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nicksbestie · 3 days

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Dress - C. Sturniolo

Summary : AU where Chris is a frat boy, you're his girlfriend that he brings to their formal, and he's obsessed with the dress you chose.

Warnings : 16+ content. i am not responsible for the media you choose to consume online. smut, makeouts, p in v, fingering, overall very loving/sweet scene

Word Count : 3758

Pairing : Chris Sturniolo/Reader (romantic)

A/N : @bratzforchris and i were discussing this idea... and so it was born! hope you enjoy!

You had sworn to yourself in high school that you were never going to be the person who was always at parties in college.

It wasn’t your scene, you weren’t going to be that reckless, and you didn’t like being around drunk people. You’d promised yourself and your family that you would be safe and responsible, and if you were to go out, you wouldn’t take things too far. So how did you end up in a frat house every weekend, drunk out of your mind, stumbling back home? The college pressure has gotten to you. You didn’t feel well, you were struggling in your classes, so you turned to the one thing that got you to get a normal amount of sleep, and that just happened to be passing out drunk way too often than you should have been.

It wasn’t helping you, but it was keeping you from having to think about it too much, because instead of laying awake in your dorm, staring at the ceiling until three in the morning, the taste of alcohol was coating your lips, and all you cared to think about was the next cup you were picking up. It didn’t even matter what was in it. As long as it wasn’t laced with anything, you would down it easily. You were going down a terrible path, and everyone who encountered you for more than a couple nights in a row could see that. Your roommate had tried to talk you out of going out so much, but you had ignored her, choosing to brush her advice to the side as you continued to do what you were doing. She had resorted to keeping you as safe as possible, knowing that she couldn’t control you, but she was always there after the parties, helping take care of you and making sure you got home safely.

She was there every morning after as well, holding your hair back when the alcohol hit you as soon as you woke up, helping you clean the makeup from the previous night off of your face. She would lay out medications for you, making sure you drank water to help soothe your unavoidable headache, and all of the care would come with a gentle reminder that you shouldn’t be doing this. You would always listen but never actually take it to heart, and luckily, she was still always there. She didn’t give up on you, but she knew pushing you could risk pushing you farther into the state you were already in, so she took care of you in all the ways that she could. But eventually, she wasn’t the only one doing so. You were always at the same frat house, so a lot of the boys knew you by your face, not much by your personality, or even by your name. There was one boy, however, who always made sure to have his eyes on you.

Chris had noticed you since the first time you had ever showed up to a party hosted by his fraternity, and he wasn’t ashamed of it. You were beautiful, but he was way too drunk to approach you. His confidence was definitely increased by the alcohol, but he also knew from experience that hitting on a girl while he was wasted probably wasn’t the best choice, and he saw that you had someone with you, even though it was another girl. He had seen you every time you came into the frat house, and he had stayed sober solely for the reason of eventually talking to you. He noticed just how drunk you had been getting, and he kept his eyes on you so that if you needed help, he could be there. And eventually, his moment came. Your roommate hadn’t been there for you one night, because she didn’t know that you had come to a party this night, having had an evening class. So when you were basically stumbling down the front steps, he had rushed to make sure you didn’t fall.

It had all started there. He walked you home that night, making sure that you were okay, and when you had slurred over the words that invited him in, he accepted, solely for the purpose of not leaving you drunk and alone. He knew how it could look, so he kept his distance, laughing with you and spending time with you until your roommate got home. When she did, she couldn’t deny that she was shocked to see someone she didn’t know sitting on her dorm floor, but Chris rushed to explain that he had only come in to make sure that you didn’t wander off the second that he left. He introduced himself, leaving as soon as he was sure that you were safe, and every time you returned to the frat house, he was making sure that you were always within his sight range. He walked you home multiple times after that, really getting to know your roommate, and they became good friends.

The two of them combined had been the reason that you stopped partying so much. You still went out occasionally, but you were stone cold sober, and you only went to hang out with Chris. After a couple more weeks of this, Chris finally got the urge to ask you out, and you had accepted with a wide smile. It had been an amazing night, complete with him walking you home, having the route he had walked so many times memorized, dropping you off with a promise to see you the next day. You were infatuated with him, admiring the way he had kindly taken care of you for longer than you had ever noticed. He genuinely seemed like a good person, and he had taken everything so slow, knowing that you didn’t take very well to things moving quickly. He had been so supportive in your journey to get sober, and he and your roommate were everything to you.

So that brought you to now, your roommate helping you curl your hair as you were getting ready for Chris’ fraternity formal. You had finally decided that you wanted to go to one of them, and your anxiety was racing, your heart pounding in your chest. When you had really begun to get to know Chris, you realized just how popular he really was, an incredible contrast to your social life. You weren’t a nobody, but you certainly weren’t one of the people who was recognized in every class you stepped in, giving out high fives in the hallways, and having hundreds of people show up to your parties because they wanted a chance at speaking to you. However, he never let the popularity get to his head, and that was one of the things that you loved the most about him. He was genuinely a good person, but dating someone who was so popular as being someone who was not still made your heart sink.

People knew you were friends with Chris, but they didn’t know that you were dating him. The only people who knew that you and Chris were dating were you, Chris, and your roommate, as you had kept it very under wraps. You weren’t going to lie, you had heard some of the drunk comments that the frat brothers in Chris’ fraternity had made about him hanging out with you, and sometimes they stung, so you hadn’t come out about the true nature of your relationship with him. Chris had understood, and had no problem keeping it between your close group, knowing that regardless of who knew about the two of you, you were still his girl, so the approval of other people didn’t matter to him. You were a hopeless romantic, and Chris really was everything that you had ever dreamed of, but you were also a firm believer in the fact that relationships flourished better when they were quieter.

This was the first time that you were going out publicly as a couple. You had actually suggested it, knowing that Chris had asked a couple of times if you would ever consider it, and originally, you had said no. But now, you felt like you were ready, feeling like as long as you were with your boyfriend, it didn’t matter what anybody else thought or said about you. It may be cheesy, but you had the people who mattered to you the most, and everybody else could deal with it. Chris had been over the moon when he heard your decision, excited to take you out, and knowing that you would look absolutely stunning in whatever you chose to wear. Your roommate was careful not to burn you with the curling iron, touching up your makeup for you before leaving the bathroom to pull your dress off of the hanger, handing it to you for you to slip on. You zipped it up as far as you could, it catching on the fabric near the top, so you stepped out of the bathroom to have your roommate finish zipping it up for you. She smiled as soon as she saw you.

“You look beautiful, babe. Chris is going to lose his mind.”

You smiled back, turning around so she could help.

“Do you mind? I couldn’t get it all the way up.”

“Of course not!”

The second she went to finish zipping your dress, there was a knock at the door. Your dress was zipped up enough to stay perfectly positioned on you, so she went to open the door, smiling when she saw Chris.

“Oh, you should let him do it. Come on in, she’s almost ready.”

Chris stepped into the room, immediately seeing you as soon as he got through the doorway. His jaw seemed to hit the floor, eyes widening as he took in your appearance.

“Baby, you’re stunning.”

You smiled at him, waving him over.

“Can you finish zipping up my dress?”

He nodded, immediately moving behind you and making sure that he didn’t pinch your skin as he slid the zipper up to the top of the slit of your dress. He noticed the dress was backless, and he would’ve lied if anyone had pointed out that his hands were shaking. He couldn’t believe that he had gotten so incredibly lucky. He didn’t know what he had done in one of his past lives to deserve such a perfect person in his life, but he would do it a million times over if it meant that he got to have you for eternity. You sat down in your desk chair to put on your heels, and when you were struggling a little bit, he didn’t hesitate to crouch down and help you, since your dress was making it difficult for you to see the straps on them. He stood back up, offering you his hand, and pulled you into a kiss the second you were steadily on your feet. He smiled, pulling back, eyes looking directly into yours.

“You’re gorgeous. I got so lucky.”

You smiled, playing with the lapels of his tuxedo.

“You don’t look so bad yourself.”

It was at this point that your roommate rolled her eyes, coughing to get you to acknowledge the fact that she was still here.

“Alright, break it up, or get out of here. Go have fun, okay?”

She pulled you into a hug, whispering a reminder to be safe, as well as a reminder that she was so happy and proud of you. Before you left, she threatened Chris that if anything happened to you, she would murder him, before you pulled him out of the door, yelling back at her to stop scaring off your dates. The walk to the fraternity house was a good time for you and Chris to spend some quiet moments together. The sun had slowly started to go down, but it was still warm enough out for you to really enjoy it all. Your anxiety was fading as you walked with him, knowing that he wouldn’t let anybody do anything to hurt you. You tried to completely squash all the remnants of your anxiety, reminding yourself that you’re going to go enjoy a party with your best friend and your boyfriend all in one, and you were going to remember it this time.

You would be a liar to say that you didn’t feel the eyes on you, that you didn’t hear some people whispering about you, but most people were very kind, a lot of the other girls at the party complimenting how beautiful your dress looked. Chris reminded you every two minutes that you looked gorgeous, placing a kiss on your head or lips every thirty seconds. It really was one of the best times you had ever experienced at a fraternity house, and you were completely sober to enjoy it all. You were on such a high from having a good time with your boyfriend that you felt like you could be drunk, like nothing could bring you down, like nothing else mattered. Walking out of the party a little early, wanting to enjoy the rest of the night privately, you two began the walk to a common green on your campus. You checked your phone, smiling when you saw a text from your roommate.

bestie <3 : i’m staying at my boyfriend’s tonight. figured you guys would want some alone time. i love you!

You showed it to Chris, noting the way he smiled at you, laughing at his boyish reaction. You spent a little more time with each other, enjoying the general peace of each other’s presence, before getting up to go home. Walking back to your dorm, giggling like school children, with your hands clasped together, you felt like there could be nothing better than this. Confirming that Chris was with you as you entered the dorm building, you both moved quickly up the stairs, you having to pause to unlock the door. He pulled you into a kiss as you entered, shutting the door behind the two of you as you both stumbled towards your bed. You were standing in front of it, breaking the kiss to breathe, and to take your shoes off, as Chris’ hands now had one holding your side, and one toying with the top of your zipper.

“Can I take this off?”

You nodded, kissing him passionately before answering.

“I only bought it for you to take it off.”

You could feel the shaky breath than left his mouth against your lips as he fumbled with the zipper slightly, finally getting it and gently but firmly pulling it down. The straps of your dress loosened around your shoulders but didn’t fall, right on the edge of slipping off, and you felt warm hands move up and slide them down, removing your dress completely as he helped you step out of it. You hadn’t needed to wear a bra with this dress, since it had internal padding, and you could hear another breath leave your boyfriend, though this time it wasn’t shaky, and instead, was one of awe. He’d seen your body before, as you’d changed with him near multiple times, and this wouldn’t be the first time that you had slept with each other, but Chris would swear that you got more beautiful the more he saw you. He adored you, every part, and he tipped your head back so that he could start placing blooming bruises on your neck, loving the way you reacted to his motions.

Your knees eventually went weak, sitting down on the edge of the bed before the two of you moved fully onto it, albeit slightly ungracefully. You weren’t very adventurous people, keeping your nights together quite simple, as Chris hovered over you, placing kisses down your chest. You pulled him off only to remove his clothes, nearly tearing them in the process. Chris’ fingers played with the hem of your underwear, slowly removing them from your legs, continuing his trail of marks all the way down to your lower stomach, right above where you were growing desperate for his touch. You lifted your hips, a small gasp leaving your lips as he gently sucked another hickey, this time on your inner thigh. He left a couple more, running the tips of his fingers over your clit, alternating gentle taps on it to listen to your pretty whimpers. When you raised your hips again, whispering a plea for him to stop teasing, he took mercy on you, moving back up to kiss you again.

He smiled against your lips as he swallowed the moan that left your lips as he used his lips to heighten the pleasure of the firm movements and pressure on your clit, caused by his thumb. He messily made out with you, making the transition from simply touching you to fingering you, starting with just one, warming you up, loving the sounds you were making, feeling them vibrate against his mouth. It wasn’t long until your hips were pushing back to meet every movement he made, and he pushed in a second finger, beginning to curl them as he detached your lips, wanting to hear all the noises leaving your mouth. He didn’t stop moving his fingers, loving how beautiful you looked when your eyes were fluttering shut, your head slightly tipped back, and your back beginning to arch. He smiled at you, kissing your neck again.

“God, baby, you’re soaked.”

You whined at his words, a little bit louder than you would have liked to, and Chris quieted you down by kissing you again, increasing the speed of his fingers, feeling your hips lift against his. It took all of his effort not to grind down against your touch, kissing you harder. He swallowed every moan and whimper that left your mouth, enjoying just how reactive you were. He kept his ministrations going until he felt you clenching around him, pulling off of your mouth to hear your moans quickly rise in pitch, before removing his touch. You whined, pushing your hips down to try and chase the feeling, but he didn’t let you.

“I want you to cum on my dick, not around my fingers.”

You pulled his body impossibly closer to you, feeling him push his boxers down to relieve some of the immense tension in his pants. He removed them as quickly as possible, adjusting how he was on top of you, a hand coming up to run his thumb along the side of your face, holding your jaw, admiring just how pretty you were under him. He’d seen this sight before, but he would never get tired of it. He brought his hand back down to rub at your clit, giving you pleasure to distract from the slight pain of him slowly pushing into you. He kissed you deeply, not daring to move faster than you were ready for. He let out a deep groan when he bottomed out, feeling you echo a moan against his lips. He stayed as still as possible, fighting the urge to bury himself in you, giving you as much time as you needed to adjust to the stretch. As soon as you gave him the okay to move, his breathing was shaky, overwhelmed by just how good you felt around him.

“Oh my god, baby.”

You could only whimper in response, the drag of his cock against every perfect spot bringing you to tears of pleasure. You felt full, your sweet spot being abused as he slowly built up his pace, gaining speed. He was groaning into the side of your neck, his hips building a steady rhythm as you fell apart on his dick. He knew exactly what angle to hit, bringing back the stimulation on your clit. As he did so, he felt you tighten around him for a split second, gasping at the unexpected pleasure that rode through him, his hips jerking of their own accord before returning to the rhythm he had set for the two of you. As his perfectly angled thrusts gained a little bit more speed, you could feel your orgasm swirling in the pit of your stomach, what felt like a coil crunching down and getting ready to snap. Chris knew the signs of you being on the edge, and he added more pressure to your clit, feeling the way you were beginning to consistently clench around him, speaking into your ear.

