#even though it had never been anything but me being someone else’s resource. as usual
Text
dreamed about [redacted] again :/
#something tells me i should reach out but like. do i really want to.#he still comes back to california not once has he contacted me#he used to contact me all the time to ask for help and i’d give it#then we graduated and. no more#i mean it’s just another instance of me being useful and used and then. nothing more when all was said and done#there’s been too many of those.#maybe someday i’ll be more than useful to someone. maybe someday i’ll be more than a resource#someday i’ll be loved for who i am and not just how good of a network connection i can be. or how much of myself i can give#someday i’ll spend time in the light instesd of being the background of someone else’s achievement#but until then i guess i keep dreaming about a kid who prints financial reports in yellow#and i guess i keep dreaming about the alps#and i guess i keep dreaming about things that can’t and won’t be#they’re the reason i gave all that up lol#and it’s so lonely when i see people with their partners because it reminds me that i said ‘never again’ at 18#even though it had never been anything but me being someone else’s resource. as usual#have i been used so much that i’ll make a mountain out of it?#i should take it back but idk. letting my heart become impenetrable or whatever cs lewis said. locking it so it won’t get broken. lol
3 notes
·
View notes
Text
This Is Always
From the Love Letter Series
Robert “Rosie” Rosenthal x Josephine Harris (OFC)
The holidays are usually a time to be spent together, cold noses warmed by the fire, and joyful cheers as the New Year approaches. This year, Rosie is struggling with being away from Jo, and acknowledging the future that he dreams of sharing with her. A heart to heart with Crosby helps put things into perspective for both of them.
Read Part 3 Here
Follow along with the Love Letters Playlist
January 1944
My Dearest Jo,
Happy New Year, honey pie! It’s just after midnight here, and though I wanted to be the first person to wish you a Happy New Year, I know that by the time you get this, it will be after the fact. I guess by writing this now, while it’s still ‘43 back home, I’m letting myself be greedy in being the first to send you those wishes. I hope you’re doing something fun tonight, and getting all dolled up to paint the town red. Your last letter came just after Christmas, but I would be remiss if I didn’t tell you just how happy it made me to hear that you were still doing all of your usual Christmas favorites, even if I’m not home to carry all your shopping bags back to Brooklyn after a full day in the city. Believe me, I even miss doing that, no matter how heavy some of them are.
I got Ma’s last letter just a few days before yours arrived, and she mentioned that you went by the house to celebrate Hanukkah with her and Jeanie. I know that made her really happy, and I can’t thank you enough for keeping an extra eye on both of them for me while I’m stuck over here. My sister would argue that she doesn’t need anyone keeping an eye on her, but I’m sure she appreciates your company, and will rub it in my face after the fact that she got to spend so much time with you. That’s what little sisters do, isn’t it?
We had a small thing in the Officers Club for the holidays; nothing too fancy, but there was music, and some good liquor that someone managed to scrounge up for the occasion. The Red Cross Clubmobile girls pulled some resources and, even with rationing, managed to bake a few cookies for us. They were good, but they couldn't hold a candle to yours.
I have never wanted one of your Christmas cookies more than after reading your letter, and to know that Jean Crosby took over as the official taste tester this year; oh it broke my heart darling. But, I’m glad to know that you two girls are keeping each other company, and I know that Croz is happy knowing that she’s not alone. I do hope you two aren’t causing too much trouble while we’re away. Knowing you the way that I do, I know that’s a bit of a pipe dream, but one of the reasons I adore you the way that I do.
At the risk of sounding melancholy, I’ve spent most of today wishing I could take you dancing; spin you around until we’re both dizzy, until finally we can ring in the new year with champagne. Crowded on the dance floor at Minton’s, wrapped up in each other. Maybe it’s bold of me to ask, or maybe it’s the whiskey, but would you have allowed me a midnight kiss, Jo? I can’t picture kissing anyone else as the clock strikes twelve, nor do I want to, on this holiday or any other day. I hope that by next year, we'll be able to spend the evening together, and not have to send holiday wishes in letters that take too long to get there.
I dream of you every night, sweetheart, and every night these sweet dreams end with a kiss before I’m pulled back to reality. I’ve been dreaming of the future, and if the real thing is anything like my dreams, I can’t wait for those days to begin. I wonder,do you dream of those days too? Of building a home together, a life that’s just ours. Living in the city, maybe somewhere near Harry and Jean. We could go to the pictures on Friday nights, and sleep in on Saturday’s, warm under the blankets until we peel ourselves from the sheets only because we need to make coffee. I’d spin you around the kitchen while we made breakfast, a record on the Victrola, the two of us tangled together while the eggs burned. The more I think about it, the more it all sounds like a dream come true.
Maybe it is the whiskey talking, but it’s getting late here. Or early depending on how you look at it, and even though we aren’t flying tomorrow, I’m sure the rest of the fellas will be returning from the Officers Club soon enough. I’ll be dreaming of you tonight, sweetheart, and counting the days until we’re together again.
Sending you millions of hugs and kisses, and all of my love.
Yours for always
Robbie
Rosie took a deep breath, and without giving himself a chance to second guess anything in his letter, folded it up and slid it inside the envelope. He’d address it in the morning and drop it off at APO so that it went out with the next mail call; tonight it would remain on the nightstand next to his bed, with Jo’s photo. He was still in his uniform, not having bothered changing after he returned to the Officer’s hut, and was about to take advantage of the empty shower stall, when the door swung open and Harry walked in.
“Thought I’d find you in here.” Harry spoke, hand coming up to loosen his tie.
“Yea, I uh, wanted to get a letter out to Jo,” Rosie signed, dragging his hand down his face. ‘Or at the very least, written.”
“It’s rough around the holidays isn’t it.” It wasn’t a question. Harry knew as well as he did, and he knew his friend was giving him an opening to get his feelings off his chest.
“Probably the most difficult part of all this. We’ve spent every Christmas and Hanukkah together since we met.”
“She celebrates Hanukkah with you and your mom?”
“Jo is the best gift giver in our family, according to my sister.” Rosie grinned.
“Sounds like your sister will be the disappointed one if you don’t put a ring on Jo’s finger when we get home.” Harry chuckled, dropping down onto his own bed, across from Rosie’s.
“She’d have to fight my Ma for the top spot, if I don’t marry Jo.”
The two shared a quiet moment as their thoughts drifted to a place far from England. Far from flak and casualties and torn fuselages. No thoughts of missing friends, mission counts or that damned red light never blinking off.
Rosie knew that Harry understood better than anyone; how it felt to be so devoted to someone, and yet, he felt compelled to ask the one question that, if he had to wager, everyone asks at some point.
“How’d you know Jean was the one?” He asked after a moment, gaze turned upward to meet that of his friend.
“She wanted nothing to do with me when we met,” Harry balked so loudly that it seemed to echo off the walls of the Nissen Hut. “But I knew. I didn’t want to spend another day without her.”
“Just like that, huh?”
“Oh yeah, you just know,” Harry nodded. “When did you know Jo was the one? And don’t tell me you didn’t…”
“Let’s just say I should have opened my mouth a long time ago.”
“Well, better late than never.”
“What if I was too late, Croz?”
Harry stood from his bed, moving around the front to lean himself against the footboard. With a determined gaze, he made sure he had Rosie’s full attention before saying what was on his mind.
“You can’t think like that. You need to believe you’re going home to her, that you two will have a life after all this.”
“God, I hope so.”
“I don’t know Jo as well as you do,” He started. “I only know what Jean tells me in her letters, but it sounds to me like she’s really something. And I’m not just saying that because she went out of her way to befriend my wife.”
“I told her I want a life with her, a future, our own place, Saturday mornings in bed, lazy days…”
“You want the dream.” Harry nodded in understanding.
“Told her maybe we’d move to the city, leave Brooklyn, get a place near you and Jean.”
“Sounds like we’ll be in trouble if that happens, Jo and Jean a stone's throw away from each other?”
“I think the two of us are going to have our hands full when we get home, Croz.”
“I bet they’re saying the same thing about us,” Harry laughed. “And I wouldn’t blame Jean. I’ve been a real handful as of late.”
“Oh yea, you’re causing lots of trouble all the way over here.” Rosie chuckled, propping his legs up on the bed, feet hanging off the edge so as to not dirty the sheets. He didn’t miss the slight look of distress that flashed across his friend's face.
He regarded him carefully; he looked like he had something on the tip of his tongue. His face looked worried, like he had something weighing him down exponentially, and Rosie would allow his friend the moment if he needed it. After all, it was the holiday’s and they were the best source of camaraderie that they had; friends should be there for each other. No one understood that better than he did.
“No, I’ve been a handful…” Harry finally continued.
“Croz?”
“Remember after Munster? When Harding sent me to Oxford?”
“Yea…”
“They double you up when you’re at those conferences, and my roommate, she-”
“Ah jeez, Croz…”
Harry sighed, dropping his head, too ashamed to look his friend in the eye. The moment had turned in the blink of an eye, and he wasn’t sure how to handle it, or get his friend through it. But he’d be damned if he didn’t try.
“I don’t know how to tell Jean.”
“Is this why you kept disappearing up to London? To see her?”
“How do I tell my wife that I slept with another woman?”
“You just do, Croz.”
“That’s the worst possible thing to write in a letter. ‘Honey, I miss you terribly, by the way…’”
“Alright, I see your point. But you need to tell her.”
“This fucking war,” Harry sighed. “I swear, it peels the humanity right from your bones.”
“Then you fight it.”
“More than we already have? More than what we’ve given and lost?”
Rosie knew he was referring to Bubbles, and for a moment he let his mind wander to Nash, and that first mission to Bremen. It would be easy to fold; to pack it up and let the fight take from you more and more. But he would be damned if he’d let it take more from him, and if he had to fight a little extra to make sure it didn’t take any more from his friend, he’d do that too.
“You’re not fighting it alone, Croz.”
“Feels like it most of the time.”
“And you’re fighting for something back home, even if you feel like you don’t deserve it at the moment.”
“I don't deserve her.”
“Yea, you do. And you’ll tell her everything, whether you write it, or tell her when we get home. And Jo and I will be there for you both.”
Harry looked like he was about to respond when the door to the Officers Hut swung open. He turned, half expecting a replacement officer, but was surprised to see Blakely and Douglass, the former with a cigarette tucked behind his ear, and Douglass swinging a bottle of something in his left hand.
“Nightcap, fellas?” Douglass lifted the bottle, and Rosie could just make out the label. Vat 69.
“Where the hell did you get that, Dougie?” Harry’s eyes went wide at the familiar label from back home. A very expensive label.
“Been saving it, so come on, let’s have a drink.”
“No, seriously, who’d you steal that from?” Rosie asked, watching as Blakely gathered four of the glasses the boys kept on their side tables for brushing their teeth.
“I won it in a bet, if you must know.” Douglass grinned, pulling the wax seal from the neck of the bottle before pulling the cork out.
“The details are not of importance,” Blakely chimed in, swatting Rosie’s legs off the bed to take up the space next to him. “What is important is that we’re here, and alive, so stop asking questions and have a drink would ya?”
Douglass poured for the four of them, dropping himself down on the bed next to Rosie’s, while waiting for Harry to join them.
“Any day now, Croz…” he groaned, glass between two fingers as he held it out for the navigator. “It’ll be ‘45 by the time you move.”
“Dougie… fuck off.” Harry stood with a laugh, brushing off his slacks before snatching the glass and taking the seat next to him. “And anyway, we’d all better be home by ‘45.”
“I’ll drink to that.” Blakely nodded, holding his glass up to cheers his friends, the only ones left that weren’t replacement crews, or trapped somewhere in the Stalag.
The foursome sat silently as they sipped their prize whiskey, thoughts turned presumably to home and memories of Christmas and New Years’ spent with people they loved and missed.
“Alright, what would you be doing if you were home right now?” Ev broke the silence, leaning his elbows on his knees, gaze landing on Harry.
“His wife, dumbass.” Douglass chuckled.
“Woah hey, none of that.” Rosie looked between the two, the rules immediately being put into place without having to say them.
They didn’t talk like that, but he assumed it had been a bit too much whiskey already for Douglass, and with there no mission on the horizon for tomorrow, their guards were all down a bit.
“Right, right, sorry Croz,” Douglass held his hands up in apology. “For real, what would you and Jean be doing if you were home?”
“We’d go out for dinner, but I think we’d probably be home for the bells,” he closed his eyes wistfully, and Rosie knew his friend was simply hoping that he’d be able to do that next year. “Dance in the living room, and yea, off to bed.”
Blakely nodded, reaching across to drop his hand to Crosby’s knee in a gesture of good faith, that he felt for him in a way, and was hoping he’d get that moment sooner rather than later.
“What about you?” Ev turned to his right, finding Rosie sitting quietly.
“What about me?” Rosie brought the glass to his lips, taking a small sip and letting the taste linger on his tongue a moment.
“Would you and Josephine be out on the town?” Douglass asked, gesturing to the photo on Rosie’s side table.
“Oh yea, we’d be at Minton’s, dancing until they kicked us out I’m sure.” Rosie laughed.
“Together at the club then?”
“Every year we go dancing on New Years,” Rosie started. “Christmas and Hanukkah are for family, New Years is for friends.”
“She’s more than a friend.” Harry looked at him pointedly.
“She is, and a fella can dream that she’ll say yes when I get home.”
Blakely, who had been pulling the cigarette from behind his ear to light it, fumbled, dropping it to the ground at Rosie’s confession.
“You got a ring?!”
“No, but, that’s my second order of business once I’m back stateside.”
“And the first?”
“To kiss the hell out of her.” Rosie confessed.
“Good man.” Blakely slapped him on the shoulder, a smile on his face.
It was absolutely the whiskey talking this time, but he was among friends. The trust was insurmountable. Between the confessions that had taken place before Ev and Dougie had joined them, and the warmth flowing through his veins, Rosie lifted the glass to his lips to drain it, before standing from his place on the bed. Swiping the envelope from earlier, and a clean sheet of paper from the table, he glanced at his friends with a grin, and offered a two fingered salute.
“Gentlemen, I’ll be back.”
“Where are you going! We still have more whiskey!” Douglass hollered after him.
“Save it for another occasion!” Rosie called back as he pushed through the doors and out into the chilly January air.
He walked until he found a spot under one of the lamp posts, the bench undoubtedly cold as he sat down, but he wouldn’t be out here for long. Just enough time, and privacy, to get the thoughts swarming around in his head out on the page before he lost his nerve.
Pulling his pen from his breast pocket, he carefully let the paper rest on his thigh before he began scrawling his extra note.
Hi Sweetheart,
I know this is coming with no context but, I want you to know how much I adore you. I know I’ve said it in different ways, and a few times by now, but, I mean it. Truly, you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I’m sorry it took me so long to say it. And to say it from thousands of miles away, with a war on no less. I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to hit me once I’m back home.
Just know that I’ll always, always, carry your heart with the most careful of hands. I’ll keep you safe, and treasure every moment we have together. Anything you want, it’s yours, Jo. A quiet life together, or a herd of children that jump on the bed on Sunday mornings. I’ll make sure you have it honey.
Just know, I’m yours for however long you’ll have me, Josephine. I’m hoping for forever, but that’s a question for another day.
I love you,
Robbie
Read part 5 Here
A/N: Thanks for reading! This series will continue for Rosie & Jo, so if you enjoyed this, please like, comment, reblog- whichever is your poison. Feedback is always welcome & my ask box is always open. If you want to be added to my tag list, or removed, let me know!
Tag List: @rowdy-redhead @winniemaywebber @sagesolsticewrites @rosiesriveter @bobparkhurst @victoryrollsandredlips @bcolfanfic @major-mads @footprintsinthesxnd @basilone @roosevelt-stalin-cocacola @justheretoreadthxxs @claireelizabeth85 @hephaestn @ktredshoes @barrykeoghussy @peachessndreamss @hellfirequinnie
#masters of the air#love letters: rosie & jo#mota fanfic#rosie rosenthal x ofc#rosie rosenthal fic#robert rosenthal x ofc#rosie rosenthal x oc#nate mann#hbo war#gina baker writes
41 notes
·
View notes
Text
I Left the Lights on For You
Eddie Munson angst and comfort oneshot, Eddie x gender neutral reader, Eddie's a good friend and a sweetheart. Minors DNI
CW: Talk of depression around holidays, mental health issues, self-harm ideation (but not acted upon), drug use. (Positive ending, though) Minors DNI
Summary: The holidays are awful for you. In your darkest moment you turn to Eddie, your dealer, to get something stronger than the usual to ease the pain. Eddie, being no stranger to loneliness and sadness, senses something is very wrong and decides to reach out to you. Eddie Munson x gn reader.
