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houseofanticipation · 4 months

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You wake because a shifting balance of weight on your bed has caused your mattress to shake. For a moment you think it must be Christmas morning—that'll be your little brother, jumping on your bed to wake you up—but your room is still dark, and the clock on your bedside table reads 12:00 exactly. You squint at the person sitting on your bed. Definitely too old to be your brother...maybe your dad? But no, this person's frame is too wide, too bulky. The figure leans forward, and it suddenly occurs to you to be afraid, but all he does is pull the chain on your bedside lamp.

The man in your room is Santa Claus.

It doesn't occur to you to think this is a man dressed as Santa. One of your classmates might; you know most people your age don't believe in him, and you've learned to hide your own belief, lest you embarrass yourself, but you've never stopped believing privately. You know this man is Santa Claus in the same way you've always known Santa Claus was real: it's a feeling in your heart, a knowledge that you are loved, no matter what. You get that same feeling from this man.

"Santa?"

"Little Susie Summers," he says, brushing a lock of hair away from your eyes. "It's so wonderful to finally see you in person. You know you're one of my favorites?"

Your eyes widen. "Really?"

He nods. "I mean it. You've kept me in your heart all these years, long after most children abandon me. I've so loved watching you grow into this beautiful, confident woman I see before me." His voice deep and warm and smooth, like hot chocolate. His eyes glitter behind half-moon glasses, and his enormous white mustache only accentuates his fatherly smile.

"I always knew you were real," you say, breathlessly, eager to impress. "Even when everyone called me names, I kept believing. I always stayed on my best behavior for you."

"I know you did," he says. "I have your list right here." Seemingly from nowhere, he produces a length of rolled up parchment, which he begins to unfurl as he reads. "All those times you helped young Cristopher with his homework, even when you wanted to go out with your friends...the way you check in on old Mrs. Rasherton every week...you're a real paragon of your community."

Your chest swells with pride. You'd do those things anyway, of course; goodness is its own reward. But it feels so wonderful to have your good deeds recognized by this man you so idolize.

"Of course, you've had some encounters with the naughty list, too. What child doesn't? That time at camp, for instance, when you allowed Trent Lipski to touch you under your underwear?"

You can feel your cheeks flushing. "I'm sorry, Santa. I tried to be extra good to make up for it."

"Or those times in the bathtub, when you put your private parts under the faucet?"

You look away. You can't stand the disappointment in his eyes. "I'm so sorry Santa."

You feel his hand on your cheek, gently pulling your gaze back to meet his. "Don't worry, Susie. No one can be perfectly good all the time, and your good deeds have vastly outweighed the bad. You are a good girl, Susie Summers, and that's why I'm here."

"Really?"

"Yes, my dear girl. You see, you're eighteen now and—"

"Almost eighteen," you say helpfully. Your birthday is January 7th.

"Close enough," he says. "You're growing into a woman, which means this is the last year I'll be able to bring you presents."

This comes as a surprise. You always known Santa Claus brought presents to children, but it never quite occurred to you that that meant he didn't bring presents to adults. "You mean...you'll never come here for me again?"

"I'm afraid so," he says sadly. "This will have to be goodbye. But because you've been such a good girl all these years, I've brought you one final parting gift, in addition to the ones below the tree downstairs."

"Really? What is it?"

His hand is on your thigh, caressing you gently. "You've been so good for me, Susie," he says. "I want to make you feel good. I want you to be extra good for me, one last time." His other hand is on your stomach now, furry white glove slipping under your sleep shirt. You're starting to be unsure if you want this gift, but you know it's rude to act ungrateful. "Can you be good for me, Susie?"

You nod nervously.

Slowly, one finger at a time, Santa slips the gloves off his hands. The skin underneath is like aged leather, wrinkly and soft. You gasp when he lifts up your shirt. "Look at this," he says, fondling your nipples. "Already so hard. I knew you had a naughty side to you."

No. You can't. You push his hands away, gently as you can. "I'm sorry Santa, I'm flattered, really, but I can't—"

Santa makes a clicking sound with his tongue, and all of a sudden your hands are being yanked back, toward the headboard. Some kind of cuffs clamp around your wrists, holding your arms far away from Santa's creeping, explorative hands. You look to your left and right, and see that they're not cuffs at all, but arms; thin, sinewy arms attached to a pair of thin, sinewy people no bigger than your forearm. They stare at you with large, unblinking eyes, and grin with mouths full of pointy teeth. They're strong, in spite of their size. You struggle against them with all your might, but neither seems remotely phased.

"You're a lucky girl, Susie," he says, playfully circling your areola with his thumb. "Most boys and girls never get to see a genuine Christmas elf. Meet Pepper and Ginger, two of my most trusted lieutenants. I could never do my job without their help."

The elf called Ginger—you can tell which is which because they wear name tags reading G. BREAD and P. MINT—pins your hand to the bed and sits on your wrist. She closes her eyes and begins grinding against the nub of your wrist bone.

Santa chuckles. "Of course, I make sure they get to enjoy themselves. I think that's the hallmark of any good boss, don't you?" He bends down and wraps his lips around your nipple, sucking and nibbling and groping at your other breast while he does it. You're afraid, but it feels kind of good, too. And you know Santa has your best interests at heart...doesn't he? When he comes up for air, Santa sees the tears running down your cheeks. "Oh, hush now, my dear, don't cry." He lays a tender hand on your face, wiping away a tear with his thumb. "I promise I'll be gentle with you. I'll make you feel good." He gets up on his knees and unbuckles his belt, pulling down his red pants to reveal white thermal underwear. This he unbuttons, and out comes...

You've seen a penis once before. Earlier this year, Daryl Dennis let you touch his at a party. You held it in your hand and stroked it up and down, delighting in the way he moaned and kissed you and told you how good it felt. When he came on your hand it snapped you out of whatever madness had taken you over, and you fled the room to wash it off. You hated yourself for weeks after that, tried to work extra hard to earn your place on the good list.

Suffice it to say, Santa's cock is about three times the size as the only other cock you've ever seen. It stands up so stiff that it actually touches his overhanging belly, and defined veins pulse up and down its length. He smiles when he sees you looking at it. "You came so close to letting Mr. Dennis be the first cock you ever felt inside you. I wish you could stay pure forever, but you're becoming a woman now. You should at least know what a real cock is like, so you have something to compare against."

He hooks his fingers under your waistband and pulls off your pajama bottoms and you panties all in one go. You're too afraid to fight back; those elves' teeth are sharp, and besides, you've spent so long trying to stay off the naughty list. A good girl would lie back and take it. You are a good girl. You are a good girl.

Santa's head is between your legs now. He's kissing your thighs, sniffing deeply, running his tongue along the outside edges of your crotch. One hand strokes his cock, and you can see he speeds up when his nose gets close to your pussy. "You know, Susie, I've found in all my years of life that the sweetest girls have the sweetest cunts. Did you know that?"

You shake your head.

"It's true. And you just might be the sweetest girl I've ever seen. So you can imagine how eager I've been to get a taste of this perfect, beautiful cunt. Let's get your juices flowing, shall we?" You gasp as his leathery fingers pinch the hood of your clitoris and pull it back, and a sound you didn't expect escapes your lips when his wet, warm tongue flicks across your exposed clit. He starts to trace slow, steady circles around it, taking his time, letting the desire build until your clit is throbbing with need. His moustache tickles your pubis as he closes his lips around your clit and begins sucking, first in long, slow pulls, and ramping up into quick, agonizing pulses. You begin to feel that feeling in your groin, the one you felt when you touched Daryl Dennis's cock, or when Trent Lipski put his hand in your pants, or when you hold your privates under the bathtub faucet. It's a tightness, a warmth, a wetness, and Santa must notice it too, because he smiles up at you. "Good girl. Let's find out what you taste like."

Suddenly his tongue is inside you, and you're moaning and arching your back and crying a little bit, because you're so scared but it feels so good. The elves grin and give you little kisses on your arms. Somewhere along the way Ginger has removed her pants, and she moans as her little elf pussy glides across your wrist. On the other side, Pepper's hands are on your pinky, lining it up with her exposed cunt, drooling as she pushes it inside.