“So good for me, baby, make me feel so good-”

His voice broke against your ear, a whimper of his own slipping through as the rhythm of his hips began to falter. The praise that he kept trying to speak, the breathless “good girl” that slipped from his lips, did it for you. Your finish felt like it knocked the wind out of you, tightening around Chris’ dick, back arching harshly as you cried out his name. He completely lost control at this, hips desperately jerking as he chased his own release, you whining as you felt it inside of you. He was breathing heavily, but so were you, as you basked in the glow of your orgasms. After a couple of minutes, he slowly pulled out, whispering apologies as you winced in sensitivity. He kissed you to distract you, before grabbing some of the wipes off of your nightstand and beginning to gently wipe the evidence of your night off of your legs. You were exhausted from the party and now the sex, mustering up the energy to speak.

“I love you.”

He pulled back, smiling at you.

“I love you more. Let me take care of you, okay?”

His aftercare was short but sweet, rubbing your legs so that they hopefully wouldn’t ache too much in the morning, carrying you to the bathroom where he sat you down on the toilet, gently helping you and himself clean off with a damp washcloth after you peed. You were both spent, and a shower could wait until the morning, but at least this way you weren’t tired and gross. He had you back in bed quickly, but not before helping you into some soft clothes. He had a couple pairs of sweats, boxers, and shirts at your dorm, so he pulled clothing back on, pulling you into his arms and kissing the top of your head. You laid in comfortable silence before he spoke, the last thing that would be said before you fell asleep.

“I love that dress.”

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cinnamonest · 27 days

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Yan childe x teacher reader BUT the reader has a lover OMG I CAN'T-

//cucking + filming noncon, age gap, Ajax is an awful little bastard as usual

(also here's the original Delinquent!Childe x Teacher!Reader post, and the second sequel post)

Oh anon. Anon. I love this, but consider: take it a step further.

The poor boy finding out that his precious teacher he’s been fantasizing about fucking silly is MARRIED.

Typing away on her keyboard when his eyes drift and he stiffens up when he sees the ring he never noticed before. The pain. The horror. Devastated.

He’s never even met the guy, and yet he hates him so much. It’s not fair that he got to you first, just because he was born earlier than he was!

He’s probably not good enough for you. Some old guy who can’t rail you with the vigor and intensity that a young guy like himself can, probably can’t keep up with your drive either. You must be so frustrated and unsatisfied.

Now it feels so awful on his tongue to call you what he normally does. Miss _____, he says, and it feels like he’s spewing poison from his mouth, knowing it’s some other man’s name practically forced on you by dumb traditions and social standards (not that he wouldn’t do the same, but that’s different). It makes his chest hurt to hear it, the name feels like a constant reminder that some other man basically has laid claim to you, that the name marks you as belonging to someone who isn’t him.

He does some digging, finds everything he can on the guy, any online profiles or social accounts. Ugh. You deserve better. If it were him, he would just support you himself, you wouldn’t have to slave away doing paperwork all the time.

Even worse is the fact that the guy has a nice job — you know, the kind you need some higher degrees for, which he definitely won’t get seeing as his behavioral record is pretty much guaranteed to keep him out of any credible institution… still, you don’t need that much money to get by. Sure, he’ll never make that much (without getting into crime, at least, which isn’t an impossibility…), but still, he’s better for you.

It’s so much worse, though, when he stalks your accounts, sees pictures of the two of you together. Makes him feel sick to his stomach, you look happy and he doesn’t like that. He ends up having to close the window, unable to handle any further emotional damage.

He starts to pry, little by little. Can’t be too blatant, but he slips in a question every now and then — how you met, what you two do for fun, so on and so on. It makes him stomach churn to hear you talk about him, but he can’t refrain from continuing to ask, practically a compulsive urge.

God forbid you express any sort of discontentment. Even the slightest frustrated sigh, passive-aggressive comment in regards to the man, and so on, he perks up and zeros in. Oh, so you are unhappy. Typical unsatisfied wife that’s getting pent up from unmet needs and all that.

He’s very attentive to those complaints, the things you mutter under your breath and the implications of it all. He works too long and is never home (terrible, he would never leave you so lonely), he’s never helpful around the home (which wouldn’t be so much of an issue if you were home all the time and didn’t have work responsibilities), he suspiciously disappears sometimes for “work trips” or unexplained entirely (unforgiveable, your suspicions are well-founded, he’s definitely cheating and you shouldn’t forgive it).

Sometimes you sigh and shake your head — ah, sorry, I shouldn’t trouble someone your age with all this… but he assures you it’s fine… also he’s searched a list of local divorce attorneys, you know, if you consider that, which you should.

He’s not the best at being subtle or exercising restraint, so he can’t help but actually mention it out loud — life is short, better to divorce than stay in a miserable relationship! But you sigh and say it’s not that serious. He holds out on the hope that there’s an unspoken “yet” at the end of that, that eventually you’ll get fed up.

But you don’t. You keep tolerating it. It’s somewhat understandable, since divorces are difficult and messy, and you would need somewhere to stay and all that.

But getting one’s own place isn’t that hard. He would know, now — he’s actually been picking up odd jobs recently, all to get his own place. Hard to balance that with schoolwork, but he manages (and he’s in the absolute bottom-tier difficulty for courses anyway, with very little actual homework, and it’s not like he’s prepping for college like a lot of his peers). You’re very pleased with it, say you’re proud of him for being so dedicated and responsible, completely unaware that he only really has one intention for doing it all anyway.

He was planning to take that part slowly, ease his way there, but you push the limits of how much he can tolerate when he’s forced to meet the guy face-to-face. He’s just sitting there as per usual in your after-school sessions, talking a mile a minute as per usual, having a good day, completely unprepared for the psychological gut-punch he’s forced to experience when that same face he saw online comes walking right into your classroom. The sacred space that’s supposed to be just for you and him.

His soul is crushed when you get up to greet the guy all happily, practically ignoring him for several extended seconds before you gesture over to where he’s sitting and introduce each other — with himself as the student I’ve been tutoring, you know the one. The man nods, casts a single uncaring glance his direction.

Right. She mentioned you before.

The hell does that mean. He keeps the smile plastered to his face, but it’s twitchy. What did you say? Was it bad? No, you wouldn’t say anything bad about him… except maybe certain factual statements like the whole behavioral record thing, but he can accept that that’s his own fault.

Still, he doesn’t like the way the guy looks at him. A vague condescending, disdainful glance. Makes him curl his hands into fists and clench his jaw. If it weren’t for the whole “impulse management” thing you’ve been hammering into his head for months now, he might have outright attacked the guy.

It’s practically torture to sit there. You say something about how you’re going out for your anniversary, so he came to pick you up. Awful. Like you might as well have stabbed him. Not to mention it’s cutting into what’s supposed to be his time with you, and now he has to leave early.

So he’s forced to walk to the front doors with you both, listening to you talk all happily about where you’re going, while he’s forced to continue to pretend to be perfectly fine with it. Ugh.

You bid him goodbye, and he smiles and waves and walks the opposite way… and the moment you’re out of sight, he’s scowling and grinding his teeth and kicking rocks on the road all the way home, sulking like a petulant kid, imagining all the horrible ways he hopes your date goes terribly wrong.

It makes him seethe all night long, laying in bed, staring up at the ceiling, nausea ruining any chance he had of sleeping. He can’t even go sulk around his parents with the hope of getting attention like he used to do when he was mad, now that he lives in this little apartment by himself.

How is he supposed to live under these conditions, no attention available on demand. You don’t even text him to see if he got home safe like you do sometimes. Probably too busy doing whatever with your husband who’s more important than he is. Hmph. His mind briefly flickers to wondering what you’re doing now that it’s later in the night, but the obvious realization only makes him feel ten times more sick. He doesn’t get any rest.

And the longer the night goes on, the more irritated he starts to feel, the misery and hurt begins to turn to bitterness and anger. He starts to feel like you probably know — no, you definitely do. And yet, you willingly tortured him like that. You've been so nice to him, giving him all that attention and affection, knowing you won't ever give him what he really wants and being totally fine with causing him so much pain. He's hurt, and more importantly, mad.

But he can't hate you… your husband, however, is a different story.

That guy kept his arm around your waist walking outside, rubbing it in his face like that. He’s certain that your husband must realize that he loves you (way more than said husband does, for the record), but that look of disdain — he doesn’t even see him as a threat, does he. Thinks that he’s not even proper competition. That much is painful. Bothersome. Annoying. Rage-inducing.

Well, he’s wrong.

That’s the thought that pushes him over the edge. He’s already had the idea in his head for a long time, he just kept bailing out every time he gathered the gall to go through with it, much to his own shame.

But clearly, continuing to be passive is not going to get him anywhere. Come to think of it, a few months ago, he would never have hesitated to go through with whatever impulse struck him, no matter how violent. It’s not like he hasn’t been expelled or arrested before.

He appreciates the time he’s spent with you, but he’s starting to think that all those little speeches about “self-control” and “thinking before you act” and all that have only really just made him docile and tame. How embarrassing.

A man should just take what he wants, right? Anything less is practically a blow to his pride.

He’s still not the brightest when it comes to formulating plans, but his rather straightforward plan ends up working. You actually agree to swing by when he says he has something to give you, something too big to carry to school himself, so he needs you to come pick it up with your car and all that. You must really trust him. Or you’re just naive, maybe, but he likes to think you trust him, however unwise that may be.

He worries that you might back out, but you show right up to his door. The motions from there are mechanical, putting his brain on a sort of autopilot mode in which he just goes through with it, without thinking too much, lest he hesitate, until you’re secured.

Grabbing you by the shoulder and jerking you inside, hand over your mouth, other arm around your waist and picking you up. It's a short distance to the bed (well, mattress on the floor), since it's just a studio apartment and all.

You being so weak makes it so much easier. He can technically tell you're struggling, but it barely feels like resistance, just weak squirming and thrashing that doesn't even loosen his grip in the slightest. You make cute little noises of surprise and confusion and fear, muffled by his hand over your mouth.

Sadly, he can't afford to have you attracting attention from the neighbors, so he's forced to keep you gagged, pulling your shirt over your head (to which your whimpers turn to full-fledged sounds of panic), and — after the brief moment where he has to detach his hand from your mouth, hearing you stammer out a wait, wait— balls it up and stuffs it into your mouth, quickly grabbing the duct tape (he, feeling very proud of himself for such clever forethought, thought to go ahead and tear some long strips off and stick the ends to the wall ahead of time), and placing it over your mouth, flipping you over onto your stomach.

You're so cute. You make the cutest little noises, your eyes get all teary, you squirm and whimper and try to pull yourself away, but he's got your wrists pinned behind your back with one hand, the other pulling your hips back. The cutest part by far has to be when you feel him jerk your skirt up, his cock pressing against your flesh and pushing inside of you, your squeals get louder and higher pitched and you struggle so hard, to no avail.

So mean, though, to pretend like you didn't see it coming. You know what you did. You led him on on purpose. Knowing full well the sort of things he's done to other people — beating his peers black and blue on impulsive whims, getting into fights because he felt like it, stealing stuff and vandalizing stuff and all those other things he knows you know he did, since it's all on his records… you willingly came all by yourself, in private, with someone like that, who you know full well is so much stronger than you are—

What did you fucking expect?

Up until then, the stream of words from his mouth are all amused and teasing and sadistic, but in those words, and the sharp jerking thrust accompanying them, you hear that underlying anger breaking through. You really hurt him, you know, by being married. He loves you so much, and you had to go and do that to me, he says, as if it was a retroactive choice, as if you should have predicted his presence in your life years in advance, as if you willfully did it to spite him years before you knew he existed.

Is it irrational? Sure… but it isn't going to change that he feels that way, and he’s mad and you can't do anything about it anyway, so he's going to keep blaming you for what you did wrong.

He keeps muttering about how stupid you are — for coming here so naively, for choosing your dumb fucking husband over him when he's so much better and loves you so much more, for all the little things you did to lure him in and make him want you so badly, for being so nice to him and having a body you should have known would make him want this so badly.

It's all your fault.

The words get more and more muffled and slurred as the movements get faster, harsher, you squeal with each thrust that makes the springs creak and the whole mattress itself move back and forth against the floor. He points out that you're leaking all over him, fluid drooling out of your hole and spilling onto his hips and thighs, satisfied by the shameful little whimper you make and the way you hang your head. You must not get fucked good enough at home, huh.

And then, he starts to slow down. There's a pause. You see him reach over, to where he tossed a few things that were on you when you came in onto the floor. Fishes something out of your purse.

You made a confused, panicked little sound when you notice he's holding your phone. Easily unlocked, whatever method you use — he holds it up to your face or forces your thumb to press against it, or, most alarmingly, even if it's protected by password or pattern, he enters it with a single try. Shouldn't have opened your phone around him so much, of course he would pay attention to that.

You're flipped onto your back, reeling from the sudden harsh movement, grunting and squirming when your bra is pulled up to your collarbones and your skirt pulled up even further, exposing your body completely before shoving back inside of you, and oh, what a euphoric sound you make — and this time, you visibly clench down on him when he does. Perfectly timed, too.

Your stomach clenches in dread and panic as you see your phone’s front side facing you.

Smile.

You cry out louder than ever before, struggle so hard, so good. His hand latches onto your throat and squeezes hard, and your hands, now no longer in his grasp, reach up to claw at them, all entirely futile. The sound of skin slapping skin reverberates around the room, and you see him tilt the camera downward, ensuring he captures the sight of his cock pounding into you, stretching you apart, all the slick fluid now coating everything from your thighs to his hips, and the sweet, precious sounds you make for him.

He wonders if anyone has ever made you react like this before. If your husband is going to be torn apart by the realization that he's made you feel better than he ever has, that he's better and bigger than him. The sheer fear on your face would suggest that. The thought feels euphoric.