A/N: Sorry for the dark subject matter folks, but I wanted to give some representation of how hard it is for many of us with mental illness this time of the year, and I'd like to think dear sweet Eddie would definitely hold our hands through this. Please, if you are feeling like this in real life, reach out to your friends here or in the 'real' world, to a hotline or a website. Hell, message me! Don't stay quiet and don't suffer alone. You're not bothering anyone. You're a beautiful human being who deserves love and care. Please, please stay. Here is a list of resources in various countries.
Much love,
Peb
I Left the Lights on for You
You trudged through the trailer park in search of Eddie's place, narrowly avoiding spots where black ice had plastered over the gravel of the lot. It wasn't that late but it felt like some kind of eternal arctic night as you trudged through the snowbanks and felt the icy air numb your face.
Having a weird sense of time and feeling numb were nothing new to you by now, albeit in a different way. This time of year was so miserable for you, but you kept that to yourself around everyone else, smiled and played along. Why spoil it for them? The few of “them” that were even there anymore. You'd done a pretty good job of shutting everyone out even before the Christmas depression put the cherry on top of that shitty mental illness sundae.
Even calling Eddie had been difficult. It'd been so long since you used your phone that it had begun to gather dust on the coffee table. You knocked the gray fuzz off with and dialed. Your fingers drummed nervously as the phone rang. Maybe he wouldn't pick up. Maybe this wasn't even his number anymore. Maybe he doesn't want to....
“Hello?” a cheery, lazy voice answered.
“Hey,” you breathed out, not sure if you were relieved or scared to talk to him, “ Hey Eddie, it's...”
“Aww. Sweetheart. Come on. I'd know that voice anywhere. How ya been? What can I do for you?”
You didn't know him that well. As with everyone, you kept him at an arm's length, but he had a persistent warmth about him, like he specifically wanted to thaw you out and liked the challenge. Despite your nerves you couldn't help but smile when he flirted. How long had it been since you smiled?
“Hey uh...well...my stash is running kinda low and I was wondering if you have anything? I'm sorry to call during Christmas break I know you and Wayne must be...you know...celebrating or whatever.”
Eddie busted out a bemused chuckle. You could practically see his big smile from the sound alone. “Nah, honey, don't worry about that. In fact, Wayne moved out with his sweetheart so I'm here all by my lonesome and Christmas isn't exactly my thing. Fucking hate it, actually.”
“Fuck, me too.” you said, with a relieved exhale. “It's nice to hear someone else feels the same way.”
“What was that? I didn't catch what you said after 'fuck me too'.”
You chuckled, “Oh fuck you, Munson.”
“Gladly.”
You were laughing hard now. A genuine laugh. It felt amazing.
“Listen. Why don't you come by the trailer? It's a little cold to do business in the woods.”
Your jaw clenched. You'd never been to Eddie's place. You'd only ever met on neutral ground, specifically, at the picnic table hidden in the trees. This felt oddly personal...intimate.
“Uh...are you sure? I don't want to impose.”
“No! Not at all. I got nothing going on and I'm bored out of my mind. Come on by. I can even smoke you out if you'd like.”
“Uh thanks. That's really nice of you. I'll be there soon, okay. Just gotta get myself together. Which number is your place?”
“Just look for the lights. I'll leave 'em on for you.”
You scrunched your face up in confusion, “Won't everyone have lights up? How will I know which is yours?”
He chuckled again. “Oh you'll know. Trust me. See you soon, sweetheart.”
----
You decided Eddie didn't need to know that just “getting yourself together” would be an ordeal. How long had it been since you showered? Since you'd eaten? What day was it anyway? Settling back into the oppressive darkness within yourself, after the flicker of Eddie's light, made it seem all the darker by contrast; suffocating.
Come on. Not long now. Just get it together...just once more.
The warm shower did feel nice. So did the clean clothes. You stared at yourself in the foggy mirror for a long time. Your own face, blurred around the edges stared back. That seemed appropriate. Seeing your tired eyes and drab shapeless clothes, you felt like a ghost in a human costume; like this was some kind of backwards Halloween. It felt weird and wrong and ill-fitting to try to be a person right now, nonetheless you grabbed your things and hurried out before you could convince yourself not to go.
----
And here you were, swaddled deep in your parka, weaving through a trailer park full of the tackiest yuletide displays you'd ever laid eyes on. Just when you thought you'd never find the one you were looking for, a eerie crimson gleam caught your eye.
Eddie Munson was standing in the doorway of his trailer, surrounded by strand after strand of entirely-red Christmas lights, punctuated by the glowing motifs of pentagrams or skulls. He gave a smirk and opened his arms in a showman's gesture, proud of his handiwork.
“What do you think?”
You giggled. “I love it” you answered, as you pattered onto the porch, eyes wide.
He held the door for you in a gentlemanly gesture, ushering you into the balmy warmth of the trailer.
You don't know what you were expecting of Eddie Munson's habitat but “clean” was certainly not it. Glancing around, you could see that the place was shabby but very clean and tidy, and the tangy smell of lemony soap told you it was recently scrubbed.
“Did...did you just clean for me?”
His cheeks went red and he nervously tousled his hair, “Yeah. I didn't want you to run away screaming because of my gross bachelor pad.”
He looked so cute...devastatingly cute, with his red cheeks, dimpled smile, pajama pants and Garfield slippers. You'd never seen him like this. Every time you'd met before he was all decked out in chains, leather, and ripped jeans (although he was pretty great to look at in that too). You had the thought, not for the first time, that he would be great to look at in or out of anything.
You waved a hand dismissively “Eddie, you really didn't need to do that. My place is a disaster...just like me. I promise I wouldn't have cared.”
He smirked at that but then his big brown eyes scanned you. He could see the dark circles under your eyes, the twitch in your clenched jaw, the way your fingers and feet drummed and fidgeted. This was familiar to Eddie. He knew where you were at immediately because he'd been there himself, and he knew it felt like the bottom of the world.
He cocked his head sideways and looked down at you as he asked a softly, “Hey...are you okay?”
You twitched as if struck, blinked a few times, mustered yet another artificial smile, and nodded like a bobble-head. “Yeah! Yeah...of course. Totally...totally fine.”
He nodded, but his expression was still skeptical. “Well, can I get you something to drink? It's cold out there. Want some coffee or hot chocolate or...”
Your heart was beginning to ache at his kindness; kindness you didn't feel you were worthy of. You had to do what you came here for before you were distracted by it. “No...no. Sorry. Thank you but no.. just ah...let me know what I owe you and I'll leave you alone,” you said, gesturing to the little plastic bag of dried leaves between you.
“No! Really. You don't have to go! I promise. Unless you...you know...don't wanna spend anymore time with The Freak than necessary.” he said with an edge of hurt in his voice.
You came closer and grabbed his arm gently, assuring him, “No! No, Eddie, it's not like that. It's not that at all. You're so...you're so kind. I just...I'm not great company.”
He held both your shoulders, met your eyes with his sincere dark chocolate ones, and said, “You're perfect company. I promise. I'd been wanting to get to know you better and this is nice. Sit tight, take your coat off. I'll heat some cider and roll us a joint.”
You relaxed after his reassuring touch, peeled off your coat, then watched as he puttered around the kitchen. How long had it been since someone touched you? Talked with you? Assured you that you weren't a bother? Could he know how much that meant to you? You hadn't been able to feel much of anything lately except a blunt despair, and you hardly ever cried, so it surprised you when you felt the warm saline misting your tear ducts. You swallowed hard against the lump in you throat, attempting to talk around it. Thankfully his back was turned, so he wouldn't see your troubled face as you inquired, “Actually Eddie, I was wondering...do you have anything stronger?”
He paused with his back to you; movements stopping abruptly to listen closely. “Uh, I'm not sure. I might. What do you have in mind?”
You swallowed. “Ketamine...Vicodin...anything like that.”
He turned around now, brow scrunched and mouth dropped open as he thought, weighing his words and yours. “How much are you thinking? You gotta be careful with that stuff, you know. Space it out. Or with Vicodin...shit...I wouldn't go near that, honey.”
“As much as you can give me” you replied flatly, trying to keep the emotion from your voice.
“Why?” he asked slowly, eyes boring into you. You could tell, even though your gaze was on the floor, glaring hard at the tawny shag carpet.
“I just don't sleep right. You know? I'm nervous all the time. I'm just so...I need something to...to make it stop. Listen, I know it's expensive and I brought the cash for it, so please just...”
Eddie came up closer to you now. Before you knew it, you were mere centimeters from his chest, a Motorhead tee shirt dominating your field of vision. He smelled like detergent and cigarettes and warm skin and you wanted more than anything to snuggle into him forever. He took your face gently in both hands and guided your gaze up to his.
“Honey, look at me. Don't look away, okay?”
All you could do was nod, and swallow down the lump in your throat as you met his gaze. Eddie felt his heart break a little when he saw your beautiful eyes well up and spill over. He stroked your cheeks and said, “Just let it out and let me hold you. You've been holding onto it alone for too long.”
Before you knew it, you were heaving huge gasping sobs into his chest as his long arms encircled you. You panted and coughed like you had been drowning and finally...finally...had breached the surface as your rescuer pulled you up. He thought you felt so small and fragile, shuddering in his arms. He picked up one of his hoodies from the couch and draped it around you shoulders as he sat you down next to him.
When you were finally able to speak again you said in a raspy whisper, “I'm sorry, Eddie. I didn't mean to...”
“Shhhh. Cut that shit. I want you to be here. I'm glad I could be here for you.”
“Please, don't pity me.”
“I don't. I've just been where you're at,” he said knowingly, kissing your forehead and stroking his hand up and down your back in comforting little rubs. “Listen, I've always liked you a lot. I really wanted to get to know you but I thought you'd never want to hang out because I'm weird and intimidating.”
You laughed at that. “No! I was being the weird one. I never found you intimidating. You're so sweet, Eddie. I just couldn't...I was stuck inside...you know.”
He met your eyes, and his plush pink lips gave you a sweet smile. “Yeah. I know exactly the feeling. So please...just please stay. Talk to me. It'll be alright again one of these days. It really will. But for now let's just get through tonight.”
You nodded, wrapping the big hoodie around yourself like a security blanket. “Thank you,” you said and kissed him on the cheek.
“I got you, sweetheart. I'll always leave the light on for ya.”
@leelei1980 @msgexymunson @take-everything-you-can @loz-3 @veemoon @elegantkoalapaper @ladyofthestayingpower @hellfirenacht @sweetsigyn @itsfreakingbats @fairyysoup @joejoequinnquinn @josephfakingquinn @eddies-house
#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x gn!reader#eddie munson comfort#eddie munson angst and comfort#eddie is a sweetheart#eddie is a goofball#mental illness#seasonal depression comfort#eddie is a great friend
55 notes
·
View notes
Text
Sai went over to Ji Ho and Jack's room to play Sabacc with Jack.
Jack had been thinking a lot about what Ji Ho said on their way back from the Country Bunker and what he witnessed about an hour ago.
And - as always - he can't keep his snout shut.
Jack: "So, you and Vlad..."
Ji Ho: "Yes, I will finally be together with him. With everything and such. I mean, I've already been with him. It's about time I get myself together."
Saiwa: "Yes, but you thought he was someone else..."
Jack: "But do you love him?"
Ji Ho: "... I ... don't know. But we are bonded and he finally deserves to be happy after all he sacrificed for me. I already caused him enough pain."
Saiwa: "Do you think being with him even though you don't love him would make him happy?"
Ji Ho: "Is it not that what he wants?"
Saiwa: "Maybe - but not under these circumstances.
Saiwa: "Take your time to get to know him better. Don't rush this. It would hurt him if he finds out that you are about to sacrifice yourself for him. He wants you to be happy before anything else."
Jack: "You know why he had been so cold and rude. He usually isn't like that. Spend time with him and watch him. He is a much better person than you can imagine right now."
And Jeb plays the dramatic background music (but quietly to not wake the goats).
(Jack and Jeb did a good job on decorating the rooms with their limited resources.)
And poor Vlad sat at the porch, reading.
Overhearing... as always...
'I sat in darkness, all broken hearted
I couldn't find a day I didn't feel alone
I never meant to cry, started losing hope'
Florida Georgia Line - H.O.L.Y. (High On Loving You)
From the Beginning ~ Underwater Love ~ Latest
#a horse! a horse! my kingdom for a horse!#sims 4 horse ranch#sims 4 story#simblr#ts4#sims 4#ji ho stitching#woo ji ho#vladimir tepesz#jack callahan#giga byte#saiwa#jeb harris#underwater love#rider's glen#the invisible farm#chestnut ridge#heart shaped bed
45 notes
·
View notes
Note
heya! i'm planning to write my characters (queers and allies) going to a pride parade, but i have never been to one so i'm wondering if you can help me describe the atmosphere and how people interact with each other during the parade? or are there any resources i can look into about pride parades?
tysm!
I highly encourage you to go to one if you are able, but I know it's not something everyone can just do. My experience under the cut
First, it's my impression that they vary vased on how accepting the setting is. I live in the US in a very liberal area, and that influences my experience a lot, given that a) it's 80% either organizations or buisnesses of some kind showing support, and b) I don't encounter a smidgen of hate/counterprotest.
So my Pride starts as a parade down the street and into the park, where it settles and becomes a festival. I personally enjoy the festival far more.
Most people going , who aren't part of the parade, wear something with a flag on it, the rainbow being the most common. But more and more you'll see flags you don't recognize. People give out stickers-- either rainbow flags in different iterations or hearts with several of the most common flags. Wearing pride flags is very common.
There are usually a couple people with shopping carts so full of flags, boards displaying stuffed animals, large pins, and other things for sale. They start going around the parade area early on. This if good is you want a flag before the parade, but I usually avoid them-- usually these are not queer sellers, and are simply reselling products they bought elsewhere. That said, it was the only place last year I found a 7 stripe sunset lesbian flag.
People there are generally freindly, complimenting pride themed outfits and stuff. There are families with kids there as well as young adults.
The parade, for me, is mainly organizations supporting us-- the grocery store, churches, local politicians, the police (🙄🙄🙄 I went stony silent for them), ect. Groups that I loved tto see though was the local POC Queer group, Planned Parenthood, and my absolute favorite, a local social liberation group. I loved that last one so much because someone was shouting protest chants and there were signs calling for change in trans rights and stuff-- 90% of pride is a parade, not a protest, and feeling the protest energy made me so so happy.
Most people marching are in tshirts associated with theor organization that say something about pride. But you also see a lot of people with pride flags, rainbow butterfly wings. There is usually at least 1 float full of, plus a few other, drag queens. There's the gay bar's float with mostly men dressed in very little. There's giant bubbles or bubble guns. People in the parade will toss out candy, flags, support bracelets, ect to the audience-- also condoms, but I didn’t see any this year. But that might've been because I was near a lot of kids.
At the festival you have:
All those organizations have a booth. There is usually free stuff and sometimes spin to win (pay to spin)
However, you also have local small businesses! There's a good amount that make queer stuff, usually a metaphysical booth, jewelry, pins (fun pronoun pins), flags, umbrellas, fans, pretty much anything you can think of that can have a pride flag, including homemade stuff
The shopping carts are around still
There's a whole bunch of food, like food trucks and stuff. Usually these have nothing to do with pride, theyre just not actually homophobic, and are there to sell food. But there was a local cafe these 6 trans owned and operated that I was super happy to see bc I've been meaning to go.
STD testing somewhere
A stage with a band. I think a drag queen from ru paul came to ours (I go to a big one in a state capital). It's very loud so I don't usually linger here but a lot of people go and enjoy the music and whatever else performance happens.
Ours had rides! A swing ride (so popular I skipped it even though that's one of my favorites) and a carousel. Also face painting. We didn't even have those at the biggest local festival of the year
Free Mom Hugs! I learned recently that this is a group and not just shorrts that are worn, but mother+ aged women wear tshirts saying Free Mom Hugs (or Dad hugs, therre are men too).
