#i just want netflix to give her good stuff to work with because i know she'll crush it
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I'm your mother now, chapter 3
masterlist series masterlist
part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6 part 7 part 8
summary: when you wake up in a strange room, you soon come to realize the amazing Black Widow, who appears to be the perfect role model for girls all around the world, is greatly deranged…
pairing: Dark!Natasha x teen reader
warnings: yelling, a lot of swearing, dark themes, kinda evil Natasha
genre: angst
words: 2188
a/n: chapter 3 is finally here! I find it a little short but it's mainly a filler chapter anyway. I hope you enjoy and don't forget to let me know what you think :)
(also, I have big plans for the next chapter, so definitly stay tuned to meet auntie Yelena)
If you'd like to see something in future chapters, or have any ideas, please let me know and maybe I'll use them
You do not have my permission to repost, copy or translate my work
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You had been living with Natasha for about a week now, and while she was absolutely terrifying to be around, you found yourself enjoying her presence more and more. You hated yourself for it, of course. How could a person possibly enjoy the situation you were placed in?
Living with Natasha was like walking around on eggshells, on bare feet, while continuously getting cuts. When you did whatever Natasha said, she was happy. She treated you like she loved you, and you wouldn’t get hurt.
However, you tried that, and she didn’t seem satisfied. For the past 2 days you have been complying to whatever Natasha said. Doing whatever she asked of you, but it didn’t seem like Natasha was very pleased with it.
She wasn’t hitting you, nor yelling at you, but she didn’t seem pleased.
You couldn’t understand her. You decided if you became like a rag doll, you wouldn’t get hurt, and Natasha would be happy, but she wasn’t.
Yesterday Natasha yelled at you. You had been following her orders the entire day. Smiling whenever she told you to smile more, eating whenever she told you to eat, but you couldn’t find it in you to do it with any emotion. Maybe that’s what she’s so mad about?
She wanted you to be her daughter. She didn’t want a rag doll, she wanted a person, yet every day you spend with Natasha you seemed to become less and less of a person.
Today was no different. Natasha had woken you up like any other day, giving you a bath and picking out your clothes. You were all set for another day of being stuck in the house, left to do whatever Natasha had picked out that day.
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You were watching tv, a privilege you earned for being such a good girl, according to Natasha. You didn’t really feel like watching it, but because it was a reward you felt like you had to, or you might make Natasha mad. That had been your main goal this past week. Avoid getting Natasha mad, and with that avoid getting a punishment. It had worked, mostly. You carried a few bruises here and there, but nothing to bad.
Watching tv was pretty boring. You hadn’t earned the privilege of getting a Netflix or Disney subscription, so it was just mindlessly switching between the channels. Nothing really interesting was on, until the news caught your attention.
Natasha had told you she was the only one that cared about you, and she was the only one that would ever love you, but the news channel proved something different.
There it was. Your face, with your name and identifiable features written under it. Missing was written in large red letters above your picture, a woman next to it talking about you, where you were last seen and why your disappearance was so out of the blue. She talked about how you might’ve ran away, seeing as though all the important stuff from your bedroom was missing.
You went silent, staring at the tv while holding your breath. Someone did care. Someone did want you to come home. They didn’t even know you were okay, let alone that you’d left the country…
You could hear a cup shattering behind you, and your head whipped around. Natasha quickly made her way towards the couch, grabbing the remote and turning the tv off. She angrily looked at you, and you shuffled away from her as you covered your face with your arms. “WHY WERE YOU WATCHING THAT?!” she yelled angrily at you, throwing her arms in the air in frustration, and you flinched from the sound.
Tears were already collecting in your eyes from the fear of what she’d do next. “THIS IS JUST WHAT YOU DO THEN HUH?! I GIVE YOU SOMETHING NICE AND THIS IS WHAT YOU DO WITH IT!” she continued yelling, and you let out a silent sob and you curled in on yourself, crying as you tried to cover yourself the best you could.
“I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU RIGHT NOW!” she yelled as she threw the remote at your face, missing your head by only a few inches.
You couldn’t stop yourself from sobbing, the fear of her hurting you growing bigger with every word she said. Natasha didn’t seem to notice your fear, and if she did she didn’t seem to care much for it. You were shaking, yet Natasha was yelling. “Go to your room!” she yelled, yet you were to scared to move. “GO TO YOUR FUCKING ROOM!” she yelled after you didn’t move, and you were quick to get up from the couch and run to your room, closing the door and crawling under the covers.
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After about an hour, you could hear Natasha’s footsteps as she made her way up the stairs. You covered your entire head with your blanket, hiding beneath the covers, even though you knew it would make for little protection.
You heard Natasha open and close your door, and you felt the bed dip as she sat next to. “Detka,” you said in a cheerful, singsongy voice as she gently shook you. Her voice was sickly sweet, a complete 180 of how she behaved an hour ago. “Are you gonna come out, Malyshka? I’ve made you a snack,” she said as she tried to pull the covers from your head, but you held onto them tight.
“What’s wrong baby?” you questioned as she scooted herself a little closer. You didn’t know if she was just pretending, or if she actually didn’t know why you were so upset and scared.
She finally succeeded in pulling the covers from your head, seeing you covering your head with your arms. You knew that if she wanted to hurt you, she could, but it still made you feel safer.
“What’s wrong honey?” she asked as she gently wiped some hair from your face. “Why are you upset?” she questioned and you sniffled softly. You didn’t want to talk to her. You didn’t want to tell her what was wrong. How on earth could she not know what was wrong? She’s the one that had made you so upset in the first place. How on earth could she not know?
“Look at me y/n,” she said, and you quickly did what she ordered. You looked at her through glossy eyes, and she smiled sweetly at you.
“What’s got you all upset sweetie?” she asked as she gently stroked your hair, smiling patiently. You sniffled and pressed your eyes shut, shaking your head lightly. Natasha gave you a firm pat on your cheek. It wasn’t hard enough to count as a slap, but it was hard enough to remind you what she had ordered.
You quickly opened your eyes again and looked at Natasha as her smile returned to her face.
“Come on. Time to get up. I have a surprise downstairs for you,” she spoke as she got up from the bed, you following close behind her. Natasha was already making her way towards the door, but your question made her stop immediately.
“Why did you lie?”
She turned around slowly, the smile on her lips faltering slightly. “What?” she questioned, and you started questioning whether speaking up was a good idea.
“Someone does care! You’re not the only person that cares about me! You lied! You don’t even care about me at all!” you stopped when you saw Natasha’s facial expression change, watching as she slowly made her way towards you. You swallowed thickly when she stopped in front of you, anticipating what she’d do next.
Before you knew it, a slap landed on your cheek, your head whipping to the side.
When you felt the burn settle in you decided to bite your tongue, deciding to not say anything else. “I am the only person that cares about you. I am the only person that loves you. I am your mother and-” “You’re not my fucking mother!” you interrupted her, a wave of determination washing over you suddenly.
Before you could even register what you’d said, you felt another slap on your cheek. “You ungrateful little shit!” Natasha yelled as she grabbed a handful of your hair, making you yelp. Your hands immediately went up to hers to try and relieve the pressure, but it was of no use.
Natasha gave another particularly harsh yank as she moved towards your door, forcefully pushing you into the bathroom.
She placed you in front of the sink, pulling your hair to make you look up. She grabbed something from on top of the sink and forced it into your mouth. You choked on the soap bar as she kept it in your mouth, the soap tasting horrible.
You tried to push the soap bar out of your mouth, but Natasha stern hold made it impossible.
As you kept choking on the soap, you started crying. The uncomfortable stretch of your mouth hurting as Natasha kept a firm grip on your hair.
“I am you mother, and if you ever deny that again this will look like child’s play,” she spoke as she released your hair, allowing you to bend forward and spit the soap in the sink. You coughed and gagged as you tried to spit as much of the soap taste out, and you heard Natasha take a deep breath before she exited the bathroom, leaving you alone.
You cried silently as you continued coughing, missing the bathroom door opening and closing again. You felt Natasha’s hand on you back, rubbing soothingly as she shushed you.
“It’s okay, detka,” she said as she gently grabbed your chin, turning your face to her as she guided a glass of water up to your mouth. “Here you go, sweetie. Is that better?” she asked as she helped you drink.
You nodded slightly as you forced yourself to stop crying.
Natasha smiled sweetly at you as she hugged you, rubbing you back in circles gently. “I think we’ve had enough excitement for one day, don’t you?” she questioned as she pulled back from the hug, gently cupping your cheeks in her hands.
You nodded again, and Natasha gently kissed your tears away before placing a loving kiss on your forehead.
“Come on,” she said as she grabbed your hand, leading you downstairs. Your favourite snack was waiting on the counter, with a cup of your favourite tea next to it. “I don’t like it when we fight,” Natasha said suddenly, leading you over to the barstool and guiding you to sit on it.
“Let’s not fight anymore, okay, sweetheart?”
You wanted to yell at her. Tell her she is the reason you were mad in the first place. You wanted to hit and beat her until she would let you go, but you couldn’t.
Instead, you simply nodded, allowing her to give you another kiss on your forehead before she walked to the counter, turning her back to you. You didn’t want to speak to her, but somehow, not saying anything made you feel worse.
“When can I go outside?” you asked quietly before you took a bite of your snack.
“That’s something for another day. Maybe when the weather is a bit better,” Natasha replied shortly, clearly trying to avoid the question.
“I had another surprise in mind. One that I think you’ll enjoy very much.”
That caught your attention. No matter how upset you may have been at her, you could never ignore your curiosity. You needed to know what she had in mind. “What?” you questioned, and Natasha turned to you with a smile. She placed a device in front of you. It was a tablet. One that you’d been saving for for a while.
A few months ago, you decided you wanted an ipad, but the prices were too high, and you were too broke. You had started saving for it, but you never managed to reach your savings goal before you were... well.... kidnapped.
You looked at the ipad before looking up at Natasha. She smiled at you, and you couldn’t help but smile back slightly as well.
“Aren’t you gonna try it out?” Natasha asked as she saw your hesitance to reach for it. You looked at her, trying to see if it was a trap, but when you decided it wasn’t, you carefully reached for the ipad box.
When you held it in your hands, you couldn’t help but smile.
You slowly unpacked it, scared you’d drop it. When you finally held the device in your hand, you excitedly turned it on.
“I know we’ve had our differences, but this past week was just an adjustment period,” Natasha smiled as she took a step closer to you. “I love you,” she said as she placed a tender kiss on your forehead, lingering a little longer than before.
You didn’t pull your head away, and Natasha used that opportunity to hold you a little longer.
“Thank you…” you quietly said, and Natasha pulled back as she cupped your cheeks. She smiled warmly at you.
“It is my absolute pleasure, malyshka.”
chapter 4
tags: @carol-romanoff @simp-erformarvelwomen @clintsbigtoe @olsenmyolsen @leenasayeed @naslt @dvrkhcld @daddyshuri @wandanatsbaby @alphalesbianwolffoxdragontribrid @blackhill2245 @natsbraids @natsxwife
#black widow#marvel#natasha x reader#mcu#avengers#natasha romanoff#natasha x daughter#natasha x reader platonic#dark!natasha romanoff x teen reader#dark!natasha x reader#dark natasha x reader#dark!natasha romanoff#dark natasha romanoff#dark avengers#dark yelena belova#yelena x teen reader#yelena x reader platonic#yelena belova x reader#yelena belova#natasha x teen reader#reader insert#avengers x reader#marvel reader insert#dark fic#i'm your mother now
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I think I’ll say this once, since I need to say it before I can move on to more excited posting about promos and things:
Obviously Young Royals means a lot to me. It’s become another way for me to connect with my hyphenated-American heritage and to start teaching myself Swedish again. It helped me survive a pretty brutal year of bullying at work. It made me confident enough to start the process of getting formally evaluated for autism and ADHD. I’ve been writing a 200k+ historical AU fanfic for YR—the kind of fic I always read and adored back in fandoms when I was younger, the kind of fic I wanted to write myself. I’m proud of the way that Heart and Homeland has made me a better writer, and I’m glad for the way it’s deepened my friendship with @heliza24. It is Young Royals in part that inspired by thesis on restorative justice in YA literature. When I was in the hospital last fall because I almost had a literal stroke from stress, I was comforted and kept calm by the fact that I was wearing a YR t-shirt and had a plush doll of a YR character sitting in my lap. And all of that is the short list.
As we come close to the release date, I hope that every single member of the fandom gets something they enjoy in the new season. I don’t think every person is going to get everything they want, but I genuinely hope there’s a moment, a scene, a line that brings them joy. We’ve all stuck with this series for a while, and I want us all to have something we can take with us. A little bit of sparkle for the road, if you will.
There’s of course the possibility that some of us get a lot of what we want, and others of us are let down. I know this was the case for season 2, and it feels naive to imagine that everyone in the fandom will be equally satisfied by season 3. I’ve got my fingers crossed that I’ll enjoy the hell out of it, but I’m also trying to prepare my heart in case it’s not what I wanted. I’m trying to gently talk to myself right now and say that even if the third season leaves me upset and unsatisfied—even if the writing takes a nosedive or it’s good writing but it’s just not what I wanted—that I still learned a lot about crafting stories and being myself and surviving hardship and thinking about systems and whatever else, from this show. That my experience with the first two seasons still matters, that my work on my fic is something to be proud of. If season 3 is a disappointment, Heart and Homeland will be my new canon. I’m sure there are other people out there talking themselves up in this way too. I know we’re all pushing through the pre-season jitters.
The other thing I’m trying to reconcile right now is how I feel about the promotional material that’s come out, and the conversations around that. Like on my own, I actually feel pretty great? It’s fun to see the new stuff come in? But then I think about the ratio of Wilmon to other things and some of the responses I’m seeing to that. And I see people say like “oh the show is back to focusing on what’s actually good about it” and “it’s great that they’re doing this because the audience doesn’t really care about characters who aren’t Wilmon.” And… hello? Aren’t I the audience? Tumblr isn’t too bad (most of the time) but then there’s like, Instagram, where the Netflix Nordic posted whole set of photos of different pairs and friendships from a whole bunch of shows, and there was one (1) picture of Sara and Rousseau and I saw enough comments where people were like “ew! Vomit! Give us Wilmon instead!” that like… y’all. Frida Argento is a human being and a damn good actress, and Lisa is a good writer of female characters, and like. We can celebrate that, once in a while. We can create space for her too. It’s not Frida OR Omar and Edvin. It’s Frida AND Omar AND Edvin AND Nikita AND Malte AND Nathalie AND Mimmi AND Fabian AND Samuel AND… look I could keep on listing but I’m going to get distracted if I do.
Like, man. I love Wilmon. Don’t get me wrong. I love the complexity their relationship can run with. There are lines heliza has written for them in fic that make me swoon and I am giddy about the part where I get to read them first. I love the glowsticks. I love Wilmon’s sense of humor and the part where they cheated at Vincent’s rowing race thing and their utmost commitment to being dumbass teenage boys against the world. The first week I saw the show and came into work (where we have an athletic field) I went and took a selfie on the field after covering my hands in those gross fake dots. Look. I am all in.
And also… I came to the show for Wilmon but I stayed for so much more. I would have watched Young Royals once or twice and said “that was pleasant” without ever getting back into fanfic after a decade away, if the show was only Wilmon. I do like Wilmon, but it wasn’t Wilmon who inspired my thesis on restorative justice or made me a better writer overall. I survived that year of bullying at work because I could come home and write my ensemble fanfic, especially the parts where I focused on the non-Wilmon pairing I was in charge of writing. I finally felt confident enough to be evaluated for AuDHD because of a connection I felt to a character who wasn’t Simon or Wilhelm. It was a plush doll of a non-Wilmon character who sat in my lap and kept me calm while I was hooked up to those scary machines in the hospital this past October.
I guess my one humble request is that people be thoughtful about how they use phrases like “everyone thinks” or “no one wants.” Not every member of the fandom has the same opinion, and not every member wants the same things out of season 3, and there are some of us who are happy about the new Wilmon content but who are still feeling a little hungry for more of our most beloved characters, and hope they’ll get meaningful storylines (and not get ignored) in season 3. I do know we probably won’t all get what we want, and that some of us will probably get more of what we want than others. I hope that whatever happens, we’ll all get something we want, and we can all be gracious about it, and continue to find meaning in the canon.
For the people here on tumblr who are already including me in their everyone… thank you, thank you, thank you. I hope you know who you are and I hope you know how much I appreciate you. And I do hope this Little Fandom That Could can keep going into all sorts of new creative places.
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I haaaasss 27 asks :}
Yes. Yes it does.
Thank you! :DD And yeah canon Gregory is just not my vibe man XD
(Traffic cone in question)
Thank you so much! :DD And yeah I try my best to get up and do something productive/different when I'm feeling down like that. My thought process is "well sitting here and sulking isn't making me feel any better so I should go and do something else" Which just so happened to be breaking out the old sewing kit and making a traffic cone?? XD Well to be fair I've made like 10 of those before but still an odd choice on my part-
Thank you so much! I'm so glad you liked my cars artwork! :DD
And yeah I would draw cars stuff more often but they're just so hard to draw :(
Idk why they decided to jump into a DLC before fixing the base game, but man I really wish they wouldn't have. 😔
I'll do my best! :D
@tallchest13-blog
Yes :} or at least I've been trying to-
Thank you so much! And I did use a pattern to make him. Credit for the patten goes to Tammy Hallam, heres her video on how to make your own too! :}
@montygatorshusband
AAAA THANK YOU SO MUCH!! :DDD
As for Glamrock Bonnie,, ehh, its a bit odd to me. Not a huge fan of the color pallet but its not the worst I've seen. I'd give it a 5.5 outa 10
ALSO! I believe Octonauts is streaming on Netflix, but I've also had some luck finding full episodes on YouTube :0
Thank you! And oh yeah, I feel you on the fandom part. XD That's why I'm still kind'a on the fence and haven't dove head first into my usual angsty stuff. I'm kind'a testing the waters with every post I make to see if I'll collide with the uh, other side of the fandom :x
Thank you! :DDD
Also Google is a search engine. :0 If you search for Octonauts fanart, its gonna do its job and search for fanart and likely find some of the stuff I made. Notice though that all of my artwork shown on Google links directly back to my blog. Its because Google isn't stealing it, its parting the branches of a bush and pointing "Look! Over there is some Octonauts fanart like you requested!" XD
@pinkbomb08
There isn't really anything Gregory can do for Bonnie..
Its hard to explain,, but I'll try. Bonnie is missing his leg from the middle of his shin down. So he cant stand up right like Foxy because- well duh, he's missing a whole foot.
So order to fix Bonnies leg so he can stand/walk like Foxy does, he would need an entire replacement foot with a working joint. This would also mean that the wires in Bonnies legs would have to be replaced and hooked up so that he can control said new foot.
Currently there are no spare parts around that fit Bonnies model.. and even if they did, Gregory wouldn't know how to properly re-wire an animatronic foot. He's smart but not THAT smart <XDD
The only thing Gregory could do is make Bonnie a weird peg leg that makes his current leg longer. Currently Bonnies half leg is shorter than his good leg. But in all honesty Bonnie doesn't really want that.
Having Gregory ducttape this weird goofy peg leg to him would be more embarrassing then what he already has. He'd probably want to salvage what ever dignity he has left and say "ah give it a rest. There's no point. My legs good enough for what its for." <:/
@taizarack
If I remember correctly... Sometime ago my tablet pen broke. And it took like 2-3 weeks for a new one to arrive. In the mean time I tried to make an art doll of sorts. That doll was Bibi!
I ended up making a lot of goofy posts with Bibi and I as I waited for my pen to arrive. Once it finally did and I went back to drawing comics, I ended making Bibi a reoccurring character. And he's been around ever since!
Now Jangles is a Halloween prop that I bought because I thought it was funny. I was practicing making quilts one time and I made a small blue one that just so happened to be the right size for him. So I put it on and then I thiiink I got the idea to add Jangles to my blog as a joke.? I gave Bibi a "new friend" to celebrate hitting 10,000 followers. The new friend was a cropped png of jangles XD
Eventually down the line I wanted to give Bibi an proper friend. So for Bibi's birthday I drew a comic where Jangles came to life and here we are XD
@pinkbomb08
Currently I am getting none of those things :x I have a cold so sleep and food is hard :( Thank you though! :D
@notsoliyah
:D AW!! Thank you! I'm so glad to hear how I've inspired you! :}}
@ur0neand0nly
XD Thank you so much! And don't worry, I'm pretty confident I'll draw him again someday
XD Thank you. To be honest I'm kind'a going back and fourth on this fandom. I don't really wanna be apart of the fandom, but the characters are the only thing I'm interested in drawing atm soo-
@ardent-38
Ooo these are interesting! Although absorbing power ups isn't about digesting them. Its something about being human specifically that allows them to absorb the powerups.. 👀👀👀
@maddiethehatter2192
My advice would be to use references religiously. That's what I did!
Also thank you! :DD
Barnaby for sure.
Well, my interpretation of him really-
@taizarack (Post in question)
@funky-frankie
No there's no SpongeBob comic, I just felt like drawing Mr. Krabs XD
Also THANK YOU!! :DD That means so much!! :}}}
@elegysonnet
<XD thank you. So far I have some pretty basic ones I imagine. Wally's house is alive and evil, Julie is actually a scary monster but has drastically altered her appearance to look less scary.. Sally is very celestial in nature because she's a real star, Eddie used to be a real human and bleeds and has a heart beat and what not.. uuuuuuh what elseeee,,, I liked to imagine that Sally and Julie came to the neighborhood when they were really young and Poppy kind'a adopted them?? Although I don't know how wide spread that idea is XD
Thank you! And yeah I'm not very fond of that portrayal either <XD As for your questions..
1: I'm sure there would be somethings that would push his anxiety to the surface. I'm not sure what they'd be but still- I imagine if Luigi was around to see it he would try to get Mario out of what ever situation he's in. If he's in a crowd he'd try to help him slip away unnoticed.
