#do I do it backwards from everyone else???
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I loved your recent post abt human Alastor x reader in the 1920s. Of course this is only a suggestion, what if you continued on with this? Maybe like having them move in with each other, start a family? Perhaps have a tragic ending that resulted both to go to Hell, or maybe reader be a fallen angel! Just all suggestions! Have a great day/night/evening<3
I dont know how long this was in here, I was scrolling through settings to mess around and found this, so I hope you didn't wait too long!
But this is one of my specialties and I'm honestly really flattered that you made a request!
The next day, the cops found a bloodied body in the alley beside the club. The corpse was too disfigured to recognize, knees bashed in backwards, jaw hanging loosely, ribs tearing out of the chest and a smile etched into the poor bloodied face as it hung on the wall.
Surely this was the work of the smiling killer in New Orleans, who else could it be?
No one had ever laid eyes on the killer and lived to tell the tale... except you.
You had been held by the psychopath in a loving embrace, wrapped up in a blanket on his couch.
For some reason, when you looked into this man's eyes, his gorgeous brown eyes as he softly smiled at you... you felt no fear, no urge to run or hide.
Yes you knew he had killed people, that he was no better than a monster... yet you couldn't help but think what made him this way. Everyone knows not to trust a bad apple, but not everyone suspects the tree that bears bad fruit... so you couldn't blame him, after all, why would you blame the apple for the trees wrongdoing.
Instead, you held onto him and stuck close.
Now you peacefully kneaded dough as your loving boyfriend drank his bitter coffee in your bakery as a customer walked in. Marjorie, a nice old lady who came by every second day for a box of beignettes.
"(Y/n)! Have you heard the news?"
You looked up from your dough, flour had stuck to your apron as you wiped your hands "What news, ma'am?"
"Theres been another murder!" As the words left her lips you could see alastor tense up as you studied him.
The poor lady was shaking as she opened her purse "it was a young fellow around your age! He had such a long life ahead of him too..."
You could see alastors hands shakily lift his cup to his lips.
"What a terrible thing! Here, have these on the house, as a thank you for your patronage" you smiled, handing her the box and pushing her change back towards her gently.
The lady smiled with a thank you before turning to leave.
"Say hello to Mr Broussard for me will you?" You waved at her as she closed the door.
As soon as the door closed you slammed the oven shut with the bread inside.
"ALASTOR HARTFELT!"
The coffee spewed from his lips as he stood up to face you "honey listen-"
"Don't you 'honey' me! You promised you'd stop this!" You placed your apron on the counter as you circled around to meet him at the cashier "You said you were out to go hunting!" You poked his chest as you cornered him.
"(Y/n) it wasn't a lie! I was hunting! For the scum of the earth!" Alastor held his hands up in defense from your accusations, trying to reason with you and get back onto your good side.
"You know damn well what I think of your little hunting!" You grabbed your purse and started for the door before he blocked your path.
"(Y/n), dearest, where are you going?" His smile could not hide the panic in his eyes.
"Away from you, I'll be at mimzys until you can decide which one you'd prefer to give up "you pushed him aside and opened the door "me? Or your little 'huntin'?" You slammed the door as you walked to mimzys club.
Just because you didn't care that he did the murders before, didn't mean you were okay with him continuing them. Part of you thought you could eventually get him to see the good in the world again and leave behind this cold blooded killing, he loved you enough to do that at least right? Then maybe when you two grow old and wrinkly, God could open the golden gates for both of you... if your foolish boyfriend could ever stop hurting innocent people...
You sat on the stool with mimzy, drinking a glass of wine.
"I just don't get it! How can he keep choosing to go 'hunting' almost every night, mimz?! Doesn't he see the danger?" You sighed.
The short blonde looked at you "what can I say dollface? Boys will be boys! They've gotta have some sort of hobby, an most of the time, it's a gruesome one! Why can't they just take up knittin or even painting? Always hunting or boxing I say" mimzy took a swig "and every night? That's harsh! Doesn't he see how pretty you are?"
The two of you giggled.
Nights like these were always nice, just you and mimzy sitting in the empty bar, drinking and talking the night away.
"At this point mimzy, I think its better for me to just stay alone though, it doesn't seem like he's changing anytime soon and I don't know how long I can take this" you looked down at the glass, running your finger along the brim...
"Its okay girly" mimzy rested her hand on your shoulder "I'm sure he'll come around eventually, either way, I'm here for ya"
She really was one of your best friends.
Your conversation was interrupted when you heard a slight creak in the floorboards behind you two, making you turn around.
"This place is really getting old, I'm gonna need to find a way to get a new place" mimzy sighed.
The night went by fast as you two talked, and before you know it, you were right back in front of your bakery, sign lights were off as you opened the door, silently clicking the lock before making your way to the upstairs where your humble abode resided.
Alastor most likely went to blow off some steam, he tended to do that after your arguments/fallout.
You had left in such a hurry that you forgot to take out the bread from the oven, but luckily, alastor had seen you bake many times and finished the loaf before placing it on the cooling rack.
By the time you finished downstairs, it was midnight as you started walking upstairs, exhausted from the days work and alastor fiasco.
When you opened your door, you were met with a nervous Alastor standing straight and tense in front of you.
"I have something to say-" you both said in unison.
Alastor seemed to tremble as the words left your lips, still unable to make eye contact.
"I know it's not very gentlemanly of me, but may I go first?" His words almost came out as a mumble as his smile was strained.
You nodded, indicating he may continue.
"Thank you" Alastor took a shaky breath before looking you in the eyes "darling, I know I haven't made it easy for you with my... hunting... but I promise-"
Anger boiling in your blood, you interrupted him "do you know how many times you've told me that lie, Alastor?" Your nose scrunched up in anger as you tried to hold back tears "how many more times am I going to keep hearing this?"
Alastors wide eyes showed the fear he had of losing you, making your heart ache even more than it already was.
"I promise... my dear, this is the truth" Alastor took a gentle step forward, eyes trained on the ground.
placing your hands in his "I've put a lot of thought into it... and although I don't like the idea of being unable to kill those filthy vermin... I realized i can't live in a world without you in my arms"
Alastor ran his fingers gently over your knuckles, a gentle smile placed on his lips, almost dropping to a frown.
"I can change... and I know you want me to, I'll put in the effort to become the man you want, the man you need..." Alastor lifted your hand to his lips, closing his eyes as he placed a soft kiss.
The anger you felt died down, but still hesitant, you asked "how can I be sure you mean it?"
Finally looking back into your eyes again, he knelt down on one knee, still holding your hands "I, Alastor Hartfelt, would like to ask you, (y/n) (l/n), for your hand in marriage, I swear on my mother's grave that I will never take your words lightly, love you with undying devotion, and never kill again" he then rested his forehead onto your knuckles gently before he desperately whispered "please"
This proposal was not exactly practical, considering your argument not even 6 hours ago. There was no ring, no classy dinner, it wasn't how anyone would imagine a marriage proposal, yet here you were, heart beating rapidly as you felt tears fill your eyes.
Your words felt stuck in your throat as you looked into your lovers eyes "do you mean it?"
For what felt like the first time, Alastors smile dropped as his face held a serious expression "with all my heart, ma' cherie"
Your knees buckled as you fell into his arms, tears streaming down your face as you held your lover tightly, whispering out a shaky "Yes" into his chest.
Months went by, the wedding went off without a hitch.
Mimzy was your maid of honor. No one else was really there for your wedding, considering your family had cut ties with you years ago, and all Alastors' relatives were either deceased or overseas.
Nonetheless it was a happy and joyful union.
Alastor had kept true to his word and never killed another human, kissing your shiny ring every night like a reminding prayer.
Your bakery gained popularity since you were now Mrs Hartfelt. But popularity has its downsides... it wasn't long until women started talking about you, jealous of your position as Alastors wife.
The words themself didn't hurt you much, but the constant harassment and inability to leave the house without being called a harlot, that was slowly getting to you.
Alastor had assured you many nights before bed that things would get better, and if need be, he would give up his career as a radio host. The poor man would do anything for your happiness, anything to assure that you'd stay his forever...Even kill if you'd permit him to.
But there was only so much Alastor could do... it wasn't until one evening when you failed to show up to your shared home that he began to lose it.
Alastor was on edge, thinking of all the possibilities, you could've been held back at the bakery by a man who held ill intentions, you could be checking in with mimzy or got taken by a jealous fan. So many thoughts raced through his head as he slowly made his way to the door to look for you, eventually deciding against it, sitting back down as he patiently waited for your return...
Except you didn't.
It wasn't until a whole sleepless night had passed when he decided to go search for you. But of course, he came home empty handed. Were you unhappy in this marriage? Did you elope with a man he didn't know about? Did you realize you didn't love him and run away?
The second option was to call the police, something he's never done before.
The police launched an investigation, it was only until a month later, you were found in an alleyway, someone had called the cops about a crazy woman attacking a man, the situation escalated to the man killing her in self-defense.
They found traces of drugs in your blood, filing you as a drug abuser.
your body was frail and malnourished, pale like it had been weeks since you last seen the sun.
Alastor was called to the scene to see if this lady was indeed his wife.
When he arrived, he felt like the world was about to open up and swallow him whole.
As his eyes fell onto your pale lifeless body, something snapped inside of him.
You were never one to use drugs, never one to attack someone for no reason... something was wrong.
He knelt down and held your hand with tears in his eyes. Although he had seen many dead bodies in his life, this was the one body he never wanted to see like this.
He hated how your body was treated the same as the trash that walked the earth, like a lowly peasant when instead, the world should weep for the loss of you.
'This is all wrong' he thought, as he cradled your body in his lap as your blood stained his white shirt, but he couldn't care less as the last ray of light left his dark world.
It was long after your funeral, he hasn't been able to sleep since then. Every night he'd wait until daybreak for your arrival, like this was all some twisted joke.
It wasn't until one day he realized you needed revenge.
Yes, he promised to never kill anyone, but that was when you were alive, when you were beside him, when he was able to fall asleep with you by his side every night, Before you were selfishly taken from him.
He hasn't slept in days, maybe weeks? He couldn't remember... all he knew was that the man needed to pay for what he did to you...
It took a while but he eventually found the lying heathen.
There he was, sitting at mimzys bar, the same bar he met you, sitting on the same stool that YOU would sit on... it made Alastor sick watching this man live like he didn't take you away from him.
Alastor walked in, and sat beside the wretched man.
"You seem familiar" Al questioned, sipping on his whiskey.
The smug bastard grinned before turning to him "I'm the hero that took down that crazy bitch not long ago"
It took all of Alastors' willpower to seem calm and oblivious.
"My, you must be quite the hero then, let me buy you a drink and you can tell me ALL about it" Alastor motioned for a drink to be served, and the unknowing bastard fell right into Alastors wicked game.
It didn't take long to say the least. This prick was an easy target, and now here he was, being buried in a forest in the middle of nowhere.
You surely would not be happy with your dear husband actions... but who could stop him now?
For months, the spilling killer of New orleans went on a rampage, almost no one was safe, not even dear old Marjorie...
Eventually, alastor had killed all the men and women involved in your kidnapping and drugging... and here he was, burying the last one...
What would he do now? You weren't there for him to return to... all his plans revolved around your future with him
I guess all he could do now
.
.
.
Was Die
As if on cue, a bullet pierced Alastors skull straight through his forehead... as everything went black...
Hello! I've been working on this for a while now, at least a week, and I think I'm just going to make another part for this, keep an eye open for it cause it will hold the afterlife of these two lovers!
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Wyrm: here! Can you translate my book for me??? I’ve been trying my whole life and I only just got one page to become readable but I needed to use these gloves- *holds up wraith guard a little too close to her*
Evalien: *eyes flashing from blue to red as a loud ringing suddenly fills her ears turning into an echo of pained screaming as she picks up the hive minds frequency again* S̵̥̈T̵͓̕R̶̖̆U̵͙̒H̷̙͒ ̶͎̋ṭ̶͝i̸̺͌ ̶̺̓ṣ̶̚ẗ̶͇́ṟ̶̃ṷ̵̍ḧ̷̩́ ̶̢̉t̶͚̐i̵̲͒ ̷̱́s̴̡̛t̸̙̅ṟ̸͘ǘ̷͕h̴̻͋ ̴̦̓t̸̍ͅi̷͇͂ ̴̱̀g̴̖̅n̶̲͝ï̴͈m̶̠̋a̵̢̐é̶͓r̴̥͂c̸̼̒S̷̛͍ ̴̜͌e̸̤̾r̶̡͠’̷̙̚ý̸̝e̴̺͐h̶̽͜t̴̪͝
*staggers back gripping her head and clawing at the headset behind her mask, flicking the noise cancelling function sending white noise over the signal* ughh-
Wyrm: wh-what happened? I- I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to- *steps forward*
Kaidan: *steps between them* not another step you little creep-
Marigold: *slaps his arm* Kaidan, that was uncalled for it was an accident- whatever- it was…
Evalien: *voice switching between frequency and volumes as if someone’s playing with a soundboard in her throat before returning to normal as the connection severs and she focuses back on the song of the land around her* It’s, alright, Kaidan. It… *shakes her head as her eyes flick to green, then blue again* it wasn’t his fault… Wyrm, put those down, immediately. They’re dangerous.