He re-angles himself, leaning forward a bit, ensuring his body presses against your clit — you start to tense up, push back, your heels dig into the mattress and your body writhes with greater force than ever before. Your eyes squeeze shut and you shake your head but he doesn't stop, and you hate yourself so much in the moment for the sensations your body feels, the guilt and despair overwhelm you, you feel a cold chill in your gut — but you finally spasm and shudder on his cock all the same, clearly trying so hard to minimize it and hold back the sounds and movements, but the involuntary shudders and soft little cries are unmistakable all the same.

Normally, he would want to stay inside you longer — but there will be plenty of chance for that later. This time, the prospect of pulling out and capturing it is too tempting, and God, is it satisfying when he does. The squelching sound, the way his cum starts to drool out of you onto the mattress, the way your hole twitches from the sudden absence, slightly agape from the intrusion. It's so, so perfect, better than he could have even imagined.

You rip the tape off your mouth, gagging and coughing from the strain on your throat, and the overwhelming sensation leaves you in a dazed stupor for a few moments… your head slowly drags over to him, and an ice-cold spike of fear strikes through your heart when you see that he's still on your phone.

Slight movement from you as you try to push yourself upright takes his attention away from it, eyes flickering over to you.

Ah, right.

You make a scared little sound and pull your hands close to your chest (very cute!) as he looms over you again, but you're helpless to do anything as he puts the phone down to flip you over again, this time taping your wrists behind your back, adding a new layer over your mouth, and finally one on your ankles. Your struggles barely faze him.

You see him zip his pants back up and pull his shirt back on, standing and making his way over to the door, shuffling his shoes back on before grabbing your car keys.

I'll bring these back. Your place is only five minutes away if I drive, you know. I won’t get into any wrecks this time.

It occurs to you that you've never told him where you live, but it's the least of your concerns then and there. Your heart sinks to your stomach as he takes your phone again, grinning as he types and, after a pause, makes one distinct, final tap that you know can only be hitting 'send.'

His head turns over to you, that same dopey, carefree smile on his face as always, that now seems so much more sinister than before.

Don't worry. He won't have enough time to call the cops.

Your muffled words don't stop him. You writhe pathetically on the ground as the door opens and closes before you, listening in dread and despair as his footsteps slowly fade away.

#lord forgive me but this is the GOOD stuff #like taking reader from her lover/husband/bf by force... hnnnnng

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helianthus-tarot · 1 year

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GENERAL: 3 things you should do more & why

As usual, with tarot, it gets spiritual. But I also included extra things like activities you can do and advice card in each pile. There are three points in each pile, so it is up to you if you want to split the reading; for example, if you want to choose Pile A number 1 for the first suggestion, Pile D number 2 for the second suggestion, Pile C number 3 for the third suggestion. Or just choose one pile for all three suggestions.

Disclaimer: Here | Instagram: Here

Instructions: Focus on the topic and ask yourself the question. Choose a number/picture that you feel the most drawn to or that you can’t stop looking at. Trust your intuition. May the message resonate. Let me know which pile you choose! Feedback is appreciated!

Like my readings? Tip here!

PILE A

Queen of Swords (10 of Pentacles), 7 of Swords (The Hermit), 10 of Wands Rx (7 of Pentacles)

1. Prioritize what you know you need to prioritize. Fix and hold/maintain your boundaries. I wonder if some of you cross your own boundaries too, or do things to yourself that you know you shouldn’t— dishonoring yourself or your boundaries in some way. Speak your mind more. This will allow you to build a more stable life for yourself (it will lead to more stability and getting to build a life that you desire).

2. Keep some aspects of yourself private, not everyone deserves to know what you are up to, not everyone should have access to you. Plan your life/day more and move in silence. You will be able to protect your peace better this way, and some of you probably need your space to feel more like yourself and to cultivate mental independence. If you chose this number specifically, please read the advice card below.

3. Let go of burdens and responsibilities that aren't yours to take. Relax more, pace yourself better, you will get what you aim for even if you do it slowly. Sometimes trying to carry too much can lead to ineffectiveness and things not working out. Some of you may also be overburdening yourself with things that you shouldn’t because you want to avoid drama and conflicts. Some of you do this because you feel like you are running out of time.

Advice card: Communication, “I am a masterful communicator with the ability to say what I think and feel in a way that doesn’t invoke conflict. Watch as I dodge the bullets of sass and snark. Marvel as I avoid the traps of passive-aggressiveness and victimhood. Be amazed that even though it’s sometimes stressful, I choose to communicate— an act that saves us all from the grips of certain unspoken seething.”

Extra: Food hunting, Clubbing & Partying; (go out to eat and have fun), Daydreaming (be clear about your vision), Being Online (be intentional with your screen time and the content you seek, instead of scrolling mindlessly)

PILE B

King of Pentacles, Page of Swords (Justice), The Fool (4 of Cups, 6 of Swords)

1. Look at your life and see how you can increase the quality of your life; how you can make your home life better, what habits you can cultivate to help you feel more stable in yourself, your routine, living space, furniture and so on. Live your life in a way that can help you build more stability and comfort, in a way that brings you long-term rewards. Manage your personal finance wisely. Some of you are advised to connect more to your roots, history and culture. If you chose this number specifically, please read the advice card below.

2. Embrace your curiosity. Follow the flow of what piques your mind. Yes, even if you are interested in 32532 different hobbies or topics at the same time, find time to engage with them all. Not everything you explore has to stay forever in your life (you don't have to commit to everything), but that does not mean you shouldn’t experience them at all. Share those things that you have learned and that excite you with others. It will help you develop mental agility and be wiser.

3. Be open to life and take more risks. Go out and explore the world. Start something new, whether or not it will lead to anything substantial, we never really know what will and what won't. Approach life lightly, with childlike wonder. It will help move you away from your past disappointment and dissatisfaction.

Advice card: Prep Work, “I make friends with the quiet loners— Organization and Planning— and I suddenly realize how cool they are. I start hanging out with them, and I bend to their influence. I even allow them to give my daily habits a makeover. Normally I wouldn’t succumb to peer pressure, but isn’t efficiency the best? C’mon, just let me fill in one more bullet journal, I promise I’ll be able to stop.”

Extra: Sightseeing & Going to the museum, Collecting, Photography & Videography (take more pictures, record your memories, make a scrapbook journal), Fishing (be around bodies of water more; the beach, lake, pool, have an aquarium or set up a small decorative fountain in your space, etc).

PILE C

3 of Pentacles (The Sun), 10 of Swords, 7 of Cups (8 of Pentacles)

1. Ask for help more often. Even if you can do something alone, sometimes it benefits you if you let other people help you. Getting help is not the only benefit; forming connections, starting an interaction, exchanging resources and network are among the benefits. You never know who knows a person who knows a person who has the resources that can make your life better.

2. Sit down with yourself and really take your time understanding why you are dealing with the pain and stress you are dealing with. Some of these things require attention, and if you experience delay or obstacles or difficulty that stop you in your path or weigh you down until the point you can’t move forward, maybe it is time to stop and heal. Investigate the source of stress and pull it out one by one, and love yourself through every step.

3. Regularly look at the things that show up in your life, and really ask yourself what’s good and what’s bad for you, filter them according to this standard. Not everything that seems and feels good is actually good, not everything that seems bad and feels bad is actually bad. Look at your own qualities too, there are things that we carry in ourselves that can lead us astray, and there are things that we carry in ourselves that are actually helping us. This may be the step that starts your self-improvement journey.

Advice Card (this one is a bit more cryptic than the others): Lunch, “I eat my own food and I let others eat their own food. If there is not a name on the food and I didn’t buy the food, I use my brain to remember that I didn’t buy the food and I assume that someone else bought the food.”

Extra: Occult (self-introspection, get to know yourself activities, spiritual activities or activities that can make you feel more connected to the Universe, nature and the world around you), Fashion & Style (take care of your appearance and hygiene more, wear clothes that make you feel happy every day)

PILE D

Judgment (Wheel of Fortune), 9 of Pentacles (King of Cups), Queen of Cups Rx (The Sun)

1. Regularly look back on your past and actions you took, what you did that helped you succeed or produce a desired/positive result, and what you did/didn’t do that didn’t help you. Learn what you should do again to repeat the desired result. Apply the knowledge. Looking back on the past also means noticing the patterns that have appeared in your life, which also helps you notice similar patterns in the present, this will help you navigate your present and future better.

2. Embrace gratitude and just enjoy your life. A lot of you have worked hard enough to get to this point, you deserve to enjoy yourself. Sure the journey hasn’t ended yet, and many of you have long journeys ahead of you— but that doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy what you have now. This is good for your emotional and mental health; it will help you feel more emotionally balanced and stable instead of feeling drained.

3. Avoid approaching life with feelings all the time. It’s common to process life events emotionally, for example, when something happens we might be like “this is so boring to do” “that is so unpleasant” “I want to do this but I feel like” and whatnot, but it will be simpler if we just see things as 'actions to take' and that’s it, don’t let yourself move past the awareness of the facts (of the situation) and start feeling something about the facts. This is one of the things that go-getters do; they just act, they don’t think or feel much about every single thing in their life and in their to-do list. It will make you happier and make it easier to move in life.

Advice Card: Consideration, “I’m a considerate person, and my new goal is radical conscientiousness. From now on, I’ll leave every space tidier than I found it; I’ll find small ways to support a teammate even if they didn’t ask for it.”

Extra: Watching movies (watch more movies, drama or tv shows), being out in nature (you can also try being more active physically, like doing sports or other physical activities that have positive impacts on your health).

#pick a card #pick a pile #tarot community #pick an image #tarot readings #pick a picture #free tarot readings #tarotblr #divination community #tarot readers #free tarot #pac #divination #spirituality #spiritual community

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oleander-nin · 6 months

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Horrortober Day 30- Lonely(Yandere Rise Donnie x Reader)

A/N, not important: Another one I'll probably try to rewrite, although I'm not sure what more to add. Maybe emotion. Any criticism is welcome, constructive or not. This is supposed to be a gender neutral reader, so if I screwed up somewhere, please tell me.

-Ollie

CW: Anger, destroying things out of anger, hinted future bloodshed, kidnapping, dark themes, yan themes

Words: 775

Summary: You left, and it drives Donnie mad

Donnie shifts in his bed, his gut telling him something was wrong. He feels around his bed for you, his heart racing as his eyes open. You were gone. The spot you last were wasn’t even warm, the sheets that once covered you messed and strewn about. Donnie jolts up and moves from his bed, patting the blankets down in hopes to feel you buried under. Not finding you in the mess of sheets, he rushes from his room and moves around the lab, calling your name and searching every nook and cranny. His eyes land on the open lab door and his heart sinks, his hands shaking as he wakes up SHELLDON and sends him off to search for you as well.

It takes painstakingly long, but Donnie ends up searching the entire lair top to bottom three times. Not a single inch was unaccounted for, and more importantly, neither were you. Donnie sits in front of his computers in his lab, seething. You ran. He took such good care of you, and you ran. Donnie shoves the half-finished tracking collar off his desk, regretting not setting you up with the subcutaneous trackers he had for the rest of his family. He curses his want for you to be special, to make something just for you. He should’ve been more careful, shouldn’t have fallen for your lies and your words. You were too willing, and he shouldn’t have believed it was from mutual love.

Donnie pushes his chair from the desk and stands up, screaming out in anger. His heart was throbbing, fury bright in his eyes while shoves cabinets to the ground and listens to the clatter of his tools being thrown against walls. He stays away from his projects, not wanting to destroy his life's work in his fit of rage. His fists clench at his side as he stares down at the mess he made, his tools scattered and shelves emptied onto the floor. He stands there for a moment, just letting his anger roll through him in waves, not trying to calm it at all. You had betrayed him. You ran, despite promising him your heart.

Donnie turns back to his computers, righting the chair and settling into it as he frantically starts to look through everything he could to find you. He gains access to cameras around town, his eyes taking in screen for barely a second before flipping to the next, running your name through databases to see if you had tried to call or book anything in the hours you ran. He searches the files of all the local police stations, looking for any new visits or files that contain you.

Each station was an annoyance to look through, every file having its own access key he needed to break through. He reopens the cameras on his other monitor, glancing at them while he painstakingly searches through every single folder they had online. He clenches his hand as he stares at the dozens of drives he needed to get through, his heart pounding both from anger and the annoyance of needing to cover his tracks lest he get caught.

It takes him what feels like hours, but he finally gets to the last police within a walkable distance in the time you’ve been gone, his eyes flicking back and forth between the cameras open and the files he’s decoding. He pauses when he sees the door to the precinct open, his chair swiveling as he moves to face the screen better. Through the grainy cameras the police station held, he could make you out. You were barefoot and only wearing Donnie’s clothes, different ones than the pajamas he gave you to sleep in. The sweats and hoodie you stole were baggy, both made to his specifications and you didn’t have a shell to help them fit.

The sight of you walking up to the station desk makes him sick, the woman manning the station looking at you with pity as you shake before her. Donnie slowly stands up, moving through his wrecked lab with a quiet peacefulness. His eyes were focused, determination and anger mixing together to form a dangerous concoction. Donnie pulls on his battle-shell and mans his tech-bō, fully prepared to do anything to get you back. You were coming home, no matter how much blood he had to spill.

Donnie takes one last glance at the cameras, watching you being ushered off into the back of the station, his knuckles lightening in shade as he steams. You would regret leaving him, one way or another. And he would make sure you never could again.

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mrskokushibo · 7 months

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Synopsis: It gets both steamy and funny when you manage to rile up Sanemi. And the man really has a short fuse. This little fic is already one of my favourites, and...the main guy could easily be replaced with an aged up Bakugo.

A/N: This fic is a part of Kinktober'23 Collaboration.