2: I'm not familiar with the giga bell, but if I did add it I'd imagine those would be the side effects yeah <XD Really sore and tired and cant really move for like 3 days :x
Remodeled or not, I wont be adding any of those animatronics to the Pizzaplex. I already wrote the entire past of this timeline, and those bots all already have a story in my AU. And with their given stories it wouldn't make sense for them to be added to the Pizzaplex.
Of course I cant spoil what those stories are, just know that I have my reasons-
Oh yeah I forgot to add the colored eye lids to Wally and Barnaby in that trampoline drawing <XD
And yeah! I wanted Wally to be much more expressive so I gave him eyebrows-
@cudlycorncornsworthcoberson
Aw, thank you so much!! Its so cool to hear that you've shared my name with your friends!! :DD
#my response#fnaf security breach dlc spoilers#fnaf security breach dlc#fnaf security breach#ocotnauts#bibi and jangles
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Please please elaborate on the 141 x OldGuardau!reader
Oh my God hello OK I got u
The Old Guard is a Netflix movie about a group of people who are essentially born in different parts of time, and can die but get resurrected and stuff like that like the original post said, except the movie has more than one person. All of these people are born around historical events (dawn of time, witch trials, reign of terror) and are drawn to find each other and work as a team to not get caught by scientists or governments or anything like that, all while doing what they believe is best to protect the world.
Now for Reader, it's no small feat. If it's only themselves as an Immortal on this team (there's so much red tape around these operations including them) then it's okay. Reader is an asset to the military, and a powerful one at that.
Or maybe the reader is a newer immortal. Maybe they don't know they're immortal until an op goes bad, and they've been shot, bleeding out into an alleyway, their blood mingling with the water. Maybe their Lieutenant is aside them, doing everything within his power to keep them from bleeding out, but the wound is too bad. And in the rain, maybe they even die.
But with a gasp, they're awake again, and the young Lieutenant John Price is shocked. Baffled. No, there's not even a word for how he feels. His sergeant's wounds are knitting together after they died, and he knew they died because he witnessed it himself. He felt their pulse give out.
Now both Reader and Price are terrified. If Reader can't die, what'll happen then? He wants to radio it in to their captain, or the general, but Reader begs him not to.
Meanwhile, on the other side of the world, a war is brewing. Most top governments have heard whispers about a man called Kingfish, one who was so battle worn, so ruthless, so victorious, that he could topple governments by just stepping foot into their building. Rumors spread of no bullet able to pierce his flesh, like he was the Roman God of War himself.
Now, the United States doesn't believe in rumors until they've witnessed it firsthand. Little do they know, they already have.
Kate Laswell may only be a Station Chief, but she's damn good at her job. She knows her kind when she hears it, and recently there's been a shift. Like a sixth sense, she calls John.
And just like that, she knows. The next immortal is here, and with them, comes war.
Years pass, and tensions are rising between the East and the West. Price has even become captain, and scored himself a team and an odd one at that.
Of course, there's Reader. They've always been there first. A little more frazzled as time goes on, but still good. Yeah, still good.
Then joins Simon Riley. They call him the Ghost. This is reader's best bet for another immortal. Laswell has a few arguments against it, but has never outright denied the claim. But how metal is it that he clawed his way out of his own grave? That's immortal material if I've ever heard of it.
Then Kyle Garrick. They call him Gaz. Don't ask why. He's a bright thing, and a wicked sense of humor. He used to be on another force, but after an event, Price handpicked him to be on the task force. He's one of Reader's best friends. They wish he was immortal too.
Finally, came John MacTavish. He was younger than Gaz by at least a few months, making him the youngest on the 141, and Reader always held it over him. He had a fancy for pyrotechnics too, and a hell of a swear to him.
Maybe a few missions go by. Maybe more than that. They still can't get used to seeing Reader lifeless with a bullet in between their eyes, or a knife to the gut, or a grenade blown too close. Wounds heal quicker, but not if they're lethal. Yet the scars never show on their skin by the time the boys are able to pull them out of there. Reckless, maybe, but Reader's saved their asses more times than they could count.
The war rages on.
Kingfish's power grows in the East, and the task force grows wary. Even with Laswell's advice, there was still a guarantee that they'd be sent out to the front when it got bad enough, take out the threat. But the rumors have grown.
Kingfish cannot die.
And Laswell knows.
Kingfish has gone by many names throughout the centuries. His first, Emperor Nero, causing the fall of the entire Roman empire. After he faked his death, he worked from the sidelines. He slayed the last Byzantinian Emperor, he broke through the walls of Constaninople. The Reign of Terror: an advisor, and a trusted one at that. Now, the urge had resurfaced, and he took on a new name once more.
Vladimir Makarov. Kingfish.
Or, the entire team is immortal. Laswell knows about all of them. Ghost knows enough. Reader knows... Somewhat. But nobody else does. Frankly, nobody's given a thought to dying to find out. And until that tunnel, no one had even tried.
The scream is tearing out of reader's throat before Soap even hits the ground, Price still incapacitated, concussed. Reader does not care about the bomb. Ghost doesn't either. They're both there, checking for vitals as they panic, blood spilling out of his wound, as Gaz hoists Price to his feet and they go to disarm the bomb.
They find nothing within Soap. Absolutely nothing. Reader feels cold washing over the room, like they can't breathe. Like a numbness that consumed everything. Soap- If Soap went now... then it could be Gaz, or Price next. Ghost, Reader couldn't even think about. It seemed impossible. And it occurred to Reader that they didn't sign up for this. No dying, compared to anyone and everyone around you perishing in the blink of an eye. They used to be okay with it. And Soap was gone in an instant.
They're dragging him out in a hurry, and the faintest sound is pulled from his lips. It seems Laswell knew more about them all than she let on.
They get caught up in other enemies as Soap peels himself off the floor. They weren't gonna just let Makarov escape, they couldn't. They knew what he could do.
Price told Reader not to go after him. Not alone.
But Reader can't risk losing any more friends. Even if Soap did end up being okay. If something happened to Price or Gaz, they wouldn't be able to live with it.
But they would have to.
So Reader runs. They tear after him like a bat out of hell, taking bullet after bullet, felling each person who fired one. They reach the top of the stairs and launch themself at him, before a gun goes off.
Reader felt it go straight through their side in a searing hot blaze, knowing that this time, something was different. Something was wrong.
The comm was yanked out of their ear and smashed beneath a boot.
The wound they sustained wasn't that bad, in the grand scheme of things. Their vision darkens at the edges, like it does when these things happen, and before reader can close their eyes, a face fills their vision.
"Not as strong now, are you, little one?" The thick curl of Makarov's Russian lilt finds its way into their ears, as the sharp pounding fire in their side grows worse. Despite the woozy fight they put up, Reader is restrained, unable to call for help. The van comes into view as Price bursts out of a window behind them, barreling towards the group, Ghost in high pursuit.
They disappear behind the van's doors as they close, and as Reader's vision dampens more, they wonder why their bullet wound hasn't healed yet.
im so down to completely info dump on this, whether it be more details towards the story, or individual characters like reader or ghost or laswell or anything like that I fucking love the old guard
#call of duty#cod mw2#john soap mactavish#simon ghost riley#modern warfare 2#ghostsoap#captain john price#kyle 'gaz' garrick#cod modern warfare#the old guard#ask#kate laswell#vladimir makarov#cod mw3#tf 141 x reader#task force 141#task force 141 x reader#john price x reader#simon riley x reader#kyle garrick x reader#john soap mctavish x reader#x reader
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Lions Ain't the Kind - Part Two
Summary: You and Frankie can't get each other off your minds'. He asks you on a third date. It's a success.
Word Count: 5,741
Pairing: Frankie Morales x NB/Gender-fluid! AFAB! Reader
Rating: 18+ Explicit
Warnings: 18+ mdni, subby!Frankie, soft dom!reader, a few brief mentions of alcohol, talks about gender non-conformity, talks about gender dysphoria as it relates to sex, amab terminology for afab genitalia, kissing, making out, oral (afab receiving), dirty talk, premature ejaculation, Frankie has a praise kink, no use of y/n, no physical descriptions of reader
A/N: Special shoutout to @for-a-longlongtime and @perotovar for letting me bother them about this part while I was writing, love you both dearly <3
Frankie calls you later that night.
You helped him clean up after, popped some popcorn, and rewound the movie. He snuggled sleepily into your side; the orgasm apparently settled his nerves from before. You both joked about how not-so-great the movie was over a few beers, and then you sent him off with a buttery goodnight kiss.
But your phone rings as you’re settling into bed for the night, and you think maybe something is wrong, like his car broke down, or he left something at your place.
“Hello?”
“Hey, it’s me. I just made it home.”
“Is everything alright?”
“Yeah, no, everything’s fine. I just— I wanted to thank you.”
You laugh. Sweet boy, calling to thank you for getting him off.
“Was it that good?” You joke.
“No— I mean yes, yes it was. That’s not what I meant though. I’ve never been… Well, you know, I’m not so good at this stuff. And I’ve never felt like… this. And I like it. And I like you. So… thank you.”
Your face burns at his words, at the thought you could give this man something he needs, this man that you’re quickly developing a habit for.
“That’s sweet, Frankie. I like you too. A lot.”
You hear him huff through your tinny phone speakers and in a moment of pure weakness you wish you would’ve asked him to stay over.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, yes. I really do.”
He laughs, and you can imagine it in your head, what his dimple looks like, the way his curls would look as he shakes his head.
“That’s awesome.”
——
Frankie’s a busy guy, you come to find out. He works fairly long hours at his mechanic shop, and he has custody of his daughter every other week, and he also attends community events, he calls them, every Wednesday.
Your business is relegated to the eight hours a day you spend in your office, and maybe a few hours here or there when you need to take work home with you.
And you’re not blaming Frankie for it, but the distance makes you want him so much more. He texts you all day long, staggered back and forth when you both have the time. He’ll call you some nights, when his daughter goes to bed early, just to talk about your days. But it isn’t enough.
It’s not enough because you can’t stop thinking about how he looks in your lap, and how desperate his sounds are, and how his skin feels under your palms.
It’s driving you mad, replaying that night over and over and craving even more from him.
It really isn’t just about the sex, though, either. You find yourself thinking of him at the grocery store, wondering if he likes the scent of your favorite deodorant or if you should pick something new. You see an old Ford Ranger as you’re driving to work and wonder if Frankie’s inside. You find a new show on Netflix to watch but pause it after the first five minutes because you think Frankie would like to watch it too, with you.
And Frankie’s just as bad, if not worse off than you are.
His days are long and busy but occupied with thoughts of you, even as he’s changing brake pads and tinkering elbow-deep in the hood of another car.
When he picks up his daughter from school and asks how her day was, he sends off a quick text to ask you about your day, too.
And after he gets her to bed, and finishes laundry and the dishes and brushing his teeth, he crawls under the covers only to feel like his queen sized mattress is way too big, way too empty.
That’s when he texts you, Saturday night, heart beating just a bit too fast and feeling a tad heavier than normal.
I miss you. Are you free tomorrow?
I miss you too, sweet boy. I’ve got nothing going on all day.
Can I pick you up for brunch after I drop off the kiddo? Around noon?
Sounds perfect, can’t wait 😘
And he hardly sleeps because of the anticipation, wondering if this whole thing has just been a fluke. One whole week of not seeing you has his insecurities skyrocketing, despite the texts and phone calls.
The clock on his bedside table reads 5:36am and he can’t for the life of him tamper down the feelings to fall back to sleep. So he trims up his facial hair, and showers for longer than he usually likes to. He makes a big breakfast for his daughter, and dresses in his nicest jeans and a collared shirt while she giggles at some Sunday morning cartoon.
It isn’t until he’s halfway to her mom’s house that he realizes he’s a dead giveaway. He winces when she answers the door with her eyebrow raised, greeting cut-off halfway through.
“Are you going to church now?”
He laughs and rolls his eyes as she waves him into the foyer.
“Not quite. I think church usually starts earlier than noon, though.”
“So… court?”
“Oh my god, is it that unbelievable that I have a date?”
“At noon?”
“Brunch date,” he shrugs, shoving his hands deep into his pockets.
“You haven’t dated since we broke up.”
He shrugs again, and can feel the heat beginning to rise to his cheeks.
“Is this new? Where’d you guys meet?”
He huffs at the interrogation, though he knows there’s no malice behind it.
“Um… Tinder… couple weeks ago now.”
An amused look spreads across his ex’s face, and he wants to die.
“Interesting. You’ve met in person, then?”
“Yeah, twice already. Last week.”
“Well, sounds like it’s going good then, yeah?”
He takes a deep breath in, and nods, and then shrugs.
“I hope so. Like… I really hope so.”
Her face softens, and she smiles a sweet smile that lets him know he looks even more vulnerable than he feels, which must be a feat.
“Then I hope so, too.”
——
When Frankie knocks on your door a little past 12, he surprises you. Gone is that apprehensive look you’ve grown so used to seeing on him. Instead, he’s beaming, a precious and pearly smile splitting his face when you open the door.
“Hey,” he says, slightly out of breath, like he may have ran up the stairs at a less than leisurely pace.
“Hey, smiley.”
He huffs when you tease him, but his smile doesn’t falter.
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be. Looks good on you.”
Everything looks good on him, actually. His shirt hugs his chest and his tummy, and his jeans are sucked tight to his thighs, and his hair is that perfect mess of haphazard curls that makes your fingers tingle with the urge to touch.
“You ready to go?”
He shifts in his spot on your doorway, and you bite your lip as you admire the view.
“Not yet.”
His mouth opens to respond, but the words don’t get a chance to leave his lips because you’re pressing your own to them.
Warm, soft, minty.
His hand finds your waist and yours cups his neatly groomed jaw, and the simple touches make the wires in your system short-circuit.
Simmer down, you remind yourself, you have to at least get through brunch.
His smile is still wide when you pull apart, softer now, but no less giddy. He gives you a once-over, taking in one of your favorite outfits you picked out of your closet just for today.
“You’re gorgeous,” he whispers.
“So are you.”
He shrugs, and you let your hand fall from his face to rest on his collar, and then farther down, where his top button lays open to reveal his smooth chest.
“Brunch?”
He squeezes your hip when he asks, and you try and fail to hold back a heaved sigh at the prospect of having to be decent in public with this man.
“Yep. Brunch.”
He chuckles, kisses the corner of your mouth as soft as ever.
“Back here for dessert?”
It shocks you, but it delights you.
“Francisco, you dirty dog.”
He backs away with his hands up as you make your way outside, letting you lock up.
“I’m just trying to ask for what I want,” he mumbles.
He looks sheepish when you turn back to face him, but also proud. You think he should be.
“I know. You’re being a very good boy for me.”
You smirk all the way to his truck at the way he tugs at his collar and clears his throat, and how his hand feels sweaty in yours.
——
He takes you to brunch by the river, a place you’ve heard about but you’ve never been to. He’s really sweet, opening doors for you and asking if the table on the patio is alright and turning his entire attention toward you while you wait for your food to come.
Though you’re both quite handsy, linking your calves together under the table and playing with each others’ fingers on top of it, you really don’t want to go home by the time the check comes.
He pays this time, of course, and when you’re standing up to leave you suggest taking a walk along the river. His enthusiasm for your suggestion makes your insides feel all sticky and hot, that you’re both on the same page, that even something so little can excite him like it does you.
The thing is, you don’t do this often. Okay, maybe you’ve had many dates that end up exactly like this, walking off a meal and chatting. But it’s very very rare that you get to do it with someone you click with, someone who gets you, someone who makes you feel comfortable in your own skin.
Frankie does just that, has since day one when you spent hours talking on that godforsaken dating app. And especially now, as he slinks one arm through the loop of your own and uses the other to caress where your sleeve rides up your bicep. His body is warm where it presses into you, only adding to that fuzzy feeling from the couple of mimosas you drank with brunch.
And when you turn to face him, the happy look on his face is everything. You get tripped up in the sunlight glistening in his brown eyes, the hints of ochre sparkling as his head shifts, before you determine you need to tell him.
“I like the way I feel with you,” you say earnestly, though the champagne has surely given you a bit of a push.
“What way is that?”
His pace slows on the little pebbled pathway, like he really doesn’t want to miss what you say next.
“Like I can just… turn my brain off and be.”
He chuckles, squeezes your arm.
“I feel the same. Like I don’t have to pretend to impress you or anything. Like I don’t need to impress you.”
You hum as you let the words sink in, and lean a little heavier into him as you walk.
“You do impress me though,” you tell him.
His breath hitches, you can feel it where he’s pressing into you from chest to hip.
“You impress me too. I uh— I think you’re probably the most impressive person I’ve ever met.”
“Weren’t you like, in the military?”
He laughs, then, full, you can feel it shaking his tummy against your arm.
“That doesn’t really count. Besides, my military buddies’ skills are limited to the field. I don’t think between the three of them they have more than a handful of civilian brain cells.”
“Harsh,” you laugh, pinching his side between your knuckles.
“I say it with love, of course. They’re good guys, you’d like ‘em. In a way you might like an annoying sibling.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, I’d like you to meet them sometime. Maybe soon. If you’d feel comfortable.”
You don’t know much about this infamous group of guys Frankie’s bonded to, just that they’re his only real friends, and that they’ve all been through a lot. Another gooey feeling spreads through your guts at his proposal.
“I’d like that. Sometime soon.”
It does worry you a bit. You don’t know much about the military, but you’re aware of the stereotypes. Surely if Frankie’s friends with them, then they aren’t bad guys.
Frankie must see the fleck of apprehension in you,
Because he stops walking and releases your arm so he can face you squarely.
“I’m out to them. They’re cool with it. Pope— Santiago— he’s queer too. We’ve been to pride together, all of us. No bad vibes.”
You wonder if they’ve ever met someone like you. You wonder if Frankie’s told them about you yet. You wonder a lot of things in such a tiny amount of time that you sway a bit on your feet and Frankie reaches out to steady you.
“Shit— Are you okay??”
“I’m fine,” you’re quick to assure him, “just… I dunno. What if they don’t like me?”
Frankie scoffs.
“There’s no way they won’t like you. You’re you, you’re kind and funny and smart. What’s not to like?”
“Are you purposefully ignoring the elephant in the room?”
It isn’t heated, the way you ask it, but you’re genuinely curious. Is he beating around the bush, or is he naive, or is it really not a big deal to him?
“Cariño, it’s not an elephant. It’s a— I dunno. A neat… plant,” he shrugs.
You squint at him, and tilt your head at his explanation.
“You know what I mean? An elephant in a room is a giant pain in the ass. It’s much more like a cool plant. Maybe one some people aren’t familiar with, but it’s not— you’re not an elephant, is my point.”
You stare at him for a beat longer than you mean to, but once your giggle involuntarily bubbles up out of you, Frankie’s serious face is cracking into a goofy smile.
“You’re cute,” you tell him, “Jesus Christ.”
Your laughter mellows, and Frankie looks sheepish at your compliments, but he grabs you by the elbows anyway, leans in close to you so that you can smell the way the sun warms his curls and his skin.
“I mean it though,” he says, “I like you. Exactly how you are. The guys will too.”
Your eyes dart around to your surroundings as Frankie’s lips find your temple, then your cheek, then the corner of your mouth. Without anyone ogling, you shift your head just that much more to let his lips press against yours.
He hums, leaning harder into you, pulling you closer with his hands at your back. You melt, pliant and lax in his arms, until he huffs and pulls away.
“Frankie,” you whisper.
“Yeah?”
“I want you to take me home.”
His pupils grow comically large at your request, and this time he’s wobbling on weary legs.
“Anything you want, mi planta.”
Your walk back to his truck is… brisk. You’re not sure who’s leading who by the time
Frankie unlocks the doors, both too giggly to really worry about it. He kisses you breathless across the center console before he turns the key in the ignition, and you roll the flavor of him around in your mouth while he pulls out into traffic.
Frankie’s promise of ‘I like you exactly the way you are’ is rattling around in your head like a pinball in a faulty machine. You’re not sure he can even say that. If he even knows you exactly the way you are. It’s been two dates and a handful of weeks texting back and forth.
Granted, one of those dates had him shaking and crumbling on top of you, but still. He told you he’s never met someone like you. He said that, and now you have to pull the ‘Ol Talk out of your dusty little hat and you aren’t sure how he’s going to react. He’s given you no reason to believe it’ll be negative, but still. Sometimes it just makes you uncomfortable, to have to explain things that don’t often need explaining.
Instead of boiling over with nerves the closer you get, though, the anxiety simmers below the surface as you watch Frankie navigate back to your apartment. His side profile is criminal, with his wide eyes and strong nose and stubbly jaw, that dimple that just won’t seem to go away. His curls tickle the nape of his neck and whisp around his temple and you must twirl them between your fingers. So you do, and his answering hum has you squirming in the passenger seat.
The walk up your apartment stairs is when the nerves start to get the best of you. It takes you two tries to get your door unlocked, and you know Frankie is aware by the way he looks at you when you usher him through the door.
“Are you okay?”
It’s funny how just a week before you were asking him the same question, and now you’re the one who’s a bundle of frayed nerves when you’d only ever been so cool and calm and collected.
“I am, I just— Things are different… with me.”
His concerned brows turn back up when he smiles at you, the softness in his eyes working wonders to ease your anxiety.
“I like different. Different’s fun.”
You huff. He’s so sweet. It’s hotter than it should be.
“Really. I wanna learn you. Let me, cariño. Please?”
And god… those are gonna be a big, big problem, his wide, watery puppy eyes framed by long eyelashes that he breaks out like it’s no big deal. Like you wouldn’t murder someone for him if he made those eyes at you and asked nicely.
You sigh, and nod, and that gets him to drop the eyes at least, replace them with a toothy smile instead.
“Let me get us some waters, if you wanna get comfy on the couch.”
It gives you a second to breathe and gather your thoughts as you meander into the kitchen.
“I missed this couch,” he muses, wistful, and you laugh.
“I’m sure you did, Pretty Boy.”