When Santa comes up for air his glasses hang crooked on his face. "Hoooh, Susie, you must have the sweetest cunt I've ever tasted. Like caramel apples and candy canes. You really are one of the nicest girls who's ever lived."

You can't help but swell with pride at this praise. You've tried, really tried, and to know that it's paid off...it makes everything worth it. All the work, all the self-sacrifice, it wasn't for nothing. It's left a real, detectable mark on your body, and Santa can taste it in you. "Thank you, Santa," you manage to say.

"You're very welcome, Susie," says Santa. "And now that you're ready for me, I think it's time I made use of you." He straightens up, and flops his cock down on your stomach. It feels even bigger against your skin. You're afraid again. You know what's about to happen, and you're afraid it's going to hurt.

He throws his head back and moans with pleasure as the head of his cock parts your pussy lips. Your teeth grit and your heart pounds as you brace yourself for the pain, but it doesn't come. When he begins to push inside you, it's like he's stretching you out from the inside. There's no pain, only pressure, and increasingly, pleasure. He fills you up an inch at a time, expanding inside you, making you feel full in a way you never knew you could. You never should have doubted Santa. He knows what's best for you. He knows what you need.

"Ooohoho god, Susie," he says, picking up the pace now. "I knew you'd be worth it. I always know which good little girls will have the most delectable cunts. Girls like you, natural whores who make the choice to be nice, deny their nature to be sweet just for me...saving yourself for me...you know, somewhere deep down, that your little cunt is mine for the taking..."

He's right. He's completely right. When you fled the room after Daryl Dennis came in your hand. When you felt so guilty after Trent Lipski. What were you saying, implicitly? My holes are not for him. My holes are for Santa. You're moaning indiscriminately now, arching your back, your eyes rolling back in your head. The elves seem to be enjoying themselves, too; they moan squeakily as they ride your hands, apparently no longer worried about you trying to fight back. Santa's belly rolls across you with each thrust, and the heft of it is like a weighted blanket, comfortingly immobilizing. He grunts and moans with each thrust, the ball on his hat bouncing haphazardly. You feel something growing inside you, something wonderful and intense, something far better than the faucet on your clit, or Trent Lipski's fingers in your cunt. Your body is beginning to tremble, your legs bending and your toes flexing involuntarily. Suddenly you're afraid again; the sensation is too much, you can't handle it, you need to get away. Some animal part of your brain takes over; you're wrenching your hands free of the distracted elves, pulling yourself away from Santa's relentless cock, flailing your legs, kicking Santa in the solar plexus as he tries to grab at you. He doubles over, wheezing, and you know instantly you've done something terrible.

For a long moment the room is stock still. The elves seem just as frozen in fear as you are. Santa coughs, steadies himself against the bed. When he looks up, there's a darkness behind his eyes that wasn't there before. He clicks his tongue again, and the elves spring into action, grabbing you by the hair and turning you around so that your head hangs backward over the edge of the bed.

"I was going to give you a special present," says Santa, upside-down over you. There's a sick mirth in his voice that makes you shiver. "A Christmas present like no one's ever gotten before. But you had to go and be naughty." He says the word like it's the most vulgar epithet he can think of. "I was going to give you a son. My son. My heir. But my seed can't grow in a womb despoiled by filth." You feel a pressure inside you; it feels sort of like Santa's cock did, only harder, rounder, and growing. You lift your head to see what's going on down there, but it's all internal. It's getting painful now; you start straining to push it out. "The only thing your cunt is good for now," says Santa, a merciless twinkle in his eye, "is coal."

With a painful stretching sensation, a black mass crowns out of your cunt, spreading your pussy lips and stretching them wide as it pops out of you. It's a smooth, roughly spherical lump of coal, about the size of a baseball.

A leathery hand cups your chin and pushes your head back down. Santa's cock is inches from your face. "You're not going cocktease me, naughty girl. I'll get mine, one way or another."

Tears well up in your eyes as his cock parts your lips. You've never gotten coal in your stocking before, not once. You've spent your entire life being the nicest you could possibly be, and you had to go and ruin everything. You imagine what it would have been like to have Santa's seed growing inside you, your belly swelling with his son, your breasts inflating with peppermint-flavored milk. Instead you have his wrinkly, low-hanging scrotum slapping your face, and another lump of coal already forming inside your stupid, naughty cunt.

Santa forces his cock past your tongue, down your open throat. You gag, convulse involuntarily, but the elves hold you down, not to be caught slacking again. His belly drags across your face as he pulls back, and you spend a few seconds coughing and sputtering before he forces himself back down your throat again. Again, you gag, and when he pulls out this time you spit out a globule of thick saliva that collects around your nose and runs down your cheek. It goes like this for several more pumps: you gagging, struggling, crying, and him continuing to rape your throat anyway.

No, you think. Enough crying. You did something naughty, and now you pay for it. What do you always do when you catch yourself slipping into naughtiness? You're extra good to make up for it.

You steady yourself. Relax your throat. Santa is your king. Your god. Your everything. Your whole life, everything you do has been to please Santa. Now is no different. You start licking his shaft as it pounds away at your mouth. You can't see his face past his belly, but you can tell he likes it: the veins on his cock bulge under your tongue, and he groans with pleasure. Slowly, making sure the elves know you're not trying to fight, you lift your arms and grab the backs of his thighs, pulling him into you with each thrust. He takes the encouragement, picking up speed and enthusiasm. With one hand you begin to tenderly massage his balls, and with the other you stroke the base of his cock, the part that can't fit all the way down your throat. This is right. This is correct. My holes are for Santa, you think again. It's not for you to choose how he uses them.

You pop out another two lumps of coal, though you find that if you don't let them get too big it can be a somewhat pleasurable experience. You wonder how many nice things you'll have to do to stop them coming. You hope it isn't too easy. You moan as another one presses against your clit on its way out of you. You're desperate to rub yourself, but you can't take any attention away from Santa's beautiful, enormous, swollen, throbbing cock. That is your purpose.

With a long, shuddering groan, Santa presses his cock as deep as it will go. You feel hot cum shooting down your throat, collecting in your esophagus. He holds you there for a long time, your face in his overhanging belly, coal growing in your cunt. When he finally retreats you cough a huge glob of cum into your mouth. It tastes like cinnamon and nutmeg.

"Oh, little Susie," says Santa admiringly. "Even when you're being punished, you try your best to be nice." He sits next to you on the bed and begins gently massaging your throat. "It isn't enough to put you back on the nice list, but it's a start." He seems to think long and hard about something. "I'm a believer in second chances, Susie. I'll have to come back to this house next year for your brother anyway. Maybe I'll check in on you, and if you've been extra good..." he shoots you a twinkling wink. "I just might give you your special present after all."

Your head falls back in relief. You haven't squandered your chance! Santa is a merciful and loving god! The elves lay their heads on your breasts, petting your skin and cooing approvingly. The next thing you know, Santa is pulling up his pants, tucking in his undershirt, buckling his belt. He puts his hand on the knob of your bedroom door, but he turns back over his shoulder before he goes.

"Susie...you were right. Your holes are mine. No other cock, nor finger or tongue or any part of another person may penetrate them. But now that you're a woman...I believe it would be alright if you touched yourself, if you like. And know that I'll be watching." With that he's out the door, Pepper and Ginger in tow.

You get into a comfortable position in bed, head on your pillows, legs spread. You're slowly amassing a small pile of coal on your bedspread, and you're ready to go for another. You let this one grow a little while inside you, expanding until you can't take it anymore, then arch your back and close your eyes and furiously rub your clit as you birth it.

As a ball of coal the size of a small cantaloupe rolls to a stop on your sheets, your bedside clock clicks over to 12:01.