Prompt: Angry Sex

Warnings: Smut. Sex. 18+. Fem reader. Modern au. Mild dom!Sanemi. Dirty talk. Mild degradation talk. MDNI

Wordcount: 1.5k

Kinktober Masterlist MrsKoku Masterlist

The afternoon was going well until you made the fatal decision to go to the arcade. It was ages since you both last been, and the silly in you wanted to try if it was as much fun as you remembered it to be. At first, Sanemi was enjoying himself, but very soon, things went south. You were winning, time after time, beginner luck at first, but when your winning streak continued, he was no longer able to contain his frustration.

‘This shit is rigged. How the fuck can you be winning all the time?’

You laughed impulsively.

‘Seriously Nemi, how can it be rigged? Do you think I am in cahoots with the owner?’

Your grin became vicious and you lowered your voice into a conspiratorial whisper while leaning closer to him.

‘Maybe I slept with him to get ahead?’ You followed this with a wink.

He was not amused. He glared at you pursing his lips and continued the game.

‘Fuck. How do you do it?’ He almost growled out after losing yet again.

You shrugged and gave him an innocent but triumphant smile, and even did a little victory dance. And…you shouldn’t have.

‘Enough! We are going. This was not a good idea and I am not coming back here again.’

You giggled and put your hand into his as you began walking out of the noisy arcade.

The cool evening air and your mild hand softened his mood and by the time you came back home, he was seemingly fine. But, once on the sofa, his eyes flared up in vicious intent.

‘Let’s play Battlefield. I bet you can’t beat me there.’

It was his favourite online shooter that you only played a handful of times. You did not take to it and, to be honest, you weren't interested in gaming that much anyway.

‘Yeah, whatever. But don’t you just want to watch a movie and cuddle?’ You asked with a flirtatious smile.

‘We can do that later.’ He was already pulling out the controllers and logging in to the online portal.

He passed you the controller and a few moments later you were moving through a village in the middle of a desert, first-person view of your surroundings, trying to avoid or shoot the enemy. For each time Sanemi got shot and revived, you stayed alive and kicking. When you quickly glanced at him, his jaw was tensed and his eyes had that half-insane focused look in them.

‘Nemi, you are taking this far too seriously.’

‘This is serious.’ He barked out, which caused you to burst out laughing.

He paused the game and looked at you. A long, drawn-out, crazy stare. “If looks could kill” was probably the best description of what was being projected from his light-purple pupils.

‘Relax, babe.’ You put your hand on his thigh and began riding up to his groin. ‘Let me help you.’

You cooed and started rubbing him through his jeans, the bulge slowly growing from your treatment. He was alternating staring at you and down at your hand.

‘Do you really think I am some primitive gorilla that can be pacified with sex?’ He was seething with increasing irritation.

‘No, of course not, I don’t think that. Why would I?’ You cocked your head and smiled, biting your lip while continuing to rub his now quite prominent hardness.

‘Fuck you.’

‘Yes, fuck me, Nemi… ‘

This was followed by a moment of silence after which he suddenly growled quietly and flipped you over on your stomach.

‘Alright, I will fuck you. But don’t say you didn’t ask for it. Because I don’t intend on holding back.’

You bit your lip in anticipation. You liked it when he was rough, but it would probably piss him off even more to know that right now you wanted him to be exactly that, heavy-handed. So instead, you just lay still, tiny, pinching, shivers running down your spine as his hands touched your ass and began pulling up your skirt.

His hand disappeared momentarily, and the sound of his zipper being pulled down sent even more electricity up your spine. He grunted as you could hear him get up and pull down his trousers. And then he was back at you, slapping your ass repeatedly, you moaning in response.

‘Now, bitch, I will show you who is boss here.’ He rubbed you to excessive wetness and began pressing his cock into you, without much consideration for positioning himself properly. He was too eager to be tough.

‘Nemi, that’s my other hole. You need to reposition.’

‘Argh! You don’t need to tell me what to do. I know what I am doing.’

He shifted and slammed into you, missing your opening entirely and burrowing himself into the sofa. He was so consumed with the combination of rage and arousal that he managed to give the sofa a few hard thrusts.

‘Babe, you are not inside.’

‘Stop talking. I know I am not.’

‘Should I assist you? In finding the hole? It’s like pinball, you know..’ You giggled. You could not help yourself to make the arcade allusion, because his reactions were simply too entertaining.

‘Do you think I’m funny, huh? Let’s see if you think this is funny then.’

This time around, he pumped his fingers into your pussy, positioned himself correctly, and slammed into you causing you to gasp.

‘How do you like this?’

‘I like it.’

His bare teeth were now grazing up your back and finished up on the side of your neck, the proximity of his warm, strong body causing you to clench a little extra. His breath was near your mouth and he hissed in a raspy voice:

‘Brace yourself, fuckdoll.’ You loved it when he called you that.

He kept his proximity to you and started to hammer his hips into the softness of your ass. You were a little shaken as his pace increased. Your breath started to sync with his thrusts, but he kept it up so fast you were left gasping for air. He pushed deeper and harder until you were whimpering from his force.

He then pushed the whole length of his cock into you, and you could feel the head pushing at your cervix. The pain and pleasure sent shivers throughout your body. Your legs were shaking uncontrollably now, and you could feel your pussy start to gush. He continued his thrusting as if you weren't even there. Your knees were about to buckle, but he pulled you up again by the waist, his fingers digging into your flesh, and started his relentless thrusting once again.

You could barely breathe, and you were starting to see stars, the only sounds you could hear were your own heartbeat, his ragged breathing, and the sound of his cock driving into your soaked pussy. You started to lose consciousness, your vision narrowing to a point.

‘Nemi, I’m coming.’ You whimpered out as the familiar feeling of needing to pee was turning into a full-blown climax accompanied by your pussy gushing like a fountain.

As you slipped into a blissful abyss, his cock finally erupted and released the thick, white cum that had been building up. It coated your womb and dripped out onto the sofa. His breathing started to slow down, and he released his grip on your waist. Your legs gave out, and you slumped forward, resting your head on the soft cushions.

He grabbed his sweatshirt off the floor and cleaned himself and your leaking pussy. He then pulled you upright and wrapped his arms around your waist, leaning his head on your shoulder. You placed a hand on his head and caressed his hair.

‘Are you calm again now, my dear?’ You whispered into his ear.

‘I was never agitated. What are you implying? That I lost control?’ Irritation was beginning to simmer up in him again. You let out a giggle. You could feel him tense up behind you, and his hands went for your throat. You tried to get away, but his grip tightened.

'What's so funny, hmm?'

You struggled to get out a few words. 'Nemi...please.' You begged.

'Please what, slut?' He replied, his grip getting tighter.

Your head was going fuzzy again, but his grip was not tight enough to make you black out. He was not a monster, after all, and besides, you did enjoy it, your juices running down your leg from his grip on your delicate flesh. You felt his cock growing stiff again. He really was insatiable. He let go of your throat and turned you around. He sat down on the sofa and pulled you into his lap.

'Now, we need to get a few things straight, doll. If I am going to continue to put up with you, then you are going to need to understand that I am the one in control here, do you understand?' This was his usual way of asserting himself, that never really worked on you other than make your pussy drip.

‘Just like you were in control of the game controllers just a moment ago?’ You giggled while grabbing his cock and lowering your full weight onto him.

He could no longer keep up the tough façade, the cracks showing by a playful spark appearing in his eyes. He laughed through closed lips and shrugged.

‘Yeah…just like that. Well, I guess we both know that you are the boss here, my kitten.’ He groaned as you began riding him. And this was the beginning of a long, adrenaline-fueled night filled with sensual and passionate sex. Lesson learned? Annoying Sanemi was well worth it.

Banner by @cafekitsune Dividers by @saradika

Tagging 💞: @doumadono @muzansfangs @peachdues (I hope my Sanemi is to your satisfaction)

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pensat-i-fet · 11 months

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Al teu costat (Pablo Gavi x Reader)

**Hi!! I got a request to do something similar to this Pedri imagine and I was trying to make it different enough and came up with this idea. Then somehow felt the need to add Catalan phrases to it because why not? Here we read, we laugh and we learn 😅 enjoy ❤️**

Word count: 2584

Masterlist

Wattpad

"You two go to Eindhoven for the women's Champions League and you two to Vigo. All clear?"

"Shouldn't I go to Eindhoven? I've been covering the women's matches all season".

"I know", says my boss. "But the men's team is going to Japan right after the match and we need you on that plane. I was about to tell you about that but you interrupted me".

"Who else is coming with me there?"

"It's just you", he says, surprising me. I haven't been doing this for long enough to be sent alone to any matches. Even friendlies.

He grabs my arm gently to move me away from everyone else. "I get it. You don't want people to know about you and Gavi and this is another opportunity for people to stick their noses where they don't belong but it's also a great opportunity for you to prove yourself. I know you can do this. And you'll be flying with the players too. So it won't be as bad".

Yeah well…it's also a 15-hour long flight so I doubt having my boyfriend there will magically fix everything.

But he's right. It's another moment to prove how good I am at my job. I'm still always the youngest and ever since the rumours about me and Pablo started to show up on social media, it's been tough. Everyone is paying way more attention to me than I wanted. And not for the reasons I wanted them to pay attention to me.

[You]: I'm going to Japan with you so one less gift for your list.

[Pablo]: you are? Your boss is the best! And you can sit with me on the plane.

[You]: I'll sit with the rest of the press. We don't want more rumours 🙄

[Pablo]: if you think I'm going to spend 15 hours on the same plane as you but not with you, you don't really know me 🤣

He's right, of course. But all my colleagues are always looking at us to see if we show any signs that we really are together. Probably to be the first ones to post about it online. It's so boring.

"Breathe, just breathe", says my colleague Adrià when we are about to take off.

"You say it like it's easy".

He just laughs. He's used to this because I always have to travel with him. "It'll be Pablito's job to remind you later. At least with him you can cuddle or whatever. It'll help".

"Yeah".

I hope it does. But for now, it's time to worry about the match. Concentrating on my job helps me clear my mind a bit. It always has. And before I realise, we’ve made it to Vigo. This flight was short. The next one…

This Celta-Barça match is the last one of the season for both teams. One is fighting to stay in La Liga while the other one won it weeks ago…and it shows. I mean, Pablo isn't even on the starting line up and he plays almost every match.

When Adrià and I are walking towards the radio section, we see him coming out to inspect the pitch, eating some sweets.

"Great pre-match meal, huh?"

"It's how I got all these muscles you like so much", he says, flexing his arm.

I shake my head while Adrià laughs. “You two are too cute”.

“Do you want one?”, says Pablo, showing us all the sweets he has in his pocket.

“Sure”, we both say, picking one each.

“See you later, gorgeous”.

“Too cute”, says Adrià again and I hit his arm.

The 2-1 win means Celta avoids relegation and the whole stadium celebrates the result. But for me, it’s time to get all my stuff and make my way to the airport. It’ll be Adrià who stays to do the interviews this time.

There aren’t many journalists travelling with the team, but they are all staring at me after one of them announced I’m going to be in the player’s area and not with them.

“We never even get to travel with the players anymore but she gets to be with them in first class while we get chronic back pain on those tiny seats”.

“Well, they have to keep little Gavi happy”.

Their laughs make me want to get up and leave but I won’t give them that satisfaction. But their comments get to me. Of course they do. And that’s why when the players show up and Pablo looks at me, I shook my head. I know it hurts him to be rejected, but he also understands why I have to do it.

And it’s only 15 minutes later that I get to join him, and the rest of the team, on the plane.

“Where do you want to sit?”

“I don’t have a preference”, I say, already feeling anxious. Pablo, on the other hand, is acting like an overexcited puppy. And that makes me want to try and hide my fear even more so I don’t ruin this for him.

“Let’s go there. Do you want the window seat?”

“No”.

He takes my laptop bag to put it away and then leads me to the seats he likes. This plane is so big. Too big. But it also feels very small. Can this piece of metal really stay in the sky for so long?

"Do you want some?", says Pablo, offering me more sweets.

"No, thank you".

"Must be the first time you say no to sweets but it's pretty late I guess", he laughs. "Do you want to watch a movie or nap?"

"Yeah", I say, not really listening to him.

"Yes to which one?"

“What?”

He gives me a funny look but doesn’t comment on my reaction. “Movie or nap? What do you prefer?”

“Movie”.

“And cuddles?”

“Of course”, I answer, trying to match his smile.

I try to just focus on the movie and Pablo’s arms around me, protecting me. But they can’t protect me from this fear. Nothing can.

“Tinc por” (I’m scared), I whisper, barely aware I'm speaking.

Pablo looks at me worriedly and not just because of what I said. He knows I only switch to speaking Catalan in front of him when I’m being serious about something. He found that out the few times he pissed me off. And I also do it when I wake up in the morning mumbling nonsensical stuff. But the rest of the time, I speak only Spanish to him. Even if he’s always trying to learn new words in Catalan to say to me because he knows I find that adorable.

"What are you afraid of?"

"Flying".

"What? Since when? You fly for work all the time".

"And it's horrible all the time".

“Why did you never tell me?”

“It’s not as if you could help”.

“So was I supposed to find out when we went on holiday together?”

“I guess. Are you mad I didn’t tell you?”

“Yes. I don’t want us to keep big secrets from each other. But I’m more annoyed I can’t do anything to help you. Should I ask for a sleeping tablet for you? If you’re sleeping you won’t feel bad”.

“I thought about taking one later”.

“Better if you do now and get some sleep. And I’ll have time to figure out how to help”.

“Are you going to Google for tips on how to help?”, I joke.

“Yes”.

“I’ve already tried them all but I appreciate it. I appreciate you”.

While we wait for the flight attendant who’ll bring me my sleeping tablet, I hold onto Pablo tightly. He’s the best remedy to all my problems and doesn’t know it.

"You can leave when I'm sleeping".

"No, I can't".

"Pablo, you've played for 45 minutes and need to move around a bit. You can't just sit for so many hours".

"Stop worrying about me".

"I'm your girlfriend. It's my job to look after you".

"And it's my job to look after you".

I just shake my head at his stubbornness, hiding a smile while I take the tablet. Hoping it’s a strong one that will knock me out for a good amount of hours, I put my head on Pablo’s shoulder and close my eyes.

"Pablo?"

"Yeah?"

"T'estimo molt (I love you so much)".