You barely hear his huff over the trickle of your Brita filter, but then he speaks up.
“I love it when you call me that. Drives me crazy.”
Frankie’s full of this energy you didn’t expect from him, so much more forward now. You suppose the walls have been broken down a bit, ever since your last night together.
He’s sprawled out on the couch when you return with two glasses, leaning back against the corner of it, and his cock is straining at his jeans. You don’t pretend not to notice, and he doesn’t pretend that he can’t see your eyes tracing the shape of its outline in his dark denim. You place your waters on the coffee table, even as you feel your mouth go dry.
“Told you, drives me crazy. You drive me crazy.”
The way he looks up at you makes him look so small. Your pulse jumps about it, the way it makes you feel just minutely more comfortable with the conversation you’re about to have.
And it’s one that you want to have, no matter how un-sexy it feels, or annoying. Because in your experience, when you forgo the conversation until after, they always take it personally when you tell them what you didn’t like. And even though you know it’s bullshit, you can’t stand the thought of Frankie feeling defensive toward you, even if it’s unfounded.
So you curl up next to him, let his arm that’s slung over the couch rest across your shoulders. You bring your knees up to your chest and plant one hand high on his thigh. You’re so nervous that you almost miss the way it twitches under your palm.
“What’s on your mind?”
His thumb rubs tiny loops against your shoulder. Yours mirrors it on his jeans, and it soothes you enough to start speaking.
“Sometimes I don’t like… certain things. During sex. And sometimes I do. It just depends on my mood,” you start.
“Yeah, same. I think that’s everyone, right? Normal?”
You roll your eyes at yourself, because you know he has a point. But yours are a little different.
“Yeah but… You know how I said sometimes I’m both, and sometimes I’m neither, and sometimes I’m one or the other?”
“Yeah, ‘course I do.”
“Welll when I’m… y’know. Sometimes certain words just… turn me off. Make me feel weird, and get in my head and stuff, and then it’s not fun anymore.”
Frankie nods.
“And not like… What I mean is sometimes I like one word, and then another time I won’t like the same word. It’s always different. Depending on what I’m feeling.”
“Guapo, look at me.”
It’s then, when Frankie’s deep voice cuts like a searing hot knife, that you realize your eyes have been darting around everywhere but him.
He’s got a serious look on his face when you finally gaze back, but it’s soft, and it’s comforting, and for a second you think might cry.
“I think it’s my turn to make you ask for what you want.”
He smirks when he says it, and it’s so uneasy and so not at the same time.
You take a deep breath. Release it. Feel the squeeze of your heart unclench a bit.
“I want you to suck my cock. Today. And tomorrow maybe I’ll want you to eat my pussy. Okay?”
“Jesus Fuck—“
“I’m sorry—“
“Shut up, you’re so fucking hot.”
His words steal the breath from your lungs and make your face feel like it’s on fire. Even more so when his free hand presses against his erection over his jeans. It spreads, a dangerous flame that curls around your insides, high in your chest and low in your gut, and you tilt your head so you can taste the little whimper that falls from his lips.
Your hand finds his chest again, like it did that night, and something about his racing heartbeat eases you so much. That he’s just as nervous as you are, even if he’s a bit better at hiding it this time.
He cradles you when he kisses you back, one big, warm hand on the back of your head and his other on your back, wrapped around you, safe. And he’s gentle as he leads you to lie back, even as he growls and nips at your bottom lip.
Safe.
His thighs bracket one of yours as he holds himself above you by an elbow on the cushions. You feel his cock, hot and hard, pressed tight against you, throbbing when he shifts his hips for friction.
You let a noise sneak past your vocal chords, a deeper sigh, and instantly you feel even more vulnerable.
But Frankie just returns it, grip tightening on the back of your head. He pulls his mouth from yours and instead finds your pulse with it.
You gasp, and he curses. His hips jerk against you, and you know you’re about to soak through your briefs. His teeth find skin underneath your collar and you egg him on by lifting your thigh to press even tighter against his prick.
His muttered curse feels hot against your skin, but it quickly runs ice cold when Frankie’s hand sneaks under the hem of your shirt. You grab it quickly, separated by the material, and shake your head back and forth quickly.
“Not right now,” you whisper, “sorry.”
He looks up from his toothy assault on your skin to meet your gaze, hand slipping back out from under your shirt, and smiles.
“Don’t apologize,” he says, hand finding the crook of your thigh instead, “never for that. Always tell me what you need.”
Your breath stutters as he shifts back up to kiss your lips again, his thigh pressing just right between yours as his tongue tastes the roof of your mouth. You grind just like that, and he does too, a hot and damp rustling of fabric as he takes your mouth and whines into it at the friction.
Your hands get with the program, reach around to squeeze his ass and encourage his thrusts against your thigh. Sparks of arousal shoot through you every time you feel his cock pulse against you. It becomes not enough extremely quickly, especially with the noises you’re coaxing out of him and the way his tongue is sloppy and greedy inside your mouth.
“I need your mouth,” you gasp, your slick lips moving against his own as you speak.
He groans, licks at your bottom lip one last time.
“Anything you want.”
You’re hot, flustered and aching when he finally works on unfastening your pants. All the while his wide doe eyes peer up at you, waiting for any direction.
He shuffles a bit, settling between your open legs and huffing when he misses the pressure of your thigh against his prick. You thread your fingers through his curls as consolation, and smirk when he shudders and his eyelids droop.
He gets a hand under your pants, and both of your mouths drop open at the contact to the warmth between your thighs.
“Fuck, you feel perfect,” he sighs, “please let me taste you.”
His voice is gravelly, sends a wave of tingles up your spine as you grind down into his hand and tighten your grip on his hair. His fingers twitch against you as he gasps and pulls against your hold on his locks, and it’s fucking wicked.
Your curse and tug him by the hair to bury his face between your legs. You feel his nose squish against you first, then his lips, a hot breath of air released against you. He groans into you, inhales a deep breath, and you see his hips work frantically against the couch cushion underneath him.
“Frankie.”
He opens his eyes, but doesn’t dare pull his face away from your center.
“Take ‘em off,” you order.
He nods, face still pressed against you, like he’s nuzzling your package, and you have to tug his hair to urge him to get a move on.
“Sorry, sorry. Fuck— can’t help it.”
His fingers tremble, just barely, but noticeable nonetheless, as he hooks them under your briefs. One last look up at you, and you nod and tug at his curls, and then he finally pulls the damned things down your legs and off.
At this point, you don’t have enough wits about you to be shy. You spread your legs, one against the back of the couch, the other dangling off at the knee so your foot touches the floor. The air in your apartment is cool where you’re wet and slick, and your hips wiggle in anticipation.
All the while, Frankie stares at your center, just inches above you, so close you can feel his ragged breaths with every heave of his chest. He’s a fucking vision like this, between your legs, needy and ready to do what you tell him.
“Can I—?”
“Suck my cock, Frankie. Wanna see those pretty lips wrapped around it.”
A stilted breath escapes him as he opens his mouth to press against you. Your hips jolt at the first touch of his tongue through your folds, hot and wet and perfect. He wastes no time following your direction, though, tongue flicking over your cock before he gets it into his mouth and suckles.
Fuck.
It’s so fucking good, he’s so fucking good. Your grip on his hair only gets tighter as you watch his hips grind against the couch in a frantic rhythm. He whines and sucks harder, just shy of too much, tongue circling around your dick in between delicious pulses of suction.
You want to close your eyes and succumb to the pleasure, but you don’t want to miss a moment of this. The way his brow is creased in concentration, his silky curls bobbing up and down in your lap, the fucking noises he makes. The slurps and the grunts and the hums, like he’s getting just as much out of it as you are.
You suppose he is, the way he’s humping the sofa like he’s in heat.
His eyes flicker up to you, a silent question.
Is this doing it for you?
“So fucking good, Frankie. Just like that,” you tell him, fingers dragging through his hair, nails scraping at his scalp.
His eyes close as he hums around you, and yours do too, then, overwhelmed by the feeling. Your hips rock up into his face, fucking it, using him. His grip tightens on your thighs, and your body rocks from the from the way he’s grinding against the couch.
His tongue is wicked and precise, circling your cock, flicking it, circling then flicking, again and again and it makes your whole body buzz, has you out of your fucking mind.
And you suppose that’s why the words just fall from your lips; there’s no filter left, just raw, overwhelmed senses and adrenaline.
“Fuck, good boy Frankie. Letting me fuck your face, like the perfect little toy.”
“Hah— shit,” he whines, hips stuttering between your legs just for a moment as his lips lose their grasp on your dick.
“Prettiest mouth, all for me, right?”
You watch him as he looks up at you and nods, mouth hung open, his tongue sliding up and down your slit at the quick motion. He looks a mess, with his mustache glistening and his pupils huge and dark and his hair sticking up every which way. His eyelids droop and his brows draw up tight and he looks so so perfect between your legs.
With another pathetic noise, he sucks your cock between his lips again. You take mercy on his hair, let your hand find the back of his neck and cradle, massage the tense muscles under your fingertips. You feel him shudder against you, watch as his hips speed up in time with the bobbing of his head between your thighs.
And it’s building, blazing through your system, fiery static that has you breathing quicker, arching your back as your muscles tense.
Frankie’s noises only press you closer and closer to the edge, the way they’re muffled around your prick in his mouth, the way he’s clutching onto your hip and fucking your couch cushion as he slurps and suckles. It’s soaking wet and hot and much better than you’ve felt in a very long time.
“So close, don’t stop,” you beg.
Frankie’s answering noise is strung-out and his grip is bruising on your hip. You lift your hips into his mouth and your hand finds his hair again. You tug and encourage him to suck you off faster, just a bit, just enough.
You cry out his name as you shake. You hope the grip you’ve taken on his hair isn’t too tight, but none of your movements are your own until all the tension leaves your body. He works you through it as his breath puffs faster and heavier against your mound, gradually suckling softer, bobbing his head slower and slower while he groans around you.
Slowly, your muscles relax and your tendons unclench and your eyes open just in time to watch Frankie press a kiss to your swollen, twitching bud.
“Jesus,” you manage through a breath.
His grin is shy as he rests his cheek on your thigh. He strokes you through your comedown, quiet and calm, his fingertips soothing your thigh and your hip.
“How was that?”
You laugh at his question, and he hides his own chuckles in the crease of your hip.
“Incredible.”
He hums, and you ruffle his hair when his gaze turns sheepish.
“What do you need, Pretty Boy?”
He’s flushed, and his curls are a little damp at his temples as he shakes his head.
“I don’t need anything, Guapo.”
You try to muster up as stern a look as you can with your brain still fuzzy and your muscles still lax and gooey. His big brown eyes look up at you, pleading, and his shy look turns embarrassed.
Instead of speaking, he grunts as he sits back on his knees. You take note of the way his teeth scrape his bottom lip before you follow his eyeline, down his still heaving chest and belly.
You try not to let your eyes widen when you see the substantial damp patch soaked through his denim, but you must not have been subtle, because he makes a high, cut-off noise from the back of his throat.
“Sorry,” he says with a grimace.
“Shut up, you’re so fucking hot,” you chirp.
Those little dimples you’ve come to adore rear their heads even as he shakes his.
You sit up to press a kiss to one, then the other, and then his lips. You savor the heady taste of yourself on them, hum happily into his mouth as his trembling fingers stroke your skin.
You both change into comfier clothes. The sight of him wrapped up in your things has a whirlwind of emotions wreaking havoc in your chest. Something primal and something domestic all at the same time, and you have to tug him close in your grasp to tamper it all down to a manageable level.
His body weight tucked half into your side, half on top of you works wonders to calm you, especially as your hand finds his silky curls once more and you feel each strand slip through your fingers.
Frankie sighs, big and heavy, and it tickles your neck.
“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?”
He chuckles and nuzzles his nose into the sensitive skin behind your ear.
“Thinking it’s kinda crazy, being so into someone I met a month ago.”
Your pulse jumps at his words. You wonder if he can feel it where he’s pressed against you.
“Yeah, kinda crazy,” you agree.
“Feels stupid.”
His curls brush against your face when he shakes his head, huffs again, but you hear the smile in his voice.
“Life’s kinda stupid.”
“It is, isn’t it?”
You chuckle at him as you watch his fingers tap an incoherent rhythm on your stomach.
“Seems fair, doesn’t it? To lean into the stupid when you get the chance?”
He turns to you then, a soft smile crinkling the edges of his wide eyes.
“Sounds fair to me,” he mumbles.
last part / next part
#x reader#sub! frankie morales#frankie morales x reader#nb reader#gender-fluid reader#pedro pascal characters#pedro pascal fanfiction#frankie morales#frankie morales fanfiction#ppcu fanfiction#pedro pascal cinematic universe#frankie morales smut#triple frontier fanfiction
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Wow, well now we know why the creators walked away from Neflix's travesty of an adaptation. i.e. The showrunners wanted to "tone down Sokka's sexism". They completely overlook that his sexism is an intentionally-written character flaw that he is supposed to gradually overcome as a part of his character development. Media literacy and nuance is truly dead.
I'm surprise so many people are surprised this is happening. It's Netflix. They're completely incapable of making a story that isn't completely based on making as bland and innofensive as possible, with cheap "girlboss" and/or fanservice added in the mix in the hopes that no one notices it is complete trash.
I wouldn't be surprised if Netflix also tries pandering to the "Zuko is a saint that didn't do anything wrong ever" crowd, making his redemption arc, and his presence in the story really, useless.
It's the same as Disney removing Li Shang from the Mulan remake because "it's inapropriate for them to have a romance considering he is her superior" - nevermind that he never used his status to get anything from her, and was more focused on, ya know, teaching everyone to fight so they wouldn't fucking die. Just a bunch of executives that don't give a shit botching a story because they don't understand what makes it work and what fans like.
I was talking it over with my best friend, and we concluded that Netflix would be the kind to make a Mulan adaptation and go "Her dad is perfectly good health actually, and women are allowed to join the army. Mulan's dad only doesn't want her to go because she's 12 or something, while he's a grown man that has been a war before, but she goes anyway because she's a Feminist Icon Girlboss Queen (because "princess" is sexist)" and not realize that this removed the central theme of the story, killed half the fucking stakes, and made the main character unlikable, unreasonable, and unsympathetic.
Seriously, think about it for a second - if Sokka doesn't have his VERY mild, very teenage-like sexism early on, why does Suki even need to exist? Her only two roles in the story are "Make Sokka rethink sexism" and "Date Sokka." Netflix is so paranoid of seeming sexist that, instead of fixing the actual problem of "Hm, this female character that fans like is kind of irrelevant outside stuff regarding her boyfriend, let's flesh her out some more" they went for the route that makes her useless and doesn't allow her to show she is both willing to stand up for herself when disrespected AND to forgive and help someone if they show genuine regret and interest.
It's all downhill from here, folks. Brace yourselves.
(Also the fucking nerve of Netflix. They gave the lead actress for Wednesday absurdly long days of work while she had fucking covid, and made the pedo-bait attrocity that was "Cuties", but a story having a 4-episode mini-arc of "Male character realizes sexism is bad" is "iffy", sending a bad exemple and disrespectful to girls and women? Fuck off)
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baby, please - part 4
You were just coming down with something, that was all. The flu, food poisoning...or something...
Warnings: Throwing up, so emetophobia warning. Like one or two mentions of drinking alcohol. Mentions of failed protection. Spot the accidental FNAF reference. Proofread, again, lazily.
Word count: 4,479
F!Reader, no use of Y/N.
These are your texts.
These are Craig's/Tinder's texts.
Part 3 ● Series Masterlist ● Part 5
Santiago was gone by the time you woke up the day after your date. You hadn’t expected him to be there, at all. You’d have been more surprised if he had stayed for breakfast.
He at least tidied up after himself, putting back the plant pot he had knocked over, although it looked like he had just shoved the plant back in with the way it was tilted on an angle. You snorted before grabbing the pot, quickly fixing it up and giving your poor peace lily some water.
You’d had fun last night. Even though you’d both agreed that this was probably not going to lead to anything else and was a one-time deal, you would probably meet up with Santi again if the opportunity arose. He was a good laugh, and the perfect gentleman, even if he did knock over your plant.
Not to mention he was insanely good looking and gave you the best orgasms of your life.
Giggling at the memories of last night, you made yourself some coffee, intending to catch up on a few emails as you made your breakfast. Sundays had always been your day to clean and tidy up your apartment, usually to feel fresh and organised for the week ahead. You had no plans to leave today; you’ll prepare some stuff for work in the afternoon, so you had a head start when you go in on Monday, but your plan was to lounge around and watch Netflix.
But first you needed to shower, because you had all kinds of funk going on.
Emily cornered you the minute she stepped into the office on Monday. She demanded you tell her how well your date went with Santi since he didn’t ‘give anything up all weekend’.
You shrugged at her. “It was fun, we had a good time.”
Emily waited for you to say more, but when she was met with silence, she waved her hands at you frantically. “Is that it?”
You snorted. “I don’t know what you want me to say, we went out, we agreed we weren’t looking for anything serious, and that was that.”
“So my match making didn’t work? You went out, ‘had a good time’, and nothing came from it?”
“Let’s be honest, Emily, I’m probably never going to see Santi again.”
One week
The launch was weeks away, and your week was filled with meetings, and looking into getting new clients on board. You had tried reassuring the other teams in your office that there will be potential but some of the more difficult members of your office didn’t want to listen to you. They had already started headhunting.
It had put you in a bad mood that your co-worker’s didn’t seem to have any faith in you, despite your reputation and how long you had been there. You knew what you were doing, you weren’t an idiot. You studied for four years to get where you were today. By midday, you had already plugged in your earphones, asserting that no-one talks to you for the rest of the day.
As it turned out, it was another late lunch day for you, you sitting yourself down to eat when everyone was packing up to leave. It was Friday, and everyone was chatting about their weekend plans. You had had plans with Beth but she had cancelled earlier that morning due to a ‘wedding emergency’. She hadn’t elaborated and you hadn’t asked, just sent her your love and help if she needed anything.
You relax your shoulders, almost groaning at the ache in them. There was a lot going on, and you hadn’t had the chance to unwind at all. Emily had been pestering you again about Santi. You told her that you just weren’t interested in anything more, and neither was he. If she thought there was someone else you should meet, then sure, you would give it a go, but she didn’t seem to understand that you had both wanted something casual.
Also, you really needed to get your AC fixed. It was getting warmer as the summer was approaching, and you couldn’t keep going the way you were. You told yourself you will be at home next weekend and get your AC fixed. You made a mental note to look up electricians when you get home.
Two weeks
God you were tired. And moody. Your period was due in a few days, so it must have been that. You better check your supplies for when you go to the store tomorrow. Not only that, but work was running you ragged, and it was really taking it out of you, and the hot weather was not helping. Thank God it was the weekend, and you were finally getting your AC looked at.
You were thinking about your date with Santiago and decided that you were going to download Tinder again. You had fun with Santi, so why couldn’t you have fun like that again? It didn’t have to be anything long term, but if you happened to meet someone who wanted a little more, you would give it a go. You were open to anything in the end.
You were scrolling left and right through Tinder when the electrician arrived. He had lots of good reviews on Google, and he seemed really reliable. You had contacted him as soon as you could, and he replied within an hour. He turned up when he said he would, and he’d even fixed your AC an hour after arriving.
As you paid him and thanked him profusely as he left, a notification went off on your phone. It was a match with a guy called Craig, and he’d already messaged you. You grinned and snorted at the cheesy pick-up line.
Aside from being sexy, what do you do for a living?
Wow. Think I might need some nachos for all that cheese.
I’m sorry. My buddy and I have a bet going on to see who would get a response from the worst pick up lines and you just won me $50 so thank you!
Glad I could help. Was that the only reason you swiped right?
No, you’re genuinely beautiful. The bet was just a bonus.
You raise your eyebrow and grin.
Well, aren’t you just a charmer?
I aim to please. So what is it you do for a living?
You talked well into the afternoon; Craig was in fact charming, and a sweetheart. And he was a fan of cheesy pick-up lines, and not just for bets. You gave him your number later in the afternoon, and promptly forgot about Tinder.
Three weeks
You were late.
For work and your period.
But it was fine, your body was never like clockwork. Sometimes you were late and sometimes you weren’t. There wasn’t any reason to worry, it was only a few days. It was probably from the adrenaline of the product launch.
What you were going to worry about was the fact that traffic was ten times worse than it usually was and you were absolutely about to get a severe warning from your boss if you didn’t start moving soon. The launch was tonight, and you had so many things to still finalise. You sensed you were going to be spending your day in the office going at 100 miles an hour.
You called Emily to tell her to get started without you, that you had all the faith in the world that your team could make the right decisions and hold for the fort until you got there. At least then no-one would be behind and on schedule.
You made it into the building ten minutes late.
“You’re late,” Harriet, your boss, muttered to you with her arms folded across her chest as you practically run into your workspace.
“Yeah, sorry, traffic was terrible. Emily, where are we up to?” you ask, throwing your bag and jacket on your chair.
“Uh…” Emily read through her notes, her brow furrowed before nodding. “We are good to go on the slideshows, the banners, and the drink display. We’re still waiting on the DJ and the food itself is fine, it just the waiting staff - ”
“The waiting staff? They confirmed weeks ago!”
“The flu has been going round and they’re trying to replace the ones they have off.”
You let out a groan of frustration before taking Emily’s notes from her. “You get in touch with the DJ, I’ll sort out the servers. Anything else?”
“Yeah, the mechanic for the wraps on the cars have sent over their invoice,” Emily bit her lip. “I don’t think they’re sending them out until it’s paid.”
“Send it over to accounting, let the client know, and get on it ASAP. I can’t believe this is all happening on launch day!” you snap, already punching in the catering company’s number to ask them for an update.
Turns out, half of their workforce was out of commission because they had been hit with the flu and it had spread like wildfire. You tried not to lose your temper, it wasn’t their fault, and it wouldn’t be your company that was affected by it either. You told them you understood, that if they could send whoever they could for the event, that would be great.