#r@pe fantasy #r@pe kink #cnc free use #cvmdump #cvmslvt #r@petoy #breeding toy #have you ever written a line that made you say 'jesus christ what is wrong with me'#anyway happy holidays to all you lovely filthy people out there

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marwolaeth-76 · 5 months

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Can u maybe write smut about veneer😣? (Preferably maybe r is dom, u can pick the gender) basically r and fucking veneer right before a concert and veneer is a MESS cuz hes so desperate 🙏🙏🙏🙏

Hey!! Thank you for your request! I enjoyed writing this, I hope I satisfied your request🩷

I want to tell everyone else who is also waiting for their requests, I will definitely write everything within a few days, thank you for your understanding💘💘

Veneer x Reader !smut before the concert

cw: sucking dick, dirty talk, just NSFW content!

!!all characters are adults!!

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Standing in a utility room with dusty shelves, a small creaky chair and all sorts of props, you look at Veneer with a defiant fire in your eyes. Of course, the pop star knows what you want, and he wants it too. “Can you wait and do it after the concert? huh, to tell the truth, I also have a desire to do this, but there’s less than half an hour left, and besides, Vel is probably already looking for me..“ - The guy retreats in a slightly nervous tone, crossing his thin arms over his chest and looking at you from above down, lightly biting the inside of his lip out of nervousness. You look at Veneer with a sharp gaze, like a trigger, you won’t let it go just like that. Veneer felt your hand trail up his thigh towards the place where he needed you most and felt his blood run cold, “I feel that you want this too, Vee” - You grin almost evilly at him, while the star looks away in embarrassment and snorted displeasedly. “just let me help with this, I don't think performing on stage with that rock hard boner would be a good idea.” A small drop of cold sweat runs down the guy's face when he feels your hand begin to slightly squeeze his bulge under his gold-plated shorts. After hesitating for a few seconds, he rolled his eyes and nodded at you, giving his consent. You quickly lead the guy to that flabby chair at the end of the small room, sitting him down and kneeling in front of him. Quickly pulling down his shorts and his boxers, you mischievously lick your lips, which have become dry from lip tint. “Oh damn! baby just look at this, you want pleasure so bad!” Fidgeting in his chair, Veneer whines: “pleaaase hurry up..! and don’t talk to me when your head is near my dick, it feels like you’re not talking to me..“ You just roll your eyes mischievously, finally looking up at your boyfriend - a star, with a thirsty sparkle. he’s so sensitive, it’s an absolute shame…The poor thing presses himself so hard into the chair until his knuckles turn white from the tension with which he holds the arms of the chair. Eating his dick up as if you’ve been starved for it. sticky saliva ooze and seep all down the sides as you take it to the back of your throat with no regard for your own breathing. “o-oh man! You gotta slow down…oh my gosh, I-I can't!“

You care even less when he busts dick in the back of your throat and you just keep sucking without a care. Gulping, gagging and slurping noises filling the once quiet room, right along with Veneer’s pathetic moans. His breathing is so erratic it's like he's running cross-country. Sucking his throbbing cock so greedily, playing with his dick in your mouth, speeding up and slowing down your pace, releasing so much sticky saliva onto your chin and his thighs..it’s as sexy as it messy. And the pop star wants, no, he longs for this to continue, there is so little time left, but he, like a puppy thirsty caress, is unable to stop you. Whimpering moans covered by one of his hands, Veneer tries to be quieter, the singer’s trembling and sweetly pleading-sounding voice can only say “mgh.. yees!, please d-don’t stop, swallow it all.” Approaching his end, Veneer looks down at you, his eyebrows are drawn together on the bridge of his nose, his lips are slightly parted, he is a complete mess and wants you not to stop. His moans get louder as you suck harder, allowing him to push the tip of his cock down your throat. The baby literally begs you with his gaze, his hand gently rests on the top of your head, stroking your hair. “s-sweetheart, please don't stop, I beg you..” Seeing how clouded in mind Veneer acts, you cannot tease him any more, you love your boy too much to be so angry towards him. Increasing the pace of your eating the hot rod, you first hear a plaintive moan, similar to a whine, after which you feel your boyfriend’s sticky hot sperm filling your mouth, removing his penis, he came a little more on your cheek, causing a dissatisfied tsokon from you. “damn, your sperm is more bitter than last time, stop eating all shit already, Veneer“ Veneer looks at you with a tired and indignant look, after which his green lips stretch slightly into a lazy grin. “it was sooo mess.. but I really like it"

#veneer x reader #smut #trolls 3 #trolls veneer #trolls band together #x reader #veneer trolls #velvet and veneer #nswf post

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spenglernot · 6 months

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STORIES TELLING: THE BREATHTAKING EFFICIENCY OF WRITING IN OUR FLAG MEANS DEATH

One of the things I most admire about Our Flag Means Death is the efficiency of the writing. So much happens so fast, but nothing is dissonant or feels like it comes out from left field. I think part of the reason it works so well is that the subtext does a lot of heavy lifting; setting the foundation for what comes next. There is always more than one thing being conveyed. It isn’t simply storytelling, it’s stories telling.

Case in point: Ed's stories about underwater beasties...

S1 E6, The Art of Fuckery - Ed telling the crew a story about the Kraken. S2 E5, The Curse of the Seafaring Life - Ed telling Stede a story about fishing.

S1 E6 Young Ed sees the kraken (himself). It’s foreboding, powerful and uncontrollable.

S2 E5 Ed clearly delineates between himself and the beast (rage, violence, protection). He is the man (an adult, above the water), conscious and in control. The beast is beneath the sea (subconscious).

S1 E6 Ed describes the kraken as hideous, rising out of the water (of its own volition) while young Ed stands nearby, powerless.

S2 E5 Ed describes pulling to bring the beast out of the water. This is a conscious act, over which he has control.

S1 E6 Ed describes the kraken attacking, before Ed even knew it had done so.

S2 E5 Ed describes triumphantly pulling the beast from the water.

S1 E6 Ed describes his warning about the kraken coming too late, and the kraken takes its victim. The kraken is in control.

S2 E5 Ed shows Stede the beast he subdued: a small fish.

Why is this so damn heartbreaking and funny and touching?

We have two stories that are highly entertaining and work within the context of the episodes to move the narrative forward. But they also say a whole lot about how Ed sees himself at each moment in time.

In season 1, the beast is safely underwater, but it can always rise, with overwhelming strength and power, to wreak havoc and keep Ed safe. It’s not something Ed is fully in control of, and it can (and later does) do tremendous damage.

In season 2, episode 5, the beast is safely underwater. Ed has to put effort into keeping the beast on the line and reeling it in, but he is in control of it.

And, while the small fish silhouetted triumphantly against the moonlight is beautifully sweet and funny, what made me crumple on the floor is what it says about how Ed is beginning to manage the kraken (himself) now.

The kraken is still there, under the water, and maybe Ed isn’t ready to control it in its full form, but he’s working on it. He wrangled a small sea (subconscious) beast and is celebrating his success in that.

And then Stede says this:

(Sob. You're such a good boyfriend right now, Stede!)

Yeah, Ed. That is really beautiful. Good on you, mate. Keep going.

This post was written before OFMD season 2 fully airs. No idea what’s going to happen in episodes 6, 7, and 8 (and I’ve generally fled social media to avoid spoilers). I’ll be back, looking at everyone’s fascinating posts after the finale airs.

#JFC the OFMD writers have game #OFMD parallels #OFMD subtext #OFMD meta #The kraken #The beast #Fishing #Edward Teach #Stede Bonnet #Our flag means death #OFMD S1 #OFMD S2 #OFMD S2 E1-5 spoilers

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rhey-007 · 1 month

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The Mystery of Love

Fernando Alonso family fluff

|| P7 of Fernando Alonso x goth mommy!reader

• | social media au

Summary: You and Fernando finally make your relationship public.

Warnings/Tags: fluff, family fluff, female reader

A/N: Enjoy another part of The Mystery of Love. I know I was supposed to post it two weeks ago but I felt like shit and didn't manage to finish it... 😔 And I have to stop promising things, ik no one read them but still.

