dad, hard. His eyes welled up with tears that broke into an out loud sob. "I'm sorry, Katie, I didn't mean to hurt you. Why didn't you tell us before?" I squinted my eyes at dad before huffly walking off. But not before turning around and saying: "You figure it out. You've got your whole life." And then I joined Angus in the car.

Part 2???????

(Ha, I'll do it anyway!)

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #dadrry #dad!harry #harry styles and yn #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfictions #harry one shot #harry styles imagines #harry styles blurb #abonnement #emotional neglect #emotional abuse #child abuse #estranged parents #harry and yn #harry styles one shot

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antennaed-shidou · 5 months

Text

A Cheat

❆ Eita Otoya x f! reader

❆ Warning: not prof-read,

❆ Misc: Word Count: 900+ 12 days of Christmas special with the Blue Lock Boys. 6/12 days with he needs more screen time Eita Otoya. Hope you enjoy it.

❆ In which you caught your boyfriend cheating.

“What do you mean he's cheating?” Crystal asked {Y/n} as she took another sip of her coffee.

“I have this gut feeling. I don’t know what it is. But something feels wrong with him,” She responds with a heavy sigh at the end.

“Yeah whatever you say, girl. Just know he does love you even if he doesn’t say it much. Otoya would never cheat on you.” She shook her head putting down the cup of coffee.

{Y/n} rolled her eyes, “Really, Crystal? Why are you on his side anyway?”

“Because I know he loves you,” She replies plain and simple

“Sure, but he's probably said that to every woman he's dated. I'm most likely just another one.” {Y/n} couldn’t believe any word her friend was saying. She knew about all of Otoya ex’s and how he treated them. All the cheating and half-assed relationships he’s been in. Along with the woman way more beautiful than her.

{Y/n} was just another one to add to the pile of average exes and past relationships he would forget in the long run. “I’m going home, Crystal.” The [h/c[-haired female got up throwing away her trash “It was nice to see you again. Bye.” She waved at her friend before she left the cafe.

Crystal sat there letting out a long breathy sigh. She knew what {Y/n} was trying to do. But she couldn’t stop her so what was the point in trying? Might as well enjoy the coffee and desserts.

{Y/n} got a ride home. When she arrived she found that the door was locked even though Otoya was home. Lucky for her she had the extra pair of keys to get in.

She carefully and quietly walked into the house trying to find anything suspicious. In the end, though she had found nothing. The female still had speculations about her boyfriend cheating, she knew he could be good at hiding it.

Otoya was sitting in the living room watching some TV. although most of his attention was on his phone. He was scrolling through Instagram looking at who knows what. His girlfriend didn’t care all too much what he did and what was looking at. The only rule he has is not to cheat on her and if he didn’t love her then he should just break up. But he did love her so why would he want to cheat and break up with her?

“I would never cheat in you, {Y/n}. I love you. I love you like no other,” Otoya pleaded, but he wasn’t lying. Everything he was saying and was going to say is true and from the heart.

“Sure you are. You’ve probably said that to every other woman you’ve ever dated. I’m no special.” {Y/n} huffed and shouted. But all this was coming out of her mouth because she was afraid.

“You are special that’s what you don’t understand. I truly love you {Y/n}. I only promised to marry you no one else.”

“Oh, please. Don’t sugar me with lies. It’s sickening.”

“I’m not lying. I don’t have to guts to tell a lie to you. I’ve only said that to you. I’ve only said I’ll marry you.” He begged and begged for her to listen.

She crossed her arms, “So what about it? Why are you bringing such things up?”

“I’ve only promised to ever marry you. No one else would satisfy my needs.” He reached into his back pocket. “Even ask Crystal. She’s been helping me with everything.” Otoya slowly got down on one knee, “Even picking out the ring.” He opened the small box showing a nice size gold ring, “So will you marry me?” Finally, he popped the question he’s been waiting to ask for so long.

{Y/n} was rather shocked, to say the least. “Really but all this makes no sense.” Otoya was confused by her question. “You’ve been avoiding me. Hanging around more women don’t think I didn’t notice. And even Crystal thought you both didn’t like each other.”

Otoya was still on one knee as he was explaining everything to calm her suspicions. “I wanted Crystal’s advice on the ring and what you would like. The reason I’ve been avoiding you is so I don’t spill the secret.”