As for the people... my pride is crowded. People are usually drressed pretty lightly-- gentials are covered but that's about the only rule. Think rave rules-- boobs usually have their nipple covered. Being covered up is just as common though. No matter what the no-kink-at-pride people claim, this largely isn't sexual. It's queer, it's body positivity and acceptance, it's just being yourself. Also it's usually hot out. People are generally freindly, will compliment especially rarer sexuality representation or cool slogans on shorts. You'll see people in drag, a lot of androgeny, mixing feminine and masculine, ect. And there are plenty of people dressed more normally, too.
People don't necessarily act like everyone there is family or are that much more freindly/familiar with each otther than anywhere else. But mostt people there will respond positively to compliments, most people know far more flags than the average person. People assume pronouns slightly less, definitely still do (my enby gf, wearing all trans colors, no pronoun pin, was misgendered a few times) but it's a much safer environment to correct or ask for one's pronouns or respect ones they see.
Only other pride I've been to is in Provincetown, an extremely gay place. From what I remember, this was much more the common folk, much more an assortment of people marching and cheering and not as directly associated with an organization wanting support. I also went to a leather march there, also basically pride, except mainly... y'know. Leather.
There's a post on heere somewhere of someone watching someone on the bus after pride (idk if ot was a freind or stranger) who lookeed so happy and like themselves, theen having to peel off the stickers, hide the rainbows, ect., as they returned home. This will be an experience that still happens for likely a very long time.
That's about all I can think of. I welcome anyone else to share their experiences! I feel like I talked more about the festival than the parade but I like the festival better.
Unlike what people claim, there is no gatekeeping. The idea of people feeling like they aren't allowed is so weird to me because like. There's so many straight people giving support. There's so many people who you don't know theor sexuality. No one is at pride judging anyone for not belonging. If you look like a bunch of straight people there to party, maybe people will think that and move on. But for the most part no one would notice. You don't know someone's sexuality unless they have a flag, or if someone is there with a same-gender partner or not unless you see them kissing. And no one is performing sex scenes, that picture used in the no-kink-at-pride discourse wasn't at pride, no one does that. Did a freind once tie a bdsm knot on a ripe over my shirt at pride once? Yeah. So what? People there show some pride for their sexaulity, that's different.
Good luck with your story!
Mod Emma
#pride#pride parade#pride festival#disclaimer: this blog is inactive due to mod inactivity#sometimes I answer questions anyway#mod emma#long post
23 notes
·
View notes
Text
Wait for the Signal
Ship: Alex Blake/Emily Prentiss
Summary: It’s been twenty-three years since anyone has seen a zombie.
Warnings: Canon-Typical Violence
Word Count: 1025
Author's Note: Let me know if you want to see more of this, I'm just testing the waters atm. Also lmk if you want to bounce ideas with me.
It's been twenty-three years since anyone has seen a zombie.
Emily knows this because Alex keeps track, even though time is less critical now that the world they'd once known was essentially gone. But it helps Alex to keep track, so Emily doesn't complain.
Besides, it's how they know their granddaughter was turning one that day. The first of what Alex had dubbed the 'Aquene Generation', using the Native American word for peace – the first generation born who would (hopefully) never know the fear that had been everyone else's normal since the outbreak that had changed everything.
It's been twenty-three years, but Emily still wakes up every day and checks the trail cams she'd rigged at the fence. Every day, she prays to a God she can't help but hope exists that their granddaughter will never know anything but happiness and gentleness, that she would never be hardened by war.
She was flipping through the screens, looking for any sigh of movement when she felt Alex slip her arms around her neck and drop a kiss beneath her ear. "Come back to bed," Alex husked, lips brushing along the back of her neck.
"You and I both know that if I go back to bed know, I'll be at least forty-five minutes late to town hall," Emily pointed out.
"So?" Alex challenged. "You've been late to every town hall since Hotch turned. I think it would be more surprising if you weren't late..."
When Emily failed to react, Alex huffed, muttered something about her being stubborn, then sat on her lap and snuggled into her chest.
"Jesus Christ..." Emily nearly growled, suddenly very distracted from the screens, "You're early this month."
You could have set your watch by Alex's heats which, thankfully, allowed Emily to quite effectively schedule the town's many needs. The town, though, was going to have to wait because Alex too had needs and now that Emily had smelled that she was ovulating, she had needs as well...
When Emily stood from the chair, Alex wrapped her legs around her waist, continuing her quest to mark Emily with as many bites and hickies as possibly. Dropping her on the bed, Emily toed off her boots, unzipped her jeans, all while wearing an almost predatory grin.
"Ass up, Princess," she coaxed, shucking off her jeans, then strapping on Alex's favourite cock, stroking it a few times as she watched Alex wiggle her ass tantalizingly.
Kneeling on the edge of the bed, Emily leaned in to trail her tongue along her soaked cunt. "God, you taste so sweet when you're in heat..." She spent several long moments making out with her pussy, until Alex was nearly sobbing. Only then did she give in and thrust into her.
_______________
"What's your excuse this time?" Derek asked during the chaos of the town hall meeting letting out. Every month, when Emily was inevitably late, he was forced to cover for her, as her second in command.
Emily glanced about to make sure no one was eavesdropping, then shot him a mischievous smirk.
He rolled his eyes. "Nope, no way," he refused, "You already pulled your one free 'I was getting laid' pass this year."
"Okay, but in my defence, Alex is in heat," she said, holding up her hands as if to say she had no choice in the matter. Derek chuckled, though it wasn't really all that funny. "So, what'd I miss?" Emily asked.
He shrugged. "The usual."
The usual, in this case meant at least two people squabbling over resources, someone not happy with the chore rotation, someone unhappy that the previous person wasn't pulling their weight in the chore rotation, and on one particularly memorable occasion, someone accusing someone else of being a witch. Emily had come to expect irritations of the sort, given the close proximity in which everyone lived...it was only natural that tempers would flare on occasion. (Which was also the reason they held a monthly airsoft game...it got some of the aggression out while also giving people tactical training – their town might have been free of zombies, but the world as a whole surely wasn't.)
"How's Reid's hybridized nut tree research coming?" she asked. Reid, surprising no one, had spent the past twenty-three years developing an agriculture program that would provide a diet as nutritionally dense and complete as possible, given their limited resources. Now, he was just showing off, in Emily's opinion, having successfully hybridized kale and broccoli (which failed to earn him any fans in the under ten category).
He shrugged again.
Rolling her eyes, she said, "Let me guess: you weren't paying attention."
"What do you want from me?" he whined, "He talked for like twenty straight minutes without taking a breath."
Much as she would have liked to fault him for that, she too had been known to zone out during Reid's rambling. That didn't mean she was any less grateful for his genius brain, though. Reid was one of the major reasons their settlement was as developed as it was and everyone knew it.
Changing the subject when it became clear to her that she wasn't going to get any information of use from him, she asked, "Are you coming to Jenna's birthday party?"
"Did Alex bake the cake?" he answered her question with a much more pressing question.
"Double chocolate with caramel icing," Emily answered. She might've been annoyed that his first motivation was the cake, rather than celebrating her granddaughter's first year of life...but Alex was a spectacular baker and cake was a rare delicacy these days, so she couldn't exactly blame him.
He licked his lips in anticipation. "I'll be there."
In the next moment, Hank came up behind Derek, clapping him on the shoulder and asking, "Ready to go, Dad?"
He nodded, then turned back to Emily and, with a salute, said, "See ya later, Sheriff."
"What's happening later?" Hank asked, glancing from his father to Emily and back.
"It's Jenna's first birthday," Emily replied. "You should come."
"Alex baked a cake," Derek supplied with enough enthusiasm that he missed the laden glance Emily and his son shared...
5 notes
·
View notes
Text
Gone
[Easy reading version on Toyhou.se]
It did not take Glasya long to put the pieces together.
Gaia had been alerted to a sudden increase in eldritch activity in the city of Atlantis, which the Investigations team was monitoring. It appeared to have been a short burst of energy as a result of an eldritch scream, but apart from the residual influence lingering around the city being worth keeping an eye on, it was not deemed an immediate threat. They could send a team out to investigate in-person should the levels of eldritch activity increase, but based on their initial assessment it was clear that at this stage it would be a waste of resources.
At the same time, Thrixe had not answered any of Glasya’s text messages they had sent over the past 24 hours. They didn’t care when they sent the initial message, a silly meme they’d found before they heard about the recent situation in Atlantis. But when they messaged him again after hearing the news and he still had yet to respond, they knew their suspicions were confirmed.
And when he still didn’t respond to their later threat to forever revoke his free candy privileges if he didn’t reply to them, they knew it was serious.
Glasya knew there wasn’t much they could do but keep an ear out for any whisperings of investigations or changes in activity in Atlantis. Even though it was known that Thrixe was their friend, they would not be allowed to tag along for any investigation. For starters, they were not officially employed for fieldwork, and could not go out unless the matter was deemed safe and they were accompanied by a senior member of the Investigations team. But also, given the high potential that the eldritch influence could trigger their possession trauma, their moirail and boss Mikail would not allow them to get exposed.
It sucked, but they knew that no amount of pouting and trying to bribe him would change his mind. They may be dating, but they were still both required to act professionally on the job.
However, they did know someone else they could ask…
After messaging one of the members of the Special Operations team to confirm if a certain other troll was onsite tonight, they slipped out of their office, informed Astera that they’ll be back shortly if anyone needs them, and headed upstairs to the other department’s wing.
It was easy to find who they were looking for, all they needed to do was follow the chill in the air. He was sitting in one of the common areas, reading through what appeared to be a briefing for an upcoming meeting.
“Hey,” - There was a pause, as if Glasya had to stop themself from using one of the nicknames they call him behind his back. - “Mikiel. You heard the latest news?”
Mikiel looked up from his papers, eyes instinctively narrowing in suspicion. Glasya never approached him for any good reason.
“What news.”
“Oh, you know, just a certain starfish prooobably doing some sort of fucky-wucky up in Atlantis that has gotten him back on our radar, and he hasn’t responded to any of my texts. You heard anything?” Glasya’s tone was as casual as always, and Mikiel didn’t care to try and gauge how genuine their flippancy was.
“I haven’t, but…” The blueblood paused, properly considering their words. He had messaged Thrixe last night, but he wasn’t the type to follow up an unanswered text. His moirail was a grown adult who can look after himself, and if he takes a couple nights to respond, that usually means he was simply too busy.
But everything else made that sound suspicious, and while Mikiel’s expression didn’t change the drop in temperature around the two trolls made it clear he was perturbed.
Glasya didn’t need to wait for any other response.
“Yeah, didn’t think so. I know you guys are tight, but no way he’d ignore lil ol’ me while still chatting to you,” they shrug. “Anyway, you think you’d be able to do a cheeky lil investigation? Make sure your own moirail hasn’t finally returned to his ancestral calling as a haunted sea sponge and become one with a coral reef?”
Mikiel rolled his eyes.
“That’s not what his ancestor was. But, fine. I’ll go.”
Glasya grinned. If it was anyone else, they knew the answer would be a definite no. But, somehow, under those hundreds of layers of ice and pretentiousness, Thrixe had managed to get Mikiel to care for him after all.
“Pog. If you need an outie of whatever mission your guys were gonna send you on, say something important from Investigations has popped up. I’ll vouch for you.”
Mikiel doubted such a plan would work, but he didn’t care if Glasya got in trouble for it. That’s their problem.
And even if he wasn’t allowed to leave for Atlantis, no one was going to stop him. Not if it was true that Thrixe was in trouble.
-----------------
Mikiel shivered as he entered the city of Atlantis, making a beeline for Thrixe’s hive and trying his best to ignore everything else. The eldritch presence in the air was palpable to someone like him, given his sensitivity to the supernatural, but apart from the inherent wrongness of it all, it didn’t appear particularly dangerous.
The amount of trolls wandering about thinned out considerably the closer he got to his destination, which he anticipated. He had chosen to investigate off the clock so he did not need to seek the approval of his boss, but as a member of Gaia it was still his responsibility to ensure the safety of the general populace from supernatural threats. Fortunately, the eldritch presence was doing its job keeping everyone else away, whether they realised it or not.
Mikiel could also feel the desire to turn away and abandon the investigation lingering within his mind, but he ignored it and kept going.
As he approached the hive, he was stopped in his tracks. The front door was open, a sign that someone else had been here… Or still was inside. He bristled, on high alert, relying on The Patron’s gift to try and sense any other supernatural entities amongst the horrorterror’s lingering aura. The temperature around him was rapidly cooling, and frost creeping up the windows of the hive would alert anyone inside to his presence, but he was ready to fight if necessary.
The interior of the hive was wrecked. Mikiel did not visit Thrixe’s hive often as the hybrid preferred to visit the blueblood’s own, but he knew his moirail would not willingly leave the place in such a state. Furniture had been overturned, paintings fallen off the wall, lightbulbs shattered, and black blobs of something melted into the carpet. Ink, presumably, or some sort of sludge? He didn’t think it was necessary to understand exactly what it was, but he knew enough about terrors to know what kinds of liquids to expect.
He crept through each room, looking for any signs of life. Nothing, no intruders like he had feared from the open door, and still no signs of the seadweller. Just a trail of the black substance, and-
Mikiel’s head suddenly turned at the sound of some animalistic noise, as his psiionics reacted in kind, freezing the floor directly underneath his feet.
Oh, it’s just Archimedes. The gryphon had left its hiding spot and approached Mikiel, recognising him as a troll it could trust. Mikiel could not understand the animal’s body language, but he would not be surprised if it was distressed by the disappearance of its owner. He relaxed slightly, and crouched down to examine the creature. It didn’t appear like it’d been harmed, and it simply stared curiously back at him.
He nodded in acknowledgement, then stood back up, motioning for the animal to not try and follow him. If he can’t find Thrixe, he’ll need to take Archimedes back with him to make sure it gets looked after. Glasya would likely know what to do.
He cast his attention back to the black fluid on the floor, and cautiously followed its trail. The lingering eldritch influence was starting to make his head hurt, but this appeared to be his only lead into locating his moirail. The trail took him to another door, which had been completely shattered, like something massive had forced its way through it… Or out of it.
Gazing into the open entrance of the broken door, he noticed where the trail of muck had ended. The seafront hives in Atlantis were built to be half-submerged for the seadwelling occupants, and many contained passageways and chambers that lead directly into the depths.
Mikiel grit his teeth, and turned to run out of the hive and towards the shoreline. Without thinking, he kept running, allowing his psiionics to freeze the water directly underneath him so he could take off over the ocean. He gripped his gloves in his teeth and tore them off, allowing for his cryokinesis to operate uninhibited, spreading the ice further across the waves and freezing a thick platform he could safely cross. He had learned he was able to trust in his abilities now, and that he could put his full faith that pursuing this hunch would not lead him astray.
He did not stop until he was far from the shore, past the sandbar that only trained swimmers and those with gills would dare to cross. He knew he would not see any signs of the horrorterror hybrid from the surface, but - and he felt stupid for hoping this, but god was he desperate, despising the way his own fears burned in his chest and lead him to run into the maelstrom of eldritch activity - perhaps, he could-
“Thrixe!!!”
He screamed his morail’s name out at the ocean, as loud and as shrill as his lungs were capable of. The chill in the air felt piercing, and he was clenching his fists so hard they were freezing over. He took in another deep breath.
“I know you’re out there somewhere, I can feel your damn presence all over the place! You- You- Coglione! Cretino! If you’ve done something stupid, get back here and tell me! Don’t just fuck off and leave everyone worried! Tu rompiscatole!”
The words came out far angrier than he had intended, but… Seeing the state of Thrixe’s hive, the black sludge that slathered the floor, the wrecked furniture and doors that reeked of a desperate escape, and then knowing that whatever he had done had triggered Gaia to start monitoring again without knowing if this was even his moirail’s fault, he was terrified.
“You- Answer me, goddammit!!” He screamed until his throat felt raw, and clusters of ice spikes had sprung up around him as his psiionics reflected his own rage. The ice around his fists shattered, but kept threatening to freeze over once again. He could no longer see through his glasses, having also frozen over until the lenses shattered.
But that did not matter, as there was only silence.
Silence, and the increasing feeling of absolute dread caused by the eldritch influence swarming around him.
As Mikiel stood there, it became clear to him that Thrixe was no longer within the confines of Atlantis’ ocean, and was not in control of what lingered around the bay. If he was still in control, it’s deterring aura would have likely been much stronger to the point where the blueblood would’ve found himself unable to even get close to the hive. Thrixe would not have want his moirail to worry so much, or to get injured and fall under his thrall.