Wyrm: *tears already pricking at his eye from potentially hurting her, then Kaidans jab at him* th- they are? *looks at the gauntlets remembering the visions they gave him, quietly sets them on his desk and backs away from them*
Evalien: *grips onto Taliesin and pulls herself up with his help* Do you know what they are? What they were made for?
Wyrm: I… had a vision when I put them on, I saw them, and a hammer and knife… and three other figures. *pales remembering blood and a peeled face, but strangely no sound, only his pulse thrumming in his ears*
Evalien: the foul murder. The tribunal used those gloves and two other tools that day. But it wasn’t nerevar they struck with them. It was the heart of lorkhan. For your sake… I suggest you keep them locked away.
Wyrm: n-nerevar? Foul murder? The heart of lorkhan? What- how do you know this from just my vision??
Evalien: there’s a great deal I know. A great deal I know about you too… let me see your book.
Kaidan: I don’t think that’s a good idea you started speaking backwards just from those gauntlets-
Evalien: I’ll live. *takes the book from Wyrm and opens it. Seeing mostly what everyone else does when they look at it, encryptions from a living god guarding his secrets* for being the most straight forward and honest of the tribunes he was the most secretive, Vehk fancied himself the replacement of Mephala, but he was an open book compared to seht- *traces her hands over the pages and blinks as text reacts to her touch, swirling over her fingers in patterns and shapes, like they’re responding to her presence with familiarity* but every secret can be found out, and every code can be cracked- *feeds her magic into it and drops the book in shock at what she sees* …
Taliesin: Eva?
Kaidan: love?…
Wyrm: A-Alma?…
Evalien: *breath shakey as she looks from the book, then to Wyrm as tears cloud her vision* And I thought… his decision to kill nerevar was the extent of his cruelty… you can never go to the clockwork city.
Wyrm: I?… why?…
Evalien: *shakes her head* a heart transplant is something I really don’t want to explain…
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The Scully Family In-Depth (Part XVI): Crouching Cancer, Hidden Motives
The official, canonical introduction of one Bill Scully is at Maggie Scully's family dinner in Gethsemane: freshly off the plane, entertaining and prodding, tongue held (temporarily) behind his teeth. On the heels of Scully's metastasized diagnosis, he is determined to get her to open up so the family can share her remaining days, weeks, maybe months as a unit.
Scully, however, has yet to accept her death (though she pretends to do so to Mulder and herself); and, therefore, doesn't want to address let alone admit to her diagnosis.
GETHSEMANE, THE DINNER BEFORE DEATH
The scene opens on the prepared dinner table, a hired service woman leaving the room just as the camera pans over to Maggie lighting the candles herself. Maggie cannot leave someone else to serve her guests or prepare her table in her own home, hiring on (or accepting someone else’s offer to hire) a helper merely to have another hand on deck.
It’s a quiet moment to herself, alone in the dining room; and she lowers her guard, appearing somber and contemplative as Dana’s voice floats into the room. Once finished, she follows it back to the front room where her daughter is engaged in conversation with another woman.
Scully is fondly telling a childhood story about her and Bill’s antics, recounting a moment she bested her older brother: “grabbing him by the knees, and then sending him falling backwards and tumbling over me and down the stairs.” It establishes her close relationship with Bill, despite a few rough patches in their past; and that she can (and did) always hold her own against him (which will be relevant later.)
Maggie walks in, smiling at her; then gives a beaming, hostess grin to Scully's companion.
Scully asks after her brother with a smile-- “Speaking of Bill, is he coming?”-- right as the front door pops open and Bill arrives with a charismatic grin.
Maggie rushes over delightedly to give him a warm, welcoming hug while Scully looks over with shocked surprise that shifts into pleasant surprise.
Maggie and Bill loudly and enthusiastically greet each other, he with more poise and she with less reserve. As they pull apart, Bill immediately looks around for his sister while Maggie’s eyes remain on his face.
“Hello, Dana!” he greets cheerfully.
Scully gravitates to him, happily swinging her arms over while he compliments her (“Look at you”) and scoops her into a hug. “Look at you, my big brother!”
“I’m sorry I’m late,” Bill begins, turning to their audience, “my ship was stuck in traffic.” He’s upbeat and confident in his delivery-- used to playing to crowds and secure in their reception of his overtures.
They laugh at his little joke and the charisma and exuberance he used to help pull it off.
Scully, too, chuckles-- an exaggerated one that points to their long history and easy rapport-- amused that he’d tried to amuse (and succeeded.)
Bill, pleased by everyone’s response (even Dana’s), drops his entertainer’s mask and smiles genuinely. Then he immediately switches to the next important item on his list: “Did you get my birthday card?”
“Yes, I did,” Scully pokes, mild annoyance in her tone, “thanks for remembering this year.”
Scully is unaware Maggie told him about her cancer; and knowing his awareness and her lack thereof, the birthday card becomes a twofold morbid sign: one she thinks must be orchestrated by her mom (and that is true, but in a different way) and one which is really caused by Bill’s utter conviction that she’s doomed to die, and soon.
“Once a decade,” he jokes, getting a real smile from his sister that time.
From this short, first interaction, we can conclude a few things:
Bill and Scully are close, in their own way.
That closeness doesn’t mean he will send her yearly birthday cards, nor will she expect them.
That closeness also doesn’t mean she will share her cancer diagnosis, even if it’s terminal.
Scully doesn’t see how hurtful her reticence is to the family, viewing her cancer as hers and not wanting their pity or sympathy. Her family do pity and sympathize, but they also feel rejected, cut out, and less valued because of her distance.
Not only did it hurt Maggie to be told as a necessity in Memento Mori, it also hurts her to shoulder the burden of her daughter’s decline and sentence of death alone. Being Maggie, she told her son, who sent a birthday card and worked a family reunion into his schedule (despite, as we later learn, having a pregnant wife back in California.) However, he-- like his mother-- is not a great secret keeper; and blabs a few scenes later when he thinks his sister’s behavior has gone out of control.
Father McCue shows up then-- a surprise to Scully, whose face drops, watching his and her mother’s interactions with suspicion.
His arrival prompts Bill to ask a more pointed, softened question-- “How are you feeling, Dana?”-- which she avoids immediately with a quick “I’m fine-- let’s get some dinner, huh?”
Bill smoothly follows her lead (“Yeah, I’m starving”), happy for some normalcy but also guiding her-- with a hand on her shoulder, which Scully doesn’t flinch from or mind-- swiftly out of the room. He likely doesn’t want his very ill sister to be hungry a moment longer than necessary. But he lets his hand drop the second Scully turns to spare a last glance at Maggie, not overstaying his welcome if she chooses to break contact with him.
It’s very telling of their dynamic: warm and touchy, close with odd periods of little communication, comfort and consideration in and of each other’s spaces, backing away when the other won’t open up emotionally (for now.)
Maggie is still chatting with Father McCue; and Scully pivots back around, disturbed by the obvious setup on her mother’s part.
FATHER TAKES HIS MCCUE FROM MAGGIE
Maggie continues hosting during the meal-- pouring for her guests-- while Bill continues entertaining-- making the room laugh with a funny anecdote. Scully, loosened up fully, laughs heartily along with the group.
An interesting note: Bill looks at everyone’s faces to gauge their level of interest. It’s a consistent pattern of behavior: he’s very clued into others’ reactions to himself and his presentation. A presentable appearance, pleasing manners, and correct behavior seem to be ingrained by Captain Scully (and Maggie, perhaps) into both his duty-minded children.
Seeing his mother amused but still hard at work, he offers to help her out, despite coming freshly from the plane or the airport or his motel for the party.
After he leaves, Scully sits quietly, fondly reviewing the past few minutes, a pleasant memory, or an adjacent, family-related thought.
When Father McCue slides in after he leaves, she’s taken a bit off guard-- feeling awkward only after he tries to reassure “I feel awkward sitting here, I’m sure you do, too.”
“No, I’m sorry,” she begins; but Father McCue rushes on.
“I’ve known your family for so many years… your mother asked me to come.”
Scully is not pleased at this confirmation, looking over at Maggie.
This is what Scully didn’t want, and why she put off telling her mother as long as possible: not because her mother is second or last place on her priority as Maggie assumes (post here) but because the more people “in the know”, the more outsourcing or advice or opinions she will receive on her choices or preferences.
She stares at her mother, then looks down-- a silent but understood sign of her disappointment.
Maggie’s face falls, knowing Dana all too well; and turns back to busywork with a smile, equally guilty and resolute. She doesn’t want to make her daughter’s life harder, seeing Father McCue’s encouragement as a medicine for the soul; but she took a gamble and lost this round.
Scully turns down Father McCue’s “important, and essential” offer to guide her back to the faith: “Father McCue, I appreciate my mother’s concern... and yours. But I’m being treated for my cancer--” Scully doesn’t mince words, knowing Maggie must have spilled the beans to some degree, “-- and I’m taking every precaution.”
It’s incredibly important to note that Scully said “But I’m being treated for my cancer”, not “the doctors have done their best, and I’m prepared to go on my terms”-- because Bill diagnoses her correctly in a later scene: Scully does believe she can cure herself. Deep down, she hasn’t given up yet, as much as she tries to talk herself (and Mulder) into accepting her “fate”; and it’s why she rushes about in Redux to manufacture proof (hope) and suffer a breakdown after her resignation crumbles in Redux II (hopelessness.)
Father McCue pushes once more, arguing for her return to religion and to God. “Faith can make you stronger.”
Pursing her lips-- annoyed that her boundaries are still being pushed, yet understanding it’s coming from a place of deep concern-- she gently explains. “I haven’t felt a need, um….” Scully pauses to check the crack in her voice. “I have strength. And--”
A phone goes off in the kitchen-- Mulder-- that Bill answers before slowly making his way to tell Scully.
In the meantime, she continues: “ And I’m not going to come running back now. It’s just not who I am-- I’d be lying to myself and to you.”
A LOT IS ON THE LINE
“Dana?” Bill cuts in.
Bill displays the first signs of distemper that haunt his steps the rest of the series: his face is thoroughly unimpressed, his gestures are clipped, and his voice is short-- meaning, he knows who is on the line, and is not happy about it.
How much does Bill know about Fox Mulder? Enough to know he’s Dana’s work partner; and that work should not intrude during Scully family hours.
It’s unlikely he knows a lot about Mulder-- in fact, his knowledge seems very recent, referring to him as “this guy Mulder” in a later scene. Bill begins to piece together the bigger picture when Dana adamantly stands by her decision to get “knocked down at work”, transitioning his questions from her job priorities to her personal loyalties. And as we will learn, Bill doesn’t think Mulder returns that loyalty to Scully-- in fact, he thinks Mulder considers Scully as part of “the job”, (politely) warning him against whatever work project he believes Mulder is bringing to her deathbed in Redux II… then pulling out a tactical strike when he believes Mulder refuses to take the hint.
Scully is stressed to have to end her conversation with Father McCue so abruptly, awkwardly giving her excuses to the priest before trailing into the kitchen.
Bill remains in the doorway, waiting for her to join before handing over the phone and ducking back to the counter-- very well-trained, proper behavior.
“Hey, Scully, it’s me-- sorry to interrupt your dinner,” Mulder says over the line, not sorry at all.
“No, uh, is something the matter?”
As her partner explains his hot new tip he wants her to come over, now, to investigate, her brother glowers from the counter, contempt pouring from his eyes. Mr. Mulder has already made a bad impression on Bill, it would seem. Moreover, what he’s heard from Maggie-- or what he’s assumed from what Maggie’s told him-- has taken a distrustful shape based on their brief exchange over the phone. One can only assume what little was said-- and how.
“When?” Scully asks; and at Mulder’s “Right away” she looks over at Bill, unsure how to tell him she’s about to leave.
He doesn’t need her excuses: Bill knows these types of calls-- has probably had dozens over the course of his career-- and already seems to think Dana will leave before she’s answered yes or no. Meaning, Scully now has a reputation in her family (even in their absence) of putting work as her first priority. And who would pass that impression around? The woman recently put second to chasing a lead-- the Scully matriarch.