You slammed the phone down and searched up any temp agencies that may have had any servers available. You contacted a fair few, leaving messages and sending emails, you could do nothing but wait and move on to something else that required your immediate attention. Of course, the client had some last-minute changes to the flyers that were also finalised weeks ago and were sent to print last week. You had wanted to put your foot down on that one, but queried with the printer company anyway, to see if they could print out over five hundred flyers and have them ready for collection by that afternoon.
By some small miracle, they said they could for an extra cost and if you sent over the prints in an hour.
You got on the phone with the client and made the adjustments then and there. With the completed flyers accepted and checked off, you sent them over to the printing office with minutes to spare.
Then one of the temp agencies came back to you to say they did have some spare servers and they could work that evening. You thank whatever God is up there that someone was on your side that day!
You send an update in the office team chat, where Emily also confirmed the DJ is already on the way from Orlando. His gig that morning had ran over and he hadn’t been able to confirm back to Emily’s email regarding the launch, but he was now on his way.
You sighed, closing your eyes and sitting back in your chair, rubbing at the headache in the middle of your forehead. You needed a drink.
“We did it!” cried Emily. “We fixed the problems!”
“Only just,” you muttered, your eyes still closed. “I could do with more servers.”
By the end of the day, another catering company managed to send over a few more servers. You sent the invoices over to accounting, the last of your jobs for the day over.
You made it home with less than an hour to get ready for the event. You were feeling a little woozy, probably from the mess that was today, and how you hadn’t really eaten. You make yourself a quick dinner, just some spaghetti in a tomato sauce, and shower while the sauce was cooking.
Once you were ready, and looking fabulous, you left your apartment, not before you sent a quick photo of yourself to your friends, sending over ‘Final night! 🎉’. You were praised with congratulations and love hearts from your best friends.
You even got a text from Craig, which caused you to smile.
Well done, superstar! Let’s celebrate together soon.
You sent him a quick text back thanking him and telling him you’d definitely take him up on his offer as a notification for your Uber came through.
Making your way into the large venue, Emily was already shoving a drink of champagne in your hands. “We did it! We worked our asses off and nearly crashed and burned, but we did it!”
You give her a large smile, and cheersed her own champagne glass before taking a gulp. You grimaced at the taste. “We spent all that money on marketing, but couldn’t afford decent champagne?”
Emily pulled a face as she rolled her eyes. “Ugh, I know. It’s awful, isn’t it? I told Harriet it was worth buying the better stuff, but no.”
You frowned before placing the champagne on a table, intending to leave it there. You took a deep breath, your stomach doing somersaults. The spaghetti you made earlier wasn’t sitting well, and the champagne had really turned your stomach.
It was probably the bad champagne.
The head of the sport’s drink company made his way up to the stage and tapped into the microphone to gain everyone’s attention. “Hello everyone! It’s amazing to see you all tonight for the launch of our product…”
You zoned out, trying to focus on breathing. You did not feel good, and as the crowd went silent to listen to the ‘big boss’, you tried your best to listen, but you couldn’t from the ringing in your ears. You can feel the beads of sweat forming on your forehead as you turn to Emily, not really looking at her as you discreetly excuse yourself. Panic sets in as you realise you can't hold it in any longer. You rush towards the nearest restroom, desperately hoping you make it in time.
Your heart pounds in your chest, and you can hear the distant hum of the speech fading away as you step into the bathroom. You're grateful that it's empty, providing you with a moment of privacy. You lock yourself inside a cubicle and drop to your knees, gripping the cold porcelain toilet bowl. As you lean over, Emily’s voice echoes through the empty bathroom. Figures she followed you, noticing your sudden discomfort. You felt the embarrassment flow through your body, but you know that she's only there to lend a helping hand, if you needed it.
The wave of nausea intensifies, and you barely have time to pull your hair back before a rush of the earlier spaghetti emits from within you. The taste is bitter and acrid, burning your throat as it leaves your body. Then you hear a knock on the door, followed by Emily’s gentle voice, muffled by the bathroom's walls. She asks if you're alright, if there's anything she can do to help.
You manage to compose yourself enough to respond, your voice shaky and weak. "I...I think I'll be okay," you say, your words interrupted by a sudden gag. "Sorry, just...just give me a minute."
She doesn't leave, though. Instead, she waits outside your stall. Her presence makes you feel even more embarrassed at this unexpected moment of vulnerability. You wanted to tell her to go back to the party, to not worry about you, that you’ll make your way back in a moment, but words escape you when you needed them the most.
As the nausea subsides, replaced by a lingering queasiness, you take a deep breath and rise to your feet. You grab some toilet roll, dabbing your mouth before throwing it in the toilet. You flush it, feeling as though the moment has finally passed and it was over. Slowly, you unlock the door and step out, finding Emily waiting for you with a concerned expression.
You avert your gaze and walk past her, washing your hands.
“Are you okay?” she asked, her eyes filled with empathy. “Do you want some water?”
“I’ll get it, thanks Emily.”
You clear your throat as you shake your hands of excess water before grabbing a few paper towels. You dry your hands and throw them away, before turning to Emily. You couldn’t find the right words, so with a weak smile, you both return to the event.
Four Weeks
“Just take a pregnancy test,” Courtney said, shrugging. “I’m shocked you haven’t yet, honestly.”
Now that you suddenly gained an awful lot of free time as the launch was over, you and Courtney arranged to meet up a week after. Your newest clients were more relaxed, really only happy with the updates to their social media, and a few print outs every now and then. So this gave you the perfect opportunity to gain some advice about the awful ‘case of the flu’ you’d been complaining about all week.
You’d been talking about it since you puked at the launch (and pretty much every day since). And you were constantly tired, and hungry. And just a ball of emotion. You’d thought about the other explanation, obviously, but you can’t be pregnant. You used protection each time. You couldn’t be.
You still decided to skip on the wine with your meal.
“Don’t you think I’m overthinking it, just a bit?” you ask, almost rolling your eyes. “It’s not weird for someone to sometimes be late on their period.”
“And to throw up at their important work event,” Courtney said, raising an eyebrow at you and throwing you a pointed look. “Then every day afterwards. Did you not use protection?”
You wanted to shout at her. She’s talking to you like you’re an irresponsible teenager, and not a woman who was nearing thirty. “Of course, I did.”
Courtney stared at you with a stern look on her face. “So rule it out then, what’s the problem?”
“The problem is that it’s impossible for me to be pregnant because I always use protection, so there must be something wrong that’s causing this.”
“Yeah, probably a foetus,” muttered Courtney sarcastically. “All condoms have a 2% fail rate.”
You groaned, burying your head in your hands. You had to admit, it was a bit weird, and it was the only logical explanation at this point. The ‘flu’ symptoms weren’t wearing off. You were only digging yourself a deeper hole if you didn’t approach it now. “What do I do?”
“Whose would it be?”
You peek over your fingertips at your friend, who was raising an eyebrow at you. You had already thought about this since the last person you slept with was - “Santiago. The ex-army guy from a few weeks ago.”
“Not this doctor guy you’ve been talking to?”
“Craig? No. We haven’t even met yet. We have a date next week.”
“Do you think that Santiago lied about using condoms?”
“No, I…” you grimace, your cheeks warming. “I watched him put them on and throw them in the trash.”
Courtney shrugged. “Well then…I guess you’ll just have to pee on a stick and find out.”
You sigh, before excusing yourself to go to the bathroom and throw up. Again.
Five Weeks
You’d put it off long enough. You were very late for your period, the symptoms hadn’t subsided, and you couldn’t avoid it anymore. You had to take a pregnancy test.
You had cancelled your date with Craig, apologising profusely. You came up with the excuse of the flu and he was very understanding but you noticed he didn’t mention rescheduling. You felt slightly disappointed, but it was fine. You had other things to worry about.
You made your way to the nearest CVS, taking a few deep breaths to calm your racing heart before walking inside, straight to the family planning aisle. Your eyes widened at the brands. Which ones were most reliable? Why are they so expensive? Aren’t babies expensive enough? And why so many different brands? Don’t they all do the same thing?
You would ask Gabrielle, but you didn’t want to bother her with something like this.
You bite your lip as you walk up and down the aisle. ClearBlue is trustworthy, wasn’t it? And it was a well-known brand. And you were sure they had digital tests as well as regular tests. But you know that Clinical Guard is good too. And First Response. Or should you check –
"Are you okay, sweetheart?“
You jump at the sudden interruption, turning to look at the older woman who was wearing a pharmacy coat, her auburn hair pulled back in a bun as her green eyes looked at you a little concerned. You blink before shaking your head quickly and gave the woman a small smile. "Sorry. I'm...which brand would you recommend?"
The woman looked at the pregnancy tests before letting out a hum. "If you want my honest opinion, they all are the same, just have different names. But it's up to you."
Biting your inner lip in slight frustration, you sigh through your nose, looking back at the tests before grabbing a ‘triple check’ ClearBlue box, and a First Response box. You turn to the woman, who smiled at you before leading you to the counter. You pay the (more than you had planned to pay) fees for the tests. The pharmacist looked at you as she tilled in the amount. "You were stood there for a while before I came over. I thought there was something wrong."
You let out a nervous laugh, shrugging a shoulder. "Well...I mean, I could be pregnant, so..."
"We've all been there," replied the pharmacist. "Whatever the result, I'm sure it'll be fine."
"Thanks," you replied, grabbing the plastic bag and leaving the store, making your way back to her apartment quickly, almost feeling the anxiousness of being found buying pregnancy tests (as if you weren’t an independent, fully grown adult).
It seemed to take longer to get back to your apartment than it did to get to the CVS. You eventually made it back, closing and relocking your apartment door as you practically ripped the tests from the plastic bag, speed walking to the bathroom, and reading the instructions on the First Response tests.
"You can't pee on a stick wrong, right?" you muttered to yourself, before shaking your head. "Well, Cassie in high school managed to do it wrong. Remove cap, pee on test, pointing down then replace cap and lay on flat surface for three minutes. I can do that. Two lines means congrats, you're pregnant!"
So that’s exactly what you did. Once placing the cap back on and leaving the test on the side of the sink, you washed her hands, watching the test with a concerned look on your face before catching your reflection in the mirror before scowling. You point to your reflection, calling your name sternly. "Come on. Staring at it isn't going to make it go any quicker." you momentarily froze before shaking your head.
Stop talking to yourself.
You took a deep breath, knowing it had been longer than the three minutes it suggested on the box. You let the breath go before closing your eyes tightly then opening them, lifting the test to eyeline.
Two pink lines stare back at you, almost mockingly.
You felt sick again. And dizzy. You were going to pass out. You need to sit down. You feel yourself grab onto the edge of the counter, slowly lowering yourself to the floor, still staring at the positive test. No matter how long you stared, the test didn't change. Those two pink lines were still as vibrant as they were a few minutes ago.
What do you do? What are you supposed to tell Santi? It was a one-night stand, you used protection! How did this happen?
You could feel yourself panicking, becoming breathless. You drop the test on the floor, your heart pounding loudly in your ears as you stumbled your way into your bedroom and to your bedside drawer, digging around for the condom box. They must be a defective batch. There was no way –
You felt your blood run cold. Expired.
You, again, felt like you were going to pass out. How did you not know? Why didn’t you check the expiration date sooner? You felt tears flood your eyes as you angrily threw the box into the trash. What we’re you going to do now? You can’t have a baby. You had a tiny, one-bedroom apartment! You had just situated yourself in your career! And you were pretty sure Santi didn’t want kids. You would be alone, with a child.
You didn't sleep well that night, if at all. Your mind was going one hundred miles a minute, going through all the aspects that you currently had going on and how you would accommodate for a baby, if you were pregnant. You would have to find a new place, big enough for two people, if not more. That was another thing. Would Santi even want to be involved? You hadn’t even spoken since the date, you might not even need to tell him.
You shake the thought away. Of course you need to tell him.
You took a second test as soon when you woke up, and it did come out positive. You waited until after you had breakfast and showered and watched a little morning TV before taking another one. You ended up throwing up your breakfast into the toilet. It was positive, again.
It was late afternoon, after hours of pacing and weighing the options when you scrolled for Santi’s number. You had taken yet another test, just to be sure (the result was no different than the first three you took), and had promptly thrown up again, into your toilet. Your thumb hovered over the call button, hesitating. What if he doesn’t answer? What if he blocked your number after your date? You had no intention of speaking to each other again, what if he just ignored you? Would he think you wanted another date?
No, you couldn’t let these fears take over. He deserved to know. And if you couldn’t contact him, you could always ask Emily to pass the message along that you needed to speak to him.
You shiver. You hoped it didn’t come to that.
You press the call button before you psych yourself out more, placing the phone to your ear. The ringing twisted your stomach with nerves. This wasn’t even the hard part. You just had to ask him to talk, to meet you for coffee or something. It’ll be casual, as casual as it can be telling a one night stand you were pregnant. Oh shit, you were going to be sick –
“Hello?”
Your breathing hitched at the sound of Santiago’s voice. You take a deep breath before releasing it. There was no turning back now. “Hey…it’s me.”
“Hey,” he replies, muttering your name. “How are you? Wasn’t expecting to hear from you.”
“Er, yeah. Just…listen, we need to talk.”
#triple frontier#santiago garcia x reader#santiago x reader#santiago garcia x f!reader#santiago garcia#oscar isaac#pregnant!reader
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Alex Albon: Williams driver says ‘you need to be a fighter to be a driver’
BBC SPORT: Andrew Benson
Alex Albon knows what it's like to think he's at the end of the road.
"You're right on that mental edge of panic and worry," he says. "I sat on that worry for so long that you start to not care. You can't panic forever. You can't worry about it forever.
"And I think: 'Well, l've only got to give it my all. I've only got to put everything on the table.'
His story is one of resilience - of numerous knocks through his life from which he has drawn on remarkable reserves of self-belief to bounce back each time.
On his respiratory failure and being dropped from red bull:
"In terms of setbacks, it's a small one really," he says. "I've had very good doctors around me, who were in Italy, to get me back into a good place. I feel very fortunate."
Two years ago, it looked as though Albon's career was coming to an end before it had really got going.
The decision was tough to take.
"I would be lying if I told you I didn't expect it," Albon says. "I felt like I didn't perform that season. I knew there was a strong chance of it happening.
"I had dreamed of being in F1 since I was four years old, almost completely obsessed with it. You inevitably hit this heartbreak where it is like, almost: 'OK, is this the end? And you've only spent two years in it.'
"It's a brutal business - and how quickly everything came about. It was a true fast-track from Toro Rosso into one of the very top teams in the sport and then out. And it was like: 'Wow, OK. It did hit me hard, as it would anyone."
Albon's voice falters as he talks, and his eyes well up a little.
"I remember the meeting," he says. "I remember everything as clear as day. And I have to say, first, I have a very strong network of people. My family. My friends. And people around me that you see today.
"Very quickly, I was back to work. I was in the simulator very early in January. 'OK, what's my job, how am I going to get back into F1?' And I kind of had a goal and a plan to do that.
"I would say I want F1 more than any other driver. Everyone will say that. But I genuinely believe it. And I knew I had to really do what it takes, in a way that was quite strange because I can't actually prove myself. It was almost like, what can you do without driving the car?"
On 2012:
This was far from the first setback of Albon's career. For many years, he had struggled to keep things on track.
Born to a British father - former racing driver Nigel Albon - and a Thai mother, he'd been a Red Bull-backed driver early in his career, but lost their support after an indifferent season in Formula Renault in 2012, caused by a major personal upheaval.
His mum Kankamol - with whom he is particularly close - was jailed for fraud, leaving a 15-year-old Albon to look after his younger brother and three sisters.
He still doesn't like to talk about it. But in the first series of Netflix's Drive to Survive series, he admitted it was "by far the hardest year l've had in my life", recalling how he "saw her get locked up and taken away".
Albon says now the difficult road "helped" when it came to rebuilding his career. "It's just because l've gone through it," he says.
"I've had it before, personal stuff, as well as I had it in Formula Renault, where I wasn't going to race the year after and we scrambled along and pretty much got a budget together within, like, two weeks of the first race.
On his personality and determination:
In person, Albon is modest and unassuming. It's hard to square such an apparently gentle character with the steel he must have required to get where he has.
"The general public get me wrong," he says. "They think I'm this happy-go-lucky kid constantly, and that I'm not hungry; maybe too nice.
"They will never see the fiery side because they don't have a headset. They don't listen to me when I'm driving. I am naturally quite happy. I do love what I do. It's the reason why I wanted to be in F1 so much. And I felt like I've learnt to enjoy and relax about it. But you definitely need a fiery side if you want to be in F1."
I tell him that what got him to this point seems more like steel than fire, and he says: "It's both. It's the resilience and at the same time it's determination.
"As a driver, you almost need to be a fighter. When you have a helmet on, you're fighting other drivers. And I am fired up. I really am not a nice person when I have my helmet on. Speak to the engineers here and they'll tell you that."
On fighting for his return to the grid:
Albon's answer was to throw himself into work behind the scenes with Red Bull. There were weeks, he says, when he would spend six days out of seven in their simulator.
He prepared a data sheet that proved, he said, his results at Red Bull were better than the general perception and "well in line with the people who I took over from or replaced me".
Albon said they showed the 2020 car "wasn't that easy".
At the Austrian Grand Prix in July 2021, he met Williams chief executive officer Jost Capito and gave him the data as he made a pitch for the drive. The sheet, he told Capito, "showed not just what I can bring but also on a pure performance side, I'm a good driver and you should take me".
Williams knew they would need a replacement for Russell, who was being promoted to Mercedes for 2022. In the background, Russell was making Albon's case to the team.
"He played a part for sure," Albon says of his close friend. "He got my name on the map.
"I've raced against George for a lot of my career and I'm in a very thankful position where he does respect or believe in my ability. He did mention my name a few times to Jost and the board; I joked about it but it is true, almost a bit too much, to the point where they said they wouldn't listen to him!"
Marko and Red Bull team principal Christian Horner also weighed in for Albon. "I know that they both also convinced Jost to take me," he says. "I'm sure - I know - that they also told Jost the job that I was doing.
On his support system and marketing:
Outside the car, Albon has revamped his support structure, taking on a manager, and forming a new relationship with a performance coach.
With them, he says he can "talk about offloading marketing stuff as much as I can".
Williams have turned Albon's distaste for marketing activities into a bit of a running joke on their social media channels. He smiles and agrees, but adds: "It's a genuine thing. There is a lot of noise in F1 and I think I most probably got caught up in it a bit too much in 2020. There was a lot of firing going on and I was trying to avoid all the bullets.
"Red Bull were very good to me and were trying to help me and support me, but having that circle around me has allowed me to really focus on the driving side - the thing that I really like.
"I'm much more of a quy who is comfortable with the engineers than in front of a TV camera and that kind of thing.
"With stuff like Daniel and Oscar, to be able to drive with so much talk going around, it's not an easy thing to do," he says. "I think as a rookie, even in 2020, I wish I could tell myself the stuff I know now. But you can't, so hindsight is a wonderful thing."
On 2022:
His performances have been so good it's almost as if Williams have lost Russell and replaced him with the same driver. Albon's advantage over team-mate Nicholas Latifi is almost identical to the one Russell had.
Albon says his focus right from the start at Williams was getting himself back to being the driver he always believed he could be.
"I had a vision of the areas I wanted to work on from back in 2020," he says. "I was like, 'OK, I want to fix my areas almost first and really understand. I've got to get comfortable with the team and all that kind of thing.'
"That's almost slightly separate to the performance of the car and where it was at. I've got to look at myself and really... I wouldn't even call it shake off the rust, but really focus on my development."
In the end, all this introspection and hard work has paid off.
"I can only say that I feel comfortable," Albon says. "I feel confident in the car. I feel confident with myself in the team and I know for a fact that I'm driving better than I did in 2020.
"If I look at it almost selfishly, independently, I feel like the year has gone as good as I could have hoped for."
He hopes, he says, he has proved a point.
#when i tell you i am on the train chewing BRICKS#I MEAN IT#i could cry he’s SOOOOOO#he’s so much more than the nice guy i want to shove this down everyone’s throats#alex albon#suzuka 2022
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Plastic Hearts – Part 1
Pairing: Director!Dean Winchester x Actress!Reader
Series Summary: Los Angeles, 1985. Y/N’s a young actress without any success, hopping from one failed audition to the next until one desperate mistake brings her to her breaking point. Dean Winchester, on the other hand, is a grade A asshole and washed-up director at the end of his career, known for his godawful slasher movies in the 70s and his love for blow, booze, and women. Lost in the toxic Hollywood life, their paths cross when one hopeless little wrestling show changes their trajectory.
Chapter Warnings: +18, GLOW AU, self-worth issues, implied smut (reader x unknown dude 🤷♀️), cheating, Sam and Dean are not related in this story (--> check the series masterlist for overall warnings!)
Word Count: 2.8k
A/N: Truthfully, I wasn’t gonna share it because it was just a fun, silly project to get over some writer’s block (which I did!). Netflix never gave me an ending to this amazing show, so I wanted to write my own, y’know? But hey, it’s already written, so why not share it with the class, right? As my awesome cheerleader on this project @panicking-outside-the-disco said, the dilaogue screams Dean AU 🖤 (Thank you so much for your encouragement, bestie!) Fellow fans of the show, you’ll be happy to know I kept all the good stuff in there, from Steel Horse to pink, frosted donuts. Everyone else will make sense of those words soon enough. So, hopefully, you’ll enjoy this nostalgic love tribute, and let’s give ourselves a decent ending, shall we? 🤩
Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist
1. Holding Out For A Hero
Another failed audition.
Moving from Nebraska to Los Angeles at the sweet age of eighteen, Y/N has played the Hollywood game for quite some time. Now, at the ripe age of twenty-seven by La-La Land standards, she only has little to show for herself, though. She’s had a few background roles and starred in a handful of low-budget plays, but her big breakthrough, the role that changes everything, still remains a hopeless and seemingly unreachable daydream.