If Thrixe was still in control, it wouldn’t feel so hateful.
The cryokinetic shivered, not from his own psiionics but from the sudden awareness that he was absolutely powerless. His moirail had vanished into the depths, and there was nothing left of him remaining in this area, nor any other ways that he could be pursued. All that was left was something that felt actively malicious towards Mikiel the longer he stayed here, feelings of hatred and resentment prickling under his skin.
Like a man possessed, he finally followed his instincts, and fled back to shore.
#drabble#glasya elliss#mikiel giacho#icebreaker#this drabble is set approximately a day after the events of Hazey btw#and has nothing to do w. Harbinger except i wanted to write my characters' response to it lmao
4 notes
·
View notes
Text
Americans are wild tbh. Like, there’s a certain subset of (white) americans who, upon discovering The Truth of their country’s history, that will desperately flock to shite like 23&Me to scrounge up any form of identity they can that isn’t American, and then proceed to be so violently cringe inducing about it. Had this happen with a guy I knew while I spent a year at an American Uni; dude took an ancestry kit, found out that he had one (1) Scottish ancestor like 200 years ago, and has proceeded to be an absolute melter about it, I mean proper glaikit cunt behaviour. Fuckin started putting his ‘clan’ name in his Social Media bios, started cuttin about wae a kilt anywhere and everywhere, shite like that. Also decided he’s Irish Pagan too? No fuckin idea where that came from tbh.
My point being, this cunt got so defensive when I spoke to him to say “Hey, I appreciate that you’re doing this with the best intentions, but some of this is a little inappropriate/not the best way to go about it” and holy fucking shit this man? Tried to tell me? That I can’t tell him off? for wearing a kilt? despite him not being Scottish? Because I? Skateboard? Even though I’m not American?
Trust me when I say, this shit was in the top 5 most enraged I’ve ever been in my life, I was ready to kill this man.
And the thing is, its so emblematic of so, so many Styrofoam Scots to not only completely misunderstand Scottish culture and identity, but also to ignore when an actual Scottish person is telling them it’s inappropriate.
To add additional context; He has never been to Scotland, no one in his family speaks the Gàidhlig, no one has passed this culture onto him, he’s just taken it. I am the only Scottish person he had ever met by this point, and he didn’t want to hear the opinion of someone who’s actually from the culture he’s appropriating.
Like, its so, so American, to feel so ashamed of your history of genocide and racism, so run to be anything else, and still fuckin take someone else’s culture, rather than do the work to make your own culture something to be proud of.
And even then, so many of these Styrofoam Scots completely ignore our own history of participating in… *checks notes*
Oh yeah, The British Empire
Scotland isn’t fuckin outlander, it hasn’t been for a long time, and it probably never was. What it is, is a neo colonial hellhole that’s under the thumb of a dying and outmoded political alliance that’s drunk on the nostalgia of a genocidal Empire, wracked with poverty, unable to enact our own democracy, and plundered for its natural resources by capitalist interests (Quite a few of them American; Aberdeen has never recovered), and still trying to shake off the bullshit tourism and gentrification of an entire culture brought on by Walter Scott and his cunt friends. We’re still trying to restore the Gàidhlig to where it used to be before the clearances, and we will NEVER get back the history that we lost in those years, so its not the place of some limp liberal, LARPing as a culture he isn’t to take a language for his own that was taken from us.
Scotland, and by extension, Scottish Identity, or any other identity for that matter, is not something that white american liberals (because its usually them) can use to shield themselves from the uncomfortable truths of their history and excuse themselves from doing the work to make their culture something to actually be proud of.
(And if that one guy is reading this;
Get my language out your fucking mouth, maorach.)
Anyway thanks for coming to my TEDTalk.
Trans Liberation Now, Free Palestine, Sudan and Congo, Stop using Fossil Fuels, Abortion Rights for All, Fuck the Police and End Imperialism.
3 notes
·
View notes
Text
Krow's goodbye to 2022.
Man, it's already ending! I mean, about 1 hour on my timezone till it ends, bit close enough for me! That was quite the unique year we've lived, hasn't it? The end of the pandemic, the slow return to normality, it was definitely something special! But that's not what I want to talk about. I want to say something important, something that I need to get off my chest.
I have never been someone dedicated. I usually find an interesting game, okay it for a month or two, and then leave it alone. Sometimes it's a subject, sometimes it's a hobby, sometimes it's an entire series of books, or a new side of the internet! It didn't bother me at the time, but that was because I never knew what it felt like to dedicate one's self to just one thing.
I remember, at the start of the year, being alone with my likes. No interacting on the internet, just lurking everywhere. I can't blame myself though, it has been that way because of the way I grew up. The family I had understood me, but didn't have time to interact with me about this sort of stuff. The friends I had interacted with me, but didn't know or understood this sort of stuff. Latin culture, at least the school's, doesn't connect with the English, popular internet ones. And that's the way it had been ever since I was little.
However, that changed this year. After finally getting some courage, and asking my friends about a game that I liked, that most knew nothing about (DR), I managed to discover very few who did! In fact, they already had a friend group! I just didn't interact with them much... Guess I was scared of commitment, huh? I was scared to simply be ignored again, and left with my thoughts alone.
That was a big step for me, but it wasn't it. As I payed more attention to the friends I grew stronger bonds with, I discovered it. Discovered this. Project sekai... Heh, makes me remember seeing them being lazy in music class and skipping it for a game of music... I never called them out for this, but it was funny.
I didn't think of it as anything special, but it made me remember something else, something about the past. I used to play Deemo. A game I still remember to this day, even though it was so long ago... It was nice to play, relaxing songs with intense ones, tapping play style unlike most 'popular' rhythm games on the app store... It made me happy, and the memory also made me happy.
I decided to once again, have some courage and take the plunge. Twice in the same year, huh? I've come quite far. And that's when I realized how special it was. I was familiar with anime type games, and I had even tried a few. Azur Lane, Genshin Impact, Arknights... But none of them ever stuck. However this one... It kept up bringing surprise after surprise, always keeping me engaged...
The rhythm aspect. Not only did it remind me of my childhood, but it also made me feel so proud of myself... Being able to FC hard songs that my friends couldn't, moving on to experts, FCing my first ex... It was awesome! Every single step was noticeable enough for me to look back and feel extremely proud of myself! Besides, a rhythm game, where buying new songs wasn't tedious or p2w?? That sounded awesome!
The gacha aspect. Something I used to dislike about gacha anime games was the ways they put their banners. One character is special, they have all the attention, the banner ends and they're forgotten, left limited, the focus away from them for months. It wasn't what I wanted, but Prsk? They always shine the spotlight on their characters again and again, always giving chances! It's sad when you don't get a specific 4*, but there are always more! And that made me so satisfied in a way I never knew I needed! And let's return to a previous point real quick... The rhythm aspect combined with the gacha aspect was so satisfying as well! I always disliked grinding in Gachas, but playing these songs over and over is so much more fun! I never got tired of the process obtaining the resources I needed, and that made me want to stay even more!
The story. As soon as I discovered the event, card and main stories, I knew this was something special. I LOVE story driven games, I always have! But, sometimes you don't want to play a game for the story! No problem, prsk keeps the gameplay and story completely separate! That was so cool to me, and it made me want to stay even more! And as more and more stories came out, I return to my previous point once again: The spotlight returns to the same characters, over and over again! Never adding important new, only revising and bringing up the same set! I loved that so much!!
The characters. THE CHARACTERS!! I've always loved the characters of any game, and they've always been the reason why I'm attracted, staying, and thinking about the games! And with a cast of 20, of course a few had to stick with me! And the chosen ones for me were Nightcord , a group of composers who deal with real life problems, solve then at a slow but realistic pace, genuinely care about each other, and show off progress with each new story... I fell in love. I could rant more, but that's not what I'm here for.
Finally, last, and the main point of this post...
The community.
Haha, who would've thought, that a lurker would not only make a blog on Tumblr, but enter and actively participate in a public discord server? That's, what, 4 times I've courageously taken the plunge even with all of my insecurities surrounding me? Wow, I'm impressed at myself!
But ah, I'm getting distracted again! Talking about myself so much on this post, let's change the subject! You guys, you who read my posts, who like them, who reblog them, who follow me to see more of them! Hehehe, you guys make me feel so special... Well, that's coming from someone who's used to thinking of himself as not much, and used to staying away from the attention of the internet.
I'll admit it, I've never been someone who holds themselves in high regard. Quiet, closed, reserved, difficulty making tough decisions... That's how I've always been. Yeah, I didn't really give off that vibe before, right? But that's the truth, always had been... Except for this blog and that server. Now that I've opened this blog, joined that discord, revealed myself and started to attract other's eyes, I finally realized somethilng important.
I've been comforting myself too much! It's only because I risked opening this blog that i discovered how nice it feels to show off my imagination, how good it feels to have others look at it and like it so much as to ask more of me, and how satisfying it is to share this space, this experience with other's like me! With @enassbraid! @jazztastic! @whoskyatto! @enamation! @aoyagiisakito! And more of you that I couldn't get to meet too well yet! Spreading these posts with you guys is a feeling I'll never give up, and I'll make sure to never let any of you down! You guys can count on me to remain here, by your sides, acompannying you all!
It's only because I took another risk, confronted my hesitation, and joined that discord server that I discovered the joys of chatting with people who share your likes and are open to discussing topics of interest and chatting about fun stuff! The enjoyment of dedicating one's self to trying their best alongside others who share your challenges, supporting eachother with training and helping everyone do better and better each day! MRE, I couldn't have discovered all of this without you guys, and I feel proud of calling myself a member!
I want to keep going! Now that I've taken the first steps, I can't back down! I don't want to back down! I want to keep trying my hardest for everyone, to continue putting in efforts alongside others that are doing the same! To make sure the ones next to me are doing ok and help them no matter what! I made the decision to finally, officially come out of my lurking habits and make a place for myself in this wonderful world of the internet, and I don't regret a thing!
THANK YOU SO MUCH, 2022!! >^< You gave me so many doors, and the willpower to open them all! Now, I have a passion to dedicate myself to, and I shall see through it to the best of my abilities! I'm still scared, awkward, insecure, and maybe even anxious, but I'm not going to let that stop me! Not anymore! And if I can't tomorrow, I'll do it in a week! Or in a month! No matter how long I may take, how much Imay struggle, I have decided to keep on going this new path I've found! -^-
This path, as the Tumblr, MRE, and most importantly, PRSK, Krow of crows!
So, with that, I say goodbye to 2022, a year I shall never forget, and I say hello to 2023, a year which I'll make sure to remain memorable! For myself, and for all of you! HAPPY NEW YEARS TO YOU ALL!! GLORY TO NIIGO, GLORY TO PROJECT SEKAI!! +^+
Thank you so much to all of you who read through all of that! This has been my last post of 2022. I'll reblog, like, or comment on all of the new year's posts of others tomorrow! See you all next year! Krow, logging out! .^.
16 notes
·
View notes
Note
I know you write for yourself but do you ever ask your homies for feedback or advice on drafts or ideas?
oh yeah. that's just growing as a writer. i dont like, send drafts or anything, but i might ask for votes on an idea, or advice on something that's not working, or just talk through it with them to get there on my own. one of my friends has beta read for other people and another is a writer herself, so they can be a good resource when im having trouble, even if it's just sending a sentence and being like what is WRONG with the grammar here someone fix me LMAO. sometimes you get advice and then immediately realize what you actually want to do and it's not the advice you were given, but if it isn't what you were going to do before you asked someone, that's still helpful! it's not something i do that often because i like to just do my own thing, but it's definitely helpful when i do.
oh, thank you! it's something i have a lot of fun with. it's not something you can really do in any medium BUT fanfiction or like, a reboot, you know? so i really like to play around with it here. It's like, all my fanfictions are dozens of parallel universes revolving around the same characters and concepts, and i like seeing all the ways i can spin those out. i also just really like putting in references to canon. i always love when people pick up on a line i referenced or something.
lol you're welcome! it was a pretty different angle i've wanted to poke at before, but usually she's too emotionally constipated to even get that far lmao. in this case, she channeled that into a coping mechanism and it worked out.
it's so funny that this dumb little story is what has elicited so much, but i think it's mostly because the responses are centered in my inbox rather than the comments this time around. like, i can check my inbox and have five messages, and then there's only one new comment on the fic. and yeah, i can guess that's because it's so horny LMAO
unrelated, but im almost done with my first draft of the last chapter, so the next chapter should be coming along fairly soon even if im going to have a busy weekend. and now, more spoiler asks beneath the cut
you get it <3 ive loved how many people have gotten it because i was a little worried with this one people would be Unhappy with the direction so im glad i havent gotten any hate anons lmao. it has been so much fun to write and explore. on the sensory front, oh boyyyyy is this girl autistic. It's directly implied in chapter four, actually, though adora isn't formally diagnosed. and muscle tees are like. catnip on butches. it was made for them so like, good taste.
ohhhhh boy. what ISNT in the scene in LMR lol. I have never had a fic outlined like i did for this one. Like half the conversations came to me while i was lying in bed trying to fall asleep or wake up and i had all of that to work with (and tame) when i went to write.
I started working on it in late december and it's been my "bedtime story" for the most part since then, so a lot of the scenes played out there, which is where Scenes usually originate from. i had a really full outline from that. i had so many scenes that i had to cut and combine some that i really liked because they were just superfluous and would have dragged it down even if they were good on their own. or i had multiple versions of one conversation that i had to pick the best fit between, or when it came time to write it i had to buck the outline even though i liked what i already had because something else was a better match.
basically all of chapter 3 is A Scene. several scenes are in 4 and 5, too. i couldn't really pull just one thing but... god no i was trying to pick one and i cant. chapters 3-5 is my answer lmao. chapter 2 is the only thing i didnt have any Scenes for, that was basically just a hole labeled [insert smut here] while i was planning it, and chapter one was finished so early on that there's not really a Scene there, but nearly everything in chapter 3 onward is a contender for The Scene.
9 notes
·
View notes
Text
Addicted to You
Love of my Life
Word Count: 2183
No Warnings
“Tommy!” Sulli called out again as she made her way around the main floor for the fourth time.
She had checked every nook and cranny of her house and could not find the little bugger. The panic started to set in as she called Brady. She hadn’t spoken to him or Collin in over a month after the setup he had caused. The only reason she was calling him was because she knew he could either sniff him out or hear his little meows better than she could.
As soon as he answered, she got straight to the point, “Tommys missing and I need you to help find him.”
Brady missed a beat before mumbling, “I can’t right now, Sulli.”
Her jaw dropped at what she was hearing, “Seriously, Brady?!”
He knew how important Tommy was to her. He was practically her child at this point, she cared about Tommy more than she cared about herself. Sulli had even opened about the reason as to why she adopted him to Brady during one of the many pillowtalk sessions they had, had together and now, it seemed like he was more content in betraying her trust and faith in him than anything else.
“I’m sorry.” He said quickly, adding, “Call Paul, he’s available.”
“Fucker.” She muttered as he hung up on her. Her phone dinged almost immediately after with a text from Brady and what she assumed to be Paul's phone number. Sulli put her pride aside for the sake of Tommy and typed his number in before putting her phone to her ear.
“Hello?” He answered on the second ring and she sighed in relief.
“I got your number from Brady, he said he’s busy but I really need help.” Sulli said frantically, not caring about formalities in the slightest. Not when her baby was missing.
“Sulli?” Paul asked, worried in his voice, “What's wrong?”
“Yeah,” She confirmed, not bothering to correct him on his use of her nickname before she rambled nervously, “I can’t find Tommy. He usually lays with the plants because of the heat lamp, but he’s not there and he's not anywhere!”
“Tommy?” He asked in confusion.
“My cat!” She exclaimed shakily. First Brady brushed her off, and now Paul wasn’t taking her seriously.
“I’m sure he’s fine and just hiding.” Paul tried to reason with her.
“Fuck you!” She shouted into her phone, her fear for Tommy causing her to become unreasonably angry, “You don’t know Tommy like I do, he has a routine. Somethings wrong and if you’re not going to help me that's fine, just give me the number of someone else who can sniff him out.”
Paul's silence on his end was unnerving. Sulli could hear inaudible speaking before a door was being shut and Paul finally spoke again, “Where do you live?”
She rattled off her address without a second thought. In all honesty, she thought Brady would’ve divulged that information to him already. Maybe he has and Paul is playing coy, but in that moment, the only thing that mattered was finding Tommy and that meant Paul stepping foot into her and Kaycees home. Something she told her best friend would never, ever happen.