Still, he doesn’t say a word, walking out disapprovingly-- yet without bothering to cajole or talk her out of her decision.
Scully flinches as he passes: disapproval in any form is still hard for her to handle, coming from her late father, her angry mother, and now her disappointed brother. It’s not outright rejection; but the two are easy for her to conflate. She sighs, then packs her vulnerabilities away and tells Mulder “I’m on my way.”
A hurried escape into work, it is.
CONCLUSION
We have only a familial glance at the returned Bill Scully, Jr.: one who is actively engaged with his family, his mother's guests, and even his sister. He anticipates Dana's actions, responses, and their unspoken meanings with uncanny correctness-- an attribute that will come into play pivotally in their next scene.
Moreover, the Scully family seem close despite the distance; the truth, however, is buried between the layers of half-truths and secrets they keep from one another: Scully's declining health, Maggie' motives, and Bill's knowledge.
Thanks for reading~
Enjoy!
#txf#The Scully Family In-Depth#In-Depth#xf meta#Crouching Cancer Hidden Motives#meta#mine#Scully#Bill Scully Jr.#Maggie Scully#Mulder#Father McCue#xfiles#x-files#the x files
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oh OH hO spicey ohhh having a spicey little tantrum about the boromir tag don't listen to me at all do NOT listen I mean it I mean it this is so petty
#text post#Gonna go ffffucking crazy- people have to bend so far over backwards to make Boromir bad that they just full out ignore his entire characte#and bend even further over backwards to make the elves all better than him too like jesus christ#oh is it BOROMIR who would be bitter about dying in the defense of Rohan??? whose despair is just so self serving and requires legolas to#slap him out of it yes uhuh that seems reasonable seems like BOROMIR would just hate the idea of dying for allies he so clearly loved#when in the full actual canonical scene of his death he dies for two random guys he met five months ago and all he has to say about it is#he failed he is sorry he has paid#BOROMIR definitely doesn't deal well with his own looming death and would definitely snap at other people about it ignoring all the decades#he has been under the looming shadow of death and has been known as not-grim and loved by many and has done his duty almost like#that is literally all his life has been up until this point#and of course of course it's ARAGORN who he's supposed to be fighting for because he's SOO impactful on Boromir's psyche he meant so much t#him apparently ggrsfsfgrrffffggfrgr#everyone wants to hit boromir oh yeah he's so annoying his hopelessness is such a burden and everyone else has to deal with him#if ANY of you go looking for what I'm talking about and do anything about it I'll slaughter you myself these are such inside thoughts the#comic is good#I shouldn't even be angry it's the natural conclusion from a story that tells you Boromir is bad but does not spell out that it's because h#isn't 'faithful' to god#they just tell you he is 'too despairing' and he 'desires power' and he 'doesn't have hope' (hope being a proxy for faith and Boromir not#believing in Aragorn means he doesn't believe in Eru's chosen leaders and his 'grand plan')#despair being a sin because it means you are selfishly giving into your own desires for a good life for you and the people you love#rather than accepting that all is God's plan and this life is only meaningful if you are defending Eru's right to the throne of the world#But that isn't spelled out so for despair to be treated as evil in the story people apply a secular understanding of 'bad despair'#already a TERRIBLE idea btw genuinely awful to percieve hopelessness as a personal moral failing#I suppose thats it actually the major reason it gets to me cus hopelessness and despair is a base aspect of my existence like#I am in despair pretty much constantly and I know a lot of other disabled people with similar sentiments#and the urging from people to 'have hope' is at this point sickening and infuriating and maddening to me it is disconnected from my reality#WHICH is demonstrably why I care about Boromir and Denethor so much no one meets them where they are no one sits in their reality with them#they are deeply relatable in their dealing with dispair namely; they just live and accomplish and strive along with their sarcasm and#black humour through their dark grueling lives and do what duty demands and try to hold onto their crumbling family relationships#and then they each have uniquely cathartic ends to those lives
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our cat looking absolutely decadent as she pins my legs in the MOST uncomfortable position
#maam pls#her head keeps falling backwards like she’s a middle aged man watching tv#everyone be quiet she’s going into WIDE mode#even got her little paws crossed all proper#not pictured: my dog curled up in the absolute sweetest way by my feet#bless our cat for preventing me from being able to reach him#because i want to pet him SO bad#but he’s dead asleep and also deaf so he would be So Scared if i did#we’re all having a girls night😌#ignore me posting so much about our animals i have nothing else to do lately rip#life junk#not anime
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dysgraphic artiƨts risɘ UP!!!!!
#raise your pencils!!!! and erasers. to fix the backwards letters 😔#sorry still thinking about my weirdness with my art professors. yknow a lot of em have been really pushing us as#students to make our personal identities a major part of like our 'brand' as artists#which. well from an art history major perspective thats a very contentious and nuanced topic. i love a lot of artists who live this way#and i think its great seeing my peers who focus on identity thrive. but also as an fine arts major (double major fool LOL)#i keep getting pushed by teachers into like. specific '____ artist' identities???#specificaly woman artist. which is a little bizarre because im a bit fat and a bit gnc so im generally like. ungendered? in day-to-day life#(which doesnt actually matter to me directly that much honestly LOL people tend to view me as like. buddy? buddy or pal.)#(not man. not woman. not anything human. sometimes i remind people of a beloved dog. which. hkdsahjk thats its own can of worms)#(a can of worms that also doesnt matter much to me directly because im a wannabe furry who chose to be the dog when playing house as a kid)#(LOL so um. well. theres that) but yeah i dunno i dont really consider myself a woman artist. its been. shockingly (and sometimes luckily?)#irrelevant to most of my life and experiences and art (although dont get me wrong misogyny is very real and very present) so i dont#have a whole lot to say about it from an art perspective. you could also call me all kinds of things. a queer artist. a mixed race artist#again technically correct. some aspects more visible in my work than others. but also very technical. i focus on race a lot in in my#art historical work but i dunno how much my drawings have to say. except that i keep making too many mixed ocs LOL#i dunno i just think my professors gotta focus that energy away from tokenizing me and over to supporting like actual#capital W Woman artists capital Q Queer artists capital A Artists of Colour who are doing far more interesting things than I#far more thought out and engaged in these topics directly. i just kind of stumble into my art blindly and confused <3#sorry that was a long tangent WHAT IM SAYING Is despite all that: i do consider myself a capital D Dysgraphic artist#i think its an unmovable constant of my art and the way i draw and the way my hands move. the untrained eye doesnt seem to be as aware#of it directly. but those who are familiar can probably see it. the dysgraphia LOL if not just from whenever i write a letter or number#half of them are busted and frantically fixed HDKJSDJDS but its in all my art. if u can see it <3 ive been trying to embrace it#dygraphic artists raise your pencils indeed!! and throw away the eraser!!! make the legibility of your words everyone elses problem!!!#what does that say? what is that sketch? none of my business! none of your business!! its the business of my hand and the pencil alone#motor skill and spatial issues take the wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeel
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Watching Horrible Histories for the first time and reminded about working conditions in the Victorian era and how British people in that time believe themselves to be the Pinnacle of society!
Which reminds me a lot of America today - the greatest country in the world (as long as you don't look too close)!
I'm sure it'd be alright if we did a little (or a shit load of) imperialism - after all, we have better ways of living we can share with these poor foreigners! (Ignore our medical mortality rate, we are doing AWESOME.)
#original#horrible histories#simon farnaby#alex horne#ben willbond#reminds me of that story I saw on Tumblr of someone from Sierra Leone going to study in France and everyone saying to them#'oh you must feel so lucky and relieved to finally be in a wealthy country!' and she was like#'I've literally never seen homeless people before. your streets are littered with innocent people dying on them???'#I'm sorry you can't have a wealthy developed country where people die on the street.#america is like if a human rights violation were a place. thank goodness we are safe from all the backwards ways of places with Healthcare!#homelessness#healthcare#ableism#americans don't have as many children in factories as in victorian times but look me in the eye and tell me things are going well for us#and then bring your hands up to your face because i am gonna try to bite you and if i succeed you won't be able to afford the ambulance#imperialism is heavily internally justified as somehow righteous or even kind - but it's always horrible countries#going out and violently fucking up everyone else's shit#and now I'm an adult and i remember what i was told about our current wars and it is all the same!#also the show is really fun. it's like the entire cast of BBC ghosts doing a violent children's History show#imperialism
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my biggest problem in life is that I’m a ‘people pleaser’ and I try really hard when I interact with anyone and everyone to be nice and kind and to have people like me. deep down, I know that’s not possible because not everyone is always going to like me. but it still feels like such a personal blow anytime someone doesn’t like me because I try so hard to please everyone and to be likable and friendly and kind and caring to everyone I interact with
#bex talks#it’s hard in the professional work place when I come across people who I don’t feel with#*dont gel with#or people who don’t like my approach to things or just don’t like me#and it’s hard on tumblr when I see every day that there always seems to be someone else who has blocked me#and it feels like such a personal attack#even though I know it’s not#because I can’t please everyone and not everyone will like me#but it doesn’t stop me from trying even harder to please people#i bend over backwards just to get people to like me#because I want to be friends with everyone and I want to treat everyone nicely#but then people will block me without ever having interacted with me and I’m like ‘oh’ because I start wondering what did I do wrong?#anyway just me rambling#i know I’m not perfect#I’ve made mistakes just like everyone else. I’m human. mistakes are part of learning and growing#but I try every single day to be a better version of myself and to treat people with kindness and love#this mostly stems from me having difficult clients this last month with some of them just being rude
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— THE WAY I LOVED YOU
pairing: theodore nott x reader
summary: in which theodore nott will do anything to get you to go out with him, but you’re just as stubborn rejecting him
warnings: swearing, kissing, dangerous stunts and theo being stupid (ryan gosling in the notebook style), unedited since i wrote this in the middle of the night on no sleep again lol. enemies to lovers if you squint a bit
author’s note: since everyone loves theo i’ll pretend this isn’t just for my own selfish needs <3 (especially the notebook reference) also surprise surprise mc is a gryffindor as always, you’d never know i was a slytherin my bad guys… as always let me know what u think! enjoy, angels 💌
The first time Theodore Nott asks you out, you spill a pot of ink directly into his lap.
It’s not like you meant to do it. But when there’s a Transfiguration worksheet to be getting on with, the Slytherin boy seated next to you by Professor McGonagall asking you out would surely take anyone by surprise.
The second you twist in your seat to look at him in shock, your arm slides the pot right off the desk and directly onto his grey trousers, instantly staining them with the black liquid before you have a chance to speak.
Your hands fly to your mouth to stifle your gasp and you look up at him, anticipating an angry glare in return. Instead, he looks mildly surprised at the ever-growing stain on his crotch, but mostly… amused?
“A simple ‘no’ would have sufficed, darling,” he says, raising an eyebrow and suppressing a smile.
You begin stuttering out an apology and scrambling for your wand to wave away the stain before you can do something stupid like attempting to rub it off with your sleeve. Your cheeks instantly heat up at the humiliating image now plaguing your mind and you barely contain a sigh of relief when you realise the lesson has finished.
It’s a miracle your shoes haven’t left scuff marks on the ground in a cartoonish trail with the speed at which you leave the classroom. Godric knows why Theo Nott of all people wants to ask you out, but since it can’t possibly be for any good reason, you’d rather not think about it too much. This, however, isn’t helped by Hermione pestering you about why you look so flustered for the entire walk to the Charms classroom.
Twenty minutes later, her attention is finally diverted. On the other hand, it’s because she’s berating you for accidentally burning the end of her left eyebrow off with a charm gone wrong.
The second time Theo asks you out, there are thankfully no ink pots around.
“Hey,” he whispers from behind you, making you jump within an inch of your life despite his low volume. You swivel in your chair to glare at him, incredulous. Seeing that he’s startled you, Theo grins. “Sorry. What are you doing?”
“Baking a cake,” you deadpan, once your heart has started beating at a normal pace again. Holding up your Potions book, you feel the annoyance start to seep in when Theo continues looking at you, undeterred. “What does it look like I’m doing?”
Apparently unfazed by your sarcasm, he drags out the chair next to you and spins it around to sit on it backwards. Settling his arms on top of the backrest, Theo rests his chin on them to look at you. “You never did answer my question.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you mumble, eyes scanning the page in front of you but taking in nothing. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to study-”
“Are you going to make me ask you again?” he sighs. You panic a little at his bluntness and continue pretending to read, not knowing what else to do. Theo takes your silence as encouragement and shuffles his chair closer to your own. “Go out with me.”