If you'd like to be added to the tag list let me know! ☺

Masterlist

‧͙⁺˚*･༓🌟༓･*˚⁺‧͙

‧͙⁺˚*･༓🥀 INSTAGRAM 🥀༓･*˚⁺‧͙

liked by fernandoalo_oficial, maxverstappen1, landonorris and 15,824 others

tagged: fernandoalo_oficial

•y/n._.l/n: finally managed to convince •fernandoalo_oficial for some dress up! 🤭🥰

•user1: Nando as a goth is something we all needed 😍

•user2: you guys slayed, as always!

•user3: real life Morticia and Gomes! 💞

•landonorris: DAMN! grandpa looking good!

→ •fernandoalo_oficial: language!

→ •landonorris: sorry 🤭😋

→ •user3: Nando definitely mad over grandpa not damn lol

•user4: now the only thing we need is a goth family photo shoot! 😍

•user5: you're too old for this, it's just childish

→ •user6: oh shut up you know nothin

→ •user7: they're adults they can dress however they want

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☃️ INSTAGRAM ☃️༓･*˚⁺‧͙

liked by mickkschumacher, y/n._.l/n and 958 others

tagged: fernandoalo_official, y/n._.l/n, lance_stroll

•kl.au_s: ⛷️🏂🏔

•mickkschumacher: beautiful! next time I'm going with ya!

→ •user7: MICK NO!

→ •user8: HAVE YOU NOT LEARNT ANYTHING???

→ •user9: Fernando hasn't either....

→ •user10: no driver had.....

•lance_stroll: and to thinks pops still has strength for skiing 🤔

→ •fernandoalo_oficial: what are you talking about, I have lots of energy not only for skiing 😉

→ •kl.au_s: 💀

‧͙⁺˚*･༓🌱 INSTAGRAM 🌱༓･*˚⁺‧͙

liked by sebastianvettel, fernandoalo_oficial and 85,256 others

tagged: fernandoalo_official, y/n._.l/n, kl.au_s

•aussiegrit: a little trip with friends 😃🏕🚴

•kl.au_s: UNCLE MARK NOOO BSJDHJRNDLSF

→ •aussiegrit: did I do something wrong? 😔

→ •user11: uncle?

→ •user12: just wait and he'll call Nando dad

•user13: IS THAT FERNANDO AND Y/N KISSING IN THE BACKGROUND???

→ •user14: oh my god it is!

•user15: 🚨SPOILER ALERT🚨

→ •user16: Markie definitely should've put a spoiler alert 🫠

•user16: not Mark leaking what everyone already knew 😭

‧͙⁺˚*･༓🍷 INSTAGRAM 🍷༓･*˚⁺‧͙

liked by aussiegrit, jensonbutton and 10,985 others

tagged: fernandoalo_official, kl.au_s, aussiegrit, jensonbutton, landonorris, oscarpiastri, carlossainz55, lance_stroll

•y/n._.l/n: I'm not a fan of big birthday parties but I couldn't be more grateful for Fernie and the boys throwing a HUUUGE dinner just for me and accept me and my sons into their racing family. I love all of you, but especially my boo Fernando 🥰💞 Thank you once again!

(ans please don't come for Mark, he tried his best :) )

•user17: FINALLY

•user18: couldn't you announce it earlier? It was so obvious from the very beginning

→ •user19: chill, maybe they just didn't feel like it

•user20: exactly, not everyone has to be ready for something like this right away

•jensonbutton: for what this announcement? 🤨didn't everyone already know?

→ •y/n._.l/n: 🤦‍♀️

•susiewolff: Congrats on finally getting the courage to tell the world! 💞

•aussiegrit: amazing party!

→ •landonorris: of course it was! after all I was the one who organized it 💅

→ •carlossainz55: oi! you didn't do it alone! > : (

→ •maxverstappen1: exactly!

→ •oscarpiastri: kids calm down 🙄

→ •y/n._.l/n: exactly.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓🍾 INSTAGRAM 🍾༓･*˚⁺‧͙

liked by y/n._.l/n, carlossainz55 and 105,627 others

tagged: y/n._.l/n, kl.au_s, aussiegrit, jensonbutton, carlossains55, oscarpiastri, landonorris, lance_stroll

•fernandoalo_oficial: sweet 40 🤭🥳🎉💝

•aussiegrit: best party ever!

•user21: that looks so fun 😭😩

•user22: Y/N looking exceptionally good! 💗

→ •user23: as she always does 😍👑

•y/n._.l/n: thank you baby! ☺😘

→ •fernandoalo_oficial: everything for you honey~ ❤

‧͙⁺˚*･༓💘 INSTAGRAM 💘༓･*˚⁺‧͙

liked by fernandoalo_oficial, lilimhe and 17,256 others

tagged: fernandoalo_official

•y/n._.l/n: I'm so glad I've met you 💞

•lilimhe: yes mama!!! you two are so cuuuute!

→ •y/n._.l/n: you and Alex too!!! 😘

→ •alex_albon: of course we are! 😁 <3

•fernandoalo_oficial: I'm glad I met you too mi gusanito ❤🧡💛💚💙💜 (my little bug)

→ •y/n._.l/n: 🥰

→ •kl.au_s: 🤢🤮

→ •y/n._.l/n: KLAUS!

→ •kl.au_s: 🫣

→ •user23: not Klaus ruining this cute moment xD

‧͙⁺˚*･༓💋 INSTAGRAM 💋༓･*˚⁺‧͙

liked by y/n._.l/n, sebastianvettel and 156,256 others

tagged: y/n._.l/n

•fernandoalo_oficial: mi vida, mi alma, mi amor, mi hermosa, mi cariño 💘 (my life, my soulmate, my love, my beautiful, my sweety)

•kl.au_s: I swear to God you guys are GROSS 💀

→ •fernandoalo_oficial: could say the same bout you and Bluebell 🧍‍♀️

→ •kl.au_s: oh shut up, at least we ain't kissing everywhere we go >:(

•landonorris: I think I'm to young for such photos...

•maxverstappen1: jeez pops calm down! we know you love her!

•user24: that is a really nice photoshoot

→ •user25: those photos gonna be def used in fanfics XD

•sebasrianvettel: so happy for you two!

‧͙⁺˚*･༓🌟༓･*˚⁺‧͙

Tag list: @morgan-getty @lichterfee @ashy-kit @champomiel

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lavendertrash39 · 30 days

Text

Hi there. I want to talk about Reigen's depression, specifically in the outro of season one.

I just want to start this by saying that Reigen has by far been one of the most accurate and absolute gut punch of a representation of depression that I've ever seen... especially if I got into him having ADHD and depression... but maybe that's for another day.

I've finished the show now, but even from the beginning, I kept saying that there feels like there's just this sense of something being wrong or off in the outro. It truly feels like the morning routine of a depressed person who's just... continuing to go through life. Because that's something that makes his depression so important to me-- that it never feels like a plot point that comes up whenever it's really intense. It's just... always there. Lingering. Changing how he views the world.

This can be seen in the stylization of the outro. It's all black and white, and everything is shaky, hazy almost. As if he's not fully there.

Everything's so quick to fade. It's so apathetic. He does this every morning. Makes himself look presentable, gets the hit of stimulant from the nicotine in his cigarette, and then everything fades again.

Then there's the commute to Spirits and Such. He leaves his apartment, and it still has that same shaky, hazy feel. It very much feels like he's not fully present for that walk. Literally, it'll jump/fade between different parts of his walk. It's like there's a fog around everything he's doing, but he'll remember the little things that stuck out. The little things that broke his routine (the people running, the cat).

Then, finally, he sees Mob. This is kind of an obvious thing to point out-- but at the end of all of that routine, Mob is the one who brings color into his world. I think it's also interesting that we never see Reigen's actual face in the outro. We see him from the back, and we see him smoking, but that's the closest we get. He's at a distance, everything hazy and disconnected.

This is how depression is when you've been living with it for so long.

Reigen still has to go to his job, still has to "be an adult", so it's caused him to just live with this depression. It's that feeling of emptiness that's so hard to describe to anyone who hasn't been depressed. Like you're just going through the motions, unable to connect with the world around you. You don't even know anything's wrong, because this is just how things are. Living life becomes apathetic. I think that's what stuck out the most about the outro.