Worst of all, she is sick and tired of the simple and reduced roles Hollywood forces upon its actresses. She wants more than the shitty role of the secretary who tells a powerful man his wife is on the phone. Y/N wants a real part instead of playing second fiddle to yet another pompous dick.
Desperate times call for desperate measures.
After her latest failure, she even became so desperate she hid in a bathroom stall for three hours before ambushing her casting director Josie while the poor woman was fucking peeing. But instead of the customary, unexplained rejection, Y/N wanted to hear reasons this time. She wanted to find out why she always gets pushed over for someone else, wanted to know if she could do something better, for crying out loud.
Usually, it’s the agent’s job to tell an actor all the reasons why they were wrong for the role, but she doesn’t even have an agent anymore because, as it bitterly turns out, everyone stops fucking caring about you if you haven’t worked in over two years. For once, though, she wanted some goddamn feedback.
The casting director’s response?
“Look Y/N, every director I work with says, ‘Get me someone I don’t know. Someone I haven’t seen. I want a girl who’s real.’ That’s when I bring you in, so they can see that they don’t actually want the thing they think they want. It’s 1985. Everyone wants Jane fucking Fonda. I’m sorry, honey… But listen, I have some experimental projects in the Valley, if you’re interested. Would you consider doing erotica?”
So, fucking porn. That’s where she’s at with her life.
Defeatedly, Y/N leaves the casting office in West Hollywood once more and gets swallowed by the city’s filth, lost between hellfire and demons. No matter what she does, she never feels like it’s enough. Each audition, you throw yourself against the wall and hope, this time, it’ll stick. It’s an endless game, a gamble of hope – hope isn’t an infinite resource, though, and hers is running out.
Y/N likes getting tortured. That’s the conclusion she’s come to. And because she seems to thrive on torment, she joins her best friend Joanna for a Jazzercise class – aka a room full of toned women in leotards, sweatbands, and leg warmers. The two friends have known each other since middle school and have done everything together since then, including their move to the big city. Joanna is a blonde bombshell who immediately got a role on a popular soap until she quit acting and had a baby a couple of months ago. Now, she’s a housewife and mother in Pasadena while her husband brings home the money.
Y/N loves Joanna, but admittedly, the blonde sometimes makes her feel small and insecure. She doesn’t have the big tits, the perfect curves, or the shiny hair. Jo has always been more successful than her in every aspect of their respective lives, the friendly competition leaving Y/N, more often than not, with a bad aftertaste in her mouth. She constantly tries to keep her envy in check, though, even when the blonde’s boobs exploded during their freshman year of high school. Simply put: Joanna is a sparkling diamond, while Y/N feels like a dirty lump of coal next to her.
The cheer captain versus the theater geek.
“You know, I’d actually do porn if it had a good story. Like, Shakespeare porn,” Y/N half-heartedly jokes as the women change in the locker room after their class.
Jo arches an eyebrow at her, the smile on her lips a bit condescending. “C’mon, Y/N, would you actually do porn, though? You hate being naked in front of people.”
“Things have changed since you disappeared,” Y/N shrugs her shoulders, her voice laced with rebellion, and purposely changes out of her leotard in front of her friend to drive the point home. She also tries not to sound too bitter about the fact that the blonde basically abandoned her after getting married and pushing a human out of her vagina. She knows her jealousy is silly. It’s just part of life. That’s how it goes. It wasn’t always going to be them vs. the world forever.
“I didn’t disappear. I had a baby,” Jo retorts on cue before her face lights up with an insane amount of excitement. “Which you could too! Then we’d both have babies.”
“Great idea,” Y/N snorts sarcastically and slips into her sneakers, playfully musing, “Who of the guys I randomly fuck would make a good baby daddy, huh? The alcoholic I met at the farmer’s market or the depressed stand-up with a heroin addiction?”
Jo sits down on the bench next to her and conspiratorially leans closer. “Can I tell you something that I realized recently?”
Y/N gives her a raised look that borders on amused. “What?”
The blonde has been a bit of a postpartum mess these days. It’s the lack of sleep and the fact that her boobs won’t stop leaking. Also, her kid is a biter.
“When I first was cast on Paradise Bay, I was thrilled, okay? I mean, it was so exciting, remember? And then they put me in that year-long coma, and I was just lying there in this hospital bed, feeling powerless. And then when season three came, and they graduated me to that wheelchair with that blanket–”
“I’m sorry… Is this going somewhere?” Y/N interrupts her because the last thing she needs to hear today is another one of Joanna’s success stories.
“I’m getting there,” Jo frowns and continues straightaway, “Anyways, I was so relieved when Sam asked me to marry him and told me to stop working. He was right. It was completely ridiculous. Why would I do this to myself, you know? I swear to God getting pregnant and written off that show was the best decision I ever made,” she tells her enthusiastically.
Y/N just twitches her shoulders and ignores the guilt that’s bubbling in her gut. “Well, we’re different people. I choose work. I can have a baby once I win an Oscar.”
Jo lets out a deep sigh, “But you’re not even working, Y/N. Don’t you wanna be happy and have a family?”
“Of course I do.” Y/N’s not sure that answer is the whole truth. She knows she’s supposed to want the supportive husband, the cute kids, and the white picket fence, but all those things come with the end of your career. She’s not ready to give up and pay that price yet. She wants to make it on her own first, not needing a hero to save her like some damsel in distress. “‘Sides, don’t I need a boyfriend for starters? Isn’t that how it works?”
“Oh, it’s not that complicated,” Jo huffs and rolls her eyes dismissively. “Just pick the first nice guy with money you find. It’s what I did. I mean, Sam is a complete idiot and so out of my league, but it works,” she shrugs. “Why don’t you come visit me in Pasadena sometimes if you miss me so much? I called you like a million times in the last few weeks.”
“I know,” Y/N groans in response and finishes buttoning her blouse, swallowing the giant lump of shame in her throat. “It’s so far away,” she excuses, even though it’s another white lie. A big one, this time.
Jo tilts her head at her, but Y/N knows the wrinkles on the blonde’s brow are not out of concern. It’s pity. She’s seen that look all her life. “Y/N, are you okay? ‘Cause you look sad and fucking depressing, honestly.”
“Thanks. But I’m fine,” she brushes her friend off with a bitter smile. “Just the usual, you know? I have $28 left to pay my bills, including rent, which is why I’ve been waitressing at that awful diner in Downey all week… Oh, and, uhm, I’ve eaten Honey Nut Cheerios for my last eight meals,” she lists off her miserable life and grabs her duffel bag, feigning the brightest grin, “But hey, I’m gonna do porn. Things are looking up.”
It’s late at night when Y/N returns to her rundown shoebox apartment. Her decorations include one dead plant and two ripped posters of Angela Lansbury and Barbra Streisand, respectively. It’s a sad affair, really.
Completely beat, she checks her fridge, which resembles an empty ice cave, except for that half-full box of cheap wine. Yeah, she can’t even afford to get drunk properly. The old mattress squeaks as she falls face-down on the bed and exhaustively snatches the rotary dial phone from her nightstand, only reaching her parents’ answering machine.
“Hey, Mom. It’s Y/N. I didn’t get the audition today either, but I’ll get another one soon. So, fingers crossed… again. But I was just wondering if you and Dad could maybe wire me some money? You know, just so I can pay my electricity bill and… eat food. I’m really sorry… I know I can’t keep asking you guys for money because I’m a grown-up now… but I swear it’s the last time, okay? And I’m aware I said that the last time, too… Anyways, love you. Call me back, please? Okay, thanks… Bye.”
Slamming the receiver onto the phone, she groans loudly and is close to screaming into her goddamn pillow. When did she become such a pathetic fucking loser?
Needless to say, she imagined her life would go a lot differently.
In the midst of her nervous breakdown, her ears then perk up at a strange noise, eyes darting warily to the window. There’s an audible jam of the lock, followed by the rustling of the yellowed blinds before a large hand pops through the crack.
Shit. Someone’s trying to break in.
Anxiously, she grabs the phone and holds it up like a weapon, her heart thrashing wildly in her ribcage, the sound ringing in her ears. Then, she bravely yells with a shaky voice, “Whoever you are, I have a knife in my hand and already called the cops!”
“Whoa, whoa… Y/N, it’s just me.” A young man’s head pokes through the window, raising his large palms with a chuckle.
Her shoulders slump, the tension of fear replaced with one of annoyance as she sighs half-heartedly in relief, recognizing the intruder. Y/N lowers her makeshift weapon, tossing it on the bed. “Oh my God! What the fuck are you doing here? Why are you climbing through my window? You can’t be here! Climb back out – now!”
“You said the last time that no one can find out about us, so I took that seriously,” he explains as he gaspingly pushes his tall body through the small opening. “Can’t you just be happy to see me, Y/N? It took some effort to come here and climb through that window, you know?” A charming laugh bounces off the thin, bare walls once he’s made it into her apartment and towers over her.
Y/N folds her arms over her chest and cocks an eyebrow, “You want credit for cheating on your wife?”
He sighs and rolls his eyes back a little, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Can we please not call it that?”
“What would you like me to call it? You’re married to someone and had sex with me,” she counters sternly. She absolutely doesn’t want him here. That man is only trouble and part of the reason why her life is so fucking shitty these days.
“Look, this isn’t normal behavior for me,” he shrugs innocently as if the madness can’t be helped and adds the softest puppy dog look. “I just-, I can’t stop thinking about you.”
“So?! It was a huge fucking mistake!” There’s a sharp inhale of breath as she tries to gulp down the anger, guilt, and shame inside of her. “It happened weeks ago! You shouldn’t be here… It was a party. The drinks were free… I-I was feeling sorry for myself, and you took advantage of that.”
Quietly clearing his throat, he mumbles under his breath, “I think we both took advantage of that.” As he meets her gaze, his whiskey-colored orbs mirror the same guilt she feels.
Y/N places her hands on her hips with a deep exhale, her head bobbing as the words sink in and her head begins to spin. She knows he’s right. They’re both equally to blame, but it doesn’t change anything about her regrets. “Please leave. Go home to your family,” she begs him softly, too soft, not enough strength left to fight.
“You can’t just pull the plug on this. You and me. This is real,” he tells her, his hazel eyes boring into hers. “I think you’re the one, Y/N.”
“No, I’m not,” she stresses with a heavy shake of her head, fighting against the tears that prick her eyes and cloud her mind. “I’m nothing special.”
Pensively, he nods and licks his lips, a humorless chuckle escaping between them as he rubs his mouth and ponders, “I keep thinking about what you said to me that night… You know, how there are shiny people who have everything? And then there are people like us who have to go to parties with those people and watch them get their pictures taken. And it’s not fair... ‘Cause we deserve good things, too. We deserve attention and love and… sex.”
Silently staring at him for what feels like an eternity, her mind races a mile a minute as her heart shatters into a thousand sharp daggers that pierce through her skin and leave deep scars in their wake. And then, Y/N foolishly crashes her lips against his just to stop the goddamn pain in her chest.
What is there to say that even justifies any of this? She’s fucking weak.
The harsh sunbeams that fall on her face and blind her eyes announce another dreadful morning as she wakes with a pessimistic groan. The bed is cold and empty; the married guy is long gone, leaving right after the fuck.
Y/N is alone again – with nowhere to go.
Why did she do what she did? In all honesty, she can’t quite understand it herself, the truth too cruel and pathetic to accept it. The only positive thing she can find about her situation is that at least she can’t sink any lower than rock bottom. She’s certain she’s reached the depths of Hell at this point. Los Angeles mistakenly gets called the city of angels. Truthfully, though, it’s filled with devils who lure you to the dark side until you can’t even look in the mirror anymore without seeing a white line instead of your own goddamn reflection.
The funny thing, though? She’s never even been into drugs or booze or whatever bad habit you can catch in this city, like an STD. She has always worked her ass off and walked the straight and narrow. And for fucking what?
Y/N is definitely at her lowest of lows, but that also means there’s nowhere to go but up, right? And when the red light on her answering machine keeps blinking, her hope and good spirit return as she eagerly presses the button, restarting the endless cycle once more.
“Y/N, this is Josie. I have an audition for you tomorrow. I’m not running it, but I thought of you. It’s in Watts. And it’s not porn... They’re looking for unconventional women, whatever the fuck that means… Oh, and uhm, if you ever ambush me in the restroom again, I’ll make sure you’re gonna be blacklisted on every casting call in Los Angeles. Are we clear? Anyways, good luck, honey!”
A loud scream echoes through the tiny apartment. Y/N can’t believe her fucking ears and jumps excitedly up and down when Josie’s message ends, tears of joy streaming down her cheeks.
The game is back on – and it’s not fucking porn.
2. Livin’ On A Prayer
Yikes! I think it’s fairly easy to guess who this mystery guy is, but let me know all your suspicions and gasps, anyways! 😉 And don’t worry. You’re getting plenty of Dean tomorrow (some would say too much Dean) 😎😈
Everything Jensen (1st part tag only): @extraterrestriali @this-is-me19 @writercole @awkward-and-indecisive @eevvvaa @imherefordeanandbones @dean-winchester-is-a-warrior @jassackles @maggiegirl17 @perpetualabsurdity @deandreamernp @roseblue373 @lyarr24 @deanwanddamons @deanwithscissors @flamencodiva @chriszgirl92 @lhymer1995 @wittyboldsoul @djs8891 @snowlovespie @b3autyfuldisast3r @recoveringpastaaddict @muhahaha303
Plastic Hearts Series: @spnexploration @jessjad @siospins2 @mrsjenniferwinchester @akshi8278 @xlynnbbyx @wayward-dreamer @foxyjwls007 @smellingofpoetry @justrealizedimmascifygurl @ladysparkles78 @leigh70 @4getfulimaginator2022 @globetrotter28
#plastic hearts#glow au#dean winchester x reader#director!dean x actress!reader#dean winchester#dean winchester fic#dean winchester fanfic#dean winchester reader insert#dean winchester series#dean winchester x#dean winchester imagine#dean winchester x you#dean winchester x y/n#dean x reader#dean winchester x female reader#director!dean#supernatural imagine#netflix glow#glow fanfiction
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Life Is Short So Make It Sweet
Chapter Six: Will You Be Mine?
Summary- 8.7k Curtis Everett x Plus!Sized Reader. You ask if Curtis would like to do one of your favorite things- go pick out some pumpkins to start really embracing the Halloween season. Curtis and You get to enjoy being in one another's company which helps Curtis realize that he himself is ready for taking the next step in this relationship.
Warnings- Reader having personal internal debates about herself. Sexual activities. This is an 18+ Only Blog
A/N- Well there is no hiding that Curtis and Reader are going to be intimate in this chapter and frankly I'm excited for them to have reached this far in their growing relationship. It's been a journey already writing for these two. Thank you so much to everyone reading, commenting, and reblogging. Just reading your thoughts gives me so much joy, especially when someone just finds something they relate to. Thank you so much @what-is-your-plan-today for editing my work and dropping your thoughts before posting. Moodboard at the end was made by @xxindiglow. (Which I love so much, thank you!) Dividers made by @firefly-graphics.
Chapter Five / Masterlist
“Okay scarf, check. Jacket. Mhm. Papers…” Doing a mental checklist at your desk while gathering your stuff, Claude popped in your classroom with a loud sigh of relief.
“Listen, TGIF, am I right?!” She perched on one of the students desks while you grabbed your kids' latest homework assignments and put them in your bag. “What are your big plans this weekend?”
You closed your bag and took one last scan to make sure you had everything. “Well Curtis and I are going out Saturday for the day, so tonight I’m just at home with netflix and grading papers. What about you?”
Claude gave a smirk and wiggled her brows. “How about Y/N, you come out with us tonight and Sunday you can grade those? Please? It’s been much too long.” She pleaded with a flutter of her lashes and clasped her hands together like in a prayer. “It sounds like Curtis isn't stealing you away tonight.”
“No, he is doing a dart tournament tonight, his friend signed him up without knowing about it.” You chuckled as you shouldered your bag, considering Claude's offer. “Sure, just text me where you want to meet up.”
“Sounds like a girls' night to me.” Claude got up to follow you out. This time you were sure you would have a way to properly get yourself home. Last time you had gotten lucky that Curtis happened to be at the bar that night, but you didn’t want to be unprepared again.
Curtis bustled into Paulie’s with a muttered ‘Hey’ to his old friend at the bar. Edgar saw him from across the room and waved him over. Paul immediately handed a cold beer over to Curtis with a tip of his head towards the darts.
“Kid has been yammering for the past hour about this.”
Curtis chose this moment to take a long drink, get himself started on that buzz he was probably gonna need for this sudden tournament Edgar signed him up for. “Keep these coming Paul.” He motioned to his beer before approaching his friends. Curtis eyed the other team, who were indeed wearing matching shirts. A glance at Edgar showed he had not gone that far yet, but it was only a matter of time until he made some.
“Are you ready Buddy?” Edgar said excitedly as he gathered the three of them around a small table. “We are going to kick ass.”
Grey, in an effort to reel Edgar back in, responded with a gentle reminder. “In a good sportsman-like way.”
“Yeah of course. But… I got some money on this, so we gotta give it our best shot.” Edgar shot a look at the group they were going up against. Curtis shrugged out of his coat and pulled off his beanie to hang them off the back of a chair.
“Do I even wanna know how much you put on this game?” Grey questioned.
“Or who you even got to bet with you?” Curtis countered while Edgar pulled out a box and popped it open to find a brand new set of darts.
“A little incentive present to do your best, because we are the best. And Paul is taking bets if you guys wanna place some. Good chance to earn a few extra bucks.”
Curtis gave it some thought, they were pretty good at this game. “I could use some extra cash.” He left the table to wander over to Paul, pulling out his wallet and handing him some bills. The barkeeper promptly tucked it away and marked the total in a notebook he had on him.
“If you guys win, you are looking to make a good profit.”
“That's the plan.” Curtis slipped his wallet away and Paul leaned against the bar having a lull moment.
“You know, we have a big back yard behind this bar. This summer I’m thinking of doing an axe throwing stand if there is enough interest. You look like someone who can chuck an axe.”
“I don't know, never tried, but I would be willing.” Curtis gave a nod, Paulie grinned wide with enthusiasm.
“Good! Spread the word, I want this to be the summer hangout this year. With you guys willing to play in competition, I already have the darts on lockdown in downtown.”
Curtis flashed him a thumbs up while pulling away from the bar, digging out his phone on his way back to the table to see Honey highlighted.
Kick ass and take names tonight.
He paused at the table, sitting on one of the high stools while typing out. You sound like Edgar now.
Edgar and I could be on a team then. We would win it for ya 💪
Hmm, that's an idea. You all do the work, I can reap the benefits. I did put money on this game.
See, more incentive to win then.
Edgar came over, pushing the brand new darts towards Curtis. “You ready?”
“Sure, give me a second. Just texting my girl.”
Edgar got a sly grin hearing Curtis. “Oooh, now it's ‘my girl’. Wait till I tell Tanya.”
“You’re a fucking idiot.” Curtis muttered while finishing up. See you in the morning, be safe out tonight. Need anything give me a call.
I should be fine, I was sure to have my own car this time and not get stranded like last time… although it seemed to work out pretty good for me. Got myself a dart throwing, truck driving, steady job boyfriend…
Curtis laughed reading your message. No complaints here Honey. How else was I gonna get me a Pretty Girl on my arm, all respectable and shit being a teacher? Have fun. Putting his phone away, he grabbed the darts. “Are we playing or what?”
Saturday morning had you up excitedly, thankful for not suffering a hangover that you were sure Claude would be nursing. This time she stuck around with you for the night although she got rather drunk and kept promising she wasn’t leaving you again. During that rant, you assured her that it was okay, and last time you were perfectly fine. You were able to get her back home all in one piece and inside to bed. Before leaving, you raided her medicine shelf in the bathroom for aspirin and a tall glass of water to leave on her nightstand. You had yet to get a text from her, not really expecting one for a few hours still.
But for you, you had plans that a hangover would have ruined. Curtis had been sure to inform you that he would be picking you up in the morning as soon as you had told him how you wanted to start properly getting ready for Halloween. While you were dressing, you kept an eye out the window for his truck as well as your phone for a message from him. As soon as he pulled into the apartments’ lot, you grabbed your coat and headed down the stairs, your mood turning giddy.
You exited the apartment complex sporting a scarf around your neck and tying the front of your coat closed. You looked so enthusiastic that Curtis couldn't help but break out in a smile of his own. “Well someone is excited.” He made it around the truck fast enough to pop open the door for you and you pressed a kiss to his bristled cheek, his hand fell on your waist to guide you into the truck so you could settle in the seat.
“I missed out doing this the last couple of years.” You bubbled with excitement, which was infectious as Curtis leaned against your open door, basking in it. “I’m just happy you agreed to go with me.” It had been the right call seeing just how genuinely happy doing this made you, he would have agreed to anything at that moment just to see that smile of yours. “I said I wanted to get pumpkins and you were all for it.”
“Well, there is a first for everything.”
In the middle of buckling in, you twisted in your seat to face him just before he could get the door closed. “You never did all this?” Your brows arched up high, your quizzical look making him hide a laugh, although you could see the way his eyes crinkled in the corners, unable to hide that away.
“Well a first for me in many years, Honey. I did always make sure to have some candy on the porch steps for the kids though.”
Your hand reached out to brush against his cheek, giving a sigh as your palm cupped against his bristled cheek. You put on a sympathetic smile as if he didn’t know what he was getting into with you. “Oh Curtis, well that is about to change.”
Now that made him laugh out loud. “I’m looking forward to it Y/N.”
You had googled the best place to go, which took the two of you out of the city area and a few towns over. The drive was quick, with you both admiring the scenery, the road leading you along the great lakes’ shore line, passing little lakeside camps and docks that you took note of for the future explorations. When you arrived, the GPS took you right through the town’s mainstreet, which you admired the quaint little town with a wistful desire. “I always wanted to live in a little place like this. I don't know, it always just feels like a family kind of place, you know.”