The arrogance practically drips off his voice, and the pit of anxiety in your stomach immediately turns into irritation instead. “No,” you grit out, slamming your potions book shut to scowl at him. “And I don’t hear you asking anything.”
“Okay,” Theo says slowly, nodding as though he understands. It’s clear that he doesn’t though, because the next words out of his mouth have you stunned. “Please, oh please, will you do me the absolute greatest honour of going out with me?”
”Merlin,” you exhale, pinching the bridge of your nose. Dropping your hands into your lap, you see no solution other than gathering your things to return to the common room. “You’re having me on…”
“I can assure you, I’m not,” Theo says quickly, stopping you from leaving by gently grabbing your elbow. You stop in your movements to catch him looking more unsure than you’ve ever seen, and you’ve never been more perplexed. “I’m completely serious right now. Go out with me?”
“Wh- I don’t even-” you sigh, cutting your senseless muttering off to cross your arms over your textbook. “Whatever happened to a simple ‘no’ sufficing, darling? Aren’t there a million other girls for you to go and pester? Godric knows you’ve got an entourage following you half the- What are you looking at?”
Amazingly, Theo’s expression has lost all trace of vulnerability and now displays a slightly faraway look, his signature lazy grin in full effect. “Sorry, I didn’t hear a word after you called me ‘darling’.”
Resisting the urge to hit him over the head with your textbook, you take a deep breath and grasp the potential weapon tighter in your hands before speaking. “As hard as it is for me to believe that girls actually fall for this rubbish, your history with them shows that they do. Don’t think for a second, I’m going to let you use me like they do.”
Theo considers your words for a few seconds, mulling them over as carefully as though he’s trying to solve a brain teaser. Eventually, he seems to come to a satisfying conclusion, because he tucks his hands into the pockets of his trousers and tilts his head. “So you need me to prove I’m serious about this… and then you’ll say yes?”
“Oh, for the love of-” Huffing, you turn on your heal without saying another word and storm out of the library. Theo doesn’t follow you, allowing you to clear your head and think about the incredibly odd interaction.
You’re climbing through the portrait hole into the Gryffindor common room when you realise you never actually refuted Theo and his theory to make you go out with him. Whether or not it was on purpose, you can’t quite decide.
Over the next few weeks, you start wishing you had stopped Theo before he could start trying to prove himself to you.
You can’t go a single day without the question of going out with him popping up. Much to your bewilderment, it isn’t always him asking. Sometimes it’s his friends, sometimes it’s students at the Gryffindor table who are sick of the multiple owls every morning flocking to your table with a note in their beaks. Sometimes it’s even your friends.
“I mean, really,” Hermione says at breakfast, huffy as always when reprimanding someone. “It’d be benefiting everyone if you just went out with him. Why don’t you, anyway?”
“He’s a Slytherin,” Ron butts in, talking to Hermione as though he’s explaining something to a child. He takes a gigantic bite of his toast before speaking, his next words coming out muffled. “Surely that’s reason enough.”
“No, that isn’t reason enough,” Hermione says sternly, furrowing her brows. “A good reason would have been all the girls he’s always with. Of course, that’s flown out the window recently. He’s also never given them as much attention now that I think about it.”
“He’s definitely not the worst of the group either,” Harry adds, leaning in as nosily as Ron. “Not like we’re talking about Malfoy…”
“Don’t you two have Quidditch tactics to be discussing?” you snap, exhausted by the subject already. The two boys hold up their hands in surrender, before shuffling down the bench. Whether that’s to be closer to the Quidditch team, or to get away from you before you start throwing hexes - you aren’t certain.
The fact you’re awake early in the morning on a Saturday isn’t helping your sour mood, and the Quidditch match being between Gryffindor and Slytherin only adds to this.
“We’d better go and get a good seat at the front, so we aren’t on our tiptoes for the whole game like last time,” Hermione says, already sliding off the bench. You give your cup of coffee one last longing look before you allow yourself to be dragged away.
You haven’t even made it onto the Quidditch pitch before you’re already wishing for that cup of coffee to give you strength, because you find none other than Theo standing outside the Great Hall in his green and silver Quidditch robes.
As soon as he spots you, Theo plasters on that charming smile of his and opens his mouth, no doubt to ask you if you could talk privately.
Hermione interjects before he gets the chance. “Don’t bother, I’m leaving.” She simply sighs when you look at her, betrayed. “He’d have convinced you anyway! I’ll save you a seat.”
You watch her leave, helplessly before turning to Theo and crossing your arms. “Yes?”
“I have a proposition for you,” he says simply, getting to the point. The proposition has, without a doubt, got something to do with you and him and a trip to Hogsmeade, but you gesture for him to continue nonetheless. You can’t deny it’s been entertaining watching Theo come up with new ways to ask you out these past few weeks. “I’ll throw the match and let your lot win if you go out with me.”
This startles a laugh out of you, something between a chortle and a gasp. “Oh, you cheeky bastard,” you exclaim, but you can’t help grinning. That was quite possibly the last thing you expected him to say. “First of all, I think my lot is perfectly capable of winning on their own. And secondly… as funny as it would be, I’d rather not have your death and Malfoy’s subsequent imprisonment in Azkaban be on my conscience.”
You only realise just how wide your smile is when it starts to fade under Theo’s unwavering gaze. His lips twitch up into a smile and you immediately frown as an automatic response. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“You’re bantering with me,” Theo says, grinning as though he’s extremely pleased with himself. You realise with a jolt, that yes you were bantering. “One step closer to agreeing to go out with me.”
“That’s not happening,” you protest, but it sounds fairly weak, even to you. “Like I keep telling you, I’m not going to be one of those girls.”
Theo shrugs. “And I think you already know you’re not one of those girls. It’s fine, I can wait.”
The relaxed manner in which he says this has you flabbergasted to say the least. Truthfully, you aren’t completely sure why you haven’t just agreed at this point. No one in the whole school is used to witnessing such extravagant displays from Theodore Nott, so you’ve accepted the fact you’re an outlier in this particular subject area. You’re starting to think Hermione’s right, and it’s pure stubbornness that’s keeping you going.
“You’ll be waiting a long time then,” you say, giving Theo a bland smile.
“Nah,” is all he says, the smile still gracing his unperturbed face. “Keep an eye out for me in the Quidditch stands.”
Theo winks at you before walking away in the direction of the pitch and you linger in the castle for a good few minutes before snapping out of it and walking in the same direction.
You find Hermione quickly at the front of the Gryffindor stand and you’re about to ask how long until the game starts when Lee Jordan’s voice begins to boom from the commentator stand.
“Strong start for Gryffindor with Katie Bell taking the Quaffle and- nope, Vaisey’s taken it and passed it onto Urquhart, his fellow Chaser and the new Slytherin captain.” You’re thankful for Lee’s commentary as it’s easy to follow and you probably wouldn’t have a clue if it weren’t for him. Surprisingly, he keeps it professional enough for a while. “Ginny Weasley tries to take the Quaffle after a near hit there to Urquhart, thanks to new Gryffindor Beater Jimmy Peakes and that very solid Bludger over there. Unfortunately, he missed-”
“JORDAN.”
“Sorry, Professor McGonagall, I meant fortunately. Slytherin Chaser Mattheo Riddle now has the Quaffle and seems to be aiming to score and- oops! He’s missed, thanks to Gryffindor Keeper Ron Weasley. Good on you, Weasley,” Lee says, unable to be impartial as shown by McGonagall’s glare. “As for the Slytherin Keeper, Nott seems to be distracted by something in the Gryffindor stands. Or should I say someone.”
Laughter echoes in every stand, much to your utter humiliation and some people even start whooping and cheering in your direction. Theo’s antics are common knowledge at this point, but it doesn’t make the laughter any less embarrassing. You try and maintain a shred of dignity by standing still and glaring as hard as you can at Theo. Horrifyingly, he starts to fly in your direction.
Lee looks at McGonagall before speaking, but she merely shrugs helplessly, looking flustered herself. “Er, well it seems Slytherin are open for Gryffindor to score. No one seems to be taking advantage, however, as I think I can speak for everyone when I say we want to know what’s going on with Nott and Y/N.”
Glancing at the others, you realise Lee is right and all the players are hovering in place, making no move to continue the game. They look partly confused, but mostly nosy.
Theo stops just outside the Gryffindor stand, his attention focused wholly on you. You raise both eyebrows in question, waiting for him to speak. “Go out with me.”
“Unfortunately, I can’t quite hear what Nott is saying, but I think we can all guess he’s asking her out again,” Lee says, causing a few more cheers and even a couple groans. “Take the hint, mate.”
“Theo, get back to the game!” you hiss, wrapping your arms around you as if it’ll shield you from everyone’s eyes. “You’re embarrassing m- What the fuck are you doing!”
Theo swings a leg over the side of his broomstick so that he’s sitting completely facing you, legs dangling dangerously off one side. Lee sits up a little in his booth and McGonagall looks positively horrified. “For unknown reasons, Nott is balancing precariously in a position no Quidditch player wants to- Merlin, he’s hanging off his broomstick!”
Everyone in the crowd screams and shouts when Theo slips off his broomstick, but they quieten down and watch with fright when they see he’s still holding on with both hands. You think you’re going to faint.
“Theo,” you plead, with the same voice you’d use to coax a bloody kitten out of a tree. “Get back on your broomstick. Please.”
“Only if you go out with me,” Theo says, eyes determined despite breathing a little heavier. The broomstick is thin and despite his strength, it’d be hard for anyone to maintain a grip for long. “Say you’ll go out with me and I’ll get back on.”
“Just say it!” Hermione grabs you by the shoulder to shake you.
Professor McGonagall seems to have shaken out of her previous daze and begins scrambling around for her wand while Lee narrows his eyes to better assess the situation. “Godric, Y/N. Just say ‘yes’ and end everyone’s misery already.”
“But…” you trail off, hands shaking as you keep your eyes on Theo’s white knuckles still gripping the broom. “I don’t want to encourage this stupid behaviour.”
Theo rolls his eyes as though he can’t believe you’re still objecting. He shakes his head at you, though his chest is shaking with laughter. “Go out with me, and I swear I’ll never do anything stupid again. Fucking hell, I’ll quit Quidditch altogether if you want.”
You open your mouth to say something, you’re not sure what, but before you can get a word out, Seamus Finnigan pipes up from beside you. “Personally, I say let him fall off the bloody thing.”
Tutting, you turn to Theo just to find the idiot raising an eyebrow challengingly. His left hand begins to loosen on the broomstick, deliberately.
“Theo, don’t you dare.”
He drops his left hand completely and you scream, the noise drowned out by everyone else’s yells.
“OKAY!” you yelp, heart in throat as you watch Theo dangling from his broomstick with one hand, clearly struggling. “Okay, I’ll go out with you, you stubborn idiot!”
The Gryffindors that hear you, begin to cheer, setting off the other houses and once McGonagall sees Theo begin to pull himself up on his broomstick, she visibly relaxes, slumping in her seat as she clutches her chest. Lee soon gets the message. “Finally, after a good month of watching Nott pine pathetically, Y/N has agreed to go out with the poor bast- Er, beggar. Sorry, Professor. By the way Nott, you’ve got detention for a week.”
Now sitting normally on his broomstick, Theo grins at you like the cheeky bastard that he is, with elation clear as day on his face. You struggle to fight off your own grin and you can tell by his expression you’re not doing a very good job at it. “Pull something like that again and I’ll push you off your broomstick myself,” you warn him, though it lacks any real threat. You were more worried than angry, and it definitely shows. “Okay?”
“No more stupid behaviour,” Theo promises, sounding sincere as he nods, messy hair falling into his eyes. The wind blows it out of the way almost immediately and you find yourself wanting to do it with your fingers. “After this, though.”
You furrow your brows as Theo flies close enough to the Gryffindor stand to get off his broomstick and hop right into the crowd, landing next to you. Broomstick in hand, Theo doesn’t take his eyes off you when he holds it out to Hermione. “If you don’t mind, Granger.”
Clearly baffled, Hermione gingerly takes the broomstick from him and watches the two of you, as enraptured as the rest of the school.
You face Theo properly, looking up at his eyes to see them glittering with pride and achievement. You tilt your head in question, wondering why he hasn’t yet returned to the game.
Theo answers you by gripping your waist to pull you into a stupidly dramatic, dizzying, wonderful kiss. His lips are soft against your own and cold from the wind, but the shiver that runs down your spine has nothing to do with the temperature and everything to do with the way Theo is pressed against you.
You could go on forever, but the cheers and claps and hollering around you remind you that you’re surrounded by all your peers and, Godric, your teachers.