#reigen arataka #mp100 #mp100 analysis

155 notes · View notes

lostgirlmuseum · 4 months

Text

The Swan and the Soldier

^made w/ pinterest

Pairing: tfatws!Bucky x f!dancer!reader

Summary: Bucky is signed up to act in the Nutcracker against his will. But it isn’t all bad. At least not after he meets the cute costume designer.

Words: 5.6k (oops)

Warnings: Mention of an injury + brief description of pain, poor writing at times, lemme know if I missed anything

A/N: I really hope this isn't complete dog shit

(Dividers by me😎)

“You want me to what?”

Bucky dropped his sandwich back onto his plate.

“I was gonna do it but I’m too busy to make every rehearsal.”

Bucky had been staying in Louisiana for the past month, finally taking a break from going from fight to fight. Sam encouraged him to stay with him at Sarah’s place, which Bucky did for a while, but after a couple of weeks, he decided to rent his own place. He was still near to Sam, and was at his house nearly every day, seeing as he was only a fifteen-minute drive away. Bucky just felt like less of a burden this way.

“And I’m not busy?” Bucky countered, staring at Sam from across the kitchen table, where they were taking a quick lunch break before getting back to the boat.

“Well—”

“Shut up.”

“It would mean so much to AJ. It’s his first dance recital and I think he would be a lot less nervous if someone he knew was on stage with him.”

“I’m not a ballerina, Sam.”

“You don’t have to be!” He quickly uttered, putting down his own sandwich. “They just need a couple of parent volunteers to step in and play the adults at the beginning of the show.”

“I haven’t liked dancing since the 40’s. And I don’t know how I feel about being on stage. Would I have to wear a costume?”

“It’s the Nutcracker.” Sam raised an eyebrow and gave Bucky a judgmental once over. “I don’t think it fits the show to have you dressed like an angsty motorcyclist.”

“Sam, I don’t think I can—”

“Uncle Bucky!” A cheerful voice entered the room as AJ came bounding up to the table.

“Hey, kid,” Bucky smiled, giving the boy a quick fist bump.

“Uncle Sam told me you would be a part of my recital!”

“He said what now?”

“What?” AJ asked, oblivious.

“Nothing, I—AJ, could you give Uncle Sam and me a second?”

AJ nodded and skipped back outside into the sun. Bucky glared over at Sam.

“So maybe I jumped the gun a bit…”

“Samuel.”

“You can say no,”

“You know I can’t say no now!” Bucky flung his hands out, exasperated.

“You can! You’ll just disappoint him. But if that’s what you want to do—” Sam trailed off, taking a bite out of his turkey and provolone.

“This is manipulation.”

“Is it working?” Sam mumbled and swallowed.

Bucky shook his head and stared at his plate. “You owe me.”

“Big time! Promise.”

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” Bucky mumbled, planting his face in his palms.

“Rehearsals are Tuesdays and Thursdays,” Sam got up from the table and grabbed his now empty plate, “you’re making the kid really happy.”

“Yeah, yeah. To be clear, I am doing this for him. Not you. I don’t give a shit about you.” He pointed.

“Love you too, Buddy.”

Bucky found himself that very Thursday at the ballet studio, in a small group of parents, as a petite young woman—well, she looked about 60, but compared to Bucky, she was young—introduced herself, a southern accent clear in her cheery tone.

“Welcome parents and volunteers! Most of you already know me, but I’m Ms. Cindy, the head of this program and this year’s Nutcracker! I’d like to start by thanking all of you for taking time out of your busy schedules to be here and support us and your children. It’s you who keep this dance studio up and running, and I’m so grateful for that. Throughout today, you’ll each get called to get your measurements taken so we can be sure that the costumes are ready before the performance. And as for roles, we’ll figure that out at the end of class. I have to go teach the little ones, but feel free to take a seat and watch the choreography your students have been learning all season!”

Bucky followed the others, who seemed to already be acquainted with each other, into a small observing room attached to the studio where AJ was practicing. Bucky stuck himself in the back corner and watched AJ through the one-sided mirror for only a couple of minutes when his name was suddenly called.

“James Barnes?”

Bucky looked up to see a woman standing in the doorway. He ignored the glances that turned his way as he followed the woman out the door.

Did they know who he was? Did they know what he had done? Or maybe they had no idea. Maybe they were judging him for not engaging with them in polite conversation, maybe they thought he was weird for hiding silently in the corner.

Bucky pushed the thoughts out of his head as the (attractive, he might add,) woman opened the door for him into a new room. It wasn’t huge, but it wasn’t a closet either, and Bucky immediately noted the lines of clothing racks stuffed with colorful dresses that lined the walls.

“I just need to get your measurements quickly for your costume. I can take them now, or if you’re more comfortable, I can send you a list of measurements I need and you can get those numbers to me on Thursday if you’d prefer.”

Bucky thought for a moment. He wasn’t entirely sure how to take his own measurements, and he sure as hell did not want Sam of all people helping him. On the other hand, having a stranger so close to him sounds embarrassing and stressful. But he saw the kindness in her eyes, and oddly enough, he felt he could trust her.

“Now is fine."

“Sounds good.” She gave the sweetest smile he had ever seen and told him where to stand. He took off his jacket with ease, feeling somewhat comfortable knowing he had a long-sleeved shirt under to hide his metal arm. He kept his leather gloves on, and she said nothing.

She demonstrated to him how to hold his arm, and he obeyed, holding his right arm out and bent at the elbow. She chatted as she brought the tape measure along his arm. “Which kid is yours?”

“Oh, none of them.”

He noticed the subtle tilt of her head.

“I mean, I’m not a dad, but I’m AJ’s uncle. Well, a friend of his uncle but,”

Luckily, she stopped his ramble before he could truly embarrass himself.

“Oh, you’re Bucky?” She dropped the tape to her side and smiled. “I’ve met Sam a couple times, but I’ve heard all about you and him from Sarah.”

“Oh? All good things I hope?”

He asked in a lighthearted tone, but in reality, he was terrified of the things she’d heard about him.

“Only good things.” She grinned and grabbed the pencil behind her ear to scribble a number on a chart.

“That’s a relief.” His eyes scanned the room, trying to think up conversation to fill the silence. “So are you a parent volunteer?”

“Not a parent, no. I used to be a part of this program growing up. It’s done so much for me, and I wanted to stay connected, so I help out here and there when I can. I mostly fit the costumes.”

“That’s cool.”

Cool. Cool. Cool response Bucky. Ask her a question, dammit.

“Do you still dance?”

“Not anymore. Can you put both arms out to the side please?” She asked, and Bucky lifted his arms so she could measure his chest. She continued to make conversation as she wrapped the tape around him. “AJ is a great student. He has a lot of potential, he just needs to find his confidence. And he’s a great kid. You’re a lucky uncle.”

“I am,” Bucky responded, trying desperately to not freak out at how close she was to him, and how she was only going lower, as she moved to his waist.

She took a break to write down a couple more numbers and returned to him.

“Now I need a hip measurement, so I have to measure around your butt. Is that okay?”

Bucky gave a convincing nod. “Do what you gotta do.”

‘Do what you gotta do’? What the hell am I saying?

He avoided looking at her and held his breath as she brought the tape around his hips.

“Just a couple more measurements and you’ll be out of here,” she assured, dropping the tape from his hips. “You can put your arms down now.”

Bucky let his arms rest at his sides.

She quickly went about measuring his legs and finished a couple of minutes later.

“You’re all good to go, Mr. Barnes, thank you!”

“You can call me Bucky,” he tried to hide his bashful smile and started to exit out the door, but stopped and turned at the last moment. “What was your name again?”

“Oh, I’m Y/N.”

“It was nice to meet you, Y/N.”

He liked the way it felt on his tongue. With that, he said goodbye and returned to the observing room.

Thirty minutes later class was nearly over. All that was left on the agenda for the day was to form the groups.

“So it seems we have an odd number…Lois, is this everyone?” Ms. Cindy asked, looking over to her assistant.

“Everyone that signed up, yes.” Lois, a shorter girl with an auburn bob, tapped on a clipboard.