“Ok,” {Y/n} spoke, “But that doesn't explain the extra women in your story.”

“They were for extra help on planning, it was their job and I paid them. I promise. I did all that and spent all that money because I do love only you {Y/n}.” Otoya said every word was true not one single fault.

“Then get up off your knees and kiss me, Otoya,” {Y/n} says pulling him up by his collar lifting him from the ground, and interlocking a kiss with her new and only fiance.

Otoya was quite surprised when she did that. I mean she was bold, but that was bold. He broke the kiss putting the ring on her finger. The two touched their forehead as she looked at the gold engagement ring. “By the way, this is one of your Christmas presents.”

“Then what’s the rest, big boy.” She spoke softly putting arms around his neck pulling for another kiss.

“Why not go to the bedroom and I can show you a few more.” Oyota gave her another kiss then carried his fiancee into the bedroom dropping her off on the bed. Showing her a few more gifts for the night.

a/n: whoa love sure makes you do crazy things. Crazy enough to make you marry someone. Follow my other account, Wattpad: Antennaed_Shidou

#fanfic #blue lock #bllk #blue lock manga #blue lock x reader #mk. oneshots #mk. blue lock #otoya eita #otoya x reader #bllk otoya #bllk x reader #bllk scenarios #bllk x you #christmas special

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sidney-latrobe · 2 years

Text

Crop Shirt

Summary: You did laundry at your house and accidentally shrunk your boyfriend's favorite shirt.

Warnings: Strong Language

Word Count: 969

People, who asked to be tagged: @scenesofobx, @816-igottamissedcall

—

"No," you gasped. "No, no, no, no. NO!"

As you lifted the shirt in your hands to inspect it further, the fabric was still warm. What had once been a filthy black-and-white graphic tee shirt was now clean, but several sizes smaller and too small to fit its owner. You moved to stand in front of the mirror in your bedroom and quickly shrugged off your shirt to pull the one in your hands on.

"He's going to kill me," you sighed, looking at your depressing reflection. Before you decided to do your laundry, the shirt was big enough to reach your butt, but now, it barely went past your hips. "He's definitly going to kill me."

You were in big trouble because it wasn't just an ordinary shirt that you stole from your boyfriends to wear at home. It was his favorite shirt — his identity — it was his Hellfire Club shirt.

"Hey, sweetheart." You almost punched your first into Eddie's face when his arms snaked around your middle and he pressed a kiss to your temple. "Whoa, easy, easy. It's me."

It was very fortunate that Eddie had fast reflexes because he had seen you give several jocks a blue eye before. Gently unfolding your fist, he pressed a kiss to your palm and continued holding your hand as he dipped his head and connect your lips for a sweet kiss.

"Hey," he smirked against your lips. "What's going on? Did I do something to deserve being almost punched in the morning?"

"No, I'm sorry," you mumbled and leaned against him, not wanting to let off his warmth and the comfort the scent of his cheap cologne brought to your mind. "I just — I need to tell you something, and I know you're going to be mad —"

The bell rang and you groaned.

"Do you wanna —"

"No, I'll tell you later today, alright? The club room at lunch." The second warning bell rang and you quickly pressed a kiss to his lips. "Don't be late! I love you. Bye!"

You were completely unable to concentrate on anything that your teachers said. You were imagining how your boyfriend was going to respond after you show him his ruined shirt and your mind was overloaded with worries and several possible outcomes. And when the lunchtime bell rang, you almost didn't leave the classroom until your teacher forcibly removed you from the classroom. Eddie was standing by the entrance to the Hellfire Club room, waiting for you to arrive. As you approached him, he wore a smirk on his face and grabbed your hand before bringing you into a tight embrace. He smiled as he did so.

"I feel like I haven't see you all day," he admitted and unlocked the door, allowing you to step inside first.

"Yeah," you nervously smiled, "sorry about that."

"That's alright. I got you now."

Eddie wrapped his arms around your waist and seated you on the top of the table and you couldn't help but let out a guffaw as he did so. While he kissed you passionately, his hands traveled up and down your sides before resting on your hips. It was blissful. You succumbed to his touch and almost forgot about the problems that were bothering your mind until his fingers fumbled with the fabric of your shirt, attempting to move it upwards. At that moment, you nearly forgot about the problems that were troubling your mind.