Pulling away, you clear your throat and attempt to gain back some of your dignity by keeping a serious face. Theo attempts nothing of the sort as he’s still wearing a silly grin. You try and avoid his eyes for the sake of your nerves and you mutter the first thing that comes to mind. “Erm, good luck then. I hope you win.”
This is the wrong thing to say surrounded by your fellow Gryffindors as a few of them boo at you.
Theo rolls his eyes at the dramatics, while you simply scowl, pointedly at Seamus who seems to have boo’ed the loudest. Hermione is beaming at you when she hands Theo back his broomstick, though she also gives a little frown directed at Seamus.
Getting back on his broomstick, Theo hovers near you outside the stand. You lower your voice to a whisper that only he can hear. “I still hope you win.”
Theo shrugs, looking more relaxed than you’ve ever seen him during a Quidditch game. “I’ve already won, darling.”
© angelfic 2023.
#theodore nott x reader#theodore nott x you#theodore nott scenarios#theodore nott smut#theodore nott fluff#theodore nott imagines#theodore nott x y/n#theodore nott fanfiction#theodore nott
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SELF VALIDATION
First things first, if you validate your existence on externalities, you will never truly be happy. While it’s important to have values and to act on them, it shouldn’t be your main source of happiness.
E.g. parent validation, academic validation, and male validation. So, here are some tips to validate yourself.
VALUE YOUR OPINION. You should have the ability to make decisions and identify yourself solely on your opinion. Trust, giving people that ability to shape your decisions and curate your identity, allows them to dictate your worth.
SELF LOVE OVER OTHERS. Ensure you are doing everything in your power to treat yourself lovingly. Even if it means sacrificing a few things in life. E.g. going to sleep early instead of cramming for a test.
BE RESILIENT. When I say that, I don’t mean ‘don't let anything affect you’ but rather, build yourself up to the point that when someone/something knocks you down, you can bounce back easily.
BECOME SELF AWARE. Know your strengths, and weaknesses, and be mindful of the truth. Be genuine when it comes to this because self-awareness helps us with becoming more in touch with our inner selves.
AVOID NEGATIVE SELF TALK. This can cause us to rely on others to hear good things about ourselves. Instead, say affirmations in the mirror.
STOP PEOPLE PLEASING. There’s a difference between genuinely being nice, and being a doormat. You shouldn’t have to bend over backwards for others, and they give absolutely nothing back. Invest that time and effort into yourself.
SOMEONE’S GAIN IS NOT YOUR LOSS. This is a mindset shift that will change the game. You have to stop seeing successful, wealthy, pretty or intelligent people as threatening your skills or talents. There is enough success for everyone.
DETACH FROM OTHERS. Friends, family, males, etc. Stop letting how other people treat you, dictate your mood for the rest of the day. The only factor your mood should depend on is you. What you do, say, and act is the only factor.
KNOCK OTHERS FROM YOUR PEDESTAL. The only person that should be on top of your pedestal, is you. By doing this, you create an inferiority complex for someone else and give them superiority.
OTHER’S OPINIONS ARE MOMENTARY. They will always move on with their day and see what needs to be done. They do not care about you as much as you think. So, do not even try to give them the time of day.
BUILD BOUNDARIES. With others and yourself. Both are equally important because you value yourself enough not to do something you’ll regret.
#becoming that girl#becoming her#clean girl#green juice girl#that girl#it girl#self improvement#it girl tips#it girl energy#self control#self care#self confidence#self development#self growth#self healing#self love#dream girl journey#dream girl#dream life#dream girl tips#dream girl vibes#male validation#academic validation#self validation#i need validation#i crave validation#acceptance#mentalhealth#healing journey#emotional health
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You need more free art.
I quit my job yesterday. Well, actually I quit my job eight weeks ago, but they finally released me yesterday for good behaviour. Don't get me wrong, I love what I do - but I do it for the wrong reasons. Working for major charities, you learn very fast that 'I want to make the world a better place' is a phrase you use to ask people for money, not to give them things. I was an ass-backwards fit for that world.
You need more free art. I need more free art. Everyone has felt the shift in our media landscape over the last ten years, away from access and towards nickel-and-diming the human experience. That lack of access is making life and culture worse for all of us, across the board. Paywalled news sites leave us less informed, attacks on the Internet Archive leave us less capable of research. Algorithmic social feeds and streaming walled gardens trap us inside smaller and smaller demographic bubbles, where we are increasingly only likely to encounter ideas that have been curated for us by marketing departments. Hasty efforts to resist AI commodification have only led to more artists locking their work away and calling for even more onerous systems of copyright law. This is not good for us.
We all need more free art.
So what am I going to do about it?
This is a question I have been asking myself for years. It's easy to sit here feeilng frustrated and thinking 'boy I hope SOMEONE does SOMETHING'. It's harder to take action in a world where I still have rent to pay. But hard doesn't mean impossible. Sometimes hard just means time-consuming, frustrating and slow. And sometimes it's worth doing something time-consuming, frustrating and slow because...I want to make the world a better place.
I'm going to do this:
1. From April 1st, I am relaunching as a freelance writer and editor.
This is the one that will (hopefully) help to pay the bills. I am a very good and experienced editor. I've worked on hollywood movies, I'm a member of the Chartered Institute of Editors and Proofreaders, I have clients who have been coming to me exclusively for more than 10 years.
Alongside bigger contract jobs, I am going to refocus on offering my services to small-press creators at a reduced rate. That means you, graphic novelists. That means you, itch and amazon writers. I want to help you develop your work, the same way I help large organisations. You can learn more about what an editor even does and what kind of pricing you can expect here.
2. I'm also going to start giving shit away. Like, constantly.
Next week I'm going to launch a new free shop. If you're unfamiliar, a free shop, giveaway shop, swap shop, etc. is an anarchist tradition of setting up a storefront where anyone can take what they like for no cost. Offline, this often means second-hand clothes, tools, furniture, food etc. Online, I am going to be giving away digital art. Copyright-free, no strings attached. It will (eventually) feature everything from print-res posters to zines, poems, tattoo flash, t-shirt designs and anything else we come up with.
Yes, I said 'we' - while this is a curated collection, it will feature work from a variety of credited and anonymous artists and activists, all of whom have agreed to give their work away to the public domain. Some of it will be practical, some of it will be political, but a lot of it will be decorative or personal. This is, in part, a response to recent difficulty I had finding somewhere that would print a one-off joke poster for a friend that featured the word 'faggot'. Enough. No middlemen - no explaining ourselves. Just print our shit and enjoy it.
I'm very, very excited about this project. I'll have more to say about it closer to the launch, but you can expect it to go live on March 27th.
2.2 I forgot to mention the ACTUAL LAUNCH GIVEAWAY
To celebrate my launch, I am going to be giving away a ton of physical prints. When I went looking for my old stock to see if it was worth setting a new (paid) storefront up, I realised I had way more old work in storage than I thought. This will be announced in its own right on Monday, but this is why I've been hinting you should go follow my Patreon.
On April 1st, I will pick 8 random patrons (from across all tiers including non-paying followers!) and mail them a bundle of assorted prints and postcards. The prize pool includes A3 and A4 posters, packs of A6 postcards, and printed minicomics that I've previously sold for up to £12 each.
You don't have to be a paying subscriber to enter - this is strictly no-purchase necessary. It is purely and entirely a celebration of the concept of GIVING ART AWAY FOR FREE.
3. PORN, YOU PERVERTS
Because I still have to pay to stay alive, I am going to be subsidising all this free art with the introduction of Fuck You Fridays. Starting from March 29th, I will drop a new 18+ short story on the last Friday of every month, over on itch.io (yes I know my page is desolate right now, don't worry I'll get there).
The first edition, Go Fuck Yourself, is about, well - telling your boss where to stick it. Julia has had it with her millionaire man-child manager, and is just about ready to let him know what she really thinks. It's a short and steamy 5k words, with a gorgeous cover illustration by @taylor-titmouse, and you can pick it up for $3 starting from March 29th.
4. ANOTHER BIG SURPRISE
I'm keeping this one under wraps for now, but April 1st will also play host to one more (FREE) launch. If you've been following me for a long time, you might remember the other significance of this date (no not April Fool's day, though that is certainly thematically relevant to this entire effort). That's all I'll say right now. Watch this space.
tl;dr: I'm sick of paywalls and career ladders. I'm literally putting my money where my mouth is. More free art for everyone and I'm not kidding around!!!
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Art Reference pt. 2
Miguel x Reader
TW: Smut, rough rough sex, jealousy, pooty eating miguel is superior.
This was a request about reader being an artist and Miguel finding out that they tried drawing him naked and he says some sly shit about it, which results into the nasty nasty.
A/N: so it's not the bedroom mirror sexy, but it is some sweaty sexy with hints of jealous/possessive miguel. idk i wanted to combine it with the other idea I had. so i hope yall enjoy.
Part one here
The days since Miguel found your sketchbook we’re filled with relentless sex, constantly pinned under the gargantuan man and being his sexual relief.
The Spider Society stayed business as usual.
At least to everyone else.
But a few of the spiderwomen noticed something different about you.
“Are those hickeys?” Jess asked, and your hand flew to your neck. Your face got a bit warm under your mask and you thanked the heavens that you’d just gotten back from hunting down an anomaly. She shook your head and laughed.
“What? No no.” You denied and looked away, waving to Ben.
“They look like hickeys.” She tilted her head and pressed on.
“They are.” A voice came from behind you and you both looked up at Miguel, who was just standing there with a cup of coffee in hand, looking too relaxed for what he just admitted.
“See, I knew they were!” Jess laughed and leaned towards you, making you edge backwards and laugh nervously. “So who are they?”
“It’s Noir, right?” Another voice pipped up and you turned to see Pav sitting down next to you.
Miguel’s face contorted as he watched you react. “Why would you think it’s him?” He asked and Pav smiled innocently.
“Have you seen how Noir looks at her? And how much the two talk about her art?” Pav points to your sketchbook, opening to a page with both Jess and Noir on it. “And she’s always drawing him.” Your eyes stayed trained on Miguel as his brows creased with frustrations. His sights flashed back up from the page to you, making your body tingle a bit.
“So I’m right, right?” Pav spoke up again and you just cleared your throat, gathering the papers and pencils you’d played across the table.
“I-I have work to do, I’ll talk to you guys later.” You mumbled under your breath and ora tu ally ran away. Once you were gone, Pav puffed out his chest.
“I’m definitely right.”
Miguel huffed as he stood in front of his screens a bit later, grouchy as ever. He felt a presence behind him and glanced, seeing Jess looming in the doorway.
“They’re your hickeys, right?” She concluded and he just grunted in confirmation. She walked closer and he stayed hunched over his desk, not moving his eyes from the moving screens. “Is it serious?” His silence was the only answer she got as she let out a pent up breath of understanding.
You two hadn’t discussed what you were doing, you just enjoyed what was going on. Or that’s what Miguel was doing.
He had no idea what you were thinking.
“Does Spider Noir actually have a crush on her?”
“Of course he does, half of the spider people here do. She’s incredible and smart, funny and creative.” Jess went on about your traits and Miguel just found himself getting more and more upset. “But she’s spending her time with you. So don’t fuck it up.” Jess said and turned to leave, then added as she walked. “She might have others wanting her attention soon, so step up to the plate.” And then the motorcyclist was gone, leaving Miguel to his thoughts.
“She’s right, ya know.” Miguel heard Lyla say and just groaned. He’d talk to you about it soon, he just didn’t want to say the wrong thing.
Two days later, Miguel had asked you to train with him a bit. He loved being around you and the two of you began doing mundane everyday activities together. To your surprise, MIguel actually had a sense of humor and smiled a lot when he wasn’t surrounded by people constantly chattering about things he found unimportant.
So you two decided to go to the gym together. It was something you’d done before, so today was no exception.
You started before he got there, moving to the weight rack and grabbing a few to start, slowly building up to a heavier pair. He walked in and saw you doing some squats with the weights and his eyes found something he wasn’t prepared to see.
You had camel toe. And he loved it.
Seeing the outline of your tight pussy made him bite his tongue to keep from acting out right here in the middle of his gym. The way you squatted and the lips moved slightly, covered by the blue spandex of your gym shorts made him lick his own lips.
He moved in next to you and made himself a little area near yours, beginning to focus on his own workout routine.
But he couldn’t.
Not when every time you walked away, all he thought about was diving into your sweet pussy and tasting your juices mixed with the musky sweat you’d been working up since you’d gotten here. His eyes practically rolled back at the thought of eating you out right here on the bench press, and he tried to subtly adjust his gym shorts. Closing his eyes, he shook his head and stood up. He grabbed your arm and pulled you aside, bending down to whisper.