“It’s so much smaller than Duluth.” Curtis admitted as they bypassed what looked like a mom and pop gas station, an old church in the center of town, a town garage with junk cars scattered around it, and lots of homes in various stages. “I wouldn’t mind living in a place like this.” The GPS had the truck turn up some old dirt road outside of the town, requiring them to slow down and really admire the landscape.
You thought about what he said, considering where he was living now. “Would you want to sell your grandparents?”
Curtis was quiet for a moment thinking about your question. “I know the place needs a lot of work and its just outside of the city but no. It was my family home, basically Ella’s. We have all our memories there, I’m not ready to let all that go. Maybe, if I had my own family- wife and kids, I would feel different?” He shrugged a shoulder and then glanced at you with some concern. “God I didn’t freak you out did I?”
Anything but, you found all that sentimental feeling really endearing. “Not at all. I think it’s really nice that you get to live there. As you said, that’s where you grew up, it’s always been your home. One of the few things I still appreciate about going back to New York is that my parents’ house feels like going home.” You admitted and he reached over to take your hand, giving a slight squeeze.
“Was it a big deal for you, coming all the way out here?”
You glanced down at his hand wrapped around yours, it was large, swallowing yours. Callouses were rough against your softer skin, but not in a biting way that made you want to retreat. In the past much softer, but equally strong hands made you pull back all the time. No, you wanted to feel his touch trail against your sensitive parts, making you chase after him with a plea for more. The flutters in your chest made you feel light and airy in the moment. You've had held his hand plenty of times now, but it still made you feel excitement and overall safe. “Yeah, it was. I had never moved this far before. But it was time, I was just kind of drifting in life at that point having just split up and when I was offered the teaching job at Mason’s I took it.” You tilted your head back against the seat, thinking about that time, hard to think of it as less than a year ago now, but it felt like a lifetime. “Jade was so proud of me, been telling me I needed to leave. Kept offering me to come live with her and her boyfriend, Frank, in Florida but they didn’t need me imposing on them.”
Curtis offered another glance at you, a crease in his brow with concern. “Don’t get me wrong Honey, I’m glad you came this way. But how would you be imposing?”
You fought the urge to wipe away that worried line in his brow. His focus going back to manoeuvring the truck along the dirt road. “Jade likes to play mother hen. She feels the need to fix things. It can be overbearing at times.”
“Ahh, okay I get that. Ella feels sometimes she can run my life better than I can. Before meeting you, she was always trying to set me up on dates.”
You smirked in response. “Well good thing I came around then, that just sounds… so awful for you.”
Curtis rolled his eyes, huffing at your cheeky answer. “It was when she basically threatened to put me on a dating app after the last few failed dates she set me up on.” He narrowed his eyes at you. “Don’t get me wrong Honey, all the ladies were lovely people. It just wasn’t something I wanted.”
You let that sink in, just as you had suspected, Curtis had no problem finding himself dates. Apparently Ella had basically been setting him up with perfectly nice eligible women. But he bypassed all of them. Until he met you.
He chose you.
The GPS on your phone chimed, making you glance down at it and breaking you out of your thoughts, an excited grin breaking out. “It should be-” You glanced around out the windshield trying to catch some sight of this farm you had seen online. “-around this corner.” You said as he bypassed a barn and sure enough once you turned the corner, there was a stand all set up with fields of orange, white and green pumpkins stretching around it. At the stand it appeared to be loaded with baked goods, jars of canned goods and a hot drink station. You shut off the GPS system to keep it from announcing that you had arrived at your destination.
You had that same expression on your face of pure joy as before. Earlier in the week you said that this is where your “dorkiness” is going to be bad, but Curtis wouldn't have changed a thing about how happy you were. For him it was another part of you he got to enjoy. “So how many pumpkins are we bringing back with us?” Curtis asked you as you two left the truck and started to wander into the field.
“Mmmh, I want at least three. One for my apartment, I'm carving one for your porch because you have the most perfect porch to decorate and it's a shame to let it go to waste.” You weaved your fingers with his and he shook his head at you.
“What am I gonna do with a pumpkin?” he gave your hand a slight squeeze in return.
“You light it up Curtis. It looks nice, Halloween- like.” You paused to check out one particularly orange one. “Then I want a small one for my desk at school.”
“You really do love all this.” He observed, which had you nodding while leaning over to half roll one over, looking it over. To him it looked perfect, which seemed to have no interest for you.
“Absolutely, its my favorite time of year.” Bypassing that one, you two moved onto another. When you rolled it, you deemed it perfectly imperfect with its mishappen body and varying coloring of orange making it look speckled. “I want this one.”
Curtis took out a small blade from a pouch on his belt and flicked it open to cut the stem, gathering it up in his arm to carry back to the front. You kept looking around, picking out a few more of varying sizes. The longer you stayed, the more people came with their families. While you were wandering the field, Curtis having brought a couple more to the front with your first choice, you started helping others pick out the perfect ones for them as well.
Curtis got to see you just enjoying yourself without any inhibitions. You started helping some kids pick some out and talking animatedly with the parents. You seemed to notice Curtis was no longer at your side and paused halfway through the field, turning to look over your shoulder to see where he was, and as soon as you saw him, you smiled. Just for him.
When your eyes locked onto his, it was just like he was once more seeing you get off that bus, a warm energy that made him crave to bask in your presence, wanted to spend all his time wrapped up in you.
So that's exactly what he went to do.
You two finished with a final stop at the stand. Curtis stood behind you with his arms wrapped around you while you chose a few things to bring home as well as the pumpkins you chose- bags of frosted sugar cookies in the shapes of autumn leaves and pumpkins, fresh cider donuts and a couple jars of jam and apple butter. You also got to go cups to make yourselves something hot to drink before heading back home.
Settling with making both of you coffee while Curtis loaded up the back of the truck with the pumpkins you chose, he even relented and got a few extra so you could decorate his porch how you wanted, you two started for home once more. Curtis was grateful for the hot coffee and on the ride home you shared a donut with him, offering him sugared bites from your fingers that he was sure to suck the sugar off your fingertips a time or two, teasing the sugar off your fingertips with the tip of his tongue.
Opting to stop at Paulie’s before going back to your apartment to unwind, you two were able to get seats at the bar where Paul was sure to wave at the two of them, signalling Curtis to come around. “Come make yourself useful Everett.”
“I'm here on a date?” Curtis countered as he yanked off his jacket. “You don't even pay me to do this.”
“I give you plenty of free beers. My help comes in twenty minutes. Just cut me some slack. Y/N doesn't care, do ya?” Paul asked with a desperate note in his tone, like having Curtis on the other side of the bar would save him.
You gave a shake of your head and Curtis glared at you, making you grin at him and nudge him. “Go get me a beer stud.”
“Right away Ma’am.” He huffed and playfully squeezed at your hip before making his way around to the other side of the bar. “What can I get ya?”
“Hmmm, anything you recommend.” You gathered his coat and hat off his old seat and pulled them across your lap to free up the bar since it was getting busier. Curtis turned around to glance at the shelf of stuff Paul had on hand. Picking up a bottle of Jack Daniels, he poured you both a shot. “That’s certainly not a beer Curtis. You trying to get me drunk?” You grabbed yours and held it up, clinking it with his and tipped it back all to once that left you licking your lips afterward, your face scrunching just a bit from the burn.
Curtis saw you take that challenge without any hesitation and damn it was hot how you tilted your head back to shoot the liquor between your sweet tempting lips. He didn't take his eyes off you the whole time he took his own. “Better then beer Honey, hits just right.” He winked while he set the bottle near you. “Keep the bottle, Paul said it was on the house.”
“Not the whole bottle Curtis!” Paul shouted from across the bar and you poured yourself another, not nearly as full but enough to burn still in the best way while it was going down. Curtis winked at you as he moved away, starting to take drink orders.
This was the first time you saw him behind the bar. He had a knack for it, pulling out bottles and unscrewing the tops to flick them into a bucket nearby. Curtis easily chatted with customers, and you started to see him yet another side of him. These were regulars you assumed, he knew their names, asking about theirspouses, how the kids were doing or how work was going for them. Often his eyes would dart from where he was making drinks to check in that you were all okay amongst all that was going on,
You thoughts wandered to how you once thought his eyes were icy blue when you first met? You were so wrong. They were vibrant and made your heart skip a beat whenever he made eye contact.
Not for the first time you were getting turned on just watching him. The longer you did the more you wanted to bring him home and explore what was under that black tee shirt he was wearing and run your hands on his bare chest and feel him fuck you right into your mattress. Or couch, whichever you two ended up making it to first. The thought alone made you squeeze your thighs together as your panties started to stick to you, selfishly wishing for yourself that maybe tonight was the night you both would be ready.
Curtis wandered back down to where you were squirming in your seat, moving to lean on his elbows and hover closer to you. His eyes had a playful look to them, the corner of his mouth uplifted looking at you. “Can’t believe you are all alone down here. Let this lonely fellow buy you a drink?”
You leaned forward, whispering in a conspiracy. “My date will be back any second. He is six’ four and intimidating as hell. You better watch yourself mister.”
Curtis huffed, his chest puffing out slightly. “I can take him, his punk ass aint got nothing on me.”
You let your eyes rake over him suggestively, warmth shooting straight to your core. “You're really confident and that is sexy as fuck. I will let you buy me a drink.”
He didn't know if it was the couple shots of Jacks you took or something else, but the suggestive tug of your bottom lip between your teeth and the sultry glances you have been giving had him on edge. But it was just the start on top of so many other things that made Curtis want more with you. In the time he had known you, you’d become part of his happiness and he wanted to explore what that could mean for him and for you as well. He had seen glimmers of sadness from you in passing, when you seemed to recall something from before and it struck him in a way no one else had ever done so. Overall, he wanted to be the one to replace those memories with better ones. Ones with him.
So he was ready he decided to see where the next step in this relationship would take the two of you. As he picked out a beer for you and you brushed your hands against his, your sweet lips wrapping around that bottle, well a man can only handle so damn much. “Once you finish that, wanna head out?”
You enthusiastically nodded and tilted your head back, the beer going down a lot quicker. “Fuck.” Curtis muttered to himself in awe at the way you were downing that bottle. He looked over at Paul. “A'ight headed out.”
Paul gave him a thumbs up and then Curtis came out from behind the bar and wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you beside him. “Wait, wait…” You juggled his coat in your arms and twisted back to your seat, grabbing the bottle of Jack. “Thanks Paul!” You shouted out, waving the mostly full bottle for him to see.
“Hey! I told you guys can’t have the whole bottle!”
“Consider it my payment Paul.” Curtis held the door open and you ducked out with your prize, laughing.
Back at your apartment doorway, Curtis had you pinned against it, hands to your hips, his body flush against yours as he kissed you feverishly, tilting his head to nip at your jaw and you giggled out at the sensation. The door was nice, but tonight you wanted more. And hoped Curtis would too.
“Curtis, wait…” You whimpered out as he was working a particular sensitive spot near your ear that was making you rub against him. Your hand cupped the back of his head as he lifted away from you, pupils blown almost black in his own arousal. “Do you want to stay the night?” Your eyes searched his, hoping for that yes and fearful of the rejection you always were half expecting, even when you knew better that voice still taunted you.
He will never want you Y/N.
Curtis knew his answer, known it basically all damn day he has been with you. He let his hands travel up your body and cup your face, kissing you once more, leaving you breathless. “Yes, I'm not ready for today to end Honey.”
Your hand fell along the door behind you and with a twist of the doorknob, you both fell into your apartment, the door slamming heavily behind the two of you.
Once inside Curtis pulled you in close, backing you into the nearest wall as his mouth went back to flushing kisses up your neck, your jawline to the corner of your mouth. “Bedroom?” He asked and you nodded, pulling on his t shirt that you admired so much earlier to pull it off over his head. You had been daydreaming about his big broad chest since you met in the freight yard, wanting nothing more than to rub your hands against him and explore him. That night at his place when you got to see him in his tank, you caught a glimpse of what was underneath, muscled pecs, a dark scattering of hair leading to his belly when his shirt was ridden up, some tattoos that you desperately want to explore.
What you weren't expecting was how intricate some of these tattoos covering his chest were as you dropped the offending tee on the floor of your living room. Your eyes went wide as you pulled back to see how far down he went with that ink, your hands spanning over his chest, giving a small breathy ‘Oh.’ Intricate designs scattered across him, some of them forming symbols that you had seen in his books that he read. Your fingers splayed over them, sliding up to where his medallion rested against the center of his chest. The chain was long, your fingers curling in the metal as you look up at him wide eyed.
“You like?” He arched a brow curiously, his hands settling on your hips, fingers flexing against your curves like they were all that was keeping him in check right now.
“Very Curtis, I plan on exploring them very thoroughly. Later.” You gave a tug on that chain, dragging him back to you and your tongue licking into his mouth. Curtis groaned into it, shifting his hands to clasp your ass and further down to the back of your thighs. It completely caught you by surprise when he lifted you, your legs being pulled around his waist and you were sure your thick thighs were crushing his slim waist. “Curtis!” He smirked as he pulled you off the wall and you clung to him. “You can’t just carry me!”
“I can, and I will, easily.” He went into your bedroom and lowered you to your bed, crawling over the top of you and continuing once again where he left off with you. Nipping at your neck while pulling your top up and over your head to drop beside the bed, your hands went to his belt to start to unbuckle it. “I don’t wanna be hearing I can’t carry around my girl when I want to.”
Your hands worked his belt and button open before grabbing at the waist of his jeans to push them down, digging your nails into his taunt ass and pressing down to grind him against you. “What did you just call me?”
His fingers skated down your sides almost teasingly while he dragged his beard against your collarbone, the soft moments his lips touched your skin a soothing balm against the burn he left behind. The coolness of his chain dragging against your made you shiver with the anticipation. Curtis spread loving kisses across the tops of your breasts spilling out the top of your bra, fingers dipping into the band of the pants you were wearing. “My girl.” He lifted his head to look at you. Blue eyes imploring.
My girl, did you want to be his? His hands felt like he was worshiping you, his mouth exploring the taste of your skin, trying to draw out your moans as his own personal hymn. There was a hopeful look in his eyes, that your next answer could make him a blessed man. Curtis made it so fucking easy to want to be his and it was something you actually desperately wanted. So saying yes…
Well that would be easy.
“I want to be that Curtis.”
He broke in a grin, his whole face lightening up as he surged forward to catch a kiss. You arched up to reach him while his hand dipped against your back and a twist of his fingers had the clasp of your bra releasing. Pulling away from you, he sat back on his heels. Curtis hooked a finger under your bra straps to pull them down, letting your bra fall away. “You're so beautiful Honey.”
You scrunch your nose up at him, heated doubt tickling in the back of your mind, and making you twist your mouth. Although your bedroom was dark, he was able to see you enough still and that made you nervous of exactly how much he really was able to see of you. Your hands suddenly didn't know where to go, or what to do. You suddenly wished your bra was still there, covering you in a way that made you pleasing to look at. Your body was being exposed layer by layer and you didn’t quite have a place to hide your imperfections anymore. Your rolls would show, the flab on your arms would jiggle when you lifted them to reach for Curtis, your thighs cellulite would dimple in a way that you dreaded Curtis even noticing, your breasts not having support wouldn’t stay the perfect round shape that the bras support could give, how your stomach drooped lower then it should. Why did you agree to this? Especially with Curtis looking like a god above you. Even in his small imperfections he looked like some kind of rugged model while you couldn’t even offer him sexy imperfections.
You were soft everywhere and your body carried the scars littering across your skin in stretch marks.
Weakly you covered yourself, shaking your head a bit. You weren’t beautiful, you just weren't and he was going to look at you and see that truth any second now.
Curtis witnessed the way his words just struck you, a whiplash of some kind. He reached for your wrists, circling his fingers around to tug gently. “Y/N, look at me.” He shifted upwards a bit, pressing your hands back to his chest, his arm holding him up while hovering over you. “You are up in your head right now, I need you here with me.”
Imploring eyes made you look at him and you took a breath to help shut the thoughts up. You were so tense under him that when you relaxed, you sunk a little further into the mattress. Your hands started exploring him again, brushing through the thick mat of dark hair sprinkled on his chest to twirl a finger around a pink nipple. Glided over a softer belly that had a line of dark hair leading down into his now loosened pants. “I’m with you Curtis.” You said loud enough for the both of you, an assurance for both of you perhaps.
The ghosting of your fingers was a blessed tease to say the least, but Curtis held himself in check as you loosened back up, just as he thought, you had started thinking too much about unsaid fears when all he wanted was for you to touch him, to start taking what you wanted and not concern yourself with what he was thinking. Your thumb pressed against the lines cutting against his pelvis, leading down till your fingers curled over the bulge at the front of his pants. “Fuck Honey, see what you do to me? Drive a man crazy.”
You squeezed him, all wide eyed wonders gazing up at him as he groaned with a dip of his head back to you to tease your lips all while rocking his hips enough to press his hard on against you. “No one’s ever told me that before.”
“Well I'm never gonna shut up about it.” A hand curved around your hip and slid up to cup one of your breasts, squeezing his palm against you as he pressed his mouth open to the top of it, sucking on the supple flesh, press of teeth leaving a bit of a mark and then a soothing caress of tongue, you let your head fall back with closed eyes to let the feeling of him over take you.
He glanced up from where he had his mouth lay claim to your nipple, quick flicks soon had you hard and sensitive, clutching at his shoulders while your back arched to give him more of you, which fed his greediness. He didn't just want more, he wanted all. A rush of kisses across heated skin left you shivering when the air chilled your now thoroughly loved breasts. Between his hands and his mouth, you never felt so consumed by a man. “I could just love on you all fucking day.” He growled as he pulled back further, his chin dragging down the center of your body, even as his hand still massaged against your breast, rubbing your pebbled nipple to escape between his fingers till he dragged a massive palm back over them, making you whine. “You fit in my hands so good Y/N.”
Here was where you were grateful for the darkness in the room, as much as you would love to see how blown his vibrant expressive eyes were or the swollen bottom lip peeking from the dark beard covering half his face, you weren’t ready to sacrifice him being able to view you to closely. Maybe he wouldn’t notice the stretch marks covering your belly, the overhang of your lower belly or the pudge of your mound that you always felt was unattractive. In the dark of your bedroom you might be able to hide this from to close inspection.
A touch to your hip, a slight squeeze that dragged you out of your thoughts. Causing you to lift your head, you could see enough of Curtis to tell that he was close to you, listening to the catch in your breaths. His fingers curved into the band of your pants and panties to start easing them down, his breaths hot as he got closer to your more intimate areas. “Curtis…” Your voice hitched with uncertainty while he eased your pants off, first one leg, then the other. He pressed his touch in your softer inner thighs, seeming to appreciate the plushness and heat that was there, the way he had to press against them to spread them apart as they quivered in anticipation. You felt your pussy ache, a wet rush making you practically drip your essence because of this man.
He kissed the fleshy part of your hip, humming in question to you. “Do you want me to stop?” He was willing to, if you were not okay with this. But Curtis ached for you, wanted to feel every inch of you in his hold. Curtis was patient, and he kept his touch away from your core till you told him that you were ready.
“No, I'm just… god I'm sorry. I don't know why I'm like this.” You stammered out. Your hands going to the back of his head and scratching lightly at his scalp.
Curtis wasn't upset by any means, it was understandable to be nervous for your first time together and he lifted himself enough so you could meet his eyes. “Deep breath Honey and you tell me what you like as I do it.” Gripping your chin, he pulled you up enough to kiss you, his tongue stroking yours till you melted into him, going breathless.
“I liked that.” You teased him which made him give a chuckle while he moved to a stand and reaching in his pocket pulled out a couple condoms to place nearby on the bed.
“In case we need them. And that is good to know you like to be kissed. I have to say it makes me feel fucking mindless wanting you when you kiss me.” He shucked his pants down, along with his boxers. You wished you could see his erection, having felt how thick he was through his sweats when you two grinded together on his couch. You could see enough to tell that it was curling up towards his belly as he stroked it a couple of times, settling back on the bed and moving back over you. You let your thighs spread for him to settle in close to you, his thumb now stroking that soft pudgy spot of your mound, dragging the pad of his thumb down to your slit.
Here you gasped, tugging your bottom lip in between your teeth when his fingers found that spot. That bundle of nerves that make your toes curl and your core ache with need. Your slick pooling just for his calloused touch. His thick fingers felt so much better than yours just stroking you. “Keep talkin’ to me Honey.” A voice rumbled against your belly, once more the drag of his beard set you alight.
“Right there Curtis, I need-” Now that you were slick, aching for more, he let a finger press against your opening, pulling him in with a tight clamp. Velvet walls kept tightening around him. You didn’t expect him to be like this, make you this aching for him but here you were squirming on the bed, trying to keep a straight line of thought.
Curtis knew what you needed, driving the words right from your mind as he stretched you, adding another to stroke your velvet walls. “- Oh you are so thick.” You moaned out, grabbing onto his biceps to keep yourself grounded while you started squirming underneath him, building up to your crashing moment.
The cold of his chain bounced off your thighs, deep praises falling from him. “Just like that Sweet Girl, fuck look at you just opening for me.” Fingers buried deep in you started spreading you, scissoring in and out. He wanted to taste, drive his tongue through you but when he bit lightly on your mound, preparing to press his mouth to you, you tensed, your voice going in that panicked choked squeak.
“No wait…” You tugged on his arms till he rose back up, tilting his head in question. “Um- I can’t-” You panted and Curtis slowed his touch, letting the aching sensations dull in your belly.
“We don’t have to do that Y/N.” He assured you. You moved to your elbows and grabbed a condom to peel it open.
“Can we do this instead?” You offered and Curtis sucked his fingers clean once he left your clenching core, making you hear him clearly as he sucked your essence right off his fingers. You couldn't recall ever hearing anything hotter in your life as his drenched fingers slipped into his mouth and he gave a deep hungry sounding groan at the taste of your slick. Another rush escaped you at that moment.