"I love you too. Sleep well now. You need the rest. I’ll be here by your side the whole time".

When I wake up, I feel so groggy and confused. I notice a weight on my shoulder and see that it’s Pablo’s head resting there.

“Are you feeling better?”, whispers Robert when he notices I’m awake.

“Yes, thank you. I can’t move now, though”.

He laughs too before turning back to watch his movie. And I know I should grab my laptop to get some work done, which will also help me stop worrying about still being on the plane. How long until we get there? An hour and a half. I’ve slept for 13 hours. That’s…a lot.

I need to do something to avoid overthinking so I try and pick up my phone moving slowly.

“What are you…wait!”, seeing me awake wakes Pablo up immediately. “You ok?”

“Yes. I’m fine. We’re almost there and I have to do some work. That always helps”.

“I googled…”, his little blush makes me smile. “It didn’t help much. Unless you let me hypnotize you”.

“You already did. How do you think you managed to get me to date you?”

“So funny”, he says, rolling his eyes and smiling. “You really are feeling better?”

I nod. “And please tell me you didn’t stay all 13 hours here while I slept”.

“I didn’t. But I was always close and looking at you to make sure you were ok”.

“Good”.

I dedicate the last hour on the plane to work and thankfully, after all this suffering, we make it to Japan.

Our routine to avoid people’s comments is exhausting. The team leaves the plane and I have to wait until they are all out. When we get to the hotel, it’s me who gets there first. I don’t get to stay in the same room as Pablo, but it’s the same hotel so just being seen together on the lift could create some drama. And then when some players leave for events they have to attend, we also leave the hotel at different times…only to meet at a café we saw when we got there.

“Fancy seeing you here”.

“Let’s go see the city. Away from all those jealous idiots”, says Pablo, taking my hand. A part of me fears that if he finds out what they say about me, he’ll stop giving them interviews. And that will make me the bad guy for sure.

After a nice romantic walk, we go back to the hotel to rest before the match. A match that doesn’t mean much football-wise but has a lot of sentimental value since it’s against Iniesta’s team. I grew up seeing him play so I’m as excited as all the players are.

The match ends with a 2-0 win for Barça and when I go back to the tunnel to hide from the rain, I hear Pablo calling my name.

“What is it?”

“Come with me”.

“Where?”

“Just come”.

“Pablo…”.

But he doesn’t listen to my protests, moving his hand to grab mine before realising what he’s doing and just telling me to follow him again. So I do.

“Here she is. My girlfriend”.

When I see who Pablo is talking to, I try not to freak out. He’s introducing me to Andrés Iniesta? I have to remind myself to be professional before talking.

“Hi…it’s really nice meeting you”.

“Nice meeting you too. Gavi told me you needed to record a little interview for the radio? I wasn’t going to do any but I guess I can make an exception for him. Or for you”, he laughs.

For a second, I just stare at Iniesta. He’s talking to me and wants me to interview him. How is this my life?

Pablo notices what’s going on and touches my arm to wake me up from my daydreaming.

“Yes. Just two minutes. Let me get my phone to record it. Thank you so much, really”.

While we record the interview, Pablo leaves to meet Iniesta’s kids and then we all leave the stadium and I don’t get to see him until we make it to the hotel.

“Thank you for the Iniesta interview. It’s…a dream”.

“I get it. It was also a dream to play against him”.

I smile at him, suddenly not caring at all about who sees us. “Do you want to hang out before we leave? I have to write an article but it shouldn’t take long”.

“I need to take a nap, sorry”.

“Ok”, I say, slightly disappointed. “I’ll see you at the airport, then”.

Three hours later, I’m surrounded again by all my lovely peers. Noticing their whispers doesn’t bother me anymore. Who cares what they think?

So when I see the players arrive, I walk towards them. I can notice all of them looking at me, surprised. But no one is as surprised as Pablo.

“What are you doing?”

“Hanging out with you guys”.

“Since when?”, laughs Eric. “I thought you were ashamed of being seen next to us”.

“Only of being seen next to you, García”, I joke back.

We keep chatting and get to the topic I didn’t want to think about.

“I didn’t know you were afraid of flying. I used to be a bit but now I do a lot better”, tells me Robert, and I don’t know if it’s true or just him trying to make me feel better but I appreciate it anyway.

“Yeah, it used to be worse for me too. But it’s still hard”.

"It's easier having your boy by your side, right?”, asks Eric.

“A little”.

Pablo grabs Eric’s arm so he can whisper in his ear. And Eric whispers back. What are they doing?

"Sempre al teu costat" (Always by your side).

“Sempre?” (Always?)

“Sempre”.

Even if I can notice everyone’s eyes on us, I hug my boyfriend. And once again, no one is as surprised by my actions as him.

“They can see us”, he whispers.

“Let them see us. I don’t care”.

After the hug, we keep hanging out with the rest of the squad. And when it’s time to board, I grab his hand and hold it until we reach the place.

But all the adrenaline from finally confirming what everyone suspected goes away when I’m back inside the plane.

“Don’t freak out. I got you some things”.

“You what?”

I turn to see Pablo getting a bag out of his backpack.

“I got these tablets which are supposed to calm you down. They have natural ingredients so you can have the sleeping tablet too if you need to. I also got you an eye mask. The lady at the store said you won’t be able to see anything so that might help too. And…where is it? Here! Pillow spray. It’s supposed to be good too, I don’t know. It smells like lavender, it’s nice. I’ll keep it if it doesn’t work”.

"When did you buy all of this?"

"When you were writing the article and I said I would just go nap".

“Why are you perfect?”

“Just trying to help”, he shrugs.

“Having you near me was enough but let’s try all of this!”

#pablo gavi #gavi #pablo gavi imagine #pablo gavi one shot #pablo gavi x reader #pablo gavi x y/n #footballer imagine #footballer one shot #pablo gavi fluff #footballer fluff

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anonymous-dentist · 1 year

Text

Quite frankly some of y’all are getting too parasocial again, especially with the ‘LGBTQSMP’ stuff. By y’all, I mean the fandom at large, but don’t think I haven’t seen some weird stuff on here too.

Last night on Quackity’s stream, one of the first donos called him a “fruit loop”. And like okay, whatever, that’s bad, but then I managed to find the dono’s twitter literally by accident going through my twitter feed and here’s their reason why they did it:

And that’s really fucking weird! You all see why this is weird, right? And all of the replies to the clip of the dono I found (where I found this person) were all in agreement that this was a funny and totally normal thing to do. But, as I’m sure everyone is aware, this is not, in fact, normal. It’s parasocial as fuck, and it’s weird at best and harassment at worst.

Donation etiquette posts are something that go around the fandom every couple of days, and for good reason. Some people are too goddamn parasocial. You don’t know these people, and they don’t know you. It’s like if you walk up to the cashier at McDonalds and call them a “fruit loop” because you saw her talking to another girl earlier. That’s fucked up. At best, it’s fucking weird to do. At worst, it’s outing/harassment. (Not that I think Quackity is queer or anything, that’s none of my business, and it’s not anyone else’s.)

I’ve seen some weird stuff on Twitter recently. Truthing, really, and that’s something parts of this fandom have struggled with for a really long time. But take this tweet by the same person as above as an example:

There’s a difference between jokes about “haha the qsmp is just a gay dating show and jaiden”, but some people are taking that way too literally. I’ve seen truthing on both the English side and Spanish side of the community recently, and you know that I’m not searching it out for the sake of drama because I don’t speak Spanish. I’ve seen multiple Spanish accounts on Twitter telling people to stop being weird in chat because it’s gotten to the point there that the mods are getting involved (I was watching Roier’s stream last night, and I’m pretty sure I saw this myself in chat.)

Jokes are fine. Fandom jokes are fine. But that’s where the jokes should stay- in the fandom. Yes, Quackity made a joke on day one stumbling over his words and “accidentally” calling everyone his boyfriends. Yes, the Spanish creators are a lot more chill with shipping content than the English ones. That doesn’t mean anything irl. Calling it the first bisexual smp is fine as a fandom joke, but people seem to be considering it truth when, as far as I’m aware, there’s only one actual bisexual on the server, and there’s, I believe, only two LGBTQ+ members. While the default shouldn’t be straight, it isn’t cool to just assume people’s identities, and especially not from what they do in minecraft roleplay. That’s called acting, not real life.

Truthing is dangerous. Anyone older than 16 probably remembers the way Markiplier and Jacksepticeye stopped interacting online entirely, and it’s because truthing and shipping actively damaged their friendship. Dan and Phil struggled with this, too, with them actually being gay but being unable to come out until years after they were popular because of all the truthing going on with them.

It’s dangerous! It’s weird as hell! Not everyone is dnf. Even if their boundaries don’t mention it specifically, it should be common sense not to openly speculate on a cc’s sexuality. It should be even more common sense not to call them a literal slur in their text-to-speech donos because you think it’s “telling the truth”. For a straight person, it’s just uncomfortable. For a queer person not out, it could be dangerous.

As a whole, the fandom has been behaving. We’re just under a week in as of today when I’m writing this, so I guess we’ll have to see what happens next. But please remember to be normal. These people aren’t your friends. You don’t know them. You barely even know their characters right now. So calm down and touch some grass before someone actually gets hurt.

#discourse #sorry for the post I saw the tweets and saw red #as someone that was outed against my will bc of ‘jokes’ like this I’m #ugh

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mslowlife · 1 year

Text

Mad(e) For You - Part III

Part I Part II

Pairings: Yandere! Ethan Landry x Yandere! Reader

Warnings: Murder, blood, violence, stabbing, swearing, possessive reader

Summary: No one deserved Ethan, especially her. You were going to make sure of it. Only you deserved him.

Word Count: 947

A/N: This part is really short I'm sorry ;-; i've been so busy last few days but I still hope you enjoy <3 thank u all for the support as well <3

Lydia Marrol. What a name, you thought. You repetitively told yourself that of course he had an ex girlfriend, there would always be another before you, but it still made your blood boil. How dare he. He should have known, he should have just been patient and not given in and dated some lowlife like Lydia. Lydia just seemed so amazing, Lydia had the perfect nuclear family, Lydia was just so smart with her scholarship. Gosh, why are girls so dumb you thought, just accepting any follow request they get for the sake of another follower. She practically let you into her life, to her ‘private’ online world. She did this to herself.

And even though they had been broken up for nearly three months, she still seemed so hung up on him. Always posting some cheesy breakup quote on her story with a sad song, or posting some stupid and unconvincing ‘i’m totally not in love with my ex’ motivation crap. Scrolling through her older instagram posts, you found old photos of Ethan and her together. God. She probably didn’t delete them because she thought they’d get back together. Well they weren’t, you were sure of it.

It didn’t take long to find out who Lydia was, you see with some simple sleuthing you could find exactly what school Lydia Marrol attended, what classes she took down to the exact times and days, and what dorm she stayed in.

Adjusting your coat, you slipped your boots on and headed out the front gate. Finding where Lydia would be this time of evening wouldn’t be too hard, considering she usually spam posts what she’s doing at every time of every day.

Looking at her timetable, you found she just finished class minutes ago. Perfect. Then, you went on her instagram, knowing she would have just posted some unrelatable crap on story, and yes of course, she did. “study timeeee someone bring me coffee and i’ll love you forever” After her insufferable story post, you went back to her first story of day, showcasing her ‘OOTD.’ Perfect again. Now you know what to look for.

Winter was truly showing how harsh it could be, dark clouds rolled over the city, making the sky darker than it was. Droplets of rain fell from the sky, and in a matter of seconds, rain gushed down in violent showers, causing people to run for shelter or pull out their trusty umbrellas. Taking shelter in a nearby bus stop, you waited patiently. She shouldn’t be too far away now. Lydia took the bus home from school on days like today.

In just the corner of your eye, a blurry figure approached through the spitting rain, they wore a tan coloured coat, a grey beanie and dark blue jeans with a tote bag they kept under their arm. There’s Lydia, you thought. Wiping the seat with her hand, she sat down. Offering a friendly smile to you before reaching for her phone in her bag. You glared at her up and down, how could Ethan have loved her? Loved her? What if he loved her? Why would he? Just the thought of him loving her alone made you fuming.

But rather than losing your cool, just yet, you took a deep breath and scanned around you. Ensuring no one was walking nearby, or any cars were around.

Lydia’s face lit up from the glow of her phone. She wasn’t going to see this coming. Reaching into the inside of your coat pocket, you pulled out the silver blade by the heavy wooden handle.

Here goes nothing.

In sudden force, you twisted your body to Lydia, before plunging the knife into her stomach. Her body contorted, buckling beside you as she gasped for air and groaned. Her eyes bulged, swelling with hot tears. Using your free hand, you silenced her by grabbing onto her jaw and covering her mouth. In and out, in and out was the motion of the knife as it punctured her stomach. Blood covered your hands and shirt as you straddled her motionless body to get a better angle of her torso.

“He’s mine. Only mine” You hissed.

Lydia couldn’t even respond, all she could do was gurgle and choke out incoherent words as blood oozed from her mouth.

“Fuckin’ bitch, think he still loves you?”

Still no response. You twisted the knife in her guts, she deserves this.

As your adrenaline surged, you ploughed the knife hard and deeper into her stomach until your arms began to ache.

“Can’t even fucking answer me, can ya?” You berated breathlessly.

Lydia spluttered her final breath, the entirety of her life in the last glimpse and blink of her draining eyes.

You watched as the blood seeped down her torso, onto the bench seat then as it dripped onto the concrete. Her lifeless body spread on the bench, arms flailed apart from her body and painted with her own crimson red blood.

The scene to you was beautiful. Your own artwork on display.

Admiring your work was consuming and all, but as you came down from your adrenaline high, you realised you needed to go. Now.

Before leaving, you quickly changed coats with a new one stuffed away in your bag, then swiftly walked home.