-----------
“Hey, is he still missing?” Paul asked as he walked up her porch to where she was waiting. Her eyes red from crying as she looked at him, the concern was evident on his face.
She nodded, tearfully saying, “I’ve checked everywhere.”
“You know, cats are very resourceful, I’m sure if you wait--” He tried to gently reason with her again.
“Don’t be a fucking jerk!” She pushed his chest, though he didn’t budge, “Tommys not like other cats, he’s only got one eye so his perceptions are off.”
“A one eyed cat, that's what I’m looking for?” He asked with a slight smirk, and she didn’t like his tone of voice. Which he quickly realised as tears filled her eyes again.
“He's a rescue, okay? He’s already been abandoned once, I’m not doing it to him again and if you don’t want to help then you can leave.” She said with a wavering voice. She knows exactly what it feels like to be abandoned, the only difference was she could deal with herself. She did deal with herself. Tommy was a little defenceless cat who depended on her.
Paul sighed, “Where was he the last time you saw him?”
Sulli grabbed his hand and led him inside to the living room, she waited impatiently as he looked around at all the art and mix of plants scattered around. “He was under the heat lamp, I think he came from somewhere warm. He doesn’t do well with the rain.” She explained, “He usually lays there until I get home from work, but he was gone today and I have to go to class soon so can you please just find him.”
“Okay, it's okay.” He said soothingly, placing his warm hand on her shoulder and giving it a light squeeze, “Any windows open?”
“No.” Sulli shook her head.
Paul nodded and asked, “And the doors?”
“We didn’t leave anything open.” She said defensively. She was well aware of how to keep a cat indoors. Especially Tommy who loved to run for any open door when she first got him. You would have thought she was holding him hostage for how fast he was to bolt.
“So he’s still in the house.” He concluded with a cocked eyebrow.
Sulli narrowed her eyes at the gesture, “I checked everywhere, he’s not.”
“You think someone came and kidnapped him?” Paul asked amused.
Tears threatened to spill from her eyes again at the wild possibility she hadn’t even thought of, “You’re not helping.”
“Sulli,” He pulled her into him for a hug. She didn’t fight him on it, she also seemed to find comfort in the heat like her furry son, “I'm going to find him, okay?”
She nodded, “He's only two, and he's really small so just--”
“I’ve got it,” He reassured and stroked the back of her hair before stepping away from her, “Why don’t you go get ready for class, okay?”
“Okay.” She said hesitantly before ultimately leaving him to look for Tommy.
Sulli quickly made her way upstairs to her room, keeping an eye out for Tommy just in case. She beelined it for her bathroom and grimaced at her appearance, the mascara she had put on in the morning had started to run and her eyes were glassy from crying. Redoing her makeup and changing out of her scrubs from her shift that morning before making her way downstairs. She checked the living room where she had left Paul and couldn’t find him before making her way into the kitchen, figuring some caffeine would help her depleted energy.
Putting on a fresh pot before updating Kaycee on the situation, as she had been the first person she had called as soon as she realized he wasn't under the heat lamp.
“Found him.” Paul said softly from behind her, as if he would spook her.
Sulli turned fast enough to give her whiplash and looked down at Paul's arms which were cradled as he held her black cat, who had nestled himself into Paul comfortably. Her eyes lit up at the sight of her unharmed fur baby as she quickly crossed the kitchen to take him from Paul.
“Tommy!” She exclaimed happily, taking him into her arms. Sulli hugged Paul tightly with one arm, while holding Tommy in her other, “Thank you! Where was he?”
“Your dryer vents open, I don’t know if he knocked it and got in..” Paul trailed off.
“I did. The stupid thing isn’t working, I was trying to fix it.” She grumbled, pulling away from him to coddle Tommy lovingly. He was her favourite thing in the entire world and would have been devastated beyond belief if something had happened to him because of her own stupid mistake.
“I can fix it for you,” Paul offered, reaching out to scruff Tommys head, who purred in response and extended his neck to follow his hand as Paul pulled it away.
“Really?” She asked, shocked at the gesture.
Paul shrugged, “Yeah, it’ll only take a few minutes.”
“Thank you.” Sulli said softly before shyly asking, “Can you show me?”
She liked to be independent when it came to things like this and often used the internet as her source of information. She didn't exactly have anyone to teach her, and if Paul was going to do it anyways, she might as well learn.
Sulli followed him to the laundry room after putting Tommy back under his lamp. She watched from the doorway as Paul knelt by the dryer vent and mentioned as he helped up the hose that she had yanked off, “I don’t know how you managed to get it off completely…”
“I watched a youtube video.” She said honestly. It wasn't in english but it seemed simple enough.
Paul chuckled and looked back at her over his shoulder, “Maybe next time call someone,”
“Why? Cause I’m a woman?” She asked defensively, crossing her arms over her chest.
“No,” He said with annoyance, “Because I don't want you to get hurt.”
“Fine. I’ll call you.” She sarcastically said she was curious as to what his actual day job was. She knew he worked some type of shift work, allegedly, and he was confident in fixing her dryer, “Are you like a handyman or something?”
“No,” He shook his head as he focused back on the task at hand. “I’m not that exciting.”
“A gigolo?” She teased him for his air of mystery around his job, “Like Magic Mike?”
“Are you even old enough to know what that is?” He jabbed jokingly.
“I’m twenty-two, not twelve.” Sulli muttered, not impressed by the age joke, “Besides, it's a movie, not porn.”
“Twenty twos old enough to know about porn too.” Paul pointed out.
She smirked and noted, “I’m well aware.”
“Yeah?” He hummed questioningly, more so focused on the vents seam as he secured it back on.
Sulli nodded, even though he couldn’t see her, “Mhm. Gotta now that Brady is no longer in the picture.”
“You’ll have no problem finding another guy to get your hands on, Sulli.” Paul brooded.
“That's not my problem.” Sulli mumbled. Sure, she could find a guy with no issue, she never had any. What she wouldn’t be able to find is a guy who radiated 103 degree heat off of his skin. Brady was a lost cause, and her recurring dreams about Paul weren’t enough to satiate her craving. If it didn’t go away soon, she’d have to find a bigger heat lamp to share with Tommy.
“All fixed.” He announced, standing up and wiping his hands on his pants. He looked down at her with a slight smirk before asking, “Any other problems you want me to solve?”
Sulli could feel the heat radiating off of his body at his close proximity and her breath hitched in the back of her throat. He could fix so many of her physical problems that Brady had left in her. The tension between them hung thick in the air as flashes of him fucking her on top of the dryer flood her in mind and salivated her mouth in want.
Pull yourself together, Sulli, she thought to herself. She promised Kaycee and her that she would not fall for his entitlement. No matter how hot he was. He wasn’t the same Paul she remembered from when she was eleven. Not that she would necessarily fuck that version of him either, they way he was now was more her speed but his weird manifesto directed towards her was off putting.
She belonged to no one but herself.
Sulli cleared her throat and asked, “Do you want some coffee?”
His face shifted from cocky to conflicted at her offer before shaking his head, “I’d love to, but I’ve got to get back to work.”
“Wolf stuff?” She asked curiously. Sulli would be lying if she didn’t want to know more. There had to be a reason why he was able to do what he could, why there was a whole pack of men living what everyone thought to be a young adult tv trope fantasy in reality.
He shook his head again with a chuckle, “My real job.”
“Oh, Brady said you were available…I didn't know..” She trailed off. She wouldn't have called him if she had known he was at work.
“It’s okay. It was an emergency.” He reassured her, his tongue darting out to wet his lower lip as he watched her fidget with her hair and flick it over her shoulder.
“Well the offer won’t expire.” She told him with a small smile, politely telling him “You’ve got my number.”
She wanted him to use it. Whether to educate her on his deepest secret or for a simple booty call, Sulli did not know. At this point, she was so desperate to feel that heat again she wouldn’t deny either option.
#paul lahote smut#paul lahote#paul lahote fanfic#wolfpack twilight#Twilight wolf pack#pack#twilight#twilight wolves#twilight fanfiction
17 notes
·
View notes
Text
Ever since I sucked it up and decided to get past my dislike for sneaking to do the Thieves Guild quest line many years ago, the thought of enemies to lovers with Mercer Frey and my oc Titania has given me brain rot. I've been writing and reworking this as a fic for years.
But like actually hear me out. Imagine Mercer sneaking into the Palace of Kings private areas, heading to the room of Ulfric Stormcloak's daughter. It was meant to be a quick in and out, something Mercer had done countless times before. Something that was as easy as breathing for him, especially with the aid of the skeleton key. All he needed was a certain circlet for a high profile client, nothing remotely complicated. In all honesty, Mercer would have never taken such a simple job under normal circumstances. Usually he would find the suggestion to be insulting, as if it were insinuating his skills and time weren't worthy of anything more spectacular. However, the lousy members of his guild seemed to grow more incompetent by the day (the fact that it was his fault didn't do much to quench his resentment about it), and the saying "if you want something done right, you have to do it yourself" was one Mercer led his life with.
It was meant to be easy. It was meant to go off without a hitch. After all, he was the greatest thief in Skyrim, or perhaps even in all of Tamriel. With all possible calculations of probability, he should have had no issues. However, as he cracked open the wooden door and slid through the small opening, he ran into a big one. The tearstained face of Titania Stormcloak, the woman he was meant to steal from. Both parties freeze, the power each person held over the other not lost on either of them.
Titania was stunned, having been isolated her whole life due to her father's plethora of enemies. Even though she was in her twenties it continued, she had been too scared to break the period of isolation after having lived in fear of kidnapping or assassination her whole life. That was, until that night when her father had announced she was to be brought into an arranged marriage with a soldier named Ralof that he had taken a special liking to. She didn't have anything against the man, she just didn't want to spend her life with someone who was not her true love, and so she had decided to run away. Now, it seemed as if Talos had granted her a gift to aid her in that with the man dressed in the infamous Thieves Guild armor. If he was standing in her chambers with no guards alerted, surely he would be resourceful enough to get her to another hold if she offered something valuable, such as her circlet.
Mercer really didn't want to participate with the scheme the girl in front of him was proposing. However, he needed the circlet for a high profile client and was not going to come back to them as an empty handed failure. Titania's threats to call the guards certainly influenced his decision. He could easily break out of any prison in Skyrim, but the thought of someone else laying hands on the skeleton key while the guards took his things off his person to put him in a cell made his body fill with bubbling, possessive anger. So, with an exasperated sigh, Mercer accepted.
From there Mercer and Titania head to the neutral city of Whiterun so she can start her life of freedom and Mercer can get the circlet and be rid of her. However, the Battleborn family ruins their plan and alerts the imperials of Titania's presence. She begs Mercer to take her back to Riften with him, knowing the cistern would be the last place anyone would look to find her despite being Stormcloak territory. Mercer agrees, realizing how valuable of an asset someone who fits in with high society could be to planning heists.
The two pull off many jobs, growing closer romantically by gaining each others respect as they do so. Titania is brought to the sanctum, Mercer does his thing but doesn't know why he feels so filled with grief to the point of being physically ill afterwards. When Titania finds out about Mercer's plot from Karliah she originally is filled with rage, but realizes he has been the only person helping her in her life, even if it was mutually beneficial.
She tracks him down through things he had mentioned in passing, and finds him while he plans his biggest heist. Titania confesses her love and swears loyalty to him and he tries to play it cool and act like he doesn't care but lets her tag along. When the chamber starts to fill with water Titania almost drowns and he saves her life, confessing that he returns her love finally when she wakes up. The two live a life of wealth and luxury together in Solitude.
Of course that's the bare bones, the fic I have written has more plot with the civil war and Rikke being Titania's mother and the romance is a huge slowburn. But I'm so no thoughts head empty for this concept.
5 notes
·
View notes
Text
@splitcards asked: [ pluck ] – for the sender to pluck a foreign object ( twig / leaf / etc. ) out of the receiver muses’ hair.
He hadn’t manage to make it back to Octavinelle. When the signs appeared, the dark clouds and strong winds and the birds took flight, he should’ve known that it was time to find shelter somewhere indoors. The rain started pouring far more quicker than expected, coming in waves, in showers, beating heavily against the glass. He’d managed to run into the basement where he kept his personal aquarium. It was an old storeroom abandoned by previous students after a new shed had been built, but Jade had invested weeks of work putting everything away and repurposed it into his own personal space.
A knock sounds at the door shortly after he closed it. Jade turns around, a few coughs escaping his lips. He never did faired well in human rain; unlike the ones at the Coral Sea, this one is heavily concentrated with chemicals born from industrial areas. Upon contact, their nose and skin would itch, and were it anything more severe, they’d have to ensure blisters and rashes for a couple of days. But he doesn’t have the heart to leave someone else outside drenched in human rain water, so he willed the door open before slamming it back shut as quickly as possible after a shadow darts into the living hall.
❝Cater-san?❞ He blurts out, catching a glimpse of orange hair from the corner of his eyes. He turns and offers him a bow, as a second year should when faced before a third year.
...And, goodness, does he look terrible. ❝Did you, perhaps, come from the forest, Cater-san?❞ Jade couldn’t help but asks upon witnessing the disastrous sight. There are leaves and twigs sticking out of his hair, and his shoes are caked with mud. His clothes seemed to be in a wearable condition at least, save for them being drenched down to his socks. There is only one towel on the stand, which Jade had left there on purpose for days when he wishes to stay for the night, but this time he decides to offer it to Cater instead. Their conditions compared, Cater seems to be in dire need of drying up.
❝Ah, perhaps you should come here and sit.❞ With a smile, he guides them both to a small dresser sitting at the side. This living hall is a small one; nothing as grand as Mostro Lounge and a poor comparison even to their dorm rooms. It looks, in fact, much closer to a shoddy motel meant for only a night’s stay at most. But back when Jade was constructing this place, he didn’t have many resources to make use of. ❝I assume you must have sprinted far to be in this state. Allow me to take care of you.❞
It is, after all, the least he could do while they waited for the rain to stop.
He invites Cater to sit at the dresser, then lifts his head up to look at himself in the mirror. The twigs and leaves in his hair were quickly removed, falling to the ground like how the trees would shed in the first days of Autumn. Then, reaching out for the towel, Jade pauses momentarily to turn his head to the side just to release another round of fitful coughs at a respectful distance from Cater. ❝... My apologies. We as merfolk have quite a poor resistance against human rain.❞ He says. ❝It ought not to be contagious, so do not worry.❞
Especially with scaleless fish like them, it’s as though they lacked an additional layer of armour to keep toxins out of their body. Perhaps that was, in a way, a trade to have smooth, beautiful skin that was the result of the mucus they have in the sea.
He throws the towel over Cater’s head, trying his best to rub his hair dry after he pulls out the pin that keeps his hair together on top his head. Orange curls fall wisp around his neck, framing a rather round and youthful face of a young man that looked quite different from his usual self. His face seemed to look different as well, though at first glance it’s hard to tell what about Cater changed. And then he noticed the tiny freckles coming visible and realised that Cater might have been wearing makeup before.
❝Oh my, don’t you have a rather pleasant-looking face?❞ Jade smiles, amusement twinkling in his eyes, as he picks up a brush and combs down those smooth, glossy locks all the way to their tail-ends.
1 note
·
View note
Text
Having Sex on a Run with Rick
Rick Grimes x Fem! Reader
Request: Hay, I recently became active on your blog; And I love it so much already!? Your work for Rick? 😤 It’s damn fine! We need more for him,,I was wondering if I could get something for Rick where Reader and him are on a run and Reader feels frisky? Lust comes over the two and they make out, getting each other off? Basically they’re having a quickie on a run? Because the adrenaline is pumping if you get my gist... @positive-squid
Warnings: Smut. Profanity. Sexual content.
Rick could tell that something was off with you.
You weren’t acting badly or mean or anything.
But you seemed...antsy.
At first, he assumed that you were getting a little stir crazy.
Things in Alexandria had been good for a while, and mostly everyone had been sticking around trying to improve camp.
Even though Alexandria was extensive, he could understand how someone could still feel a bit caged in.
So he suggested that you accompany him on a run.
The two of you were close friends, so he didn’t see any issue with it.
He almost felt bad at how excited you got over it.
Rick figured that the group could always use more resources, so he didn’t feel as if this run was just for killing time.
You were bubbly as you slid into the passenger seat, positively stoked to be getting out for a bit.