“We’re leaving.” He announced and you were stunned, speechless. You’d been there for less than an hour, was he upset?
You followed him out, not daring to question him, and let him take you home. The car ride was silent as well, and the threads of doubt ran through your mind like a wild cheetah. Had you done something? Was this it? Was this the moment you’d been dreading, when he finally cut things off and told you it was all a mistake?
Meanwhile, Miguel was trying anything to hide his painful and obvious erection. You were either much more oblivious to how he felt about you than he’d initially thought, or being courteous so as to not make him feel embarrassed about being a grown man with a boner. He stomped into his apartment and stood by his dinner table, as you just shut the door behind him and waited to hear what he had to say.
He moved to face you and pinched the meat of your hips a bit, then bending down to get on his knees and glancing upward at you.
“God, I couldn't help it.” He moans and buries his nose into your clothed cunt. “You just look amazing.” His voice was splintered with lust as he begged. “I want to eat you out through these fucking leggings.” He lifted your hips and planted you on the dining table, licking against the middle of your pants. You gasped and leaned back on one hand as he rubbed his nose against your clit and you shook slightly. The middle of your workout pants were now soaked with his saliva, nipping the fabric with his teeth and sucking you through it.
“Smells amazing, tastes amazing. Could see the outline of my cunt while you were at the gym.” He grunted, rutting slightly against the chair next to him. “Yeah, this is my cunt. Mine to lick and fuck, no one else’s, not even fucking Noir.” He hissed and you began to understand where this had come from.
“Noir?” You questioned before sucking in a sharp breath while he put your spandex covered thighs on his shoulders.
“Mmm, that black and white cabrón. He couldn’t handle this pussy, the way you clamp down on me and make it hard to fuck you. He couldn’t make you scream for hours, like how only I can. Solo mia.” Miguel rambled, as he did often hen he was in the process of fucking you somehow.
“Just you, Miguel- fuck.” You nodded as your fingers found his hair and tangled into the roots. He let his claws out for a second before moving his talons and ripping down the center of the leggings, letting the cool air blow onto your exposed cunt. “So wet…” He marveled and bit his lip. You whined out and stared down at the shredded fabric in his hands. “I’ll get you new ones, just let me fucking have this pussy.”
His red eyes looked as if you could swim in them, deadly and focused on you. You clenched around nothing as he continued to watch how your muscles moved, mesmerized by how needy you looked writhing on his table with your most intimate area in his face. His nose nudged against your clit and electric shocks sparked through your spine, making you arch your back in pleasure and a growl rumbled through his chest.
“He’s too vanilla for you, isn’t that right?” He cooed and dragged a hand up your torso, then back down to your thigh by his head and sinking his claws into the skin, making angry red marks appear. You gasped and nodded with haste.
“Yes! Yes, yes…” You repeated the word like a prayer as he smirked and languidly lapped at your folds. You felt gross, sweaty from your brief workout and letting him eat you out this way. “Miguel- wait-” You pushed his head a bit, now insecure, and he nipped at the skin in the crease of your inner thigh. “Ah!”
“Are you trying to push me away, mi corazon? Don’t you want me to tongue-fuck you?” His hands gripped your thighs tighter and slid your squirming body back down towards his face. You mewled and nodded.
“But- Miguel, I’m sweaty and-”
“That’s what I want.” He stated, as if it was as plain as day and wrapped his lips around your heat once more, tongue shooting inside of you and exploring around to find where made you scream the loudest. His teeth grazed your clit and there was an inevitable snap in your core, making your eyes only see white for a moment as he groaned, feeling your juices flood his mouth.
He pulled away and stood up, eyeing your out-of-breath form as your eyes met and he made a show of licking your cum off of his lips, then wiping his chin with the back of his hand. You shivered as he grabbed your wrist and pulled you up to meet his lips, tasting yourself as you kissed him gently.
“I bet Noir couldn’t make you cum like that with just his mouth.” he smirked and whispered as you sighed happily.
“Why do you keep bringing him up?”
“Because you draw him a lot.”
“No, I draw you a lot. I drew him to help me practice shading.” You clarify and Miguel feels himself get embarrassed as you finally put it all together. “Are you jealous?”
“Well, I’m not- I don’t think I have the right to be jealous.” He muses, seeing how you’d answer and you hum a bit, smiling again.
“You’re right. You don’t.” Your words leave him slightly hurt for a moment, until you continue, “unless you had feelings for me, which then it would be totally understandable to be jealous.” You watched how his eyes became amused and intrigued.
“Oh yeah?” He playfully spoke as he lifted you up into his arms and moved to his couch, leaning you down and dropping you to the cushions. With the midsection of your leggings turned into ribbons, you sat with your core completely on display for him as he stood looking down at your body. “Well, now, if I did have feelings for you, would you reciprocate them?”
“I might, especially seeing how crazy and sexy you get when you’re jealous.” You pull his hands to make him balance on top of you, now caging you onto the couch with his arms by your head.
“You think me tearing open your clothes and making sure you know that you’re mine is sexy?” He repeated, eyebrows shooting up in surprise as you laughed and nodded.
“I think that you wanting me is sexy.”
“That makes sense.” He admitted and you laughed harder, not able to hide your enjoyment. “So. I like you, you like me. What are we going to do about it?” He mused and bent down further to capture your lips, but you moved to flip him onto the ground before he could make it to his destination. Straddling him now and staying close to his face, you bit his bottom lip with your teeth. Letting go, you grinned like a mad woman.
“I’m going to prove that you’re also mine.”
tag list: @ruletarts @andyshitposts @thepowerthismanhasoverme @chshiresins @cellgore @sukioyakio @stinygirl009 @freshtoes
#miguel spiderverse#miguel x reader#miguel o’hara#miguel o’hara smut#miguel o’hara x reader#miguel spiderman#miguel o'hara#miguel smut#atsv miguel
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if you're still looking for shy reader ones (with a hint of smuttiness) maybe Eddie finds shy reader's sex toys?
ty! — eddie munson stumbles upon your sex toy and shy!you learns to cope (shy!fem!r, fluff, allusions to smut 18+)
Twisted in thin sheets and Eddie’s Hellfire shirt, you fight for slumber in the honeyed haze of your bedroom. You rest on your stomach, arms wrenched around the pillow you clutch to your face. A heavy, comforting weight smooths over your back in the familiar shape of Eddie Munson. A lazy smile tugs at your lips.
“How are we supposed to nap if you won’t stop touching me?” you mumble as the boy sprinkles chaste kisses to your jaw and neck.
“Can’t help it. You’re too pretty,” he slurs, still sleepy but trying to fight it.
The tip of his nose traces your pulse point when he moves down to kiss the bare skin of your shoulder — where the neck of your shirt has fallen slightly down. Chill bumps erupt beneath his touch. You feel his smile contort against your skin.
“Don’t pretend you don’t like it,” Eddie teases. “I know you do.”
“Hm,” you hum, writhing slightly between the mattress and his body. “I do like it,” you confess in a half-muffled murmur.
“Yeah?”
You nod against the pillow. “Very much…”
His bare stomach settles flush against your back when he rises on his forearms. His crotch ruts subtly (only sort of unintentionally) against your ass — cock already half-hard and aching. His plush mouth brushes the shell of your ear. You fight back a shiver.
“Have any rubbers?” he mumbles.
“Top drawer. On the right.”
Eddie scoffs and sits back on his haunches, taking his warmth and the covers with him. He swats your ass with a rough, but not unkind hand, before rising off the squeaking mattress. “You minx,” he chuckles. “What the hell do you have a pack of rubbers here for?”
You giggle weakly into the pillow. “The same reason everyone has ‘em, Eds.”
“Who else are you using them with, huh?”
You’d roll your eyes at him if they were open. “No one,” you scoff. “You’ll be pleased to find them unopened.”
With your eyes still shut, you only hear the squeaking of an opened drawer. You wait for the sound of Eddie ripping the box open like a total maniac, but it never comes. The strange silence makes your chest ache.
“Well…” Eddie scoffs in a teasing lilt. “What is this?”
You lift your heavy head from the pillow to glance at him over your shoulder. Squinting with tired eyes, you find the boy on the exact opposite side of the dresser you pointed him towards. Your veins flood with an ice-cold horror.
“I said on the right!” you shout, rising from the mattress and rushing towards him with a newfound life.
“This is the right!” Eddie argues, then makes an L shape with both his hands. His brows raise beneath his fluffy bangs when he realizes he’s gotten them backwards. “…Oh.”
You slam the drawer shut, as if the damage hasn’t already been done.
You’re not sure what’s more embarrassing, actually — the fact that your boyfriend’s just seen your drawer of sex toys, or the fact that they’re audibly jostling against one another while you try to hide them. Both equally make you so mortified you could die.
“Hey!” Eddie shouts. “I was looking at those!”
You glare at him. “Don’t make fun!”
“I’m not making fun!” he assures through a set of boyish giggles. He gestures wildly with ringed hands and tells you, “You’re a girl with needs, babe— I’m actually glad you’re taking care of yourself when I’m not around.”
“Eddie!” you shout, equal parts scolding and whining.
He laughs again, louder now but no less sincere. “I’m serious! You don’t have to be embarrassed about it, okay? It’s normal. And it doesn’t bother me. Alright? No big deal.” He tilts his wild head to his shoulder and smiles lazily down at you. “Well. As long as you’re not planning on trading me for Mr. Sparkling Pink Vibrator in there—”
You swat half-heartedly at his chest, face screwed with a distant horror. “I said don’t make fun!” you grouse and try to step back from him.
Eddie pulls you back by your wrists, making you stumble into his chest. He ducks down until the tip of his nose brushes the bridge of yours. With a bright pink and crooked beam, he tells you, “I’m kidding, alright? I’m just messin’. I’ll leave you alone about it, okay?”
“Promise?” you murmur in a mousy voice.
“Mhm. I promise,” he nods once, then can’t help but smirk. “Unless, you know, you ever wanna use ‘em together…”
Your nose scrunches at the offer. Not because you don’t like it (your stomach is warm and swirling at the thought), but because you didn’t like he would. “You’d wanna do that? With me?”
“Yeah. You know, whenever you want. No big deal…” he shrugs and tries to be cool about it.
But the thought of pinning you beneath his body, piercing you with his cock, and holding the pretty vibrator to your clit while you scream for him — unable to decide whether you want more of his merciless pleasure or if you can’t take any of it anymore — makes his hands tremble with yearning.
“Though… Now would be preferable.”
#published by bug#eddie munson x reader#stranger things x reader#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson x you#eddie munson imagine#eddie munson#stranger things imagine#stranger things#stranger things fic#stranger things fanfiction#stranger things fanfic#eddie munson fanfiction#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson fic#st drabbles#eddie spaghetti drabble
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cam girl (part one)
pairing rafe cameron x female reader
rating explicit 18+
summary you work two jobs. by day, you’re a maid for the cameron household, where rafe degrades you any chance he can get. by night, you’re a cam girl, hiding your face so nobody can recognize you. when you discover your new subscriber, the filthy-mouthed man obsessively paying you to do everything he can think of, is rafe, you’re not sure what to do next.
» masterlist
+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*
“Make sure to bend down real low.” Rafe’s deep voice startles you.
You’re kneeling down as you fill the freezer with the groceries that were just delivered. You thought you were alone in the massive kitchen, but sure enough, Rafe is taunting you again.
You don’t even need to turn to look at him to know he’s wearing a self-satisfied smirk. A depraved part of you is excited he’s there.
“Is there anything I can get you?” you mutter, your attention still focused on your work. It’s your go-to phrase whenever he bothers you. Professional, but not exactly friendly.
“Yeah, is that the only uniform they give you?” he asked. “You don’t have anything tighter?”
You stand and turn to finally look at him. His baseball hat is on backwards and his arms are crossed, large biceps bulging beneath the hem of his t-shirt.
You smooth down the loose gray knee-length dress you’re wearing and you swear he’s undressing you with his coy blue eyes. You hate that it arouses you when he looks at you like that.
You’ve gotten used to Rafe teasing you. You’re almost sure he gets off on degrading you. There are other maids but you’re the only one he does this to.
“Nope, this is it,” you say curtly. If you didn’t need this job, you’d cuss this man out. Probably even slap him. But you need to stay cordial, and he knows that, riding the power trip whenever he can.
“Too bad.” Rafe knocks on the kitchen island before turning to leave. “I can tell you’re hiding a nice ass under there.”
You feel your cheeks burn as you go back to work. You only come to work at the estate on Wednesdays and Saturdays and the days can’t go by fast enough.
You appreciate every dollar you can make these days as a struggling college student. Thankfully, your other job as a cam girl has been bringing in more and more money.