"Wait."

"What?" he said against your lips. "I haven't seen you all day, sugar. Just wanna be with you. We don't need to fuck but just let me feel this pretty skin of yours."

"Eddie."

You soughed and pushed against his shoulders. He sighed but obliged and let you hop off the table, frowning as you walked to your school bag.

"Promise you won't be mad."

"I don't —"

"Just promise."

"Alright, I promise. What's going on?"

You opened your bag and pulled out his t-shirt. "I, uh, so, I did laundry at my house tonight and, well, I guess our machine is buzzed because, well …"

Carefully, you showed him his shirt and Eddie walked closer, taking the shrunken material into his head.

"You shrunk it?"

"I know. I'm so sorry, Eddie. I don't know what happened. I tried to fix it. I soaked it in cold water and tried to stretch it out, but it didn't work I just ruined it more. I'm so, so sorry. I'll promise to buy you a new one, just give me a week to find the money and —"

Eddie shook his head, smirking, and stopped your babbling with a quick kiss. "Can you just shut up for a moment?"

Startled, you watched as he took the shirt from your hands and shrugged off his jacket. Eddie took off his shirt and a frown wrinkled your forehead when he squeezed himself into the ruined shirt. It clung to his chest and only reached to his waist. Heat rushed to your cheeks as your boyfriend checked himself out.

"I am mad that I'll have to make another shirt," he admitted, "but would you check me out? I look amazing."

"You do look pretty good," you gulped hard, not finding the strength to look away from him.

Eddie noticed your change of tone and smirked. "You like what you seeing?"

"Very much."

"How much?"

"Like I wanna fuck you on that table right now."

Eddie pretended to read the time on his watch-less wrist and sighed, "Well, we only have ten minutes left. Guess, we'll have to make it a quick one."

"Shut up and fuck me, Munson."

#eddie being cute #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #stranger things #eddie munson x female reader

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tsunreleased · 1 year

Text

Song Master List, dm for links

[last updated 02/22/24]

(note: songs that have been crossed out are temporarily unavailable but will be restored as soon as possible 🙏)

Ain’t Nothin’ ‘Bout You LIVE (Brooks & Dunn Cover)

A Little More Like You ACOUSTIC

All Night Diner ACOUSTIC

All Of The Girls (Lover Unreleased) STUDIO

American Boy ACOUSTIC

American Girl STUDIO (Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers Cover)

Am I Ready For Love ACOUSTIC

Angelina ACOUSTIC

A Place In This World (demo) STUDIO

Baby Blue ACOUSTIC

Baby Don’t You Break My Heart Slow ACOUSTIC (Vonda Shepard cover)

Barnyard Song STUDIO

Beautiful Days ACOUSTIC

Beautiful Eyes STUDIO

Being With My Baby ACOUSTIC

Better Man (original demo) STUDIO

Better Off STUDIO

Brand New World ACOUSTIC

Breathless STUDIO (Better Than Ezra cover)

Brought Up That Way STUDIO

By the Way ACOUSTIC

Cannonball ft. Justin Beiber STUDIO

Can’t Stop Loving You LIVE (Phil Collins cover)

Check Out This View ACOUSTIC

Closest To A Cowboy ACOUSTIC

Cold As You (demo) STUDIO

Come In With The Rain (demo) STUDIO

Crazier STUDIO

Crazier (alternate demo) STUDIO

Cross My Heart ACOUSTIC

Dark Blue Tennessee STUDIO

Dark Blue Tennessee (piano) STUDIO

Diary Of Me STUDIO

Didn’t They ACOUSTIC

Don’t Hate Me For Loving You ACOUSTIC

Down Came The Rain Deric Ruttan (Taylor is just backing vocals on this one) ACOUSTIC

Drama Queen STUDIO

Drive (For Daddy Gene) LIVE (Alan Jackson cover)

Drive All Night (Just South of Knowing Why) STUDIO

Fall Back On You ACOUSTIC

Fearless (demo) ACOUSTIC

Fire ACOUSTIC

Firefly ACOUSTIC

Forever Winter (original demo) STUDIO

For You ACOUSTIC

Gracie ACOUSTIC

Half-Way To Texas ACOUSTIC

Her ACOUSTIC

Here You Come Again STUDIO (Dolly Parton Cover)

Hold On ACOUSTIC(?)