Rick knew of a few places that needed to be scouted, so at least the two of you could get a day’s work out of this run.
It started as business as usual.
The two of you chatted as you scrounged for food or whatever else you could possibly use.
“Does Carl still need a pair of bigger boots? I think I just found a pair.”
“Sure, thanks. Do you think that Daryl would use this hairbrush?”
“Very funny.”
It was a pretty textbook run. The two of you chatted while you looked for things, throwing anything and everything even semi-useful into your backpacks.
Not to mention...it was brutally hot.
While it was a bit difficult to really ever truly know what day it was...
It was always unmistakable when summer had come back around.
The days were blistering hot and even the evenings were sticky and warm.
Sweat dripped down your back as you navigated the abandoned building that was somehow trapping more heat that you would’ve anticipated.
You had glanced over at Rick at one point to check on him, when you saw that he was having the same problem.
Sweat beaded around his forehead, some of it sliding down his face and neck.
He glistened in the daylight, his hard work being proven through his perspiration.
You couldn’t take your eyes off of him.
It was the strangest feeling to be so drawn into him.
Sure, you had always found him attractive. It was hard to deny.
But you hadn’t really ever had a chance to just...look at him.
You eyed over his hands and arms as they moved stuff around.
His muscles flexed and relaxed in the most captivating way.
The veins in his hands and forearms were prevalent from both the heat and all the strenuous movement.
His dark curls were damp with sweat, yet he still looked so clean.
Your sights diverted to his hips, watching the way his legs moved in such a calculated way.
All kinds of dirty thoughts plagued your mind.
The thought of his hands around your throat.
His fingers in your mouth,
His cock buried somewhere deep inside of you.
He looked perfect.
A little too perfect.
It didn’t take him long to catch your stare, a confused smile as a quirked brow appearing on his features.
“Something wrong?”
You snapped out of your trance, embarrassed that he had just caught you staring.
“Nope!” You had squeaked, “All good here.”
He brushed it off, thinking you were tired from the day’s work.
It wasn’t until you were loading up the vehicle with all of your found resources that he noticed it again.
He noticed the way your eyes followed his every move.
The way you were listening extra closely when he spoke.
Something was on your mind, but he just didn’t expect that he was on your mind.
The two of you climbed into the truck, him in the driver’s seat and you in the passenger’s seat.
But he didn’t start the truck.
Instead he looked over at you, catching your bashful gaze.
“What’s going on in that head of yours?” Rick asked, this time a little more determined to figure it out.
You refused to admit to him that you had been pining over him for the last hour and a half.
Deny, deny, deny.
“Oh, I’m fine. I’m just tired.”
Rick wasn’t buying it.
He wasn’t buying that at all.
“You know, if something is bothering you, you can tell me. I don’t want you to be unhappy if it’s something I can fix.”
Oh, it was definitely something he could fix alright.
But still, there was no way that you were telling him that.
“I really am fine, Rick. Honestly.”
He still wasn’t convinced, but he didn’t want to push you.
He started the truck, thinking that he’d get through to you sooner or later.
The ride was quiet, both of you too caught up in your own thoughts to say much of anything.
You had tried to push your dirty thoughts aside, trying your hardest to control your feelings towards him.
But the way he looked in the late afternoon sun filtering in through the windows, mixed with the way he kept throwing side glances at you...you couldn’t.
“Pull over.”
“What?”
“Pull over, please.”
Rick obliged, worried that something was wrong.
He barely even managed to get the truck in park before you crawled over the center console into his lap.
He didn’t even have time to be stunned, because your lips crashed into his before he could speak.
It surprised you, but Rick didn’t really question it.
He kissed back with the same energy, fiery and passionately desperate.
His hand came to the back of your neck, keeping you close and allowing your lips to hover over his when you pulled back for air.
He could feel the heat pooling between your legs through his pants, and he knew it wasn’t from the summer heat.
“I never knew you felt so strongly about me.” Rick had chuckled, already breathless from the heavy kissing.
He groaned when you dragged your clothed cunt over his thigh while you worked on getting his pants unbuckled.
He caught you in another kiss while you stroked his cock to an erection, his spine shuddering at the feeling of you touching him like this.
You praised yourself for deciding to wear shorts, getting them off with your free hand and with ease.
You knew you had limited space, since you weren’t too keen on doing this outside of the truck.
Not that you minded being in close quarters with Rick.
This was going to be a quick fuck.
You knew that this was the scratch the itch and the address the tension that had been building for a while.
Rick didn’t seem to mind that.
His fingers dragged through your folds, collecting your arousal as he rubbed the pads of his fingers on your clit.
You moaned at the feeling, the waves of pleasure already beginning and he hadn’t even gotten inside of you yet.
“You were really happy to be with me, huh?” Rick teased, spitting into his hand and lubricating himself just to be sure he didn’t hurt you.
Before you could respond, your hips were lifted by his hands and he slammed you down onto his cock to the point where your hip bones touched his.
A synchronized moan fell from your and Rick’s mouths, both of your head lulling back in ecstasy.
Rick wasn’t even moving yet and he was already stretching and filling you perfectly.
Suddenly, Rick was taking charge, which only added to your arousal.
He gave you a second to adjust to his size, letting you wriggle in his lap until you found an angle that was comfortable.
His hand tapped the side of your leg, prompting you to start moving.
You rotated between bouncing on his lap and rolling your hips, making sure that the satisfaction went both ways.
It was intoxicatingly perfect.
The way he felt stretching you and hitting every bundle of nerves possible.
The hot kisses and the heavy touches were everything you had ever dreamed of with Rick.
Your bounces were met by his thrusts, hitting your g-spot in the most flawless way.
You knew it wasn’t going to take long to get off.
This had been building up for far too long for your climax to be drawn out.
“Fuck, you’re perfect. Feel so good.” He babbled, cheeks flushed and pupils blown.
His head was reeling, and he wasn’t sure that he was totally comprehending what was happening right now.
All he knew is that he didn’t want this to be the first and only time.
His cock throbbed inside of you, his own release begging to be spilled out into you.
You felt the twitch, and that in and of itself is what caused your orgasm to break out all over you.
You came with a squeaky moan, your entire body tensing up around him as your head fell to his shoulder and your hands gripped the back of the seat.
He thrusted a couple more times before he came as well, his release spurting into you and milking his cock white as he groaned out your name.
Your bodies went limp, chests heaving with heavy breaths and post-coital sighs.
His hand rubbed up and down your back slowly, his cum leaking out of you and onto his bare thighs.
A few minutes of silence passed before you raised your head.
Your dilated eyes met his, and what you saw was pure lust and content.
Most importantly, you could see the anticipation through his eyes, all the way to his soul.
You weren’t sure why, but something in your gut told you that this wouldn’t be the last time that you fucked Rick Grimes.
#Rick Grimes#rick grimes fanfiction#rick grimes imagine#rick grimes smut#rick grimes x reader#rick grimes x you#rick grimes x y/n#rick grimes x female reader#rick grimes fluff#rick grimes headcanons#rick grimes headcanon#rick grimes smut headcanon#rick grimes twd#The Walking Dead#the walking dead fanfiction#the walking dead smut#HC requests#positive-squid#twdbegins
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
No Such Thing (3) - Bucky Barnes
Series summary: You’ve been assigned to write a column for your school paper on the team’s spectacular running back. You don’t care very much for your university’s football team; you just can’t understand the hype, okay? Turns out your distaste for football bigheads was exactly on point: James Barnes is insufferable.
Pairing: college!Bucky Barnes x female!Reader
Word count: 3.5k
Warnings: enemies to lovers, as usual. More insults, mentions of sex but nothing descriptive, those darn ice patches (gotta be careful!)
****
"Medium matcha and a grande caramel latte for Y/N!"
"That's me," you called, scooting around the counter to accept the drinks. You then took time to grab fixings, delicately picking out the cleanest looking stirrer you could find.
"Hey, aren't you that girl with the ink?"
You sighed and turned to face the girl who'd spoken and her friend. They didn't look mean, necessarily; just curious.
"Yeah, it is you," her friend added eagerly. "That was totally rad what you did for your protest."
"No one says rad anymore, Morgan," criticized the first girl, rolling her eyes.
"Well, I'm bringing it back."
"What are you talking—" but they were gone, bickering all the way out the door about whether rad was in or not.
You went to your table, where Nat was nose deep in a copy of The Republic, delicately taking bites of her chocolate chip muffin.
"I don't know how you manage all this sugar," you said, sliding her latte over. Her eyes went big and she smiled at you before taking a long sip.
"How else do you think I stay so sweet?"
"Mm, clever. You know, those people back at the counter recognized me."
"From the ink?"
"Yep."
The video had quickly gained momentum over the last two days. Jamie had assured you this wouldn’t end up in next month’s paper, but that didn't stop the entire campus from streaming your debacle. The person who'd gotten a decent recording had screwed up the sound, so it was just you waving your arms with ink down your shirt for close to a minute. Suffice to say, you looked moderately nutty.
"They mentioned something about a protest."
"Oh, yeah, I meant to show you this morning but you'd already left."
She pulled up Instagram, quickly locating a person's story.
"Someone started the idea that you did this to advocate against ocean dumping. Like, the ink is meant to represent oil spills and your display illustrates the insides of cute baby dolphins."
You squinted at the video, at the captions and links for resources.
"The ink is blue."
"Yeah, but the video's so filtered at this point, it looks black."
You blinked, glancing at the video, then at Nat.
"Did you do this?"
"No. It didn't even cross my mind, honestly. Anybody asked me, I probably would’ve claimed modern art. It got connected to that article you wrote about the debate team's ocean cleanup, so I guess people rolled with it."
Your brows rose.
"Wow. Whoever did this gets a fruit basket from me.”
"I'll spread the word."
You sipped your matcha thoughtfully, swiping through the countless stories with similar posts. The person responsible must’ve had a lot of social pull and cared enough to stick up for you. Warmth swelled at the thought.
“Can’t believe this many people—hang on, Gina Marcelino posted too? She’s the superfan who was a sourpuss about the sports column assignment.”
You frowned at the heavily filtered video, complete with glitzy stickers and flashy gifs.
“You know how people like her are, Y/N. Jumping on the next trend no matter how hypocritical they look.”
You hummed, returning her phone.
“Yeah, true. Well, it’s nice, whoever did it.”
Nat nodded, bookmarking her page.
“Sure is. About as nice as that varsity jacket you brought home, huh?”
“Don’t. Steve was just being gentlemanly. It didn’t mean anything."
“Of course not,” she shrugged, face neutral. “Never saw anybody else wear it, though. Girls are interested, sure, but Steve gives you his jacket.”
"Yeah, and Barnes gives me a headache. Plenty of guys give me things, Nat."
“Well, you’re such a delight, is it any wonder?”
“Not really.”
“And so modest."
“You know it, babe."
You stood, looping your bag strap over your shoulder.
“And now, I must leave you to serve my punishment, dear Natasha.”
“At least it’s only until the end of the season.”
“If you find a Y/N-shaped popsicle out there, promise to thaw me out?”
“I'll consider it. Maybe I’ll come find you later, hm?”
“Yeah, sounds good.”
"Sure you don't want to personally return the jacket? It's a great excuse," she called after you.
"I'm sure!"
****
The field was empty when you arrived, bitterly cold with the beginnings of winter. You dropped your bag on the bleachers, plumes of your breath fogging the air. An older man you assumed to be the groundskeeper hefted a bucket of field paint over, straightening and watching you scurry over with his arms crossed.
“I’m here! I’m h—yah!”
Your stomach soared to your throat as your feet went backwards on a patch of icy field. You stuck your arms in front of you, catching yourself on the ground before it met your face first. You stood after regaining balance and rested your hands on your hips, trying for a smile that probably came out more like a grimace. The groundskeeper sighed.
“I’m okay.”
“Hmph. You the newspaper girl?"
"Uh, yep.” You stepped carefully around the shiny turf. “That's me."
“C'mon, then. I’ll show you how to get the marking wand fired up.”
Quickly, he demonstrated how to load the wand with paint and how to get the lines smooth. It wasn’t much of a process; you were more impressed by the fact that this guy was wearing cargo shorts in December. He turned to you after, caterpillar eyebrows dipping questioningly.
“Think you got it? Just follow the faded lines already there. Don’t get paint outside of ‘em and don’t step in it either; it’s a bitch to remove.”
“Got it.”
“Good. Don’t worry about locking up; the cheer team usually comes in around five. Maintenance’ll be here after.”
“Oh, okay. Thanks.”
You squatted to open the paint and accidentally dropped the plastic lid on the ground, your fingers already numbed without your gloves, lest you got paint on them. He frowned at you, shaking his head as he walked away.
“Damn kids,” you heard him mumble.
Well, it wasn’t your fault you were so nervous around possible staining agents.
You tugged your hat down and zipped your coat to your chin, then rubbed your hands to return some warmth. Loading the wand just like he’d shown you, you pulled the strap around your arm, causing it to squeak around the bulk of your coat. You started at the other side of the field to keep your back against the wind.
It was too damn cold for this. Didn’t the players know where to run and stop by now? If they didn’t, you were of the opinion that maybe they shouldn’t be on the field at this point.
The click of feedback made you look up, squinting. Across the field was a blur of red, which was strange, because hadn't he said the stadium was supposed to be empty until the cheerleaders—
“Looking strong, L/N!”
Bucky’s voice crackled slightly through the megaphone. At your attention, he swaggered down the bleacher steps, somehow suave as ever despite not wearing anywhere close to the amount of layers he should’ve been for this weather. Asshole.
"I really am growing fond of that space suit of yours," he continued, gracefully stepping over the wet paint. "Duality of invention: the first coat that turns into a pool floaty."
"What are you doing here?" you grit, unable to come up with a better retort due to how cold you were.
"Well, I heard they were making you paint the field and I just couldn't help myself. I had to see if they were putting little ol’ L/N to work and…" he brought the megaphone to his mouth once more. "Look at that! They are. How're you feeling, sweetheart? 'Cause you look miserable."
Briefly, you debated painting a dick on his jacket, but any stray paint meant you'd probably be here for another hour removing it. Though that didn't mean the threat couldn't be made.
"This field paint is reeeeally hard to get out, Barnes. How do you feel about having a white jacket instead? Sweater for a sweater?"
Bucky leaned over, bottom lip pulled between his teeth, eyes sharp.
"Go ahead. You'll be here till dawn scrubbing it out. But I ain’t averse to you creating more work for yourself."
"I might just take that chance," you snarled, lifting the wand in what you hoped was a menacing pose.
Bucky gave you a slow onceover, mouth turned in a grin.
"What would the headline be this time? I'm thinking, 'Local Green Marshmallow Stamps Foot.' Not bad, huh? I might just join the student paper myself."
"Cute, Barnes. But you actually need talent to join."
"Well, if they accepted you, I'll take my chances."
You jabbed the wand in Bucky’s direction, causing him to jog backwards, easily dodging.
"Whoa, take it easy, tiger! I'm going, I'm going. You paint that field. Make those lines real solid for me, yeah? Such a good, little worker bee."
He paused, pointing.
"Oh, and L/N? You missed a spot. Right here."
"Get out!" you snapped, and Bucky sauntered out, impossibly smug.
You glowered at the empty gate for a few moments, letting the warmth of your irritation flow. How he'd known to find you, you had no idea. But you were going to find out.
Your phone buzzed in your pocket and you pulled it out, breathing warm air on your fingers.
[4:27pm]
NAT: how’s it going?
YOU: i hate barnes
NAT: i believe that’s been established
YOU: i wanted to reiterate
NAT: hot chocolate?
YOU: are u offering?
[4:28pm]
NAT: maybe
NAT: i’m feeling generous
YOU: i am in love with u. tell sam we’re running off together
NAT: i’ll stop by in an hour
YOU: please bring hothands
You returned your phone to your pocket, took a deep breath, and pushed on. You only ended up slipping once and you didn’t fall all the way, so all in all, the painting process was a win. Minus Bucky’s surprise appearance.
It was another hour before you finally finished, your fingers and cheeks aching with chill. You'd done a great job, obviously, and you hoped the football jerks—sans Sam and Steve, of course—appreciated your hard work. Probably not, but the thought was nice. Realistically, you knew Bucky would end up cracking jokes about something along the lines of how ridiculous you looked in your coat, waddling around like a green penguin. Jerk.