After you finish up your day at the Camerons’ estate, you drive your rusted, old car to your apartment in the south part of the island. The space is tiny, but it’s yours, and it’s good enough for now.
You go live for half an hour at 10 pm every other night of the week. Getting your start as a cam girl took some time, but now you have 32 subscribers and are starting to make good money off the website.
Tonight, you’re dressed in a black push-up bra and matching thong. You never show your face higher than your lips, refusing to risk anyone recognizing you.
This is just for the money, although you can admit to yourself that you find pleasure in knowing you can turn on so many strangers with your body. You sit on your bed, your toys ready off-screen.
Over your last session, a new user with the screen-name figure8 joined your chat. It threw you for a loop for a moment, prompting you to worry it was somebody you know from the Kooks’ part of the island, but the chances are slim. Figure 8 is a general term and the man could be from anywhere.
“Hey,” you say slowly. “How was everyone’s day? Mine was so long.”
figure8 didn’t say anything the other night, just watched and subscribed at the end of the stream, but tonight, he types something a minute into the session as you sit in front of the camera, running your hands over your satin bra.
figure8: you gonna show those perfect tits?
You giggle, immediately stepping into your cam girl persona. You check to see that twelve users are now viewing your stream.
“You’d like that, huh?” you ask, peeling off a bra strap. “Anyone else wanna see what’s underneath?”
You notice the bouncing dots on the screen that tell you that viewers are typing.
v2bo: yes
dragon89: take it off
stonyon: play with your tits
You strip off your bra, touching yourself, your breath hitching as arousal tightens in your core.
Without hesitation, you picture Rafe’s hands on you. He’s always on your mind during your cam sessions as you impulsively imagine his broad frame on top of you, dominating you.
You try to play it off when he taunts you at work, but it’s not until you’re touching yourself that you realize just how much it turns you on when he talks to you the way he does in his deep, mocking tone.
figure8: you like to get your tits played with?
You smirk, surprised someone is asking you what you enjoy. Typically, viewers like to simply compliment you or order you around, but you never get asked about your preferences.
“I love getting my tits played with,” you purr.
You press your arms to squeeze your tits together.
figure8: you like a cock between your tits don’t you princess
The sexy nickname makes you quiver a little. You bite your bottom lip.
“I’m so wet already,” you moan. “And thinking about a cock right here…”
You take a dildo you keep off-screen and place it between your tits. You part your lips as you rub the toy up and down, hearing the chimes of tips from your chat coming in.
figure8: bet you’re so good at sucking dick. i’d fuck your tits and that pretty little mouth so nicely
“You wanna see how I use my mouth?” you tease.
v2bo: deepthroat
You put the tip of the dildo on your tongue, flicking and rolling it. When you finally put your mouth around it, you close your eyes, thinking of Rafe in his kitchen, thinking of getting on your knees and sucking him off.
dragon89: put it in your pussy
A new notification pops up on your screen: figure8 is requesting a private show. Your heart-rate skyrockets.
You’d never gotten the request before. You had set the rate at $250 for a private session, half-expecting that you wouldn’t get any takers. You’re excited about the money and the fact that this new, intriguing viewer is the one who requested it.
You quickly type privately to figure8: This session ends at 10:30 and then I’m all yours, baby.
You continue to play with the dildo using your mouth, getting it wet all over, when a private chat comes in from figure8: how much for u to end the live and go private with me right now?
You don’t want to risk asking for too much and scaring the man away, but the possibility of making more in a private session than you would in a live one is compelling.
You never know much the live sessions will bring, but a private show is guaranteed money. Ending your session early might piss off your subscribers and maybe even make you lose some of them… but you impulsively reply: $1000.
Within a few seconds, you get a tip notification.
figure8 tipped you $1000.
You quickly end your live session, deciding to later tell your subscribers that your internet went out, then open the private session with figure8.
“Hello,” you whisper. “You want me to be your own personal toy, huh?”
figure8: i dont like to share
You laugh. If he’s willing to continue to pay you for private sessions, you’re happy to oblige.
“What would you like to see?” you ask. “You wanna see how I’d suck your cock?”
figure8: tap it against your mouth
“You’d tease me, wouldn’t you?” you whisper. You tap the dildo on your lips, sticking out your tongue.
figure8: princess i’d go so slow with you until you’re soaked and begging for my cock
You feel yourself get wetter reading his words. He’s not like any of the other viewers you’ve had. He’s asking what you like, calling you a sweet name, not rushing anything.
“You want me aching for it, huh?” you purr. You put the dildo in your mouth again, slowly sucking and slurping.
figure8: that mouth is so fucking pretty
You continue to lick and suck, moaning on the toy, your panties drenched now.
“I want it inside me,” you say, realizing you’re not even speaking through your persona anymore. You’re actually turned on by him, actually wanting to fuck yourself with the dildo.
figure8: not yet. keep sucking it
You giggle, half-frustrated, and obey him.
“You touching yourself right now?” you ask.
figure8: yeah. wanna see?
You have the option of enabling media from viewers, but you never thought you’d want to see a stranger like that. But this man is something else. You click on the button to allow him to send you a photo.
“Send it so I can imagine you hard in my mouth,” you purr.
A few moments pass before the picture comes in. He’s lying down in bed, showing a bit of his toned stomach, his large hand at the base of his dick. It’s thick and long and so damn perfect.
“Shit,” you whisper. “Such a nice cock. I don’t think I could fit it all in my mouth.”
You’re not just saying it to flatter him. He’s huge.
figure8: you could if you tried hard enough
You lick your lips, pushing the dildo deep into your mouth, gagging a little.
figure8: the way you choke on it is so hot. fuck
“How am I doing?” you coo.
figure8: such a good girl. let me see how you touch your pussy. keep the panties on
The praise makes you ache for it even more. This started off as a job, a way to make money, but now you’re genuinely excited, wishing this guy could fuck you for real.
You tilt your laptop down, spreading your legs in front of the camera as you sit on your bed. Your thong is still on, but it’s see-through. You watch yourself on the screen, tits still in view as you put your hand over your pussy.
figure8: be slow with it
“You’re torturing me, you know,” you giggle. “I’m not a patient girl.”
figure8: i’ll make u be patient. i want u to beg
“Please let me take these panties off,” you whimper. “I need to touch myself.”
figure8: put your panties to the side
You obey, moaning at the pleasure of your fingers finally on your clit. You rub in circles an up and down, trembling.
figure8: wish i could eat you out right now. you want my mouth on your pussy?
“Fuck, I’d love that,” you say, imagining Rafe looking up at you through his beautiful eyes as he licks your pussy.
figure8: show me how wet you are. put your fingers up to the camera
You do as you’re told, showing him your wetness as it shimmers in the white light from the screen.
“See how much you turn me on?” you say.
figure8: take the panties off and stretch out your pussy lips
You eagerly slide your underwear off and throw them beside your bed. With your legs spread again, you pull your lips apart, giving him the perfect view.
figure8: good girl. you listen so well
You get a notification that he tipped you $500. You never thought you’d make this much money in one night.
“Thank you, baby,” you giggle. “You love this pussy, huh?”
figure8: ur so fucking perfect. i want to cum inside u. put the dildo in nice and slow, princess
“Finally,” you say. “Your cock would slide in so easily right now. I’m so fucking wet.”
The toy fills you perfectly, making you quiver. You start to slowly thrust it in and out, but the chat chimes again.
figure8: i know you’re needy but i said slow. put the dildo in and move your hand. i wanna see it inside you
“Sorry,” you tease. You move your hand so he can see the toy inside you. You watch yourself in the screen, the dildo hugged perfectly between your walls.
figure8: you’d squeeze my cock so fucking well
“What if you’re too big for me, hmm?”
figure8: princess we’d make it fit
You’re nearly writhing at this point. You scroll back up to see his nude photo again, imagining it inside of you.
“Your dick is so fucking nice,” you groan.
figure8: show me how you like to be fucked. make yourself cum. don’t fake it. i wanna hear u cum for real
You obey, thankful he’s finally letting you orgasm. You hold the base of the toy and plunge it in and out of you, the lewd sound filling your bedroom, and use your other hand to rub your clit. You whimper, making sure to keep your face out of frame, imagining this stranger thrusting into you.
You let the sounds of pleasure spill out of your mouth, uninhabited, knowing he’s stroking his dick to you right now.
The orgasm hits you hard, your legs shaking. You’re panting as you look at your screen to see what he said.
figure8: i just came so fucking hard
“I wish your cum was inside of me,” you say breathlessly. You try to catch your breath as he continues to type.
figure8: what’s ur favorite position?
“Doggy,” you say, surprised he wants to know more. “What’s yours?”
figure8: thats mine too. you can show me next time, princess
“You wanna do this again, huh?” you tease.
figure8: i dont want you showing your body to any other guy. i’ll pay you double what you make on your streams if you only do private shows for me
The idea intrigues you. It’s sexy how he doesn’t want to share you at all.
“How often you want to do these, baby?” you ask.
figure8: every night. i’ll give you 1000 for every show and tips for when you deserve it. i want to buy you some things and watch you use them. you’re mine and mine only
The thought of making $1000 a night is unbelievable. This guy is loaded with cash and wants to spend so much on you.
You would lose the following you worked hard to get, but you’d undoubtedly make way more money being this man’s personal cam girl.
“Deal,” you finally say with a disbelieving laugh. “Same time tomorrow?”
figure8: don’t be late
The chat window notifies you that he left. You’re still breathless, shocked at how you didn’t have to fake the orgasm with him.
You scroll to find his dick pic again, as if you’re addicted to looking at it. You turn your camera off and now that you can angle your screen up, you can take a better look at the image.
Your stomach drops. The gold ring around his forefinger. The bedsheets you change twice a week. You know who it is.
The man you just orgasmed with was Rafe.
{ read part two here }
#rafe cameron#rafe obx#rafe x reader#rafe outer banks#rafe imagine#rafe smut#rafe fic#rafe x you#rafe fanfiction#rafe cameron fic#rafe cameron smut#obx fanfiction#obx fic#obx x reader#obx smut#mine#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron x y/n
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always gonna protect you
luke castellan x fem!reader
prompt : pulling you by the waist this has to be one of the best things ever
𝐍𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍
being drenched in red water was not how you imagined your day going.
but thanks to the scoundrels in the area cabin, it’s how your day was ending.
your clothes drenched and discoloured because they thought you were someone else.
great.
you were just doing a quick check of the cabins before you finished up for the night, but unfortunately you had come to check on ares too soon.
and now you were going to be late to your plans.
yourself and luke had made plans with a couple other camp counsellors but you were going to have to catch up later.
you were not about to rock up stained pink.
so you headed into your own cabin to shower, and then rinsed out your clothes to get the dye out of them before you hung them to dry.
luckily nothing you were wearing was white so the discolouring wasn’t a massive issue.
but that made you a full 20 minutes late for your plans with everyone, meaning you skipped heading to the original meeting place and just walked down towards the waterfront where you had planned to hang out
you found the group sat around two sets of picnic benches with a pizza laid infront of them.
when one of your friends noticed you approaching she deviated from the group, pulling you into a hug and pulling you towards the benches.
your eyes immediately met luke’s and a smile spread across both of your faces as you took a seat on the same side of the bench as him.
though your focus was more on the pizza and explaining why you were damp.
“ares kids tried to prank someone else and i ended up dyed red” you explained as you grabbed a slice of pizza and moved your damp locks away from your face.
thankfully the conversation moved swiftly on to someone else’s plans to head into the city in a couple of days.
you were honestly more focused on your pizza than the conversation.
your attention was pulled from both of those when you felt a pair of hands settle on your waist and pull you backwards along the bench.
you didn’t need to turn around to know it was luke. you were familiar with the wide spread of his hands on your skin.
when you felt your back hit his chest you tilted your head to rest on his shoulder and look up into his chestnut eyes.
a warm feeling spread across your chest when he smiled at you.
“hi”
“hi” you replied, unable to contain your smile, especially when he leant down to press a kiss onto your temple.
“you want to come stay in my cabin tonight? keep you away from those pesky ares?” he suggested
“you gonna protect me?” you teased
“ ‘m always gonna protect you, baby” he muttered as he pressed a soft kiss onto your lips.
a wave of gagging noises and ‘aw’s came from the other counsellors
#·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ 𝐥𝐮𝐤𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐧#·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ 𝐟𝐢𝐜#luke castellan x reader#luke castellan x you#luke castellan imagine#luke castellan fluff#luke castellan pjo#pjo series#percy jackson show#percy jackon and the olympians#pjo show#percy jackson series#luke castellan#charlie bushnell#percy jackson and the olympians#percy jackson spoilers#percy jackson disney+#percy jackson tv show#pjo tv show#percabeth#pjo luke#pjo#pjo spoilers#pjo fandom#grover underwood#annabeth chase#pjo hoo toa#charlie bushnell x reader#charlie bushnell icons#luke pjo
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Anon request: “could you do something enemies/rivals where bucky accidentally finds out that you have a mirror kink during a training session?”