Honey Baby ACOUSTIC

Hopelessly Devoted To You STUDIO (?) (Olivia Newton-John Cover)

Houston Rodeo ACOUSTIC

I’d Lie STUDIO

I Heart ? STUDIO

I Know What I Want STUDIO(?)

I’m Every Woman STUDIO (Whitney Houston cover)

I’m Only Me When I’m With You (demo) STUDIO

In The Pouring Rain ACOUSTIC

Invisible (demo) STUDIO

I Used To Fly ACOUSTIC

I Wished On A Plane ACOUSTIC

Just South Of Knowing Why (Drive All Night) STUDIO

Kid In The Crowd ACOUSTIC

Leavin’ LIVE (Jesse McCartney cover)

Let’s Go (Battle) STUDIO

Live For The Little Things ACOUSTIC

Long Time Coming STUDIO

Look At You Like That ACOUSTIC

Love They Haven’t Thought of Yet ACOUSTIC

Love To Lose ACOUSTIC

Lucky You STUDIO

Made Up You ACOUSTIC

Making Up For Lost Love STUDIO

Mandolin ACOUSTIC

Mary Jo ACOUSTIC

Matches ACOUSTIC

Me And Britney ACOUSTIC

Missing You LIVE ft Tyler Hilton (Tyler Hilton cover)

My Cure STUDIO

My Cure (alternate lyrics) ACOUSTIC

My Songs Know What You Did In The Dark LIVE ft. Fall Out (Fall Out Boy cover)

My Turn To Be Me ACOUSTIC

Nashville LIVE (David Mead cover)

Need You Now STUDIO

Need (Lover Unreleased) STUDIO

Never Fade ACOUSTIC

Never Mind STUDIO

Never Mind (Country Version) STUDIO

Oh My My My (Mary’s Song demo) STUDIO

One-Sided Goodbye ACOUSTIC

One Thing (Bye Bye Baby original demo) STUDIO

Our Last Night (Better Than Ezra cover) ACOUSTIC

Our Song (demo) STUDIO

Perfect Have I Loved ACOUSTIC

Perfectly Good Heart (demo) STUDIO

Permanent Marker STUDIO

Picture to Burn (original demo) STUDIO

Picture to Burn 2006 original (homophobic version) STUDIO

Picture to Burn (alternate production w/ extended outro) (demo) STUDIO

Picture To Burn LIVE ft Def Leppard

Picture to Burn (war cry demo) ACOUSTIC

Point Of View ACOUSTIC

Pour Some Sugar On Me LIVE ft. Def Leppard (Def Leppard cover)

Rain Song ACOUSTIC

Red (demo) STUDIO

R-E-V-E-N-G-E STUDIO

Ride On ACOUSTIC

Riptide LIVE from BBC Studios (Vance Joy cover)

Run LIVE (George Strait cover)

Run (original demo) (clip) ACOUSTIC

Same Girl ACOUSTIC

Shake It Off (demo) STUDIO

“Slut!” Acoustic Version STUDIO

Smokey Black Nights STUDIO

Songs About You STUDIO

Sparks Fly original lyrics LIVE

Spinning Around ACOUSTIC

Stupid Boy ACOUSTIC

Sugar ACOUSTIC

Superstar (demo) ACOUSTIC

Superstar (demo) STUDIO

Sweet Escape LIVE (Gwen Stefani cover)

Sweet Nothing (piano remix) STUDIO

Sweet Tea And Gods Graces STUDIO

Sweet Tea And Gods Graces (acoustic) ACOUSTIC

Teardrops On My Guitar (demo) STUDIO

Tell Me STUDIO

Tell Me ACOUSTIC

Ten Dollars And A Six Pack ACOUSTIC

Tennessee ACOUSTIC

That’s Life ACOUSTIC

That’s When (original demo) ACOUSTIC

The Diary Of Me STUDIO

The Other Side Of The Door (demo) STUDIO

The Outside (demo) STUDIO

There’s Your Trouble (Dixie Chicks cover) STUDIO

Thinking About You ACOUSTIC

Thirteen Blocks STUDIO

This Here Guitar ACOUSTIC

This Is Really Happening STUDIO

This Is What You Came For (possibly ai) (demo) STUDIO

Tied Together With A Smile (demo) ACOUSTIC

‘Til Brad Pitt Comes Along ACOUSTIC

Tim Mcgraw (piano demo) ACOUSTIC

Tim Mcgraw (guitar demo) ACOUSTIC

Tim Mcgraw (byron gallimore demo) STUDIO

Umbrella LIVE (Rihanna cover)