Arriving home, all you could stare at yourself in the mirror. The intricate blood splatters on your body, the way it was smeared over your chest and arms. It was fascinating, surreal even. But what would Ethan think, would he hate you, or would he love you for this? Because after all, you did for him. You killed for him. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Taglist @volturi-girl-imagines @poisonousgem16

#ethan landry #ethan landry x reader #scream #scream 6 #scream vi #ethan landry headcanons #jack champion #yandere #ghostface #scream x reader #scream ethan landry #scream jack champion #scream 6 ethan landry #series

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mochie85 · 1 year

Text

Just For Tonight - Sam

Just For Tonight Masterlist Complete Masterlist

Summary: You take Sam, Bucky, and Loki on the first date. Pairing: Loki x Reader Word Count: 3.1k Warnings: Language, action/race sequence

“Where to first?” Bucky asked getting into the front passenger seat.

“Well, you guys said it was my date, my choice.” You smirked at him as you peeled out of the garage of the tower.

“I don’t like that evil look you got on, Wheelz. What’chu planning? Please don’t make me regret doing this?” Sam muttered.

“I rather enjoy the mystery and suspense. Tell me, Wheelz, what do you like to do on your nights off?” Loki asked in wonderment, a touch of seduction lingering in his voice. You let out a small evil chuckle, making Sam hold tight onto his seatbelt.

Half an hour later you had slowed down and turned onto a deserted street in the industrial docks of Jersey. It didn’t stay like that for long. The men looked around as they heard loud rumbles of engines and the thumping of music coming from cars all lined up. Car after car, parked with lights and stereos all playing the same station. The same signal coming from the DJ, centered at the forefront of the road. You followed a car into an unmarked lot where a large crowd had gathered.

Women walked in groups, wearing next to nothing trying to grab the attention of the men. While the men tried to impress them with their car's bright colors and details.

“Where are we?” Loki asked excitedly.

“A street race? Wheelz! Did you take us to a street race? You know this is illegal, right? If we get caught, HR will have our butts over this.” Sam yelled out.

“So, how’s this different than you guys getting caught in a strip club?” you raised your eyebrow.

“Ey, any law-abiding citizen can go to a club and be a patron. This- THIS IS ILLEGAL!” Sam yelled waving his arms all around him.

“What are we gonna do, Wheelz?” Bucky asked as you parked your car at the very end of the lot. All four of you got out, garnering the attention of everyone nearby.

“Are we here to spectate?” Bucky said rubbing his hands as his attention was caught by some of the more daring women walking past him.

“No. You two will spectate.” You assessed, pointing to Loki and Sam. “I’m going to race.” All three men looked at you bewildered. “You, are gonna be my spotter.” You concluded pointing to Bucky.

“And what does a spotter do, exactly?” Bucky asked.

“You sit there and look pretty.” You sassed back.

“Oh, no. No, no, no.” Sam said shaking his head.

“You spot for cops and other drivers so that I don’t get into an accident.” You answered truthfully.

“Shouldn’t Loki be the one then? I’m pretty sure his magic would be able to spot any cops or stop someone from crashing into you.” Bucky suggested. Loki smiled and looked hopeful.

“No. I want you,” you decided, pointing back to Bucky. Your declaration hurt Loki. The ease of your rejection stung like salt on an open wound. Of course, you wouldn’t think of him worthy enough to assist you. He was too sheltered, and you probably thought he was too pampered as a prince of Asgard.

In truth, having Loki as your spotter wouldn’t do you any good. It would be too distracting. You would be too engrossed in his deep voice to hear anything else. You needed to concentrate, and you could only do that with Barnes or Wilson.

Well, maybe not Wilson. He looks like he’s about to throw up. So, Bucky it was. “You boys stay here while I go register. We’re playing for pinks. Come on, Barnes. I’ll show you the course.” You delegated as you walked away.

“Pinks!” Sam exclaimed.

“What are pinks?” Loki asked as he watched you stroll away with Bucky. The confident strut of your walk mesmerized him.

“Pink slips. The titles and ownership of the cars.” Sam answered, pulling Loki out of his trance.

“Why the obvious change in demeanor, my friend? You act as if you were Rogers about to get caught watching those lewd videos online,” Loki laughed.

“Man! I cannot be seen here!” Sam strained to whisper.

“You weren’t bothered when that rather buxom woman at the club rubbed your face in her…”

“That’s not the point, Laufeyson!”

“What is it then?”

“I can’t get caught here because if they recognize me, then it will be my third offense and I will not go to jail, Loki! Do you hear me? I WILL NOT BE SITTING MY ASS ON A BENCH SHARING IT WITH A GUY NAMED BIG AL. NO. NO. NO.”

“Relax, my friend.” Loki laughed louder at the comical image of his fellow Avenger. “Here,” he said splaying his fingers. “I put a disguise on you so that no one will recognize you.” Sam touched his face and felt the wiry curls of a long beard covering his chin and cheeks, reaching down to his navel. Loki conjured a baseball cap and placed it on top of Sam’s head, covering most of his face.

The look of instant relief was evident in Sam’s eyes. “Oh, thank god.”

“You’re very welcome!” Loki laughed again. “Who knew that our beloved Falcon had a penchant for illegal street racing? We’re you bad at it? Is that why you got caught multiple times?” Loki teased.

Sam rolled his eyes. “For your information, it was before I went to the military. I was good. I built my own car. And by sheer luck, I won my first race. Which helped me get better parts and better gear. When I won my first race with ‘pinks’ I dismantled that car and gave life to my old one. By the second time they caught me, my old man gave me an ultimatum. Either go into the military or go to jail. So, I chose the military.”

“Do you regret it, sergeant?”

“Not one bit,” Sam said looking into Loki’s eyes. “Which is why I’m trying to hide.”

“I doubt they’ll lock up a fellow Avenger for just spectating. It was so long ago. Surely they’ve forgotten about your past transgressions…” Loki trailed off as he watched you walk back with Barnes.

Genuinely, he had never seen you so commanding. So confident. Hell, he’d never seen you outside of your work clothes- those baggy jumpsuits and white shirts that were smeared with whatever Stark had you working on that day and covered up the artwork on your skin.

To see you in your world was breathtaking. From your boots accentuating your long legs to the loose-fitting shirt hiding the shape of your body underneath. It was enough to make Loki’s imagination run wild with impure thoughts. “What do you suppose her tattoo is?” Loki asked aloud about you.

“What tattoo?” Sam asked.

“The one gracing her right thigh. Hiding underneath her skirt.”

“OH. Oh ho ho! What’s this? What’s this? Does our local god have a crush on our resident mechanic?!” Sam said as he punched Loki in the am. “Ow.” He winced quietly to himself.

“What made you come to that conclusion?”

“I didn’t even notice the tattoo on her leg, man. You did! And you must’ve been looking pretty hard, cuz I can barely see it myself now that you pointed it out,” Sam laughed.

“Boys. You ready?” you asked coming up to them. “Whoa, what’s up with the beard?”

“I’m hiding. Alright! No one saw me!” Sam pointed to all three of you.

“Are you sure, you wouldn’t rather have Loki as your spotter?” Bucky asked again, laughing at Sam. You looked Loki in the eyes- the swirling mix of blue and green. His smirk inviting you to come closer.

“Nah. Pretty boy can stay here.” You smirked back.

“Hey! I thought I was ‘pretty boy’?” Sam yelled offended.

“Not with that beard you’re not,” you shook your head. Bucky and Loki laughed.

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t Miss Avenger herself.” A high-pitched nasally voice hooked all of your attention as a small petite blonde came walking up with a small following behind her. “I thought you had a date with Devin tonight?”

“Suki.” You greeted her. The men around you could hear the distaste in your voice. The sudden change in your stance, almost territorial, blocked her view of them behind you. “I had a work thing come up and it ended early. So, now I’m here. Why? You scared?”

“Unbelievable!” Suki scoffed. “Watch out for this one boys,” She said to your friends behind you. “She’ll string you along and then drop you when something better comes along. Like she did with Devin,” she baited as she eyed Loki up and down.

“Why you little…” you moved to lunge at her before Loki wrapped his arms around your waist to stop you. You tried to wiggle out of his grasp, reaching your hands forward to pull on her brittle, fake-ass hair.

“Once I win your car, I’ll take your little harem too.” She laughed as she winked at Bucky. That got you even angrier.

“Go back to your car, Dollar-Bin Barbie, before I tell the officials and you get demoted for talking smack.” Sam defended you.

“It would do you no good to waste your anger now. Save it for the race, darling,” Loki whispered in your ears. Your nose flared and stared hard at Suki walking away. You looked back up into Loki’s eyes as you straightened out. His jaw clenched watching the anger in your eyes slowly fade into determination. His pride showed in his smile.

*~*

Not long after, you pulled up on an abandoned stretch of road with your Red Devil and two other cars. One was an Eclipse Spider with a ridiculously high spoiler. The other was Suki and her small white Corolla. Her engine growled, while the anime girl decal on the side of her car mocked you.

The smell of exhaust and gasoline filled the air, igniting your body. You revved your engine and she did the same. “You got this,” Bucky said in the earpiece. “Sam’s monitoring police radio. You’re good to go.”

As soon as the guy dropped his arm and gave the signal, you only heard the screech of your tires on asphalt. The engines of the three cars screamed, hiding the cheer of the crowd dwindling in your rearview mirror. The lurching feeling of momentum pushed you down on your seat as your foot pushed your car faster and further. The three of you were neck-and-neck with you leading the pack only by a few inches.

“Wheelz, Suki right behind you to your 7,” Bucky informs you. No sooner had he finished his sentence, Suki catches up to you on your left and looks at you through her window. Giving her the finger, you flipped the switch for your nitrous and your Red Devil sped even faster.

Not to be outdone, the other two racers also boosted their cars. You maintained your lead, not bothering to slow down when you passed the finish line. The drag came to a quicker end than you had expected.

You won the race, with the two other cars behind you. Bucky heard you scream your excitement through the mic and had to take the earpiece off. “Fuck Ya!” you yelled, hitting your steering wheel. Your car swerved, braking at an angle, facing the starting line and the cheering crowd down the street.

You exited the car jumping and yelling, letting off the excess adrenaline from winning your race. But most importantly, not losing to Suki.

“Congratulations, darling. Now hurry up and get back here to me so we can celebrate.” Loki’s rich voice resonated in your ear making you turn around in your excitement. You spotted him in the crowd, smiling at you. Even from this long distance, you can spot his glow. His essence, his lip bite as he beckoned you to come back.

You drove back to a cheering crowd all gathering around your car. You exited and were met by Sam, Bucky, and Loki who picked you up and twirled you around. You laughed in his ear. The sweet tinkling of your voice made him shiver where he stood.

“Alright, Wheelz. Which pink would you like? Winner chooses,” the head racing promoter said to you. He handed your pink slip back and offered you the other two.

You regarded each one with careful decision. After a while, you looked up to see Suki staring at you with a sour expression on her face. She probably didn’t feel too good, knowing that her car was potentially up for grabs.

You looked straight into her eyes and said, “Well, you know me. Always looking for something better to come along,” as you took the other racer’s pinks.

She huffed and walked away from the jeering crowd grabbing her title back from the promoter. The other driver fell to the ground at having lost his car to you.

“FIVE-OH. FIVE-OH,” you heard Sam yell out. “Everybody scram!” Like dust in the wind, everyone scattered in different directions.

You grabbed the keys to your new trophy car from the losing driver and threw your old keys to Bucky. “Meet me at Delia’s on Madison. Ask FRIDAY to give you directions.” You ran to your new car and put it on Drive when the passenger door opened next to you and Loki got in.

You were right. You would’ve lost if Loki had been your spotter. You just froze and stared at his profile. “Wheelz! Go!” he ushered.

“Oh, right!” you flustered as you put the car into gear and hauled out. The flashing sirens of blue and red were nothing but twinkling lights in your rearview mirror. You felt bad for whoever got caught. An unsaid rule was that the other losers should offer a ride to the one who lost their car in case of police intervention. You hope that Suki was nice enough to offer that poor guy a ride. You can only hope that Sam and Bucky made it out safe too.

“That was phenomenal back there, Wheelz. Where did you learn to drive like that?” Loki asked next to you. Your thoughts swerved back around to him sitting so close to you. You didn’t realize how small Eclipses were until now. Or maybe, Loki just has a huge…

“My dad took me to the races when I was young. He was a mechanic and fixed cars. He belonged to a small club that paid him good money to mod their vehicles on-site.”

“I see.” He said as he held on to the handle when you drifted to your right.

“He didn’t want this life for me. So he made me study hard and work hard. I eventually got into MIT, but…”

“But you still ended up here.” Loki finished. You gave him an unapologetic look. “I, for one, am glad you turned out to be who you are,”

“Really? Why is that?” The loud wail of sirens startled the both of you as flashing blue and red lights appeared in your mirrors. You rolled your eyes as you pressed on the gas, shifting gears, and pushing the car faster than you knew how. You were finally getting somewhere with Loki and the po-po just had to butt in. Typical.

Loki turned in his seat and watched as the police cars came closer. He hummed as he made a duplicate image of your vehicle split from your car and drive off in another direction. The police had to make a quick decision and chose to follow the decoy instead, no doubt calling for backup to find you guys. “On your next turn, pull over to the side. I can cloak us till they pass.”

You did as he asked. You drifted into a parking position and turned off the lights and engine. The two of you sat there in the dark, underneath an alleyway light. The silence was ringing in both your ears.

“I would’ve made a great spotter, Wheelz. I hope that proved to you I’m not as cloistered as you think.” He said softly with that simpering smile that had you weak in the knees.

“What?” You asked confused.

“Isn’t that why you chose Bucky over me to be your spotter? You think he’s more in touch with your scene. Grittier, less…sheltered.”

“No. I didn’t choose you because if I did, I would’ve lost.”

“Oh,” a new kind of pain wretched in his heart. You thought he would’ve let you down. That he wouldn’t have helped you secure your victory. Perhaps, maybe even bring you bad luck.

“You would’ve easily distracted me with that attractive voice of yours.” You said absent-mindedly, looking out the window as a police car passed you by. “I wouldn’t have been able to concentrate.”

You had said it like it was an easy thing to admit. As if you were discussing strategy on how to win your next race. “The cops passed. I think we’re home free. Let’s go see if the other two made it to Delia’s,” you said as you turned on your engine and pulled out to the busy street.