“Let’s just see how this goes. Mr. and Mrs. Tudor will be group one, Mr. and Mrs. Malone will be group two, Mrs. and Mrs. Cardoza will be group three, and that leaves Mr. Barnes…”

“We could have him be a single parent to his group?” Lois offered, looking up from her list.

“We could, but then who would he dance with at the party scene?”

Bucky swore he saw a literal lightbulb light up above Ms. Cindy’s head as her gaze fixated somewhere in the back of the room where you were simply passing by.

“Oh, Y/N? Dear?” She called in a uniquely falsetto voice.

“Yes, Ms. Cindy?” Y/N answered, pausing.

“I realize you’re already doing our costumes, but would you be interested in volunteering as one of the parents? We are short a person.”

“Oh, um…”

“You can think about it Dear. It’s no trouble if you feel that it’ll take up too much time, we appreciate you for your dedication to the costumes.” Ms. Cindy was careful to add.

Despite her initial hesitance, Y/N spoke up.

“I can do it.”

“Are you sure?” Ms. Cindy blinked, surprised by the answer.

“Yeah,” she breathed, “yes. I’ve already got measurements, all I need to do is submit an order. And I can’t tailor anything anyways until the shipment comes in.”

“A round of applause for our beautiful and dedicated Y/N, everyone!” Ms. Cindy cheered and began clapping her hands in a circle. The parents all joined in, and Bucky gave a quiet few claps. “That means Mr. Barnes and Y/N will play the fourth couple. Splendid!”

Lois tapped Ms. Cindy on the shoulder and pointed to her watch. Time was almost up. Ms. Cindy was fast to get back to business.

“Now let’s quickly assign each group their children, and then we can end rehearsal.”

“Buck, I’ve got some good news.” Sam’s voice flowed through Bucky’s phone.

It was Tuesday morning, and Bucky had been up and dressed since seven in the morning, eager to pick AJ up, even though class wasn’t until 5 p.m. He was currently lying on the couch, watching the clock tick by.

“What, you finally learned to use the potty like a big boy?” Bucky mocked.

“It was one time. ONE. TIME. You know I don’t fuck with clowns!”

“I don’t like clowns either, but you don’t see me shitting myself at the Halloween Festival.” Bucky quietly chuckled.

“First of all, I didn’t ‘shit’ myself. I peed. A little. And second of all, I had a lot of hot chocolate beforehand, and my bladder was at max capacity, and—why the hell am I explaining this to you?”

“Because you know I’m never going to let you live it down.”

“Moving on,” Sam sighed, “I was calling to tell you that you don’t need to be in the performance with AJ anymore.”

Bucky shot up from his lying position. “What do you mean?”

“My schedule freed up a bunch so I can take AJ and be in the show now.”

“Oh.”

Bucky slumped back onto the cushions, dejection dripping from his voice. Sam clearly picked up on it.

“What do you mean, ‘Oh’? I thought this was good news for you. I know I forced it onto you and all, and your thing isn’t really being on stage in front of a bunch of people.”

Bucky picked at the edges of his fingers, carefully considering his next words.

“I mean it’s not my thing, but—I don’t know, I feel like I’ve committed. And I get to spend some time with AJ, y’know? And, truth be told, it’s not all bad.”

There was a pause on the line before Sam’s voice rang through.

“That’s awfully sweet Buck. And very out of character for you.”

“Shut the fuck up, I can be nice.”

“Yes, of course. Bucky Barnes, the world’s famous sweetheart, how could I forget?”

“I’m hanging up now,” Bucky warned.

“Bye, metal man.”

“Fuck off bird brain.” Bucky was about to hang up, but quickly added in a serious tone, “I’ll be there this afternoon to pick AJ up.”

“You’re a good man.”

“Whatever.”

“Welcome back everybody!” Ms. Cindy’s high voice rang. “We are going to practice the beginning of the show where the families enter the party. We’ll take it group by group, so let’s start with group one, the Tudors. Your family is super excited for this party, so we’ll have you enter stage right and I need the children to be skipping and bubbly.”

Ms. Cindy instructed the groups one by one. Eventually, she got to Bucky’s group, which he shared with you and four kids, including AJ.

“And our final group, group four, is the family that does not want to attend. The parents should be trying to get the kids to smile, and at least act like they are happy to be there.”

Bucky let you take the lead and simply followed what you did. He walked beside you, stopped when you stopped, turned when you turned.

“Good, now make it look like you are trying to get the kids to smile.”

Bucky copied the way you pointed to your cheery smile and did his best to ignore the embarrassment bubbling in his chest.

The comically grumpy—and much better actors than him—kids sighed and plastered on cheery expressions.

“Good, and you can continue walking.” Ms. Cindy ordered.

Group four finished the short trek across the stage successfully. For such a simple task, Bucky had felt surprisingly nervous.

Ms. Cindy quickly gave her praise and ordered everyone to start over. As Bucky and his group were going back to the line, she offered some advice.

“Y/N and Mr. Barnes, could you try holding hands? You don’t look as ‘coupley’ as everyone else.”

Bucky gulped. Of course you don’t look as ‘coupley’ as everyone else, all the other couples are actually couples, and married for God’s sake!

You, on the other hand, simply said “Okay.”

“Group one, go,” Ms. Cindy called, and the Tudors began to cross the makeshift stage.

The line moved forward, and Bucky with it. He began to sweat a little.

Hold your hand? With my left hand? My metal hand?

She simply glanced at him and gave him a small smile.

“And group two,” Ms. Cindy called.

Everyone stepped forward.

The good news is that Bucky was wearing his gloves, but surely she’d notice his hand felt different and think he was weird. Although, did she already know about his arm situation? She did mention that she’d heard about him and Sam from Sarah. Maybe she already knew, and wouldn’t care?

“Group three!”

Bucky looked back at the kids trailing behind him and spotted AJ beaming right back at him. Suddenly, Bucky felt ridiculous.

Bucky, you’re being an idiot. Be a man and hold her hand. It’s not that deep. You’re doing this for AJ.

“And four,”

He grabbed her hand and started to walk with her. The first thing he noticed was how small her hand felt in his. It gave him an unfamiliar tingly feeling in his chest. He wasn’t sure he liked it, but it was better than anxiety.

He tried his best to puff out his chest and mimic her confidence as they walked. Bucky stopped halfway through, like they were supposed to, and turned to face the kids like last time. He pretended to point to his smile and finished the walk across the stage.

“Excellent! Let’s move on.”

Bucky managed to make it through the entire class without sweating his clothes off from nerves.

“You ready to go, AJ?”

AJ yelped, “Wait! I want you to meet one of my friends!” He dramatically waved over to a little girl with a sunflower barrette in her hair who came skipping over. “This is Ava.”

“Hi, Ava.” Bucky gave an awkward smile.

The little girl looked up at him unphased.

“Hi, Mr. Bucky. So are you really a superhero?”

Straight to the point, huh? “Oh—um,”

“He is!” AJ butted in, “He’s friends with my Uncle Sam, they save the world all the time!”

Ava crossed her arms across her chest and jutted a leg out.

“So can you fly?” She squinted.

“Nope, I can’t fly.” Bucky began to rub the back of his neck.

“Can’t your Uncle Sam fly?” She asked, looking at AJ with skepticism.

“Yep!”

“So if you can’t fly, what can you do?”

Before Bucky could even begin to stutter, Y/N appeared.

“Hey, Ava! I think your mom is looking for you.” She said, placing a hand on the girl's shoulder.

“Okay, I gotta go. Bye AJ,” Ava quickly spouted and ran off towards the doors.

“Bye!” AJ shouted.

Bucky noticed Y/N holding his blue cap out to him.

“I think you forgot your hat.” She spoke softly.

“Didn’t even realize, thanks.”

“It’s no problem, Bucky.”

Bucky was about to give a lopsided grin when AJ interjected,

“Only friends and family call him that.”

“Oh, I’m sorry! James, then.” She brought her hand to her cheek.

“No, no, Bucky is fine,” Bucky quickly corrected, “you can call me Bucky.”