Under My Head ACOUSTIC

Wait For Me STUDIO

Welcome Distraction STUDIO

We Were Happy (piano demo) ACOUSTIC

We Were Happy (original demo) STUDIO

What Do You Say STUDIO

What To Wear STUDIO

White Horse (piano demo) STUDIO

Who I’ve Always Been STUDIO

You All Over Me (original demo) STUDIO

You Do ACOUSTIC

You Don’t Have To Call ACOUSTIC

Your Anything LIVE

Your Face STUDIO

You’re Losing Me STUDIO

You’re On Your Own Kid (strings remix) STUDIO

#taylor swift unreleased #taylor swift #unreleased songs #leaked song #lover unreleased #lover leak #taylor swift lover leaks #tsunreleased

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themuse-if · 4 months

Note

Hey, hey!!🤗

So, I was a little curious about a topic involving NFSW questions, but I wasn't sure if you were okay with that type of question, so no need to answer if you're uncomfortable.

I wanted to know what ROs are like when they are in makeout sessions with Mc, for example: are they more gentle and affectionate or are they more passionate and wild (if you know what I mean🤭😏). And also if possible, could polys routes be included in this scenario? (only if you want, of course)

Bye, bye!!

Hey! I am definitely ok with NSFW questions, romance is a big part of the story after all! I've honestly been waiting for this! I'll be using a scale of 6 emojis for spicy vs sweet levels.😚=sweet 🥵=spicy. Some may be all spice and others all sweet and some could be a mix of the two.

ONLY KEEP READING IF YOU WANT TO BECOME A GIGGLING, SQUEELING MESS! USE YOUR IMAGINATION TO CREATE VIVID SCENES WITH THIS INFORMATION AT YOUR OWN RISK! Then tell me about them in the comments. 😘

Roxanne/Robbie: Ro is definitely one to take the lead. They are a bit rough, MC will have hickeys everywhere from all the biting and sucking. Not only will Ro's lips be all over MC but their hands will too in their hair, on their chest, on their hips guiding MC into a slow deep grind...ok is it hot in here or is it just me. All in all I would say that Ro is down right sinful. 🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵

Joleen/Johnny: Jo is a bit more of a mixed bag the moments leading up to each little make-out session will determine a lot. If MC was throwing heavy signals their way then Jo will take the hint and pin them down ready to get hot and heavy. If MC is being sweeter than cotton candy with little pecks and giggles then Jo will be to, with sweeter more romantic kisses. I would say that Jo likes to feed off of their partners energy and then aim to please. 😚😚😚🥵🥵🥵

Delphine/Desmond: De is naturally a nurturer, but I would say that they have some soft dom tendencies when messing around. They will have the obvious control leading and guiding MC's lips and body, but they will always read off of MC to make sure that they are comfortable. And if MC can handle it then expect them to get a little rough.😚🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵

Rina/Ren: R doesn't have a ton of experience so they will need MC to take the lead at first. Though they may move pretty slow at first after a while they wont be able to get enough of sharing soft and sensual alone time with MC. Study sessions and late night practice will turn into hushed make-out sessions in the dark corners of the library and practice studios. 😚😚😚😚🥵🥵

Everly/Everett: Eve is a performer through and through so you can be sure that they're going to put on a little show for MC. They'll memorize every touch and the sighs they bring out from MC, the same way they memorize lines for a play. They will observe and read MC like a book so that they can give them exactly what they need every time. 😚😚🥵🥵🥵🥵

Karla: Karla knows how to go with the flow. She'll take MC from soft sighs to barely able to catch their breathe, all with a lazy smirk on their face. Karla knows when to build up and take it back down, moving with the rhythm regardless of if there's music playing. 😚😚😚🥵🥵🥵