Loki sat quietly next to you. The blurry view and the glittery lights of the city passing by only added to the dream-like state he was in.

You found him distracting. A striking smile formed on his face.

You found his voice, attractive. That smile grew even wider.

“So you never did answer my question,” you urged.

“What question, darling?” he turned to you with the happiest expression on his face.

“You said you were glad I turned out the way I did. Why?” You asked vulnerably. You weren’t sure you wanted an actual answer.

“Because you’re different. You’re not like the others.”

“Is that why you guys went to the strip club earlier? Because you were looking for something different? Something more like the women on Asgard?” You pulled up next to Delia’s. The name, in bright pink and green neon, shone brightly through the window. You parked and got out of the car. Looking around you spotted your Red Devil two cars down and Sam and Bucky getting out to greet you.

Loki scoffed. “Ugh, don’t remind me about that failed endeavor,” he said walking next to you.

“What? Why? I thought you said they were ‘like the vixens of Asgard?’”

“Precisely my point, dear girl. They were all the same. Not one of them had any charisma or grace. None of them had a sense of self or individuality,” He stopped and paused to emphasize his next point because he didn’t want you to misunderstand what he was about to confess. “Not one of them was you.”

⬅️Chapter 1: Wheelz | Chapter 3: Bucky (Coming Soon)➡️

@alexs1200 @a-witch-with-words @athalialaufeyson @britishserpent @cakesandtom @crimson25 @el-zef @fictive-sl0th @gigglingtigger @glitterylokislut @goldencherriess @holdmytesseract @holymultiplefandomsbatman @huntress-artemiss @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @immersed-in-mischief @kats72 @kellatron55 @kikster606 @kkdvkyya @ladyofthestayingpower @lokidbadguy @lokiprompts @lokisasgardianvampirequeen @lokisgoodgirl @lokisninerealms @lokischambermaid @lokixryss @loopsisloops @lucylaufeyson3 @luvlady-writes @michelleleewise @mischief2sarawr @muddyorbs @nopenottodayson @one-oblivious-nerd @ozymdias @peaches1958 @peachyjinx @salempoe @sarahscribbles @sarawr-reads @silverfire475 @springdandelixn @starktowerrooftop @stupidthoughtsinwriting @tallseaweed @theaudacitytowrite @thedistractedagglomeration @thomase1 @vickie5446 @vbecker10 @wheredafandomat @xorpsbane

#Marvel men #men of marvel #loki fanfic #loki fluff #mcu #loki laufeyson #loki fandom #tom hiddleston fanfic #loki x you #loki oneshot #loki x reader #marvel fanfic #loki series #Sam wilson #Bucky Barnes #Car race

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gamerwoo · 1 year

Text

hansol: the lovers playlist

characters: hansol x female reader (mentions of reader x felix tho hehe)

genre/warnings: idol au, friends to strangers, angst, honestly still a happy ending just not for hansol lmao, mention of reader being from america on the east coast

word count: 1,557

summary: will you remember? do you remember me?

a/n: things in bold italics are song lyrics, and things in plain italics are memories (because this is a time skip to months after hansol giving reader the tape)

previous song | back to playlist

Wrote you a letter now that I'm here without you

He stared down at his phone, the long paragraph typed out but unsent. Should he send it? There was something about three strikes and you’re out, right? This would be the third, since you already gave him a second chance after he first hurt you. He didn’t even expect you to text him back that time.

But there shouldn’t have even been a second time. He shouldn’t have fucked up the first time when you befriended him, back when you were newly-debuted, wide-eyed and hopeful.

Hansol was vaguely familiar with your group. There was talk around the company about the newest group to debut, and he’d heard a few things here and there, as well as Seungkwan’s nosiness leading him to look your group up online and babble about little facts he read. He’d seen maybe half of you in the practice rooms or passing through the hall. He had seen you once, and it was fleeting, but he remembered Mingyu mentioning, “Whoa, she’s cute.”

“Yeah,” he agreed casually with a shrug, “she is.”

Because you were, but it wasn’t anything that deep. Hansol was very much a personality guy -- he didn’t care if you were physically attractive, he cared about who you were as a person.

But now you were in the same room as him, and he figured he should say hello. You were the girl from the east coast, and so was he. He figured he could say something. His intention really was just to be nice to the rookies, walking up to you despite your back facing him as you were caught up in polite conversation with a couple of your members and a few of his own.

“Hello,” he spoke up, hoping you’d turn around.

Would it be weird to tap your shoulder? Maybe. Probably.

You turned around, and he saw your eyes widen slightly as your eyebrows raised.

He could tell you were nervous when you said, “Hello!” from the way you squeaked slightly. He thought it was cute, smiling warmly at you before introducing himself.

Hope that you're better; Hope that you found someone new

He didn’t fall for you when he first met you. No, it took a couple times for him to finally realize he was catching feelings. When Mingyu had spoken up about his growing crush on you, Hansol didn’t feel threatened or jealous. You were friends at the time, but that was it.

Until...

“Oh, shit. I should probably get back to my dorm.”

Hansol felt his heart sink. He didn’t want you to go. You were having fun playing video games together, and he wouldn’t see you for the next month -- not that you knew that. He wanted to have as much time with you as possible. You were his best friend!

As Mingyu and Wonwoo suggested ways to get you home, Hansol panicked and blurted, “Well…w-why don’t you stay here?”

“Wait, really?” you asked. “Is…that allowed?”

“Technically,” Wonwoo shrugged, “but we have–”

“It’s fine,” Hansol quickly interrupted Wonwoo so he wouldn’t give away anything. If you knew they had a flight the next day, there was no way you’d agree to stay over, too worried about Hansol getting rest.

You always put others first. You were too kind.

He really liked that about you. How kind you were.

“_____, you can crash here tonight if you don’t have anywhere to be tomorrow.”

You shrugged, “Nah, we have the day off tomorrow. I’m down if it won’t get you in trouble.”

“What’re you worried about?” Mingyu smirked. “Think the managers will get the wrong idea?”

“Even if they did, there’s no dating ban,” Hansol scoffed before he quickly added on, “and I’d set the record straight. I never lie to the managers so they always believe what I say – unlike some people.”

Because there was nothing to lie about. You were his best friend. Just his best friend.

But the two of you ended up laying in his bed until 3am, listening to soft music and just talking. And as Maroon 5 played in the background, he started to realize something...

“You have a schedule tomorrow, don’t you?” you asked suddenly.

“Hm?”

“Wonwoo was going to say you have something when you invited me to stay. I assumed it was something like ‘we have schedules tomorrow’.”

“Worse,” Hansol chuckled shortly. “We’re going to Japan tomorrow.”

Your head turned to see Hansol was already looking at you, “Japan…?”

“We released a Japanese mini album that we’re promoting,” he explained. “We’ll be in Japan for the next month.”

He could see the sadness on your features out of the corner of his eye. The same sadness he felt thinking about not seeing you for so long, not even just for a couple of seconds walking by each other at the building.

No, Hansol didn’t just see you as his best friend. There was something more...

But then you looked like a scolding mother as you exclaimed, “Wait, you have to get up early to get on a plane, but you’re still awake at 3am! Hansol, go the fuck to sleep! You should’ve told me!”

He laughed as you whacked his face with a pillow, taking it off of his face and tossing it back to the head of the bed.

God, he was going to miss you. He was going to miss how comfortable he felt with you. How happy you made him. How easily you could make him laugh. How easily you could just sit in silence and he’d still feel content.

“_____, I’m not going to see you for a month,” he told, you turning his head to look into your eyes. “No hanging out, no late night drives, no nothin’.”

“Yeah, I’m well aware,” you deadpanned.

“So I didn’t say anything because I didn’t wanna sleep,” he admitted with a soft smile, warm brown eyes looking into yours. “I wanted to spend time with you before I left. You’re my best friend and I’ll miss you.”

He searched your eyes, hoping you’d get the hint. Hoping that he was trying to tell you that you were far more important to him than just a friend, and wondering if you’d reciprocate.

But instead, you just smiled and said, “I’ll miss you, too.”

Looking back on that memory, knowing what he knew now, he wondered when it happened for you. When did you realize you loved him and how did he read the signs so badly that he couldn’t pick up on it?

He hoped Felix made you happy, though. He had seen the official announcement for your relationship, but he’d seen the photos and videos posted of the two of you spending time together and playing video games together before that. He could tell from your smiles and laughs that you were genuinely happy, and despite the hurt in his heart, he was happy you had someone else that you were willing to spend all your time with; someone you could put all the love you had toward like you tried to with him and he so ignorantly ignored it. You deserved someone who would take it and return it tenfold, and he hoped that’s what your boyfriend did for you.

'Cause I'm getting older; Know that I've changed; And I can't go back now; Nothing's the same; But I won't forget how you called my name when I was afraid; And now I'm afraid

Those memories felt like a lifetime ago. Honestly, the last moment he had with you in your car felt like a lifetime ago, so meeting you felt even longer than that. And now...there was nothing. He hadn’t spoken to you in months, and he tried to be okay with that -- it wasn’t that you told him you wanted nothing to do with him, it was just...awkward after you turned him down -- but lately, he just...missed you. Maybe it was because your relationship announcement was so new and it hurt more than he would admit to his friends. Maybe he was jealous? He wasn’t sure.

And that unsureness was what made him tap on his text and delete the whole thing. If he wasn’t sure of his intentions, he shouldn’t bother reaching out. He didn’t want to hurt you again. He already did it once. Maybe this was just karma for what he unintentionally did to you. It was his turn to hurt now.

Will you remember me? Will you remember the way that I was? Will you remember me? Will you remember the way that you felt when you're next to me?

He tossed his phone to the side of his bed and laid on his back, staring at the ceiling and focusing on the music playing softly in the background.

Was it mean of him to hoped you remembered him? To hope that you still cherished the good memories like he did? To think of him even if you were in love with someone else now? Would he still hold a place in your heart as somebody you used to love?

Would you remember him as the Hansol you laughed with and sang along with, or the one that accidentally crushed your heart?

Will you remember? Do you remember me?

Hansol would never know.

── « ⋅ʚ ♫ ɞ⋅ » ───

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skippyv20 · 4 months

Text

Hello, I know it’s Christmas. I hope you don’t mind me asking just a bit confused. A bit long. So, I’ve been unemployed for a year now ( really trying to find work, no luck). I am dependent financially on my husband (so awkwardly when I asked) I’m a very basic woman with no hobby, and not into shopping or parlors, only I love vintage shops. Recently, since we put up our Christmas tree, I’ve been hooked on buying vintage ornaments in thrift stores and online marketplace ( and, I choose the cheapest). The other night, he told me he sent money ($3000) to his two 30-ish kids ( from a previous marriage) as gifts, which I didn’t mind. Tonight, I asked him why he doesn’t have gifts for me, he told me he has been buying me stuff and those are gifts. I’m like “Ohh, I didn’t know”. He doesn’t want to talk about it anymore because he opted to sleep then have me “ making an issue out of it”. I was confused and hurt. I don’t know how to react. Part of me feels guilty for spending “nonsense” stuff and the other wants to “fight”. I feel insulted because those vintage are cheap and thrifty not expensive at all. He makes me feel I spend a lot on nonsense. Is he right to say that? Are husbands spending on a wife’s privilege or a responsibility? Am I just being sensitive? Thank you.

Hi! I am so sorry you are feeling so bad. As I read this I was thinking (as I always do (when an issue arises with Mr. Skippy)…Men are From Mars, and Women are from Venus. We just don’t communicate. We may start off communicating and it gets lost as time goes by. I have misinterpreted things, only to find…it was all due to a misunderstanding…of just plain not understanding. We think we get confused, well men don’t only cause us confusion….they are more confused than we are.

A couple of scenarios…

When confronted he felt he had to throw it back at you, because he sensed he did something wrong. It wasn’t the fact he gave his daughters money, it was the fact he pushed you aside. The only way out he saw was saying he pays for things, so those are gifts. That made sense to him. Did he say that to hurt you? Probably not…just thought it made sense, like you should be happy, look he does do things for you.

If these vintage ornaments are special to you, and if he tells you they are gifts from him, then he should take part in joining you when you go out and about shopping for them. If you are looking on line, he should sit there with you….then, to me, those are gifts. It’s a shared experience. You wanting, and him meeting your needs.

If he thinks that idea doesn’t work, then you need to tell him you want him to buy you gifts on his own. That you don’t feel important or special, as if it is too much effort for him to do something sweet for you.

I think you really need to ask him how this makes sense to him…listen closely to what he tells you.

I would strongly suggest reading Men are From Mars, Women are from Venus. When Mr. Skippy and I first got together, we would read chapters together and then discuss them…we were fascinated with how differently we really do think. It really helped our relationship. Not so quick to argue when you stand back and think…oh he thinks that way because….he isn’t thinking that way to hurt me….he doesn’t understand me…then you talk it out…and these issues become easy to resolve. As for a husband spending money on his wife, that is a privilege he gets, because he has you in his life, he chose you to spend his life with…he is lucky to have you.

No, you are not being too sensitive. You were hurt, and rightfully so. You should never be in the position to be considered not important in his life. Just because we love someone and stay with them, the rules shouldn’t change. If you love me, and are with me…treat me well. Of course, I don’t know what I am talking about….but if anything makes sense to you, great. If it doesn’t…sorry…..I send you love and hugs…..hang on…a bright New Year is coming….❤️

#submission

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alesyira · 6 months

Text

fruitless

super early draft, but i'm spending nano wordcount working on the accidental vigilante story. it's really neat to revisit something in a new way. this reads a bit like it could belong in the sweeter, softer cute-guy AU, but it won't stay that way for long. this content is probably going to be what part of the first chapter once i get enough of the series offering done & edited to start posting, but i want to share early even if this part isn't terribly exciting. Writing is writing and it's been way way way too long.

Fun fact, most of this was written with voice recognition, so if you notice some weird punctuation or typos, no you did not. I'll be sweeping for bugs before sharing on AO3. Thank you for reading!!

He turned down his mother's help to help find his new apartment. He'd already done so many things on his own (from the relative safety of his childhood home) that surely this low-stakes task is something he can accomplish given enough time and resources.