“You’re sure? I don’t mean to overstep,”

“You aren’t, I like it when you call me Bucky.”

He instantly felt his cheeks get warm at his confession. Before she could respond, he quickly changed the subject.

“Oh, by the way, I wanted to let you know that I can’t be here at the next rehearsal. AJ will be here, but I completely forgot that I’ve got an appointment that day.” A monthly check-in with Dr. Raynor that he forgot to move. “I don’t know if you want me to meet somewhere instead, or I can just come early on Tuesday and you can catch me up to speed or…I mean whatever you think is best.”

“If you want, we can meet on Friday at my place. I can send you the address if you’d like?”

“Yeah, yes, sure, let me get my phone—” he fumbled while grabbing it out of his pocket, “what’s your number?”

“Hey, come on in!” Y/N appeared behind the crisp white door of a cute house, not unlike the Wilson’s, and gestured inside before grimacing. “Sorry, I should’ve asked before, are you cool with dogs?”

Bucky nodded.

She gave a sigh of relief and fully opened the door. Bucky couldn’t help but smile at the graying corgi staring back at him.

“This is Frank,” Y/N said, bending down to bring the panting dog into her arms.

“Hi, Frank.” Bucky greeted, giving the dog gentle pets with his right hand. “Your house is lovely,” he added after catching a glance around.

“Oh, thanks!” She smiled, walking into the living room area to set the dog down on the couch. “This is actually my parent’s house, I’m just house and dog sitting for the week while they’re out of town. Usually, I live in my apartment.”

“Is this where you grew up?” Bucky asked, eyes searching the place. He noted the multitude of picture frames lining the wall and the slightly worn couch.

“The first eighteen years of my life. I told myself I’d be out of Louisiana by the time I went to college, but clearly that didn’t happen.”

“Where did you want to go?”

“New York, San Francisco, I don’t know, maybe even Australia or France.” she laughed at the absurdity and sighed. “C’est la vie,”

Bucky stuck his thumbs in his pockets and stared down at his feet, unsure of what to do next.

“Can I get you anything? Water? Iced Tea? I can make some coffee. Are you hungry?”

“Just water is fine,”

“Sure, one second.”

Bucky took the opportunity to explore the room. His curiosity was set on the shelf beside the fireplace, and the multitude of shiny awards it adorned.

Several faux gold figures of ballerinas and a plaque filled the space, as well as what looked to be a photo album. Bucky thought better than to touch it, however, he did notice the significant lack of dust on it compared to the trophies.

“I see the obnoxious shrine of my dancing days has caught your attention.”

Bucky spun around, cheeks a little pink at the notion of being caught wandering. He was looking for the right thing to say as you took a seat on the couch and placed the water on the coasters.

“Looks like you’re an amazing dancer.” He nodded, hoping that it was the appropriate thing to say.

She ducked her head at the compliment. “I was okay.” She pointed to just beyond his shoulder at the photo album. “You can look at it if you want,” she offered, clearly sensing his curiosity.

Bucky grabbed the binder from its spot on the shelf and took a seat next to her. He slowly opened the book to the first page.

There you were, 4 years old in a bright pink tutu, beaming at the camera. The page was covered in cute stickers and artistic swirls.

“My mom has a knack for crafty things,” she said, vaguely gesturing to the book.

Bucky hummed and began to gingerly flip through the pages. It was odd but endearing seeing you change through each photo and page, but one thing that stayed constant was your eyes. In every photo they had the same sparkle, the same light. It looked so right on you, but he didn’t recognize it in you now.

Bucky stopped on the page dedicated to age 17 and marveled at the costume you were wearing. He couldn’t look away from the intricate feathers and sequins.

“That was for our Spring production of Swan Lake.”

Bucky turned to see a subtle smile on her lips. She was looking at the book, but it seemed as if she was seeing right through it.

“You were the swan?”

“Odette, yeah.”

Bucky turned the page once more, except this time there was no photo—just the outline of where one would be on a mostly blank page, minus the glittering bold number “18”.

“Anyway, the choreography,” she quickly chimed, her attitude dramatically changing, “I’ve got the video right here, we can watch it first.”

She snatched the album up and placed it back on the shelf before handing him her phone. Bucky watched the thirty-second clip of two of the volunteers—possibly the Tudors if he remembered correctly—as they danced a shockingly simple routine.

“That’s it?” He cocked an eyebrow.

“That’s it.” She assured. “Ready to try it?”

“I might be a little rusty, it’s been a while since I’ve danced.”

She turned on the music and started counting under her breath.

They started by facing each other, their right palms in front of them, and placed against each other. They both took a step in, a step out and circled around the other to which they were now in the opposite places. She curtsied, he bowed, and then they repeated the step in, step out, switch. Now they stood next to each other, and she held her arm out over his. They took three steps forward, and the music grew into a faster tempo.

“Easy enough?” Y/N asked, grabbing her phone to stop the music.

It was suspiciously simple, Bucky thought, but then again, the adults were just a small addition to the show. It’s really about the kids.

“We can make this more interesting.” He remarked.

“What do you mean?”

“Let’s try it again.” Bucky gestured to her phone.

She obliged and restarted the music.

They went through the routine again, all the way to the end at which the music began to speed up. As Y/N went to pause the music again, Bucky grabbed her arm and pulled her in. She gave a surprised gasp, but Bucky wasn’t regretful once he saw the smile on her face. He pulled himself back and began to spin her around and basked in her soft laughs. After pulling her back in again, and dancing around each other, he dipped her. She wrapped her right leg around him in response and he hoped she didn’t notice his smirk transform into a blush.

“Alright Mr. ‘I might be a little rusty’, someone has moves!”

Bucky helped her up once she removed her leg.

“I used to be better,” he mumbled.

“None of that,” she softly chided, bringing his chin up, “where did that confidence just go?”

Bucky shook his head. “I’ll keep practicing, then you’ll see,” he simpered.

Time went on and not a day went by that Bucky didn’t think of you. After weeks of practice, it was finally dress rehearsal. Bucky was surprisingly calm even though they were no longer practicing in a studio, but in the local high school’s theater, in full costume. You held his hand through it—literally, for some parts—and Bucky was grateful for it.

It was Friday night, the final rehearsal before the show the next day, and Bucky was just about to drive off when he realized how cold his hand felt against the steering wheel. He cursed himself and ran back inside, luckily finding his leather gloves sitting on a chair in the wings of the stage. Right as he was about to scamper off, he noticed a figure at the very front of center stage. He recognized her immediately, and without a second thought, he approached from the darkness of the sides and into the light of the stage. She had already changed out of her ballgown and was back in black leggings.

“Hey.” He uttered, slowly taking a seat next to her at the end of the stage. He let his legs dangle over the edge.

“Hey,” she gasped, bringing a hand to her heart. “Sorry, I thought everyone had left.”

“I forgot my gloves.”

“Seems like you have a habit of forgetting things,” she teased.

“Only when it comes to clothing, apparently.”

“Is AJ not waiting for you?”

“No, he left with a friend. He’s got a sleepover with Marshall tonight.”

“Gotcha.”

A thoughtful quiet settled over them, but Bucky couldn’t ignore the somberness in her eyes, gazing over the expanse of empty velvet seats.

“Can I ask you something? You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”

“Shoot.”

“Why’d you stop dancing?”

She was quiet for a minute. Bucky started to think she wasn’t going to answer, but eventually, she whispered,

“I didn’t have much of a choice.”

She began mindlessly rubbing her knee.

“I tore my ACL my senior year. It was our annual production of The Nutcracker and I was cast as the Sugar Plum Fairy. There was a rumor that some influential talent scouts were going to be attending. So when my knee started hurting I ignored it. I didn’t tell anyone. I worked my ass off and pushed myself harder when I really should have been resting, but I was stupid.” She gave Bucky a short glance. “Opening night came, and so did my solo. Everything was going fine until I heard a pop. Next thing I know my leg is on fucking fire and I’m hitting the ground.

“I embarrassed myself and our entire company. My knee took longer to heal than it should have because of more poor choices I made. What should have been nine months of healing turned into years. By the time it was safe enough to start dancing again, it was too late. I was too far behind my peers. Even still I sometimes have issues with it.”