Faye: Faye may be an edgy cool girl but she really is a softy at heart. She super sweet and adores the little moments between long languid kisses and feather light caresses. Don't be surprised by her looking at MC's every detail with those icy blue eyes. 😚😚😚😚😚🥵

Sebastien: Seb is for lack of a better word, suave. Once he takes off his glasses revealing those deep brown eyes, MC knows they're in for it. MC will be melting from the eye contact alone. And his grip on MC's waist, hips, ass...oh my lord 😳. The rough scrape of his stubble matching the way he holds MC so tight they can't tell were he starts and they begin. 😚😚🥵🥵🥵🥵

Maxine: Max is sugar, spice, and everything nice! They know MC really well and use that to their advantage. They've known MC for longer than they can even remember and their feelings run just as deep. Max craves MC just as much as they cherish them. Everything feel easy and seamless, one second the two are a mess of giggles and the next they're grabbing at each other's clothes. Years of what ifs have built up to the type of passion Max can only share with their best friend. 😚😚😚🥵🥵🥵

Silas: Ah Silas our, friendly and self controlled, Resident Advisor. There's something so sexy about breaking the rules. If Silas is making out with MC, his advisee, then he's all but shattered them. You can expect things to get hot, heavy quickly once he's reached his breaking point, once he's desperate for MC. He'll have MC's back against the wall and make quick work of satisfying both their needs. Maybe he'll take things a bit further than making out, just to get MC out of his system. Then again, maybe he wont be able to stop himself from wanting more than just a one time taste. 😚😚🥵🥵🥵🥵

I'll let you use your imagination for the poly routes given what you've learned about them as individuals. Have fun 🤭🤭🤭

The Rebel Rejects:😚🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵

The Exes (Faye + Karla):😚😚😚😚🥵🥵

#interactive fiction #interactive if #twine if #twine interactive fiction #themuse if #if: themuse #extras

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idololivine · 8 months

Note

TEA CARNIVAL

from the view of the herbalist biased tea drinker, for ur consideration yakumo: the 1st thought i had was of some gentle white tea like White Peony bc of the whole "minimally processed, pretty mild, a lil flowery and please dont subject it to extreme temperatures lol" but then i slapped the honeymoon eyes off my face and tried to think deeper bc genmaicha ALSO makes sense and wouldn't yakumo be like. a more common tea like that. something that is generally inoffensive and pairs well with food? some nuts or grains for that extra level of nourishment? ? then i went spiralling out of control and was like WHY NOT MUSHROOM TEA TOO??? do he got the range?? (i'm stopping myself now bc making decisions is Pain)

edmond: big agree. earl grey with heavy cream and 53 sugars. would u like some tea with your sugar

olivine: i can def see chamomile. olivine seems like the tea that would be comforting across multiple cultures. like the upset tummy tea u reach for in times of mild distress. stuff like valerian root, chamomile, chrysanthemum... that whole class of sleepytime teas. maybe some ginger sometimes for um. digestive and anti-inflammatory reasons, obviously. it's not bc olivine is secretly spicy . or anything like that. for some reason i can't associate one group of common sleepytime teas (mint, lemon balm etc.) with olivine very well. i may just be haunted by the aggressive behaviour of mint family in IRL gardens 😂 and i;m like "olivine would never destroy everything in his path and take everyone else's resources just so he could live" but that ventures outside the tea classification and into the plant/garden classification so uhhhh bye

quincy: i defer to everyone else bc i rly know nothing of him in comparison. for some reason i instantly thought of yerba mate, which i didn't like originally bc it tasted like dirt LOL but then the stealth caffeine came at me with a folding chair when i least expected ,so . i dont think that's very quincy of it. violent bursts of energy and all

kuya: nods along with hojicha bc i also don't know as much of kuya. at first i thought that kuya would have to be some rare type of tea that was also super finicky so if u messed up the prep at any point, the drink would be unpalatable. i thought back to my early days of dealing with matcha, when info was not readily accessible. u think "how could anyone like this???" but rly u just botched it and it's too expensive for u to try making more. and now that ppl KNOW how to deal with it, they put it on everything. desserts, foods u never thought of. it's prolific. but the innate matcha-snobbery instilled within me gives it that hoity-toity aura (flashback: only use the HIGHEST QUALITY MATCHA IMPORTED FROM THIS REGION AT THIS TIME AT THIS ALTITUDE or else u are TRASH) for some reason, add butterfly pea flowers to whatever tea infusion kuya may end up being. the flowers themselves dont taste like much but the PURPLE and BLUE of it all!!!!