“Fuck, I’m all for that.” He said as you pulled yourself up a bit more to slide the condom on him. He was built, more than you were expecting, but yet you shouldn't be too surprised- this man did just lift you up and carry you, something you were still trying to wrap your mind around.
Right now it was about watching what little you could see of Curtis’s reaction to your touch, the sweep of your hand up and down his shaft, the sudden way he tensed right before your eyes and then rocked into you for the friction your palm made. His hand closed around yours, showing you how he liked to be squeezed around slightly, easing your thumb to circle around his red thick tip and tightening his hold when the thick vein throbbed under your fingers. “Honey, you gotta get that condom on me, I need to be inside of you.” His tone was deep and edging on desperate now. Just maybe you had similar effects on him that he had on you. “I promise you can explore all you want, however you want later.”
“Oh, yes, of course.” You squeaked, having been distracted momentarily in your exploring, Curtis just felt so good in your hands. You pinched the tip of the condom and started to roll and stretch the rubber around him before laying back. He dropped himself over you, reaching between the two of you to slide his thick head between your folds, sure to tap against your clit and make you jolt at the excited anticipation racing through you, spreading your legs wider for him. Once more his necklace bounced against your chest, making you grab it and pull him down to meet your mouth, sliding your tongue to meet his while he started to press himself into you, stretching you to fit.
Your legs pulled up and pressed against his side, Curtis could have blown a load just feeling you pull him into you, squeezing so tightly around him that he actually gave a choked grunt against your lips. He shared air with you, panting slightly as he grunted, flexing his ass and pushing in just a little deeper, just a little more as you rolled your eyes up to flutter a bit, your nails tightening in pleasure against his shoulders at how good just the drag of his cock into your slick core felt to you. “Fuck, you are gripping me so good Honey.” He reached for a hand, weaving his fingers with your and pining it back above your head.
You immediately let go of his shoulders and returned the gesture, this time reaching for his hold. “You feel so good. Curtis you gotta move, I need you.”
It was a slow movement at first, Curtis pulling out and easing back in. But each time, you were slick and fit around him like you were made just for him, and he started to move faster, determined to find your sweet spot to hear one of those moans you were holding inside. Sex, well sex always felt good. But this, it was edging on something more than sex, he wasn’t trying to get the two of you to end for the feel good moment that was satisfying.
With you, he wanted you to just feel good and that possessive part of him got to know he was the one that gave it to you, over and over and over. He didn’t even care at this point if he finished.
It was when Curtis angled slightly that he slid himself just right and you cried out his name in just the way he had been looking for. A cry that was just for him, his name sounded sweet and desperate right now. “There you go Sweetheart, fuck- shit you just keep squeezing me like that.” He assured you when a tremble of ecstasy vibrated you. Your fingers clenched at his hand while legs lifted to cross your ankles at the small of his back to push him back into you.
“Good Girl.” He groaned against your neck as he pushed back into you, pumping faster and harder, aiming for just that spot that made you gasp and repeat his name like a manta. “You're perfect for me.” He nudged at you till you twisted your mouth to meet his, shuddering as you kissed him with an air of desperation that pleaded him to shatter you just so he could drag your frayed pieces back together, maybe someone you desired to be.
“Curtis, I need to, please.” You stuttered out and Curtis felt his balls tighten hearing you plead with him to finish you. He let go of one hand, squeezing a breast and tilting his head to suck on your soft suppleness, dragging a hot tongue to send pleasure through your body when he sucked on your nipple, immediately your free hand went to the back of his neck to keep him pressed close. Tingle of anticipation went up Curtis' spine, you were close and he was too now, but you had to come first.
Dropping his hand to where he fucked into you, a finger twisted against your sensitive swollen bud to have you clamping down hard on him, your thighs quivering in a strain and that release flooded you with so much pleasure that you locked around him, biting on his shoulder to muffle yourself, causing a satisfied hiss to escape him.
Chasing his own ending turned sloppy now that you came for him, tendons popped from his neck and his shoulders bunched together as he hunched over you, gathering you in close to him as he crashed into you several times till he shuddered in your arms He pitched forward to bury his face in the crook of your neck, gasping out the last air in his lungs to a deep groan that seem to come from the very pit of his stomach. You felt it shudder through you as you were still floating in a daze.
Your hand that was still free from his grasp loosened from the back of his neck to scratch lightly at the back of his head and down to the knots in his shoulder from his release, he was still hunched over you, cocooning you to him like he refused to let there be space between the two of you. Refusing to let you go or push away from him. Not that you wanted to, your relished feeling him press you under him, like he couldn’t bear the thought of you pulling away from him just yet. .
But slowly he loosened with a groan, his weight sinking on you to keep you pinned beneath him. You could hear him catching his breath, heated huffs against the shell of your ear. You valued the feeling of him around you, the intimacy of sharing each other left you unwilling to give it up just yet. Curtis sighed as he let his hold on your hand above your head loosen, shifting it down to wrap around you, hugging you tighter to his chest while he burrowed in against your neck, giving another groan. “I wanted to hold out, but fuck you were just too good to be with.” He admitted as he started to shift.
“You don't have to move Curtis.” A small panic rose in your chest at the loss of contact, uncalled for at the moment but you couldn’t stop. It had him shushing you softly while he pulled out, pressing a reassuring kiss to your forehead.
“I will be back.” He moved away to peel the rubber off, trying to be as quick as possible so you weren’t left alone for long. You heard running water for a few moments in your bathroom down the hallway before he came back to sit on the edge of the bed. “Is this okay?” He let the warm washcloth brush against your thigh, asking permission before he continued to clean you up.
How in the hell was he possibly real and in your bed?
You spread your thighs open in invitation and he was careful in his touch, whispering a sorry whenever he felt you wince slightly. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
“No, no not at all Curtis.” You assured him as he finished. Sure you might have been a little sore, but all of it had been quite welcome. Your ex, nor your toys quite had what Curtis had.
It wasn’t long before Curtis joined you back in your bed, flopping to his back and patting his belly. “Co’mere.” You shifted over to his side, assuming he wanted to spoon but soon found that wasn't what he meant. Curtis literally wanted you on him, pulling against the curve of your ass and down to your thigh, he easily maneuverered you to straddle him.
You did your best to hover over him, reluctant to relax on him. “Y/N, relax. I promise it's okay.” He stroked your hips and pulled you down to rest on him, your hands sliding up and down his chest with a light scrape of your nails, marvelling at the sensation of his muscles under you “Just wasn't ready to let you go just yet.” You eased down to lay yourself on his chest, going to trace what you guessed were wings on his chest, thanks to the dim light he had left on in the bathroom. “Thank you Y/N.”
You lifted your head curiously, tilting your head in question. “For what Curtis?”
“For letting me be with you.” A finger traced the side of your face to gently grasp your chin and pull you back up to him to give a kiss to your lips. “I got the feeling it’s not always easy for you to trust like that.”
You smiled at his words and pulled up to a sit in order to inspect some of the tattoos scattered across his chest. “Not always easy, but I like you Curtis, really like you. You made it so…” You stalled, your mouth twisting in how you wanted to say it. How he pulled you from your doubts and worries, how you never had to guess what he was thinking, just from his touch like he couldn't get enough, his eyes that never wavered or looked away from you, and his constant words saying what he was thinking. “Different. Not like anything I’ve ever experienced before. I felt like you kept me with you in the moment.”
You went fiddling with his chain, lifting it up to look at the small medallion hanging off the end of it. “Yeah well when I got a woman like you giving me such a gift…” He gave a sigh and broke in an almost boyish grin. You rolled your eyes at him as he clicked his tongue at you. “I only say what I mean Honey.”
You rolled the pendant in your fingers. “What's the pendant?”
He dropped his chin to look down towards your fingers. “That is a St Joseph medallion. It belonged to my father, passed down from my grandpa. He is the patron saint of workers, expectant mothers, families, engineers and other things.” You were gentle as you let it rest back against his chest, dropping back down further to start placing kisses on his chest, and biting lightly on his nipples, your eyes lifting enough with suggestion. “Fuck Honey, you keep doing that with your mouth.” His hip rocked upwards, feeling him grow hard again as it pressed against your ass. “I'm going to need you again.”
“That's the plan Curtis.” You ran your tongue over a tattoo that rested along the underside of his pec, rubbing yourself against him. Again in a show of strength that had you squealing in surprise, he flipped you to your back so he could kiss you senseless once again, his entire body hard and hot against yours.
“It’s a pretty good plan, Honey.”
#curtis everett x honey#curtis everett au#curtis everett#curtis evertt x reader#curtis everett x you#curtis everett and honey#curtis everett and reader#curtis everett and you#curtis everett fanfiction#snowpiercer au#chris evans characters#amber writes#sweater writes#life is short so make it sweet
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Now after letting it sit for awhile here some thoughts on Wednesday: I do like the Wednesday series, but I only see it as a parallel universe kinda thing.🤔 And I‘ll be talking Addams family centered (because this is my main interest point in watching it), so I am not talking about the new characters.
I grew up with the Barry Sonnenfeld Addams family version so that’s my „main universe“. I saw the original series far later. And now recently the animated movies and Wednesday series. They all have the main core theme, but overall a different vibe. So for me to enjoy them I have to separate them. Though I gotta say that the modern content in recent years misses a few points. I can’t lay my finger on it exactly, but it feels off a bit. It feels like it tries to be obviously over the edge to show „we‘re the Addams, we‘re so wonky right?? And you like that extreme. Right guys??“.
Which isn’t necessary. It’s why they gained so many fans in the first place, because they‘re so non-chalant about it and gave a natural feel about it.
Also one of the bigger things that itch me is the portrayal of Morticia in Wednesday and the over-the-top, unnecessary mother-daughter quarrel between Morticia and Wednesday. Morticia is portrayed in a more snobbish and arrogant way which makes her more distant already. Her troubled relationship with Wednesday feels like it came outta nowhere and never really gets explained why and in one episode, in a certain moment, it just goes poof. That was the annoying point I had in this series. Because here it seemed the creators just desperately wanted to underline the teenage series topic again by making her go through „i don’t like my parents/my parents are embarrassing“ phase and by changing Morticia a bit in their favor to support that. We never had that or this strongly in any other Addams content, so it threw me for a loop. I do hope there won’t be a repeat of overtly annoying normative teenager stuff, but it is netflix, so we‘ll see.
The Addams general storyline didn’t feel fleshed out, more like rushed. Another point was Morticia‘s relationship with Weems. We never get to know what happened here. And we can’t get a lot of indications because Morticia in general doesn’t see or consider other characters a lot. The relationship between the Addams in general feels?? fleeting (except MorticiaxGomez of course)? I can‘t pinpoint it, but what I love so much about the Addams is that they are a team in so many ways with a strong bond and this series can‘t or won’t make use of that main trait, because…yea well „netflix focusing on teenagers getting cray cray“. I heard a lot of people giving the actors the fault, like catherine zeeta jones, but actually give her smth to work with in the first place.
So yea, Wednesday had a lot of good stuff. I.e. I do love that we got more Thing content with this series. Or seeing more of Wednesday‘s talent for various stuff and her being passionate about them. And the case not being too obvious to keep the suspense. Though I wish for less teenage drama next time to keep character authenticity and less edginess made to be „cooler“ for younger audiences. An enjoyable Addams themed series, but as I said viewed as a separate universe.
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Opposites Attract
Erik!Stevens x Black!Reader
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Erik and (Y/N) are the perfect example of opposites attract.
Warning: strong language, cursing
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It was funny how to small little things that could get Erik going. He never thought that he would actually like (Y/N). Erik definitely had a type. He liked the expensive girls. The toxic type. The ones that would slap the shit outta you just by looking in another women’s direction. He couldn’t count on his hands and toes how many of his exes fought each other, over him.
(Y/N) though, yeah there was something different about her. She enjoyed the little things in life. Giving her extra cash to a homeless person, helping out at food banks and charity events. She was quiet and to herself.
They were literally the complete opposite of each other. Erik was a hood nigga. Whole nine yards. It was in the way he walked and talked. People knew who he was and he got respect for it.
(Y/N) was a good girl. Spent her days crocheting blankets, baking different recipes she found online, and she owned her own Dance Studio.
(Y/N) was slowly starting to rub off on Erik. Obviously she can’t take the hood outta him but he found himself more calm and relaxed when she was around. He found himself rather being with her, being forced to watch some cringe Netflix show then to be in a hot ass club.
Saturdays she loved going to different thrift stores in the city to find something cool. Whether it was clothes, little antiques, pictures. Erik always asked her,
“Why don’t you just let me buy you these things. You don’t have to wear what someone else wore,”
She’d always come back with, “Why spend a lot of money when you can get quality good stuff for cheap?” she would say in a duh tone.
Erik had money. Being in the military and all, and now being an undercover hitman. He always wanted to spoil her but she was so damn stubborn. His last exes wouldn’t think about turning him down, so it caught her off guard.
She even convinced him of going. At first, he told her no. Personally he thought it was weird. After begging he said he would go.
Her main focus this trip was to find some flower pots and some decorations for her Dance studio. As she was looking at different paintings, she heard Erik gasp. “Ayo what the fuck..” she looked back at him to see him holding an action figure that was still in perfect condition.
“What’s that?”
He showed it to her. “Do you know how much this thing is worth? Man I remember when this first came out. Shit was like 200 dollars and I begged my dad to get it for me but we ain’t have it.” he said looking at it in awe.
“So get it.” she shrugged her shoulders as he chuckled.
“I’m a grown man, I don’t play with kid toys.” he said as she playfully rolled her eyes.
“You don’t have to play with it. It could be a sentiment objects, ya know? Put it on a shelf or on a table. Just buy it so because baby Erik couldn’t.” she said then grabbed it looking at the price.
“And it’s only 15 bucks.” she said. She then threw it in the cart. Erik raised an eyebrow at her. “What? You could put it in your game room as decoration. No offense but that shit is plain as hell.” she told him as he pinched her sides.
Now, every Saturday like clock work, Erik and her would go to a random city just to go thrift shopping. It was hard to admit it but Erik was taking a liking to this thrifting habit.
It was around 5 o’clock in the morning. Erik woke up to the sounds of (Y/N) snoring in his ear. It was funny actually because she swore up and down she didn’t snore and here she was sounding like a bear in hibernation. The sun was just rising, so minimum light was entering the room but he could still see her. She was naked, wrapped up in his white sheets. She slept on her stomach while she had her head rested on her arms, her mouth slights opened with her snores escaping. Her eye twitched a bit.
He ordered her some silk pillow cases for his house for the times she forgot to put her scarf on. Last night he dicked her down so good, as soon as her head hit the pillow she was out. Her hair was short and curly, but her curls were all over the place.
Erik looked down at the tent in the sheets. Yeah, he definitely needed a piece of her. He turned over on his side to look at her, trailing his hands down her back and to her ass.
“Good morning beautiful.” he said placing kisses on her shoulder. She started to stir in her sleep but she didn’t wake up. “Daddy needs you.” he whispered in her ear. “You gonna let me get in this pussy, hmm?” She was slowly waking up, feeling the butterflies in her stomach already just by how close he was and she hadn’t even opened her eyes yet.
“Babe, it’s too early.”
“It ain’t never to early. You giving up the pussy huh? I know she still fat and sensitive. I just wanna play.” he said to her. The way he talked was what got her in trouble. There was already a pool of wetness between her thighs and her eyes still wasn’t opened.
He put her on her back, her eyes slowly opening to see him smiling down at her. “Hi fats.”
“Hi.” she said wiping her eyes. “Do you ever get tired?” she asked him tilting her head to the side. His finger tips found her stiff nipples playing with them as she bit her lip.
“Tired of you? Okay..” he said rolling her eyes making her laugh.
“I haven’t even brush my teeth yet.” she said about to sit up but he stopped her. He didn’t say anything when his fingers found her center, slowly starting to rub circular motions on her clit. Shit bit her lip, closing her eyes.
“Nah, look at me.” Erik was crazy about eye contact. Seeing her stages of pleasure through her eyes, the changes he sees when he does something different just does something for him.
Her eyes slowly started to open, him standing there with that gorgeous ass, two dimpled smile. How could he look so innocent doing something like this?
“Baby…” she whimpered out grabbing his arm. Without responding, he took his middle and ring finger, entering her collecting some of her wetness making her moan. He bought to his lips, tasting it groaning. He bought his lips to hers, finally getting to taste her.
“I hope you know you’re not getting any right now.” she said to him through heavy breaths. She wanted to go to the studio earlier to freshen up before heading to her classes. She knew that if they went at it right now, they would be going at it for hours. That’s how tempting this man can be.
He smacked his teeth before laying on the side of her. She turned to face him. “But, I’ll come home early today. So I can spend time with you.” she told him grabbing his chin with her thumb and pointy finger.
“Hmm, okay. We can try that new hibachi grill downtown. Get all dolled up. Then after have a little fun of our own.” he said kissing up her neck, she slightly pushed him away.
“Boy you ain’t slick.” she sat up, looking back at him as he laid straight on his back with his hands behind his head.
“Your hair looks a mess. Look like you just got the dick of your life.” he laughed as she rolled her eyes playfully. She grabbed her phone off of their electric night stand looking at the time. “Ima go take shower. Do me a favor and water my plants for me.” she stood up as he smacked her ass. She gave him ‘an are you serious’ look.
“It was just there. But yeah I can.” he stood up stretching as she walked to their bathroom. He walked out filling the green water can up and watering them.
Erik couldn’t help but chuckle. Never in a million years, he would’ve thought that a girl would have him watering her plants. He can’t lie though, he picked up a few tips from her to help grow his weed. His customers said that it was the best they ever had.
After doing that, he doordashed her a meal from her favorite coffee shop and grabbing something for him too. He was cleaning the kitchen, when she came out with her towel wrapped around her body and her hair still wet.
“Thanks baby.” she kissed him on the cheek as he looked her up and down.
“You don’t want to give me none but you’re walking around looking like this, fats?” he said licking his bottom lip. She smirked to herself before saying,
“It’s not like you won’t be able to do anything about it.” she whispered in his ear. He raised an eyebrow at her.
“I won’t? Quick playin with me before I have yo ass in bed all day.” she turned around ‘accidentally’ dropping the dish sponge on the floor.
“Whoops.” she bent down grabbing it. He went behind her placing his hands in the middle of her back to make her stay.
“Stay just like that mamas.” he said lifting the towel up, only to see her bare pussy winking back at him.
“Erik-” she was cut off by him pressing his print against her, slowly grinding against it. He grabbed a good handful of her hair, pulling her back up. He pushed her against the counter making her pushed against the counter and him.
“Didn’t I say to quick playin with me? Now you got my dick hard.” he growled in her ear as she closed her eyes smiling.
“I know but-”
“But nothing.” he yanked the towel off of her as he wrapped his hands around her neck from the front. He was about to pull his dick out but the doorbell ring. She groaned as he cursed.
“Who is that?” she asked him.
“I ordered us some breakfast and I forgot.” he backed away looking at her as she turned around. His eyes trailed down her body as she tilted her head.
“Well are you gonna get that or just stare at me?” she asked him. He took one last good look at her before he walked to his foyer to open the door. She picked up the towel and walked back into his room.
He came back to see her and the towel gone. He groaned, placing the bag of food on the counter. He walked back to the room, to see her getting dressed.
‘What you getting dressed for?” he asked her as she turned around.
“Erik.. I have to go do my classes.” she said as he rolled his eyes.
“Mhm. You weren’t worried about those classes when I was just about to dig in yo-” she grabbed a pillow throwing it at him. He caught it before walking closer to the bed where she was standing next to it. He threw it on the bed before he placed his hand on her cheek.
“You’re not going to convince me other wise.” she said. “I’ll be back home and after we come back from dinner, I’ll make it up to you. I promise.” she whispered to him as he sighed looked down.
“Fine. But this-” he moved his fingers between the both of them. “Ain’t over with.” he told her. She kissed him once more before tapping his face lightly.
“Don’t miss me too much and thanks for breakfast!” she screamed walking out of the bedroom.
- - - - - - - - - -
Erik stepped out of his 2022 Audi R8, looking around the neighborhood. He walked to the door unlocking it, seeing a bunch of product on the tables. “Trent! You here?” he asked throwing his keys on the table. Trent came from down the hall way giving him a bro hug.
Trent was Erik’s right hand man who helped him run his ring. He was one of the only few people he could trust.
“Aye..” Trent greeted him. “Your half is in the safe.” Erik followed him into the back room with his duffle bag on his shoulder.
“How much did we make?” Erik asked him placing his bag on the table and going to unlock the pin lock.
“189 Thousand. All of that in there is your share.” he explained to him. Erik stuffed the stacks into the bag before Trent leaned on the table looking at Erik. Erik noticed that he was staring at him before saying,
“Something you gotta say?” he asked him as Trent nodded.
“Actually yeah. Trinity stopped by.” Erik’s jaw clenched at the name of her. That was something that he was already over and had forgotten. It was just the fact that he wasn’t expecting to hear from her.
“Oh.. what did she want?” Erik asked not looking at him, continuing to place the stacks into the bag.
“You.” Trent cleared his throat standing up right. “Erik don’t fuck-”
“Nigga I’m not even thinking of her like that. I only want (Y/N).” he reminded him as Trent threw his hands up. Trent knew the relationship Trinity and Erik had. How toxic that two of them were and how Erik was when he finally called it quicks with her. Trent knew as soon as Trinity had enough time to say something to him, she manipulate him into thinking he was the bad one all along.
“Okay! I just don’t want you to fuck up what you already have going on.” he said referring to (Y/N). “She messed you up bad. We can’t afford that shit no more.” he reminded him. When they officially broke up, for a few weeks he was out of it. He didn’t even want to talk to anyone. That effecting operations for their ring.
“Trust me. I’m not even worried about her...” he zipped up the bag, throwing the bag over his shoulder. “I just wanna know why she felt so damn bold enough to come though.” he said while they both walked outside to his car.
“Any plans for the night. Some of us were planning on going out tonight. Prolly hit up some clubs on the strip.” he told him.