"It is way too cold for practice!" came a voice, high and whiny. "Coach Hill is honestly out of her mind."
"Aw, quit your complaining. Everyone's cold. Nobody forced you to join."
Cheer team.
You kept your head down, shuffling to the side to return the equipment and grab your bag. There was a cup of the good hot chocolate with your name on it.
"And look, they just painted the field!" added Whiny.
You smiled at the quiet groans from the rest of the team.
"Hey, green coat! Thanks for painting the field!"
You looked up to see one of the girls waving at you. You stiffened, suspicious.
"Uh, sure. You're welcome."
"Are you going to the game next week?”
“It’s not really my thing,” you said, aware of her teammates’ eyes on you.
“You should try it out,” she shrugged, expression genuine. “They’re fun.”
"Callie! Coach said she's stuck in traffic on the bridge. Let's bounce."
She turned, flicking her ponytail over her shoulder. You took that as your cue to return to your bag.
"No way. She still might make it. We need to practice for the final game."
"Cal, seriously—"
"Seriously, we can wait a few minutes out of courtesy. Come on, let’s stretch."
As you began to leave, an all-too familiar voice rang out once again. This time, blessedly, he was without his megaphone, though his giant piehole could carry all the same. You remained by the bleachers as Bucky swaggered in, hands in his pockets.
He paused mid-step, looking around the stadium, then stopped. What was he waiting for?
“Hey, Bucky!”
At the beckoning, he carried on down to where the team had gathered, gait confident once more.
"Is that you, Cal dear?"
You rolled your eyes. How predictable. The football asshole chasing the cheer captain.
Callie turned, one brow raised.
"And just what are you doing here, Bucky Barnes?"
"I'm here to see my favorite cheer captain, of course! Lend my school spirit," he replied easily.
She chuffed, though you could see a small smile forming.
"Is that so? Well, we're about to practice, so if you don't mind…"
"Where's Hill?"
"Late," chimed Whiny, gazing adoringly. "We've got time to chat."
Callie shot her teammate a warning look. Bucky puffed up like a peacock, dialing the charm to eleven.
"Well, that's perfect! Cal, there is something I wanted to talk to you about, actually. Very important."
"Uh-huh."
"There's this party on Saturday and—"
“At the Starks’?”
“So you’ve heard of it! I was just wondering if you wanted to go together,” he offered, leaning against the bleachers. “I’m actually a pro at these events.”
“Oh, really?”
Despite her tone, you could tell Callie was melting fast. She was no match for Bucky’s magnetism.
“Really, really,” he answered sweetly. “So whaddya say? You in the mood?”
“Mood for what, exactly?”
“For dancing, of course,” he replied, the picture of innocence. “What else would I mean?”
The urge struck you then to call him on his bluff, in front of God and everyone, and get him back for earlier. This girl didn’t know how truly unbearable he could be, how arrogant and crude.
Why should he get everything he wanted, anyway? A few words and she was basically a puddle. What was so great about Bucky fuckin’ Barnes?
“Funny,” she said, letting him slink his arm around her shoulder. “Here I was thinking you weren’t allowed at any more Stark parties.”
“Pfft, where’d you hear that? It’s not a party without me.”
You scoffed, rubbing your hands together. Your bare hands. Where were your gloves?
“I’d go with you, Bucky,” Whiny butt in, leaning into his other side.
There were your gloves. On the bench. Right next to two cheerleaders.
“Hey!” you whispered. “Hey, over here!”
The cheerleaders looked at you.
“Hey, can you pass me my gloves? Just toss ‘em over. Please.”
“These gloves?” one replied loudly, picking them up. “The blue ones?”
“Yes, just—”
“L/N, you’re still here! Can’t get enough of me, huh?”
You pointedly ignored him, going to snatch your gloves yourself.
“Now don’t get shy. What happened to the fire from an hour ago?” asked Bucky, arm dropping from Callie’s shoulder.
You righted yourself and faced him, pulling on your gloves.
“Up yours, Barnes.”
He clucked his tongue, traipsing down the steps.
“Creeping ‘round the stadium to catch your last looks—this obsession with me is kinda getting outta hand, don’t cha think?”
You pushed back your hood, glaring.
“I’m creeping? Who's stalking the field painter? Seriously, don't you have better things than following me around?"
"I didn't stalk you, smartass."
"Then how'd you know where I was?"
"A friend." He grinned. "You probably know her. Gina… I wanna say something with an M?"
"Marcelino."
Bucky snapped his fingers.
"Her. Yeah, she told me you got chewed out and I couldn't resist."
"I take it this was while you were making nighttime noises?"
His brows rose.
"Nighttime noises? Are we in The Great Gatsby?"
"People say nighttime noises. It's couth."
"Yes, old sport, we entertained each other for the night."
"Hm. Your place or hers?"
"Mine…"
"So you find each other at, what, a frat party? Assholes Anonymous? You bring her to your place, she pushes a week-old pizza box off your bed—"
"Contrary to what you may think, I don't live in a sty."
"A pig without a sty. Incredible."
He pushed his nose up and oinked.
“I cannot believe women are attracted to you.”
“Jealousy is unbecoming, L/N. If you want me so bad, just admit it. No shame.”
“As tempting as the idea of you slobbering all over me is, Barnes, I’m going to have to pass. I don’t go for sloppy seconds. Or thirds. Or fourths.”
“That’s not very open-minded of you, L/N, ‘specially when you don't even get firsts.”
“All that and he knows wordplay! It's better than having a reputation that precedes me. No wonder you need so much practice with your Playboys.”
“Practice makes perfect,” he grinned.
“I guess Callie’s got to decide whether or not she's into being practice for beer breath and empty promises to call.”
“Actually, she’s already made her choice. I show my dates a good time. Ain’t that right, Cal?”
There was no response. You both turned at the same time to find a lone cheerleader packing up. He glanced at you and Bucky, then rolled his eyes.
“They left. While you two were busy wrapped up in each other, Coach texted and canceled practice.”
He picked up his duffel, leaving you and Bucky alone. You turned back with a smile.
“Ouch. And all without a goodbye. Better luck next time, Barnes.”
“Sweetheart, I don’t need luck. That’s the difference between you and me.”
“Not the only difference, I hope.”
“Well, that and the fact that I know how to work a printer.”
You began to giggle, unable to resist strutting towards him. He didn’t even realize.
"What's so funny?"
"What's funny is that your big printer trick failed, Barnes. Someone made it look like I did that on purpose in the name of protesting ocean dumping."
His face scrunched.
“There’s no way.”
"Way," you sighed happily. "It’s all over Instagram and a bunch of people reposted it."
"That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard. You, an activist? Where would they get such an idea?"
You continued to walk forward, pride overflowing.
"Who knows. People bought it, though. Face it, Barnes. I'm unbeat–aah!”
Two things happened. First, the icy patches returned with a vengeance, this time successful in pulling you down. Second, you fell forward, consequently colliding with the nearest obstacle in your path. Said obstacle was not prepared to be knocked into full-force.
“Shit!”
Bucky hit the ground first, cushioning your fall. You landed atop him, nose knocking into his chin.
“Fuck,” you hissed, rearing your head back and pinching your bruised nose.
“What was that, L/N? Something about being unbeatable?”
“I am,” you huffed, glaring down at him.
“Yeah, I hope you know that I’m never letting this go. Have you tried walking prior to this moment? Because I think you need practice.”
“Shut up, Barnes.”
You leaned on his shoulder to push yourself to sit up and he grunted, hand on the side of your ribcage.
“Great, thanks. I love being used as a support beam—chest, chest.”
You quickly removed your hand from Bucky’s pectoral, switching to the ground instead.
“Sorry,” you mumbled, focusing on getting up without slipping again.
“Jesus, you’ve got the hand-eye coordination of a toddler.”
“You did this on purpose,” you accused.
“Me—who slid headfirst into my stomach?”
“You stood in front of an ice patch so I’d fall,” you insisted petulantly.
“Oh my God. I didn’t tell you to stomp around with your big-ass feet on a frozen field, L/N.”
“Do you really want to do this when my knee is this close to your gut? Among other valuables?”
“Gut? There’s nothing but muscle underneath, thank you very much.”
“God, you’re incredible. Leave it to Bucky Barnes to brag about his six-pack with a girl on top of him.”
He opened his mouth to retort.
“I heard it,” you cut him off grumpily.
“You know, I knew you were clumsy that day you boomeranged off of Steve but if I’d known it was this bad, I would’ve gifted you some ankle weights. Out of the goodness of my heart, of course.”
“Since when do you have goodness in your—”
“Y/N?”
Your head swiveled around, almost flying off your neck.
“Nat! Um, hi. I’ll, uh—hi.”
Her brows were at her hairline.
“Is that Bucky?”
Bucky peeked out from the side, waving pleasantly.
“Hey, Tasha.”
“I’m loath to ask but, what exactly is going on?”
“Bambi here is learning how to walk for the first time,” he explained as you scrambled off, uncaring if you slid in the process.
“I slipped,” you corrected when you were standing, putting significant distance between you and Bucky, who popped up like a daisy.
“You slipped?”
You cleared your throat, accepting the hot chocolate from her hand.
“Yes. On some ice.”
“And you fell onto him?”
“By accident.”
“Well, I would hope so.”
You shut your eyes briefly, taking a long sip. It was hot but you didn’t care; burning your tongue was better than talking right now.
"She's a fumbler," confirmed Bucky, brushing past. “Definitely won’t be making tryouts anytime soon.”
"Maybe we should start putting you in bubble wrap," said Nat, zeroed in on your expression.
"With that coat, I think it'd be redundant.”
“I still don’t see how you slipped and crashed…”
"We need to leave now," you interrupted loudly. "Right now. I'm very cold."
Nat pursed her lips, squinting at you.
"Alright, we'll go. I’ll see you later, Bucky," Nat waved as you pulled her along.
"Tasha. Tasha's clumsy roommate."
You raised one gloved finger, not looking back.
-
Next chapter
#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky barnes x female reader#bucky barnes imagine#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes x yn#college au#enemies to lovers#marvel fanfiction#mcu fanfiction#marvel x reader#athlete bucky barnes#athlete au#college bucky barnes#i feel like this is the worst writing ive ever done hhhh but i hope yall like it
491 notes
·
View notes
Text
Company Policy -JJK
- Pairing: coworker Jungkook x reader
- Genre: established relationship? Sort of
- Rating:18+
- Words: 5k
- Summary: Eight months. Eight months you have regretted breaking off being fuck buddies with your hot coworker. You were so afraid of being caught with him but now that you’ve had time to think, would it really be so bad as long as you could have him all to yourself again? Does he even like you anymore? Has he moved on? All you know is it’s been eight months since you’ve had sex, he’s been all you could think about. Now he’s looking pretty hot at this office party.
- Warnings: pining, explicit content, public sex, they fuck on a coworker’s desk, public sex, unprotected sex, vaginal fingering, heavy dirty talk, brief mention of oral sex and a ton of other past sexual acts like thigh riding and hair pulling, kind of jealous tattooed kook, not voyurism but someone else is there at some point, and finally a dash of fluff.
- A/n: This post is a commission for the ARMY for AAPI Justice and Advocacy Event. Please click >here< to find more resources and consider donating to the cause! Thank you so incredibly much to the donor @lcksndkys for donating and commissioning this, you are an absolute angel, I hope you know that. I might’ve gotten a bit carried away and wrote a few thousand more words than planned, but you deserve it.
“Morning,”
“Morning.” Was the greeting between you and Jungkook every morning when you stepped into the elevator, coffee in hand.
That was it, that was all you ever said to each other anymore. His smell always floated around the confined space making your mind flashback to what once was before you quickly pushed it away from your brain.
Neither of you ever said anything about it, it was like it had never even happened and sometimes you wonder if it even had or if your brain had made up everything that had happened eight months ago from your frequent dirty thoughts of your coworker. It felt like a lifetime ago. The familiarity of him, his smell, his smile, his voice along with the cold distance, avoidance to even look at you, and the constant wonder of him having someone else made you a little sick at your stomach.
You had decided to break things off… as if either of you were any more than fuck buddies. You knew that if anyone at work had ever found out about the two of you, you’d most likely both be fired. No banging other employees was a pretty strict policy there and you remembered the two nice ladies that were fired last year for it, you remembered it because your boss had made such an example of it.
You had been more than paranoid when you and Jungkook were boning for a whole month, you both had been so secretive even going as far as to have each other park down the street from your houses when the other came over. It didn’t help that you lived with your sister and didn’t want her to know you were sneaking someone in the house and screwing them. It also didn’t help that his roommate worked there too and didn’t get along at times. It didn’t seem like all the effort to sneak around was worth it at the time, but now you felt like you had a mistake.
As you took your seat behind the reception desk and began to put away your things for the morning, you just kept stealing glimpses of him doing the same at his cubicle. Every morning he would put his black messenger bag under his desk, turn on his computer, and roll the sleeves of his white button-up shirt up to reveal one very tattooed arm. His wavy hair was usually put back into a half ponytail for professionalism and probably so he could see, but there were always strands that managed to escape his hair elastic throughout the day. It was painful mentally at times having a view of him but trying not to look, it was painful knowing he wouldn’t look back at you anymore. You could still feel what it was like when he had glanced at you and smiled at you, your heart sped up at just the thought.
“Ugh why are you always here so early, you leave before I even wake up.” his roommate,Jimin, had walked in, looking great as usual but a bit tired in the face. He was lingering around Jungkook’s desk with his things still in hand.
“I like to be prepared, unlike you.” Jungkook joked back with a smile but you knew it was just more than a joke, Jungkook really didn't care for Jimin, he was a bit too spiteful towards him sometimes.
He had always come in early, you both were typically the first ones here besides the janitor. You had to be, your boss liked you here nice and early to greet everyone as they walked in.
“You coming to the thing tonight? The boss is letting us have booze.” Jimin asked him.
You felt like you really shouldn’t be paying attention to the conversation so you went back to sipping your coffee and getting ready to start the day.
“Hey.”
It nearly scared you to death as you rummaged through your bag under the desk for your chapstick. Your body jolted up to see Jimin leaning one arm on the reception counter.
“What?” you asked in confusion, wondering what he was now doing hanging around you with such a sly smirk.
“Well good morning to you too. Are you going to the party tonight? Boss is having a thing to celebrate meeting our yearly product sales goal.”
“I… haven’t thought about it, why?” you were honest, it didn’t mean anything to you.
“I know we have this policy, but you should think about going with me.” he gave you a wink that made you raise your eyebrows in surprise. “We could come here and have a few drinks and a good time, then we could go back to my place and-”
“How about we don’t? We could just not do that.” you gave him a very fake smile.
Sudden loud coughing erupted through the room making you both look over at the source.
Jungkook was doubled over with his coffee still in his hand.
“You good?” Jimin asked him casually and Jungkook gave a thumbs up to show he was fine, even though his big eyes were slightly teary before holding up his coffee cup to signify he had strangled on his coffee.
“Anyway, if you’re worried about someone saying something about us, you could just come separately and we could just see what happens…”
“I’m not worried because there is no us, Jimin. I’ll come, but let’s not see what happens, and let’s not even speak.”
“Your loss. At least I’ll have Jungkook there with me.” Jimin responded along with a shrug to your savage words before walking away.
You looked over to Jungkook to make sure he hadn’t died because he was no longer choking, you just wanted to make sure he was still breathing but your eyes were met with his. He was giving you this gaze before he raised his eyebrows at you with a slight momentary smirk, it all only lasted less than a split second before he adjusted his black tie and turned back around to face his desk.
How could he be so casual with a look like that at you? How could he be so casual with everything that had happened between you? You had no idea what that look was about but it had your brain so frazzled. It could’ve been nothing, but it was the most interaction you’ve had with him in so long, all it had done was remind you how starved for him you were.
You looked down at your desk feeling your face get a little warm.
Images of that very shirt he was wearing right now, being unbuttoned rapidly with those tattooed fingers in some dark, sketchy hotel room ran through your mind.
“I wish you knew how much I’d go through to be this close to you, to be inside of you.” The memory of his words and hushed voice into your skin gave you goosebumps.
The same man who had said that now sat right over there, not even having tried to flirt with you in the past eight months as you sat here and wondered why you do this to yourself.
Did he still feel that way or had he just meant it at the moment? There were plenty at the moment things that he had said that would flood into your mind just to hurt you when you saw him.
You glanced at him throughout the day as you often did.