morvay: THIS was the man that i was like. his is a tea that must always be served with milk. something heavily spiced. Something so weighty and filling that if u drink it, u won't be able to drink anything else for the rest of the day. something like masala chai, served in an industrial sized pot, with 4x the black pepper.

aster: i struggled with him bc he is a tea connoisseur but does that mean he's a snob about adding milk to his tea? for the sake of being opposite to morv, i just assume he's some purely water tea. Something simple with history like lapsang souchong? Or maybe he likes light flowery drinks like Rose or Lavender on his whimsical days.

garu: once again i was trying to search my brain for a tea that could taste drastically different depending on how u prepared it. like it could be super sweet and mellow if brewed at 185 but it's bitter and punchy at hothothot. i couldn't think of a specific one. personal experience however is dandelion. ppl sleep on dandelion. i had a low-processed dandelion tea for a while that i rly liked bc it was grassy like green tea but also kinda warming and smoky without any caffeine. but.... then i tried a Roasted dandelion tea at my friend's house and it tasted nothing like mine. was it trying to be coffee? idk. but now i have extra respect for dandelions. they feed bees, they're resilient as heck, and they get an unnecessarily bad rep

dante: for some reason a drink called Qishr came to mind, but that one kinda bridges coffee and tea. i remember reading about it, thinking :"oh! spiced coffee husks! maybe it'll be like a mild coffee" then i drank it and thought "this is way mellower than i thought it would be. it barely tastes like coffee. it tastes more like.... spiced tea. cardamom. cinnamon. ginger. huh. weirdly comforting." but once again i shook the cobwebs from my floaty mind and went "no!! we are talking tea! not tea inbetweens! maybe!! also, dante is the OPPOSITE of mellow!!!" so. ultimately, a strong black tea. something like rize.

blade: this bot is fruity. at least, nowadays he is. i want him to be those ridiculous tea blends with the silly images on the canisters and sleek fonts. maybe in the Rusted Nation days he would be a more ominous solemn tea. but now, i imagine iced tea infusions perfect for your summer party with the little flamingo inflatables. passionfruit! hibiscus! honey! berries! ...pineapple? coconut???

rei: ok, excellent point brought up about the servability both hot and cold... and that brain never turns off so he needs his caffeine... maybe something that is easily toxic or unhealthy in moderate doses. this goes out of my personal experience so (rapidly ckalick clacks on the keyboard) the internet says something like comfrey or old school licorice tea. until i get more character knowledge on owlboy, he gets assigned monochrome and danger

eiden: boba. he is just bubble tea. all of it. every kind. the taiwanese origin is especially 👌 he's got.........texture, he's a funky lil guy, and was frequently unappreciated in his time bc the world was simply not ready for him. tsk. when times caught up to eiden however, he exploded onto the international stage and is now justifiably well-liked (i spin this tale completely from my own experience. bubble tea was just like a lowkey thing for half my life until. idk. something caught on. suddenly asian stuff cool? bubble tea super delicious? let's put a store on every corner? so it felt like boba was around for a while but at least ppl in the western zone didn't appreciate it until waaaay later. makes me wonder what would happen if a switch protag like eiden was introduced before DMMD. would he have been shunned? would he have been as well liked as today? WE JUST DONT KNOW)

my god tumblr really lets you send HUGE asks now. we live in the future

Yakumo: it's funny to me to see genmaicha be referred to as a more common tea because I live in Hong Kong and listen, I can walk into just about any tea shop and come away with armfuls of white tea. any Japanese tea I have to hunt down a more specialized vendor. but that's me and the reality of importing stuff.

I'm biased against fresh white teas also because I had a bag of shou mei and by god it was FLORAL. cloyingly floral. it actually made me feel a little ill. I had to cold brew the rest of it because I couldn't stand it otherwise (it was fucking delicious cold brewed though). I love a good aged white, but it also doesn't feel like a Yakumo Tea. he is a Young Man. a fragile maiden. I think a savory sort of green feels right for him - treat him delicately and you get a lot of depth and complexity. (I don't know anything about mushroom tea... I also don't actually drink that much green tea because I like teas that are a bit more idiot-proof.)