Yes, absofuckinglutely yes.
Watch Me
Rival!Bucky Barnes x Reader
Word Count 2.4k
ALL OF MY WORK IS 18+
C/W: Language, fingering, size kink, mirror kink, choking, degradation (Bucky calls reader a slut once), hate sex (p-in-v unprotected), one lil spank, no aftercare and Bucky’s kind of an asshole.
“You’re distracted!” Bucky grunts, landing another painful blow to your gut, causing you to stumble backwards as he effectively knocks the wind out of you again.
“Just shut up, Barnes!” You snap back, resting your hands on your knees as you hunch over and work to catch your breath.
He wasn’t wrong, you were completely distracted. You couldn’t tear your gaze away from the wall of mirrors behind him and it only made it that much easier for him to land hit after fucking hit.
You may absolutely loathed the man but it didn’t change the fact that the way his muscles flexed in his back and biceps in the reflection of the mirror behind him as he pummeled you with his fists sent your mind reeling with thoughts of how those toned muscles would feel under your hands, your lips, your tongue.
Why couldn’t this man wear a goddamned shir-
He strikes you hard in the chest despite you being bent over and at rest and you stagger back in shock, the force of it having you struggling to maintain your balance and remain upright. Your temporary disorientation allows him the opportunity to wrap his right arm around your neck and pull you into a sleeper hold.
“Wanna tell me why you keep lookin’ in that mirror?” He breathes against your ear, his tone assuring you that there’s a smirk creeping across his stupid fucking face.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You pant through gritted teeth, jerking your shoulders against his arm, working to free yourself from his chokehold.
He shakes his head, a sardonic laugh rumbling up from his chest as his forearm tightens across your windpipe. “Tap out.” He orders. “You can’t fucking handle me, princess. You don’t belong in the field. You’re weak. It’s pathetic.” His voice is low and cruel as you continue to struggle. “You’re gonna get yourself killed, or worse- get one of us killed.”
Rage simmers in your belly at his comment but the shame you feel from the truth of it is evident in the crimson blush creeping across your face.
He was right again.
You were weak.
That’s exactly why Tony had scheduled you to spar with him. Had you not been explicitly instructed to have training sessions by Tony Stark himself, you wouldn’t be caught dead alone in a room Bucky fucking Barnes and his smug ass attitude. It was no secret that this man was the bane of your existence, taking every opportunity to pick a fight and belittle you in front of everyone regardless of the time, place or context.
Unfortunately when it came to hand to hand combat, he was the most skilled out of anyone else on the team. so it made sense to pair you with him for training despite how much you had protested the idea. As you spent the last hour getting taunted and insulted while simultaneously having your ass handed to you, you couldn’t help but feel like Tony was just putting you in a room with him for his own amusement.
The anger overtakes the shame and you grit your teeth, bringing your head forward before slamming it back into his face with all the strength you could muster, pain erupting across the crown of your head. Bucky releases you, stunned and furious, bringing his fingertips up to swipe away the trickle of blood that trailed from his nostril. He lifts his gaze to meet yours, his cerulean eyes narrowing.
“A fucking headbutt? Are you kidding me?” He shouts, advancing on you. “You’re supposed to grab onto your opponent’s arm, bend your knees, sidestep and roll me off your back! Have you paid attention to anything I’ve told you?” He asks, leaning over you with a menacing glare. “You could’ve given yourself a goddamn concussion, you idiot!”
You scoff, stepping up on your tiptoes in an attempt to to make yourself appear taller, more confident but you nearly shrink right back down when the scent of his cologne mingled with the musk of his sweat hits your nostrils.
Goddamnit, he smells like cedarwood and sin.
“I was paying attention! Do you really expect me to be able to roll your big ass over my back? That’s impossible!” You argue.
“Bullshit. You’re distracted. You’ve been distracted this entire time.” He growls, prodding a finger into your chest.
“Don’t fucking touch me.” You threaten, moving to swat his hand away but he’s quicker and snatches your wrist.
“Don’t touch you?”
Bucky leans down further and you stiffen at his sudden closeness.
“I think you like when I touch you.” He taunts, tightening his metal hand around your wrist and spinning you away from him to face the line of mirrors across the wall.
“Fuck you, Barnes.”
“You want to, don’t you?” He asks in a low voice as he leans in behind you, trailing his flesh hand up your abdomen and closing it around your throat. You don’t reply, unable to form a coherent thought when his body dwarfs yours, towering over you from behind. He closes in, pressing his bare, sweat slicked chest against your upper back, drawing a sharp breath from your lungs when the length of his hard cock in his gym shorts settles against the curve of your ass.
“I think you forget.” He whispers, the light stubble across his jaw brushing against the shell of your ear as he speaks.
“Super soldier. I’m enhanced. My senses are enhanced.”
His hand tightens around your throat, your pulse fluttering against his palm.
“I can hear your heartbeat, princess.” He taunts, his breathy chuckle fanning against your skin before he nips at your earlobe and goosebumps prickle across your skin.
“I can smell how badly your cunt is aching for me.”
Your eyes widen in response to his brazen statement and you make a move to step out of his hold but he splays his large hand across your stomach and tuts at you.
“Don’t try to deny it.” He whispers, his metal hand slowly working its way down your body. “You know, it’s funny. You say you hate me, but your body’s betraying you.” His cool fingers tease at the waistband of your leggings and your breath hitches, your eyes slipping shut.
“I bet if I were to just-“
Your hand catches his wrist before his fingers can trek any further and you shake your head. “No.” You mumble, opening your eyes and connecting your gaze with his in the mirror.
“Why?” He asks, brushing his lips against your neck. You tilt your chin up, granting him further access and he chuckles against your skin when you avoid answering his question.
“Because you don’t want to? Or because you hate me so much you don’t want me to be right?” He asks quietly.
You open your mouth to reply but the only sound that slips out is a moan when he proceeds to dip his fingers beneath your waist band, ghosting a finger across your slick folds.
“That’s what I thought.” He whispers, gathering your arousal on your fingers and tracing them along your clit in slow, deliberate circles.
“Jesus, Princess. You’re so fucking wet.”
You groan, trying desperately to remind yourself just how much you loathe this man but every brush of his fingers against your clit pulls you further and further away from logic.
Fuck it.
You arch your back against him and hook your thumbs in your waistband, tugging your leggings and panties down and kicking them aside in a hurry. Your eyes are completely fixed on the mirror, staring at his hand cupping your cunt and you place your hand atop his, guiding his metal fingers towards your entrance.
“Oh, is that right?” He teases, his finger poised at your weeping hole but denying you of what you so desperately want.
“I had a hunch when you couldn’t take your eyes off my reflection earlier but now I know for sure.”
You grit your teeth in frustration, exhaling sharply through your nose. “I hate you.” You whisper harshly, grinding your backside against his erection.
“I know.”
He sinks a single metal finger into your wet heat and you gasp at the sensation, keeping your eyes locked on your reflection as he pumps into you, his breath growing heavy against your neck as he adds a second finger, letting out a low groan when he’s met with resistance.
“You’re so fucking tight.” He murmurs, grazing his teeth along the tender flesh of your neck.
“I'm gonna have to open you up, princess.”
You whimper, your head falling back to rest against his shoulder as he scissors his fingers inside your cunt, massaging your inner walls and working to add a third finger. A cry escapes your throat at the intrusion, your hand flying up and carding in his hair to steady yourself.
“I’m gonna bury my cock in this tight little cunt.” He purrs, rocking his fingers into you, his palm grinding against your clit and your impending orgasm causing your pussy to flutter around his fingers. He grips your jaw and roughly tilts your head back down to look in the mirror. “You're gonna watch me when I make you come.” He growls, fucking his fingers into you at a steady pace, your arousal creating an obscene squelch with every pump of his hand.
Your eyes trail up the reflection of your body as it writhes in pleasure under his touch and your eyes connect with his. Your mouth falls open, a broken cry falling from your lips as your walls clench around his fingers and you break under the gaze of his blue, lust-blown eyes. He hums, his grip on your jaw loosening and he turns your head, capturing your mouth in a deep and passionate kiss as he withdraws his fingers from inside you. “Take my cock out.” He murmurs against your lips, his low voice carrying demand while grasping your wrist and guiding your hand to palm the aching erection tented in his gym shorts.
You don’t hesitate to follow his instruction, reaching under his waistband and curling your hand around him, letting out whine when you realize you can’t close your hand completely around his girth.
“I told you.” He whispers, peppering kisses across your jaw. “I needed to open you up for me.”
You release a shuddered breath and he pushes down on the small of your back to urge you to lean forward, his metal fingers tracing along your shoulder and down your arm to settle atop your hand. He brings it to the mirror, interlocking your fingers with his and pressing it against the glass.
“I’m not gonna be gentle. You know that, right?” He asks in a low voice, dragging the head of his cock along your slick folds. You catch your bottom lip between your teeth and choke back a moan as he releases your hand and widens his stance.
You watch as his eyes drop to your ass, his large palm resting flat against it to hold you steady while he grasps the base of his cock and presses himself against your entrance. You raise your other hand to the mirror, leaning forward with a bowed head and brace yourself against it as the sweet sting of him stretching you steals the air from your lungs.
“I don’t want you to be.” You breathe out, lifting your head weakly and connecting your gaze with his as he settles his hands on your waist.
No sooner than the words leave your mouth, he’s drawing his hips back, withdrawing almost completely before he slams back into you with bruising force. You let out a strangled cry, your eyes rolling back as he thrusts into you at a merciless pace.
A harsh slap to your ass directs your attention back up to his reflection where his hungry eyes are still fixated on you.
“I thought I told you to watch me when I make you come.” He grunts, pulling a sharp breath from you as he snaps his hips forward and kisses your cervix with the tip of his weeping cock. He slides his hand down across your pubic bone and slips it down between your folds to tease your throbbing clit. His fingers work quick, tight circles across your sensitive bud, igniting a fire low in your belly and spreading heat under your skin.
“You like that, huh?” He taunts, his voice low and husky as he fucks into you with unrelenting tempo. “You like to watch yourself when you’re getting fucked, don’t you? Kinky little slut.”
“Bucky, I-”
You lose your words in a choked sob, arching your back as your cunt spasms and contracts around his cock, your knees threatening to buckle under the wave of euphoria crashing over your body.
“That’s right Princess, come all over my cock.” He moans, his hips stuttering as he trails his fingers away from your swollen clit.
He digs his fingers into the soft flesh of your waist, chasing his orgasm in deep, brutal thrusts, his heavy sack slick with your release, slapping against your skin with every jerk of his hips.
“Fuck, I’m gonna come.” He grunts, his rhythm growing sloppy and erratic as his muscles tense.
He pulls out abruptly and you lock eyes in the mirror one last time, his brows knitting and his lips parting as he curses your name, frantically fucking his fist and painting your ass with thick ropes of cum.
You press your forehead against the cool glass before you as you work to catch your breath and it’s silent for several long, uncomfortable minutes before you hear the faint rustle of him tugging up his shorts.
You straighten up and turn around to see him moving towards you with his gym bag slung over his shoulder and his t-shirt in his hand.
“Good session.” He says flatly, tossing his t-shirt at you and you catch it, your brows furrowing in confusion. The corners of his mouth twitch up into a smug smirk and he gestures towards your sticky ass.
“I hate you.” You mutter, shame rising up your cheeks in a deep blush as you wipe yourself angrily with his t-shirt.
“I know.” He replies, not bothering to hide the amusement in his voice while he turns to leave.
“Same time tomorrow!” He shouts over his shoulder, leaving you alone, ashamed and naked in the gym.
Goddamnit, you fucking hate him.
Taglist (Taglist is open):
@littleone2001 @suz7days @truthfulliarr @lilacka @writtingrose @samsgoddess @loveisallyouneed1125 @vicmc624 @millercontracting @wildernessflora @mydorkyboys @blackhawkfanatic @honestlywork @ladyvenera @cavity-exe @ihavetwoholesforareason @km-ffluv @22rhianna2006 @fanfictionreaderfan @misshale21 @wintrsoldrluvr
A/N: Thank you anon for this request, I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!
💋Sj
#bucky barnes oneshot#bucky barnes smut#avengers smut#marvel smut#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes request#bucky barnes reader insert#smut requests#bucky barnes x reader requests#marvel fanfiction#smutty one shot
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