You avoided each other on your lunch break, stepping around each other to get to the vending machines in the break room.
You ate at your desk alone while he ate with Jimin in the break room.
Things were the same as they had been, the look he had given you earlier meant nothing, maybe nothing that had happened in the past meant nothing to him too.
Maybe it was all just fun like you both had planned for it to be, if so, why were you still so stuck on it? Why were you stuck on him? You told yourself it was just because he was attractive, the most gorgeous man in the office, but there were just these little things about him you couldn’t get over. The way he stretched and grunted in the morning, you knew the way he liked his coffee, you knew his parents’ names. You had both shared so much of your lives for an entire month almost constantly until you ripped it away from yourself so stupidly. You had both agreed to delete each other’s numbers, but the truth was, you still kept his name in your phone with little hearts by his name. You needed this to end, you needed to stop being so hung up on him because he wasn’t with you. You decided to go to this thing tonight and at least hope for some answers, if you failed to get any you would do your best to stop thinking about him.
------------------
You had talked yourself out of this more than five times already, but you had gotten dressed and ready and made the drive over.
You now sat in the office parking lot just picking lint off of your black dress, not looking forward to how awkward this might be. In your years of working there, you had mostly just kept to yourself… until the thing with Jungkook happened.
“Are you nervous? You look nervous” he gave you a little smile from across the table from the coffee shop. He had asked you to get coffee after work and he could see right through you
“A little.” You had admitted.
“Don’t be shy, it’s just me. It’s just Jungkook, we work together every day.”
“Don’t be nervous.” You found yourself saying out loud to yourself as you gazed out your windshield at the building. “I shouldn’t be. I work with him every day and nothings going to happen anyway.” You hurt yourself a little with the last part. You put a lot more care into how you looked tonight than you wanted to admit.
“It’s just a stupid office party,” you grumbled to yourself before unbuckling your seatbelt and getting out of the car, if it was horrible or boring then you could just go home.
-----
You didn’t know what you had expected, but it wasn’t this. You had followed the signs to the floor that had held a large meeting room, but it didn’t look like a meeting room now.
It was just a room full of people with a snack table and alcohol. The room was dimmed but there were some cheap party effects lighting things happening. People were laughing and talking over some pop music that wasn’t eardrum-bustlingly loud but you still had to strain to hear over. You spotted a lot of coworkers you saw every day, more that you didn’t know from different departments though. You kind of just went and stood by a wall with your eyes searching faces, not stopping too long on any just in case they might think you were staring at them. Before you had left you wondered if you had been too dressed up, but now you were glad for your little black dress as you saw what the others were wearing. Everyone looked so nice and not at all what you were used to them wearing.
While your eyes were going over who was talking to who, you found him.
In the corner of the room on the opposite end, talking to some girl you had only seen a handful of times. She was touching her hair and smiling at him. He looked so dressed down in his ripped black jeans and a black t-shirt. His tattoos were freed as you had always liked seeing and his hair wasn’t being held back. You had seen him like this multiple times, but had anyone else? He had always looked so good like this, so himself.
Just seeing his hair down reminded you of all the times you had grabbed at it while moaning his name. Seeing him in those black ripped jeans reminded you of all the times he has made you ride his chiseled, hard thighs until you came multiple times.
You felt like you had been kicked in the heart as your brain went back to the present moment and saw her placing a hand on his shoulder.
He laughed at something she had said but took a step back out of her grasp smoothly before giving her a small wave. A few more words were exchanged before she apprehensively walked away from him, heaving him alone to stand at the wall on the other side of the room.
Your eyes darted away from him and over to the snack and drink table, you weren’t planning on getting any, but you wanted to make it look that way.
You felt nervous, he looked good and at least one other person had noticed. You told yourself that the lady who had just spoken to him didn’t know him as you did, she probably just saw a hot guy dressed in black with tattoos… just like you had when you both had started whatever happened. He was more than all of that, to you especially now after you had a lot of time to think about it all.
Although you didn’t want your eyes to, they had darted to him for a split second to see he had his phone out… until he looked up from it at you.
He had seen you, he had seen you looking at him from across the room, but he didn’t react. Instead, his eyes went back down to his phone, and yours went back to the table.
Your phone buzzed in your bag and you decided to fish it out thinking it could help you look busy.
“Hey, it’s Jungkook. I see you :)”
Your heart nearly jumped out of your mouth as you read the text.
He hadn’t deleted your number just like you hadn’t his.
You felt his eyes watching you but you didn’t look up. He was waiting for your reply, but you just stood there dumbfounded that he had just sent you a text from across the room.
“I know.” you had nervously typed different versions of this reply over and over only to erase each time before settling on the most simple reply.
“You look good.” it had taken him no time to reply in comparison to you. You stood there in shock and lost as to what to say to him. You were taking too long because he sent a second text.
“I know that dress. I remember it.”
You had been hoping he would. You had worn this dress on the first night you both had ever done anything. You made out in his car after your coffee date. He had just kept telling you how pretty you looked even with his hand in your underwear. It was hard to resist him from even the first date, you had no idea how you had made it eight months now.
“You look nice too, you always have.” You typed and sent it quickly before you could change your mind.
You watched him run his inked fingers through his hair as he read the text. You could swear you saw a flash of a smile on his face before his thumbs went to work on his phone.
“I miss you.” Popped up on your screen.
Part of you felt like crying a little. You felt his eyes on you once again and you looked up away from your phone to see that your feeling had been correct. You were sure your mouth was open as you locked eyes from across the room. Your phone vibrated again in your hand.
“We should talk.”
“Hey, gorgeous!” Jimin stepped in front of you making you lock your phone. “I know you said let’s not talk but-“
“Then why are you talking to me?”
“How could I not? You’re the prettiest one here.” He smirked but you could smell the alcohol on his breath. You couldn’t help the roll of your eyes.
“Oh hey! I’ve been looking for you!” Jungkook now walked up with a smile at you. “You found her for me and didn’t even know I was looking, thanks, man.” Jungkook seemed to be thanking an equally confused as you Jimin.
“Sorry to bother you about work stuff at a party, but I forgot to earlier. I need the contact info to a client I’ve been working on to sell more products to. It’s wild, it’s like I went to the bathroom one day and the info to this big buyer just kinda… disappeared I guess. So weird, almost like someone has it out for me.” Jungkook gave the fakest joking laugh you had ever seen and Jimin looked a bit wide-eyed. “Anyway, You’re the receptionist so I know you have the contact info for everyone anyway so I was wondering if you could maybe help me out and get it for me? It’s kind of really important and I need it ASAP. Already asked the boss and he said it was cool.”
Jimin had just kind of slinked off silently, but you knew what Jungkook was doing.
“Yeah, Uh of course.” You nodded.
He tilted his head in the direction of the door before you followed him out.
He led you towards the elevator in absolute silence and even as he pushed the button for the floor you both worked on he said nothing.
You were beginning to think he was wanting your help. And then you thought about it more in the silent ride and you felt so stupid. Of course he was wanting your help, he had never said he actually didn’t, not even when Jimin had walked away.
“I can’t believe that asshole sabotaged me like that. My roommate sabotaged my sale.” He mumbled before scoffing as the elevator door opened.
“I-I’ll help.” You said but he passed right by your desk.
“I’m glad you said that.” He replied as he walked over to Jimin’s cubicle.
“What are we doing?” You finally asked.
“Depends…” he raised an eyebrow as he looked back at you. “What do you want me to do?”
You swallowed the lump of nervousness in your throat to speak as you looked into his mischievous-looking dark eyes.
“Whatever you want I guess.”
He lifted you in almost an instant and sat you on Jimin’s desk.
“You know he’s always liked you, right? He would tell on us if he ever found out. You were willing to risk it, right here right now?” He dared.
Instead of speaking you grabbed a fist full of his t-shirt and tugged him down until his lips met yours.
God did you want it. You have wanted for eight long months. You were willing to risk everything after so long without his lips on yours.
You were still nervous but his kiss brought it all back for you and how natural it felt.
“Fuck me.” You pleaded against his lips.
“You need it? Tell me you need it.” His lips moved to your neck as he ran a hand through the back of your hair.
“Ah, fuck I need it. I haven’t fucked anyone since you.” It slipped out of your mouth and got a second your body went rigid.
“Me neither.” He nipped at your neck.
The second thing he had done tonight that had stunned you.
“Wait.” You stopped him and he backed up to look at you.
“I missed you too. Not just… not just this, I missed you. I don’t know if you feel the same but-“
“What did you think I meant by I missed you? I didn’t just mean the sex or your body. I meant you as a person.”
“I-why didn’t you just say?” You wondered out loud.
He dropped to the floor on his knees between your legs.
“Cause you dumped me.” He let out a snort “you told me to delete your number, which surprise, I didn’t. You wouldn’t look at me. Plus this went two ways you know. You didn’t contact me either.” He stated as he looked up at you while ghosting his fingers over the skin of your thighs as he spoke.
“I dumped you?” You were surprised by this news. You know neither of you had had the relationship talk before.
“I mean, I like to think we were together.”
“Then we should be again,” you decided. You were tired of wanting him and not having him and something told you that he felt the same.
“I think so too,” he whispered, inching his lips closer and closer to yours before smashing into them.
His hands squeezed at the meat of your thighs before trailing them up the sides, up under your skirt, and hooking them in your panties. Your tongues whipped together in each other’s mouths. You managed to move so that he could get your panties down, but he only pulled them to your knees. He grabbed your hips and pulled you closer to the edge of the table, so close you thought you might fall off if he wasn’t right there between your legs.
His fingers now slowly ran from your inner thighs to your folds. As soon as he touched you, you unlocked your lips from his and let out a shaky breathed whine.
“I can tell you missed me. You're so wet for me,” he whispered so quietly just for you to hear even though no one else was in the room.
You did your best to stay quiet as his fingers teasingly and slowly ran over your clit and back down to your cunt.
He lifted his slick fingers to his mouth and you watched with a slightly open mouth as he let them slide past his lips and then out of his mouth altogether, coming out more glossy from his spit.
“I missed the way you taste”
His even more wet fingers that now teased at your pussy were making you want to grab his hand and force it to do something more. You were practically shaking under even the slightest of his touches. You were nervous for someone to walk in at any given moment and all he was doing was drawing things out and letting his fingers kill precious time playing in your folds.
“I'd love to make you cum right now with my mouth” he pressed a kiss onto your neck where his face had been camping out while his fingers tortured you. “But I know how that makes you scream and we have to be very…” another kiss to your neck “very” his fingers finally slowly slipped into your cunt “very quiet.” his whispers tapered off to quieter and quieter, so much so that your shaking breaths felt loud between the both of you.
You were doing your best not to break out into full-blown moans so that maybe if someone walked in you could play it off as just talking or something else, as long as no one heard your moans on the way up the both of you could have time to look normal.
His fingers curled inside of you with his palm grinding down onto your clit slowly.
“Oh God.” you breathed not knowing how you were supposed to survive this. He was all you wanted for months upon months and now that you had him here, tattooed hand knuckle deep in your pussy, his lips on your skin saying nothing but filth, you felt like you couldn't even let go as much as you wanted to, but you were trying.
His hand sped up its movements as you could feel how hard he was now in his jeans against the inside of your thigh.
Your lips squeezed together but it couldn’t stop the small whimpers he forced out of you. You could hear him breathing in your ear along with the wet sounds of your pussy. You were close but so scared. Doing this out in the open was such a thrill but it also made you paranoid.
“Cum for me. I hear the way you’re whining, you’re so close I know it. Just cum for me. Cum around my fingers, no one will know.”
You couldn’t stop it now.
You grabbed a hold of his shirt and forced his chest harder against yours, you wanted him closer, impossibly close as you came undone, clenching around his fingers rhythmically as each wave of pleasure pulsed through your body.
He let out a little moan at the sound and feel of you coming.
“I missed that too.” He whispered to himself before pulling his fingers out of you slowly.
He reached between you and you felt him quickly yet nervously fiddling with his button and zipper with his hand that wasn’t soaked in your wetness.
He made a show about taking his thick, veiny cock out of his pants and rubbing your juices from his hand over it.
In seconds he was back in your ear.
“Can I fuck your brains out?” The whisper was soft, his voice was sweet but the words themselves were as hard as his dick he still stroked in his hand.
“You're always allowed brains out.” You whispered back “just do it.”
You felt his head run over your folds teasingly as he continued to play with you and himself.
“Do you still think about me fucking your brains out?” He asked. You could hear how much wetness had spread from you to his cock with each pump of his hand.
“Every time I need to get off.” You admitted. “So give it to me so I don’t have to keep wishing anymore.”
He pushed into you slowly, letting out a deep sigh and throwing his head back for a moment so you could see his perfectly sculpted throat.
You missed how full he made you feel while he was inside of you.
He pulled out almost entirely, the head of his cock was the only thing left inside of you, pushing on your g-spot before the thrust back in hard. This was the way he fucked, pulling out almost entirely so his head hit where you needed it. You had experienced guys that just flopped around, but he knew you, he knew your body, he paid attention, he had a very special handcrafted way to get you off over and over until you were shaking.
One of his hands grabbed your hip while the other went to your clit to play with using his thumb.
“You miss this, baby?” You miss my dick between your legs?” His lips brushed with your parted and panting ones as he spoke.
You let out a whimper as you focused on your second orgasm, his hips were not letting up and neither was his lips that whispered pure filth.
“Want me to cum inside of you, make you not want to forget me and who you belong to? Right here on Jimin's desk.”
Your eyes squeezed shut and you clutched at the fabric of his shirt as you were once again thrown into pure pleasure.
You couldn’t help it this time. The way he touched you, the way he felt inside of you, his grunts and words were all too much.
“Please, fucking cum inside of me, I want it all fuck you feel so good.” You cried out way too loudly.
“Oh my god, fuck.” He breathed through pants as his hips pounded into yours. You felt him release inside of you. Your walls clenched around him upon hearing his long deep guttural moan.
“I haven’t cum like that in…” he panted before letting out a little chortle of laughter “well in eight months.”
“So,” there was a loud voice in the room making your heads turn and your stomach’s sink. “You fucked on my desk.” Jimin looked beyond angry as he sat in an office chair across the room with his phone in his hand, pointing it at the both of you. You had no idea when or how he had come in, but you knew you were both beyond physically fucked.
Jungkook had already scrambled to pull out of you and zip his pants back up as you jumped off the desk, pulled your underwear up, and smoothed out your dress.
“That's fine, I have you both on video. I really liked you y/n. Jungkook, Looks like I’m moving out.” he stood from the chair and headed towards the direction of the elevator. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to speak to our boss about this. He probably won't be too happy to see you two are breaking company policy.”
“Fuck company policy and fuck you! You were an awful friend, roommate and you've always been jealous of me!” Jungkook yelled at him back.
“Not anymore, jobless.” Jimin turned back to give Jungkook a smirk before he stepped into the elevator.
With that, you were both just left there.
“I… I am so so sorry…” Jungkook began apologetically and just as stunned as you were.
“Don’t be, we’re too good for this job anyway, we can find new ones. It looks like you need a new roommate now though.”
You watched his face as a small smile grew on it.
“Yeah, looking for someone prettier and nicer, maybe someone willing to be my girlfriend? I don't know though, I don’t want to make too many demands.”
“Well I could meet all of those demands.” you played along. “We won't have to sneak around anymore.”
“Yes, please, yes. I uh- don't want to ruin the cute moment, but I think we should get out of here before Jimin brings the boss up.”
“Oh fuck, right. Uhh, we should probably just never come back too. Let’s just grab our stuff from our desks and make a run for it.”
“Let's go. You know, this is simultaneously the best, worst, most exciting, and most embarrassing thing that's ever happened to me,” he said and you couldn't help but laugh and agree.
Maybe the both of you had made a big mistake, but perhaps there could be good that came from it. You had him back and honestly you didn’t feel too bad about trading your dumb job with its dumb company policy for him.
#armyadvocatesaapi#bangtanarmynet#armywriterssupport#jungkook#jungkook smut#jeon jungkook#jeon jungkook smut#jungkook fanfic#jungkook x reader#jungkook fluff#jungkook au#jungkook angst#bts#bts fanfic#jungkook established relationship#bts smut#Jungkook oneshot#jungkook oneshot smut#park jimin#jimin
1K notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
thais7974
Desabafos
navar44
Navar
dopekid0
DPK😈
hyunaisgodgirl
HyunA Fanart
blossom-skies
Welcome To My World