Edmond: I'm proud of the line "an egg short of being a pudding".

Olivine: sleepytime Olivine... a nice cup of herbal tea for when he's working late nights... add a little honey for sweetness...

i may just be haunted by the aggressive behaviour of mint family in IRL gardens 😂 and i;m like "olivine would never destroy everything in his path and take everyone else's resources just so he could live"

may I present to you chapter 4 of the main story. he did in fact try to do exactly that actually,

but I do think mint tea isn't Olivine because mint to me feels very "bright" and "lively" in flavor, if that makes sense. Olivine's more mild mannered. chamomile and ginger feel right.

Quincy: I've also not had yerba mate... my tea experiences are regionally limited because my region of the world has a fuckton of tea and I haven't even tried all my regional tea. but I think anything with a violent burst of caffeine is definitely not Quincy lol. some people swear that puer has lower caffeine content but I don't think that's scientifically true? anyway. caffeine aside I'm convinced that puer, specifically shou puer, is the Quincy category of tea because A) it's aged B) it tastes like dirt. and puer enthusiasts LIKE that it tastes like dirt. I don't have a lot of experience with puer either mostly because I was gifted a huge stash of oolong and I promised myself I'd make a dent in it before I bought any more tea, but now I have made that dent and I'm going to go shop for puer this weekend :>

Kuya: the extent of my experience with matcha is like, sushi restaurant matcha. you know when you dump some dark green power in a cup and add hot water and don't whisk it. yeah. but I think GOOD matcha has a fanciness to it that does fit Kuya! I initially thought hojicha because I like roasty tea and something darker felt right for Kuya. I've also had a Japanese oolong before and that also fits... rare. special. woody.

more puer propaganda: really old puer is EXPENSIVE. puer cakes from the 70s can sell for 20k+ USD. and also specifically young sheng puer can be bitter and astringent, but when aged it'll mellow out and become sweeter. it's like the wine of tea. Kuyacore tea.

I wonder what would happen if you add butterfly pea flowers to a darker tea. does it just become more brown...

Morvay: masala chai. yes. no notes.

Aster: he would be a tea snob, but he feels very Western snobby to me. this man is not sitting down to brew tea himself in a gaiwan, he's having it in a teapot with the best tiny cakes in the kingdom. Darjeeling all the way. he has Opinions about estates and flushes.

Garu: I agree with your assessment! I also have not tried dandelion tea! my mind goes to fresh white tea... sweet and floral with a gentler hand, very bold if you push it. maybe it's the specific white tea I had and how I brewed it, but it felt like the talk about white tea being super delicate was kind of overblown. you CAN push it, it'll just turn out in a way that might not be what you're looking for in a white tea.

Dante: maybe a Kenyan black tea... strong and brisk and no nonsense. can be tempered with milk. I'm vaguely tempted to also suggest rooibos, but I think that's purely because it's red. I'm not sure if rooibos is just always mild or if I've broken my sense of taste or if I'm brewing it wrong, but until I'm told otherwise I think rooibos isn't punchy enough for Dante.

Blade: yes, fruity iced tea. the silly flavored ones with fruit bits in them and turn out bright fucking red because there's ALWAYS hibiscus in them.

alternatively, Adagio has this user made blend called Cursed Tea that contains all the most controversial teas. lapsang. puer. hibiscus. bergamot. rooibos. rose. my friend said it tasted like bacon. it feels like a tea Blade would make.

Rei: I also don't know anything about licorice tea. I'm still on aged white because it's old and monochrome. there's vague claims about aged white tea having medicinal properties, but also, I just like it.

Eiden: yes, boba tea! Taiwanese and compatible with every kind of base tea. A+.

I've seen NuCa fans who are dead convinced that the game would be better if Eiden wasn't a switch. Even now some people are not ready to stop being boring... I would like to believe he would still be loved but. we just don't know............

#asks #fishnineo #fisheito #nu carnival #my posts #had a frustrating 1.5 hours in ffxiv just now I am very happy to talk about tea

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