“Nah fam. I promised (Y/N) I’d take her out to eat after I got back.” Erik told her as Trent nodded. Trent was about to say something but a car pulled into the drive way.
“Who is that?” Erik looked at him, only seeing the annoyed expression on his face. As soon as he saw that, he concluded who it was. “Trinity.”
“Remember what I told you.” He gave him a bro hug before walking back into the house. Erik seen him walk into the house but he heard the car door open and close. He slowly turned around before opening his own car door.
“Erik!” she called out for him walking closer to the car.
“How’d you know I’d be here?” Was all he asked her. She shrugged her shoulders before saying,
“I know you come on Friday’s to pick up your share.” she told him as he nodded scratching the back of his neck. “I miss you.” she said leaning on his back door, he laughed in her face.
“I don’t know whether that’s true or not but I really don’t care enough to find out. Now if you excuse me I-” he was cut off by her rolling her eyes and saying,
“You know you miss me too Erik. You can stop playing that game now because I know for a fact that you do.” she attempted to convince him but he shook his head
“No you don’t. You just miss the idea of me.” he said to her. “And I don’t miss you. I’ve moved on to bigger and better things.” he bragged to her. That made her laugh because the thought of someone being more cute or more bad than her was a foreign topic.
“Oh what? The dance teacher? That lame ass bitch, I am not scared. She’s not going to do shit” she said with a smirk on her face.
“Oh you say something to her, I’ll put a fucking bullet between your eyes. Understand?” he warned her as she scoffed. She shook her head looking down at the ground then back at him.
“What happened to us, Erik? We easily use to make our way back to each other but now you-”
“But now I don’t want you anymore. Especially after everything you done to me.”
Erik rubbed his temples annoyed at the fact that they were having another argument over something so stupid. “Trinity can you just shut up and sit down. I didn’t do nothing with her!” he yelled defending himself. He stood up walking towards her as she backed away.
“Nigga fuck you! Why that hoe came up to me and told me that!?” she asked grabbing the plates that were in the drying rack, throwing it at him.
“What the hell, calm the fuck down!?” he exclaimed ducking out of the way. She ran out of plates as he grabbed her hands putting her against the wall.
“I fucking hate you! And my dumb ass was sitting up here feeling bad because I cheated!” she yelled in his face as he pulled away. He looked at her in shock, backing away.
“Say that shit again.” she started to laugh hysterically at him.
“Oh you can do it but wanna get all hurt when I do it. You’re such a fucking hypocrite.” She suspected him to say something to her once she said that, but he just stared at her.
He nodded his head turning around. “Get out.” Was all he said before he walked into the living room, but she followed him.
“What do you-”
“You have 20 minutes to get the fuck outta my house before I put you out myself.” he snapped at her
“You’re so ridiculous. You cheated and-”
“What the fuck do you not understand dumb ass, I have never cheated on you!” he yelled at her. “Get your shit and leave.”
“I would have done anything for you but you fucked that up.” he snarled at her. “If you knew how I really felt, you wouldn’t be sitting up in my face with that goofy ass face.” he snapped at her.
“I fucking hate you.”
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(Y/N) was in his bathroom, fresh out the shower. She was brushing her teeth when she looked up in the mirror to see him standing there.
“What the- Erik you scared me!?” she yelled hitting him in his chest. He busted out laughing grabbing his chest as she turned around rinsing her mouth.
“I’m sorry fats.” he said wrapping his arms around her waist. He kissed her shoulder before massaging her hips. “So, I had a visitor at one of the houses.” he whispered as she opened her eyes from her relax state, looking at him through the mirror.
“Gonna tell me who?” she asked him.
“Trinity.” As soon as the name came out of his mouth, she looked at him in shock. She knew about how her and Erik broke up and how their relationship was. Honestly she was surprised that she was even Erik’s type considering that her and Trinity are complete opposite of each other.
She noticed before Erik and her got into a relationship how different they were but yet she felt like he was a soul mate. She questioned herself usually if Erik really did like her but he did more than just tell her that he wanted her. He showed her that he wanted her.
“Really/ What did she want?” she asked him looking into the sink.
“She was saying how she missed me.” he whispered placing his chin on her forehead. “Said how she wasn’t scared of you, blah blah.” he said then sighed as she looked back up at him.
“How’d she know where you were going to be?” she asked him.
“She knows I go over there to get my money on Friday’s. She shouldn’t be showing up anymore,” he comforted her. He noticed the concern look on her face before grabbing her hips and turning her around.
“You know I wouldn’t do something stupid right? I love you too much” he reminded her as she smiled at him.
“I know. I just don’t to get hurt.” she whispered looking down at herself playing with her hands. Erik lifted her head by her chin and whispered,
“I won’t. I promise.”
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totally completely fine
ok. i'm not a fan of australian tv or movies bc they're always overdramatised or too darkly themed or comedic in a way i don't gel with bc i'd rather watch american comedies (not sitcoms, they need to die a firey death). plus i've never really liked the aussie accent, i've found it weirdly unsettling hearing characters speak with aussie voices and maybe that's bc being an aussie myself and wanting to use tv and movies as an escape so having that stark reminder of my own reality means it's harder to suspend and enjoy a different one for a spell. or maybe it's the fact that i, like a great deal of non-americans, have grown up watching american tv so now any non-american accent just sits weird in my brain.
but that's why i need to express my love for this show.
everything from the casting (diverse faces and bodies) and the actors chemistry to the setting and set design, cinematography and soundtrack, and of course the plot and characters themselves. It's so well done. It's a heartfelt dramedy that makes you care keeps you interested in wanting to know how things progress and ultimately turn out. the various relationship dynamics are full of ups and downs and it feels real in that messy way life is.
the premise: vivian is a young mess of an adult who lost her parents in a car crash that she was also in when she was a kid. she's the youngest of 3 siblings who were raised by their grandfather who dies and leaves viv his cliffside beach house. the twist: the house backs onto a picturesque ocean cliff where people go to commit suicide. the grandfather used to try and stop them, and now it's up to viv to try and do the same.
intense stuff so far. but this show is hopeful, it's not super dark even though it does deal with strained relationships and mental health and suicide attempts/ideation. the characters are distinct and the way their lives entwine don't distract from their individual journeys; viv is the main character but enough screentime is given to every supporting character that they all feel like main characters in their own right which is how it should be because that's how life is.
more good news is it's short: only 6 episodes at just under an hour each (it doesn't mince screentime) so i binged it all yesterday when i wasn't feeling great and just. wow. i haven't found anything mentioning a second season but if they did more i'd watch it - but the thing is it ends with both closure and the potential for more exploration of the characters, so it feels like a realistic open ending and works as a single season story.
i don't know if it's available overseas because it was created by and aired here by Stan (which is like our homemade Netflix) but i hope if you guys are interested you'll find a way to watch.
bonus thing for me: seeing this story play out in my home (settings and details) was actually grounding in a way i didn't expect. like i mentioned above, most of us grow up on american tv and maybe some uk stuff and while that's good for an escape it can actually be jarring to get back into our real world. but (with good quality programming like this show) i realise aussie productions can make it a lot easier to connect with the physical world around me (not the digital world), to not feel so alone, and to know that it's worth finding productions from your homeland and they don't hinder the escape of fiction in fact they can aid in grounding it in a believable way.
anyway. just one aussie who doesn't really like aussie-made stuff telling folks to give this show a go because i was pleasantly surprised.
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youtube
(note: if anyone has any questions or concerns about triggering content please message me or reply to this post and i'll fill you in on stuff it does or doesn't feature)
#totally completely fine#watchnotes#aussie tv#.txt#my only criticism is the title music is offputting atonal noise that reminds me of the white lotus title music. it does my head in#though to be fair it suits the darker themes of TCF and the swirling deadly rock-based wave footage#queer characters#diverse characters#storytelling#mental health#there's some behind the scenes interviews on youtube if you want to check those out but they do have spoilers so#tv recs#Youtube
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Honestly my biggest fear with the one piece live action show is....
Namis writing and probably most women's writing in One Piece
Now I'm not saying this because the way one piece treats women is perfect, you and I know how they're drawn, you and I are disappointed with how Rebecca was handled (I was more disappointed with how her story is presented and have nothing against what actually happened but that doesn't matter rn), you and I wanted more women fights
No need to retread old grounds
The reason why I'm worried is because I fear that they might try to "fix" Nami and end up overcorrecting her into a bland character
Let's look at the recent cowboy bebop adaptation by netflix, the originals Faye is pretty different from the netflixs Faye and comparing them gives you the feeling that they had some problems with the original Faye being this sexy merc who is pretty flirty and instead of adjusting some of her elements to make that kind of character work for a modern audience, they overcorrected and turned her into a bland Character with a really cool outfit that just blurts out Whedonisms constantly
"Welcome to the ouch motherfucker "
And here's the thing, I can see people (not even writers just people in general) give Faye as a character much more of a chance than any one piece woman, now it's a different writing team and they do work with Oda
It's just Nami is such a great fucking character and I don't want her edges to dissappear and that can very likely happen if we're being honest
Now again the way women are treated in one piece is not perfect but there is a lot of amazing stuff there and I just don't want the fear over fixing the bad to drown out the potential of embracing the good
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Trick or Treat! 🧟♀️
You're the treat! ❤️❤️❤️
But that's a little trick for you!
****
'Bobby, what's about your costume?', - Athena laughs, putting the last jack-o'-lantern on the table.
'I'm a Christmas decoration.', - he's trying to be serious but not that he's good at this: 'You see, I have lights and ornaments and mistletoe.'
'I see. And did you see the date? It's Halloween'
'I know. Trust me. It would be fun', - he breaks a smile and leaves a light kiss on her cheek.
Idea of a Halloween party came to them last week, so preparations were quick, but at least Bobby won over Athena's plan of dressing up as a police officer, her 'I'm technically a sergeant, so it's a fun costume' couldn't stand a chance.
So now she's dressed up as a vampire and to be frank Bobby finds it rather seductive than scary but who's he to judge - with all this Christmas lights and stuff. On the other hand, and hell it's hard to get used to - that's his wife. If he can imagine that six years ago? Not even close.
'Everything will be fine, Bobby, hey, if you find it interesting - why do you even question your team? Anyway, we need some time with brains off, right? And now, please, set up the fire, you know it takes some time'
***
First to show up are Hen and Karen, dressed up in something... Something... Athena exhales: 'What are you two?'
'We are NORMAL', - they laugh. They are both in striped suits but Karen's stripes are horizontal and Hen's - vertical. Hen smiles: 'It was my wife's idea, you know she's a sweet little nerd, so... Normal in geometry is something perpendicular so we're perpendicular and at the same time we're normal cause in a real life we are anything but normal and okay, even i hear it's gibberish'
'It's fun!', - Karen is quite stubborn on this: 'Okay, so we're first? And where's.. hm?'
She scoffs when there are mistletoe leaves touch her head
'Well, girls, you know the rules', - so that's why he dressed up like this? Athena smiles.
'Yes',- Hen tries to move: 'It works only on Christmas'.
'Take today as Christmas in disguise, Hen. It's an adult Halloween, we could make adjustments!', - there's totally something behind this idea but Athena can't see what. And it makes her a little nervous.
Hen tries to argue more and then Bobby turns his lights on what makes her laugh, because apart from lights this thing sings. Very badly
'Okay, okay! Just turn it off, I have no idea it has a sound and it's awful!'
She kisses Karen on the tip of her nose and laughs when she hugs her.
Then the hallway is too crowded to stand over every couple, so Bobby is just walking between guests, now and then taking out his mistletoe and turning on the singing lights, making everyone laugh uncontrollably. And Athena just watches him, smiling, which makes him come to her with this mistletoe several times in a row.
Finally she corners him: 'Okay, spill it. Why? Do you take all this 'adult' thing too literally?'
He frowns, trying to look offended: 'No. I just set the mood' , - she's not convinced: 'For what?'
'You'll see'.
***
Of course Buck is late. He promised to give Eddie a lift so ...he spent half an hour laughing over his costume
'What's the hell, Eds?!'
Eddie, bright red and visibly mad, answers for the fifth time: 'It's a cowboy. From the anime Chris watched on Netflix. Wasn't it you who shared the subscription with him? So it's your fault!'
'How come? I never told him to watch it!', - Eddie is still a little mad: 'Still. It's your fault. By the way, why are you dressed up as a cowboy?'
Buck exhales. He has an explanation but it could revive the lightning memories and he doesn't want it today. Not for himself, not for Eddie: 'No reason, just thought it could be fun'.
***
When they show up everybody are already a little tipsy and very festive.
'Okay, guys, you're late, so...', - Maddie finally sees their costumes and freezes for a second before bursting with laughter: 'Anyway! Take your pumpkin shot and go play with us, you need to come up with an idea of where your costume would be appropriate! Every idea we can break is punished by another pumpkin shot.', - she smiles wider. Looks like she herself hasn't come up with a strong enough idea yet, what is reasonable, she dressed up as a Peppa pig - apparently Jee Yun finally starts to have fun with the shows.
***
'I think it's cheating', - Chim scoffs. His costume is Mazzy and it took Buck some time to get, he was pretty sure it is an Oscar the Grouch or Grinch or their unexpected baby.
'What?', - Eddie finally smiles. Buck can't stop looking at him.
'Buck is a cowboy. It's easy. And you are just a guy in a suit!'
'I'm a guy with a gun. In a suit.',- he smiles wider and Buck's heart misses a beat. Hell. It's bad. He shouldn't.
And here is Bobby. His shots - and he has a lot - were just pumpkin spice latte, but nobody can say he's not enjoying this evening.
Athena catches his eye and suddenly everything is in place. There are two cowboys and a mistletoe. What can go wrong?
***
'What's that?',- Eddie looks confused when he sees greens over his head. Buck, standing less than a foot to him, chuckles:
'Really, it's not even Christmas yet! And Eddie is standing here alone, so it doesn't count!'
'Well',- It's Chim: 'He stands there with you'
Now Buck is also confused. And blushing profusely.
'I'm not sure... It's... Erm...'
Eddie interrupts him with a very suspicious - for Buck's taste - smile: 'It's just a game, right? Or you have something strictly against it? I mean...'
And there's Maddie: 'Evan, what's wrong with you? You know the rules, and you saw Chim kissing Josh and you laughed, now it's our turn'
Both of them - Chim and Josh - frowns synchronously, making others just laugh more.
It's not the issue. He really has something against it but not for the reason you all think.
'Buck?',- he missed a moment, when laughing stopped and now Eddie's voice is too loud in the silence: 'Did it offend you? Even i think it's just a silly joke'
Silly joke. Right. Man up, Evan Buckley!
'No, I'm fine! Come here! We're totally better than Josh and Chim'
'I'm not sure it's a...', - Bobby has no chance to finish his sentence.
Buck jumps into the kiss like people jump into the water. He thinks, it can't be that bad. He thinks, Eddie can be patient for once. He thinks...
But then there's hands around his face and Eddie answers so passionately Buck just stops thinking.
***
'How do you think, if they mentioned that I took mistletoe away like three minutes ago?'
To be fair - they didn't.
#eddie diaz#buddie#evan buckley#buck x eddie#buddie 911#ryu is talking to people#ryu is playing dead
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(SPOILER WARNING! GO WATCH ON NETFLIX FIRST IF YOU DON'T WANT SPOILERS!) So I watched an anime movie called Words Bubble Up Like Soda Pop...
...And the male lead, Cherry, is SO AUTISTIC CODED and I relate to him so much!
This is him...first off, the headphones around his neck aren't used AT ALL for listening to music. He uses them SOLELY for blocking out loud noises and to give himself the APPEARANCE of listening to music just so people don't talk to him. I do this often as well, though I do also use mine for music if too much noise gets through. He gets visibly overwhelmed and is quick to put on his headphones when it gets too loud (so am I), like in this scene where Mr. Fujiyama is talking too loud for him.
You can see that he's clearly distressed by this, and when it happens again later, he even TELLS Mr. Fujiyama that he's too loud after he quickly puts his headphones back on. When he meets Smile, he bluntly points out her braces (I watched the sub, and he just stares at her braces and says the word 'braces', I don't know about the dub), which causes Smile to run away since she is self-conscious about her buck teeth and braces. Cherry also doesn't make eye contact as much as a "normal" person would, speaks with a quieter, more monotone voice than the other characters, and talks as little as he possibly can, because he is not good at talking and gets extremely anxious when he has to talk to people he isn't comfortable with. When Smile calls him to find her phone after their phones accidentally get switched, Cherry freezes up and can't speak, he can't even ANSWER the call because of his anxiety, leaving his friends to do it for him. This is just like me, I freeze up in social situations all the time, and I am physically incapable of talking on the phone without freezing up to anyone but my grandma and my mom, my mom has to do all the phone stuff for me because I have panic attacks over making phone calls.
(He's so anxious about the call, just look at him freaking out...he's seriously just like me, I freeze up on the phone too.)
When he has to recite his haiku in front of everyone, he also freezes up and takes several deep breaths before reading it as quickly as possible and then saying that haiku is a WRITTEN art form, and that it shouldn't have to be read out loud, before putting his headphones back on and sitting down, clearly embarrassed...and that's only two situations where he gets anxious. Also, when he's nervous/embarrassed, his WHOLE BODY turns tomato red.
(You can't see it in this image, but he is actually red like this ALL THE WAY DOWN TO HIS FEET!)
Speaking of haiku, Cherry writes haiku in order to better express himself, and it seems to be his special interest, as he is knowledgeable of haiku poets and their work, and lights up when he talks about it in a scene where Mr. Fujiyama recites random haiku to kinda quiz Cherry...? At least, that's how I interpreted that scene, and Cherry was correct in his answers. He keeps a haiku dictionary in his phone case, which makes it look like a brick in comparison to everyone else's, and the dictionary belonged to his dad originally, but, because his dad supports Cherry's love for haiku, he gave it to him. His mom also supports his haiku writing, and even likes all the haiku he posts online, much to his embarrassment. He also uses it to confess to Smile at the end of the movie, while still being incredibly anxious and his whole body still being that same tomato red color, it is a very sweet scene and for me personally, it was cuteness overload. He confessed to her in a very socially awkward way, using his special interest of haiku to recite some he made about her, and I know some people might find it a bit cringe, I thought it was adorable watching him struggle initially, but eventually build up the courage to express his love in the only way he knew how. I relate to this as I have always been much better at expressing myself and communicating through creative writing than actually speaking, I use creative writing to process basically anything...from things that happen in life to my own complicated emotions (I have alexithymia, which is sometimes referred to as emotional blindness, meaning 99% of the time, I have no idea how I'm feeling about anything, and this also extends to not knowing how other people are feeling as well...this is why I watch anime, because the expressions are much easier to read due to the much more expressive character design, particularly the eyes). Creative writing can help me figure out the emotions I'm trying to process, as well as just help me get my point across in a much clearer and easy to understand way...just like how writing haiku helps Cherry understand his feelings and express himself better.
(Look at him, he's trying his best and it's honestly adorable in my opinion.)
We see Cherry grow closer to Smile over the course of the movie, and I personally knew he was comfortable around her when he was finally able to take off his headphones when around her, because I'm very much the same way. If I take off my headphones around someone, it's a sign of trust, security, and affection, and it seems to be the same for Cherry. One day while walking with Smile, she points out that he's not wearing his headphones, and he replies that he doesn't need them anymore. I thought this was adorable and a good way to show that Cherry feels comfortable around Smile.
Throughout the movie he tries to tell her that he's moving away, but is either unable to bring himself to tell her or gets interrupted by someone or something else. Eventually, Smile finds out anyway and is very upset since she wanted to see the fireworks at the festival together with Cherry. Cherry obviously is DISTRAUGHT when Smile sadly continues the walk back home alone with only a "Take care", and as she walks away he tries to reach out one more time, but can't speak anymore and the world gets louder and louder until Cherry finally puts his headphones back on to make it all stop. He holds his hands over his headphones as he sinks to his knees right there where he's standing and completely breaks down shaking and crying...it's like he's having an implosive meltdown...and as someone who has both explosive and implosive meltdowns myself, I can definitely say that my implosive ones do at times resemble Cherry's breakdown in the movie, as I will also hold my hands over my headphones and put more pressure on them, and/or curl into myself or go completely into the fetal position and cry.
(He's trying to reach out, but can't and he's clearly frustrated with himself...)
(And here comes the breakdown...poor Cherry 🥺)
This scene broke me...hearing everything get louder and louder until Cherry put his headphones on and it all went quiet, and then hearing nothing but his cries for the rest of the scene with the volume increasing as it went on...yeah...I felt that to the core...the sensory experiences with the sound design in the movie really made me feel what Cherry was feeling, and it was so relatable too.
I think that's enough now, I've gone on long enough as it is, and even though I jumped around through the movie scenes in this post, I hope you can still understand it okay. This is my first attempt at a headcanon-supportive character analysis (and actually a character analysis in general), so I hope I did alright. I just wanted to express my love for my new comfort character, Cherry, because he's adorable and relatable and I love characters like that. Words Bubble Up Like Soda Pop can be found on Netflix. Personally, I think it's really underrated and it's a very sweet slice-of-life movie about two insecure teens and how they spend their summer together. There's nothing TOO heavy in it and I like the characters, the animation, and the color palette is very interesting and fun. All in all, it's an easy one for me to watch, and having a comfort character in it in the form of Cherry just adds to its appeal for me.
I hope you don't mind how different this post is from my usual Pokemon-related stuff, but I just had to make this because I relate to Cherry so, SO much. I'll be back with more Pokemon stuff next time though, so don't worry 😅
#words bubble up like soda pop#WBULSP#yui “cherry” sakura#character analysis#my first attempt at a character analysis#actually autistic#autism headcanons#such a relatable character#new comfort character#he's autistic your honor#and nothing can tell me otherwise#this movie is criminally underrated#but i love it so much#long post#not my usual stuff#but i had to do this 😅#sorry if you don't like it#i'll be back with the usual stuff next time#pika talks#pika rambles
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