Maybe if he'd been pressed for faster turnaround, kicked out and wandering the streets with nowhere else to go, he might've been willing to accept an adult’s help navigating the strange world of leases and rentals and potentially shady (or dangerous) deals.

But no, he does some poking around online, asks his friends what they would do, and then does his best on his own. He tries a few places in person and is immediately turned away at the door.

He should have figured. It’s not exactly safe to walk up to an unfamiliar building and ask to see available units.

There’s been too much crime in the last few years for people to be very trusting of strangers.

After that, he tries calling places before showing up. He gets similar results. No one is willing to meet with an unknown variable with a suspiciously nervous youthful voice and promises of enough cash to cover the first three months of rent.

He starts to get a little frustrated, but he runs his fingers through his hair and takes a deep breath as he leans against the glass wall at the local bus stop. He shouldn’t expect to find much in only one day of apartment searching.

He needs a mediator. A contractor. Someone who knows these people and can get him an in, or can at least take down his information and find a few willing parties to hear him out without assuming he’s going to rob them blind.

A local realtor’s office doesn’t seem very impressed by his youth, and even less impressed when he hands over one of his faked IDs. Foreigner, but at least it lists a quirk. He doesn’t want to think about what kinds of dismissal he’d see if he dared trying to apply for an apartment as a quirkless citizen.

Their interest perks a little at his available budget, but he gets a firm denial within thirty minutes.

Nothing available in the surrounding areas.

He wilts a little.

It’s fine.

Probably.

He can keep looking for something.

The realtor’s office isn’t completely cruel, though, and promises to put him on a waiting list.

He jots down his phone number in the middle of a dusty page in an aging binder, feeling very little hope they’ll call him back.

He picks up a little pint of strawberry ice cream on his way home that afternoon, a little bummed that he’s had no luck.

It’s not worth getting upset over one fruitless day of searching.

He still has plenty of time to figure something out.

The warm scents of home-cooked food greet him as he pushes open the front door. He only has one key on his keychain, so there’s nothing to jingle as he pockets it and kneels to remove his shoes with a little sigh. The door clicks quietly as he locks it, and his mother is waiting for him with a soft expression when he turns around.

Sometimes it surprises him that she knows when he gets home even if he hasn't yet said a word.

“Welcome home,” she murmurs, her keen gaze catching sight of his half-smile. “No luck, today?”

He shrugs and holds out the pint of ice cream.

Dinner is quiet, but by the time dessert rolls around he’s feeling a lot better. She refuses to let him help with the dishes, instead shooing him toward the living room to pick out a movie they can watch together.

He selects a goofy pre-quirk spy flick and pauses it on the opening title, then opens his laptop to poke around on the forums until his mom joins him.

His inbox has over a dozen unread messages.

“Weird,” he mutters, clicking into them with cautious curiosity. The subject lines are usually the first indication of spam mail, but these are all well-written, and he quickly discovers they're advertisements for apartment offerings from all over the city.

Not spam.

But he doesn’t remember giving his email to the realtor’s office. He chews his lip as he thinks back through his day. When could he have-?

He absently skims the first message.

Amenities: Rooftop pool. State-of-the-art heroNet connection speeds.

Izuku scoffs. Being out in the open, exposed to the elements and also anyone who might be flying/jumping/sneaking about overhead? Maybe before quirks that would have been nice, but not anymore. The heroNet connection claim sounds pretty good, but he doesn’t need speed as much as reliability, and his wireless setup can keep him running from nearly anywhere in the city.

Amenities: One block away from the city library. Gorgeous floor-to-ceiling picture windows. Park within easy walking distance.

He pauses and purses his lips. The library is a little tempting, but he really has all the information he needs at his fingertips. And he likes looking out of big windows, but he doesn’t feel very safe around them. Curtains would be a necessity. Park close by is both a blessing and a curse, probably beautiful and very dangerous, unless that’s a more expensive part of the city that still retains some hero presence. (In which case, he probably can’t afford that apartment, anyways.)

Amenities: Well-aged closed-circuit security system. Cafe on first floor, residents only.

Izuku’s finger hovers over the touch pad. This one sounds promising. Closed-circuit systems are notoriously difficult to get into without being on-site. And he likes cafes, especially ones that sound like he won’t have to worry about being surrounded by a lot of strangers.

His mom joins him on the couch with a blanket and two cups of tea.

He shuts his laptop with a bright grin, already feeling the hope welling up within him.

The advertisements can wait until morning.

With the clarity of morning and even more apartment offerings in his inbox, he starts thinking back to the day before. He’s certain he hadn’t written his email address on anything. He stares at the messages, tapping between them, searching the metadata for clues or patterns as his mind whirs through possibilities. Maybe his phone number is linked with his email address in some obscure database?

He absently starts a search on his phone number in a background window to see how many hits he can generate before he returns to the advertisements. No other identifying information can be found within the messages, so he doesn't think it's been somehow linked with his name. All the messages come from different addresses, different systems, different networks. There doesn't seem to be a common thread between any of the sources.

It's as if he's been added to some kind of housing mailing list.

The background window flickers to indicate the search has completed.

No hits.

He breathes a little sigh of relief. That's one less thing to worry about. But still…

Had he really handed out his email address and forgotten about it?

He absently taps his finger against a key.

He hates to think he's forgotten something that important, but he also hates to think that someone took one look at his face as he walked into the realtor's office and immediately knew how to reach him.

(That seems nearly impossible, but quirks are capable of some nearly impossible stuff.)

there's more coming pretty soon as scenes sneak out of my notes and outline. <3 ily

#midoriya izuku #izuku midoriya #mha #mha fanfiction #bnha #bnha fanfiction #two steps to the left AU #accidental vigilante AU

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maripie173 · 2 months

Text

wc: 751

She’s humming a distant tune. I watch her twirl her hair between her fingers, mumbling words carved into my brain. Her voice is rough, unsuited to sing such high-pitched melodies, but she hardly bats an eye when her voice cracks and quivers.

Her gun lay next to her, carelessly dropped when we sat down together. I find myself wondering if she is even slightly off-put by the blood sliding over her legs and seeping through her socks.

Although I cannot help but feel slightly hypocritical. I feel hardly fazed by the carnage surrounding us. I ignore the entrails draped over my ankles. I didn’t put them there.

Her humming fades away, and I pretend to busy myself with my own pistol so as to ignore her piercing stare. There is only one bullet left. I return it to the ground.

“I love you, Mocha-bear.” She grins at me. I gracefully ignore the blood smeared down her cheek, and instead sigh in half-forced amusement.

“No, you don’t.” I return her smile with an upward twitch of the corners of my lips. “But I know what you’re trying to say.”

She laughs. “You know me that well, do you?” She brings her knees up to her chest and presses her cheeks to her legs. Half of her face is hidden, but I can still see her eyes creasing in bemusement.

I do know her that well.

“I’m glad to have spent all these happy years with you, even if it has to end like this.” She ignores the implications of my words and instead hums in agreement.

“I’m sorry if I treated you badly.”

“It’s okay. I was bad too.

“No, I really am sorry.” She sits up and stretches her leg out so it rests in my lap. “I was awful, and I really do love you.” I laugh and pat her ankle. I hope she understands what I’m trying to say, too.

We sit in silence for a while. It’s quiet in the Yun-Kim Entertainment building, for maybe the first time in four years.

“Hey, Micha.”

I hum in acknowledgement, my gaze flicking from the outfit coordinator smeared across the tiled floor, back up to Joowon’s solemn face. Her eyes have dulled, and I can see my reflection in her iris. I look bad. My hair is matted, and I can feel the ends sticking to my shoulders. Sweat has dried up over my hairline. I am frowning.

“I think I’d rather just die here. With you.” She sighs, lacing her hands together in her lap and soothing a thumb over her grazed knuckles.

“What?”

“Don't you?” She sighs out a humourless chuckle, forcing a tight grin. “If we leave the building it will all be over anyway. We’ll go to jail, and we’ll never see each other again, and Lan will just get away with it like she gets away with everything.”

I tense at the mention of Lan’s name. “She’ll still get away with it if we do it now.” But I know what she means. I kind of want to just die right here, too. But shouldn’t I at least try to convince her to live?

Ah, but she sees right through me. “Let’s just die now, Mocha. I’d rather die here than rot to death in jail.”

I stay quiet for a long time.

“Yeah, I guess. Let’s do it.” I skirt around the word ‘die’. It’s a habit I picked up from my father. Sweet man. I’m sorry to leave him behind, but he’ll be fine. I make a mental note to, if I find myself in heaven, say hello to my mother for him.

“I wonder where Lan is now,” I mumble, my frown only deepening. Joowon rolls her eyes.

“Probably plotting some poor other group’s downfall. I don’t know what we even fucking did to her.”

I laugh sardonically. “Make better music.” She giggles along with me, smiling as she picks up her pistol off the ground and nods towards mine. I pick it up, my laughter fading into a tense silence.

“Any last words?” she grins, a little self-deprecatingly. She presses the barrel of her gun under my jaw, aiming up. I mirror her.

I hum in thought. “If I could have chosen anyone to… you know… with, it would have been you.” She smiles at me, and I notice tears pooling in her eyes.

“Me too. I’m glad to die with you. I love you, Micha.”

I grin. “I love you, too.”

first post ^__^ kind of nervous i never share my oc stuff online LOL but thank u for reading <333

#oc #writing #original character #oc writing #⇢ ˗ˏˋ blazing tomorrow #↳ joowon cho ༉‧₊#↳ micha jeung ༉‧₊#↳ lan huang ༉‧₊#❛staccato of the masked ༉‧₊˚

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noxexistant · 11 months

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I WANT YOUR THOUGHTS ON MODERN/INFLUENCER AU. ANYTHING AND EVERYTHING

-someone who shouldn’t be on his phone bc he’s at work

i am a suckerrrr for modern/influencer aus, and i LOVE yours. this probably won’t follow it exactly because my brain unfortunately cannot work like that but just know that all your ideas and posts about it are fantastic and i owe you my life

(also, what could be more worth being on your phone at work for than this?)

this is going to be very disjointed and chaotic but i have Many Ideas. first of all, you having the delanceys as mma fighters? genius. everything to me.

they left their one and only “real home” as kids when they were removed from their dad’s care, and they’ve never had one since - moving between foster homes, care facilities, hospitals, juvenile detention centres, and now they live between hotel rooms and brief apartment stays. their only sense of stability is each other. their idea of “settling down” is staying in one airbnb for a few months if they’re on break or have an opportunity to fight on contract somewhere. they always sleep in the same room, which most people think is strange, but, for their whole childhood, being apart - particularly while asleep - meant danger, and oscar can never trust that morris is safe unless he can see him, unless he’s close enough to reach out and touch. even when they’re in the same room, on bad nights they’ll end up in the same bed, just like when they were kids.

they started training when they were frankly far too young to, when a worker at some facility they were in wanted to try and channel their violence into something more productive. he thought it might stop them from being violent outside of the ring. instead, it just sharpened them, and suddenly oscar isn’t getting into scraps to defend his brother so much as he’s utterly destroying anyone who even looks at him wrong. the worker hoped fighting might help morris express himself, open him up more, but now he’s just silent and cold as he trains or fights. still doesn’t speak to anyone but oscar.

they met jack in the refuge when they were kids. they didn’t get along then, and still resent each other to this day - people on social media are curious about the apparent feud and how it might’ve started, since jack won’t talk about any part of his childhood before medda adopted him on any of his platforms, and neither of the delanceys will talk about anything other than fighting in interviews. morris still rarely talks at all.

jack’s a general social media presence. he started out posting art, but as he got more popular he found the confidence to start posting himself more too - dumb videos, vlog types, the process of him making his art. he’s open about the fact that he was adopted as a kid, but won’t talk about his experiences before that. he says he only wants to focus on all the positives of how his family is now, and posts frequently with his brothers, race and crutchie. (also, there’s definitely twitter discourse about crutchie’s nickname and sense of humour about his own disability. which he thinks is equally hilarious and absurd.) he tries to be private about it when he starts dating davey, fearing the reaction and kind of wanting to keep davey for himself, but it doesn’t last long. they start posting together constantly.

albert being a streamer in the style of punz - he mainly games, he’s deadpan and funny and stupid in a way he utterly denies, and knows he is very thirsted after. people are always begging for face cam and hand cam. he does irl stuff every so often too, especially messing around with his friends (the usual gang). they’ve done disney/universal streams and stuff, and fairly frequently do cooking/baking streams. albert did some mma/adjacent training as a kid to deal with his own sort of anger issues stemming from family issues, and he does the creator clash type stuff - boxing matches between online personalities, sometimes including actual mma fighters. he’s met the delanceys too, before they were them, and he and them are all too eager to fight each other again. the delanceys think albert (and other streamers/creators doing creator clash type stuff) are pathetic and make a mockery of their legitimate sport. albert couldn’t care less, he just likes fighting.

finch streams too. he’s more of a cryptid - no face cam or anything, pretty mediocre mic quality, constant pc problems, but he’s popular anyway for solely his personality and playing skills - and he and albert have this mutual sort of quiet distaste until they end up meeting through some event (mcc or twitch rivals or minecraft monday or something) and then they’re streaming together all the time. people love the dynamic of albert earnestly saying stupid shit and finch deadpan playing along. they’ve done a couple streams reading, like, wattpad fics shipping the two of them.

(finch meets morris and oscar when albert has an arranged fight with oscar. he’s a deeply private person, even with albert really, but he immediately realises he’s got way too much in common with these two. he ran away from his abusive home at an early age and got bounced around the care system until it finally spat him out. he’s worked his ass off since to get his GED - he’s smart, he just never had any chance.

finch also promptly realises that morris has very limited education on top of his apparent neurodivergence and developmental disability, and sees that he can’t really read or write. oscar does pretty much everything, including all the talking.

while oscar and albert are preparing for their fight, finch sets about seeing if he can maybe build some sort of bond with morris.)

#answered #sparkedblaze #modern au #morris delancey #oscar delancey #jack kelly #albert dasilva #finch cortes #my writing #my headcanons

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