Bucky simply nodded, taking in her words.

“I tell myself I’m over it because it was so long ago. But deep down I know I’m not. I’ve asked my parents to take down all of my stupid awards, at least store them away somewhere, because it’s just some sick reminder of what I lost. Actually, the whole reason I started volunteering in the first place is because my mom told me I should. Said it could be good for me. She never said so, but I really think she was hoping that by being surrounded by ballet again, I would feel motivated to begin training again. But it’s a pipe dream.”

She took a deep breath and looked up at the ceiling.

“All I ever was was a dancer. And a good one. It was the only thing I was good at, besides sewing, but I only learned that after I injured myself. The whole town knew me as the dancer. I guess the problem with having my entire identity wrapped around one thing is that when that thing goes away…well, who are you? Who am I, if not the girl who’s going to be on the stage one day? My entire identity was ripped from me.

“I’ve just been wading through life. Time keeps moving and crashing around me, but I haven’t changed. I still don’t know who I am, besides the girl who could’ve been great. And now I’m just—stuck.”

Her eyes went wide for a second before squeezing them shut as if she had forgotten she wasn’t alone.

“God, I’m so sorry, you didn’t need to know all of that—”

“No, I—” Bucky stopped her and hesitated to rest his hand on hers. “I can empathize. I hate that you had to go through that. That you’re still going through it. I can understand not knowing who you are anymore.

“A long time ago, I used to be someone else. I used to be charming, independent… happy. But after I was drafted my identity was no longer my own. I was a fighter. I belonged to the army. And then I belonged to Hydra. And even after, I belonged to the Avengers, the world, whoever needed me to fight, I was their soldier. But I’m tired.” At those words, Bucky slumped. “I don’t want to fight anymore. But I have no fucking clue who I am if not a soldier. I’ve been trying to figure that out.”

“I can’t tell you who you are,” she whispered after a moment, “but I can tell you that whoever you are, I like you.”

Bucky blushed.

“I like you too. It’s kind of embarrassing actually,”

“What is?”

“I didn’t really want to volunteer for this. Sam forced me. And while I love being here for AJ, I’d much rather hang out with him outside the theater where I’m not expected to be looked at on stage. But then I met this pretty costume designer…and suddenly it wasn’t so bad.”

“Pretty?” She asked, tilting her head.

“Beautiful. Absolutely gorgeous.” He specified.

“What a coincidence. I also met the most handsome and charming man recently.”

“Charming?”

“He doesn’t realize how charming he is. I guess that’s part of his charm.”

“He sounds great.” He turned to face her more directly. “Just to be clear, you are talking about me, yes?”

“Yes, you oaf.” She laughed.

Bucky pursed his lips.

“Would you be willing to let this oaf take you out on a date sometime?”

“More than willing.”

“That’s a relief,” he sighed, falling back onto the stage. “I figured it was 50/50.”

She gave him a silly grin and shook her head in amusement.

“You underestimate yourself, Bucky Barnes.”

The final performance was perfect. Well, as perfect as it could be with a production of the Nutcracker with dancers ages ranging from 6 to 106. Most importantly, AJ had fun and did a fantastic job. After the show and final bows, Sarah, Sam, and Cass came rushing onto the stage to congratulate AJ (and Bucky of course. Sam made sure to tell him that he was very proud of how brave he was, and Bucky rolled his eyes. He secretly appreciated it, though.) Cass handed one bouquet to his little brother and the other to his uncle, who funny enough lit up in a similar way as his nephew at the gift. But Y/N lit up the most when Sarah handed a third bouquet to her.

“For keeping Bucky in line, and giving a beautiful performance,” Sarah clarified.

“You’re so sweet,” she beamed, pulling Sarah in for a quick hug. “I have the perfect vase for this.”

“Can we go get ice cream now?” AJ jumped.

“Let’s get you out of your costume first,” Sam said and gave a quick wink to Bucky before herding his sister and Nephews backstage. “We’ll see you by the car Buck.”

Bucky nodded and turned his full attention to Y/N. He felt weirdly high after the performance. “Wanna join us for ice cream?” He asked, placing his hands on her waist.

“Gladly.” She smiled and wrapped her arms around his neck.

I like dancing with you.

A/N: If you've made it this far, tysm for reading!!! I really hope this doesn't suck complete ass, idk what happened 😰 Im going to go hide in a hole now and question everything

If you'd like to read more, here's my Masterlist

Happy holidays!

#bucky fic #bucky barnes fic #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky fanfiction #bucky x reader #bucky x f!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #tfatws!Bucky #dancer!reader #costumer!reader #bucky fluff #bucky angst #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fluff

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collapsedglasshouses · 8 months

Text

Consequences || Noah Sebastian x Reader [Part 4]

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x Reader

Summary: When Y/N gets to their hotel room, she finally finds closure to all the confusing events.

Warnings: MDNI!!, 18+, NSFW, SMUT, unprotected sex (p in v) (wrap it before you tap it!), fluffy as hell, swearing, let me know if I forgot something

Taglist: @jakekiszkasguitarpick @blackveilomens @kingdomof-omens (congrats you can call yourself 'jazz' first tag team members' lmao)

IF YOU WANNA BE ADDED TO THE TAGLIST, PLS DM ME OR COMMENT ♡

A/N: Well, well, well… I don’t even know what to say… I couldn’t wait until tomorrow so here you have the next chapter! I let myself get inspired for this chapter. I read The Love Hypothesis again and this one quote out of it will always stick with me. Do you notice which one?

It's been three minutes since Noah left the room. You heart was racing. You didn't even know what to think. Didn't he say he wanted to talk about this when we got home? Was it going to be bad?

Your mind was racing when you stepped closer to Jolly. "I need you to do me a favor-..." - "Not going into our room for the next three hours and at best keep Nick from going to bed so he doesn't hear anything? You're welcome."

You gave Jolly a thankful and apologetic smile before slowly walking away from your group. When you came to a stop in front of your hotel room, you couldn't help but feel like you felt that night you landed under Noah's bed. Does he just wanna have sex now?

You quietly opened the door with your key and stepped into the room. There he was. Sitting on his bed, staring straight ahead seemingly deep in his thoughts. You quickly got out of your high heels before walking towards him. When you sat down next to him, you let out a devoted sigh.

"We should talk about this." He said quietly before swallowing hard. You knew this was going to be hard. Neither Noah nor you were good at talking about serious topics when it came to things between you two. You remembered that often when you annoyed each other, you would just remain silent until there was no longer a problem. So now you just nodded and hoped he would begin to talk.

But nothing happened. You two sat their in silence.

You started to think. You knew you wanted to talk with him but not once you thought about what you actually felt. It wasn't normal for best friends to just randomly hook up after ten years of being nothing but platonic.

You exhaled frustrated. "Fuck... We behave like fucking teenagers, Noah. We're literally grown adults. Why is it so fucking hard to just talk?" You stood up and started pacing around the room.

Noah looked at you. When you noticed it, you came to a stand in front of him. "What is this?" - "Y/N, I have no idea." - "I don't know it either but we need to figure it out before someone gets hurt."

Now he was the one who sighed and than he cradled his head in his hands.

"What the fuck are we doing?" You began to cry out. "What the fuck am I even doing?" With that his head shot back up to look at you. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, Noah..." You swallowed hard, being a lot more sad and frustrated than you originally thought. "You are... a fucking well known rock star. You aren't just the boy anymore who lived down the street that I maybe admired a little too much when you came over to game with my brother." You sighed. "You aren't even the boy anymore who took my virginity because I was panicking about being the last in my friend group... You are a lot more now... You are you and I am me and... I don't even know what I was thinking. You are literally my best friend, Noah."

"So-..." He began. "...you regret what happened between us?" You had a feeling his eyes changed with your statement. They looked emptier.

"No, no, no...Noah." You cried out and looked at him apologetic. "That's not even in the slightest close to reality... That's the problem… I don't regret one second with you. I think, there wasn't one day in the past two weeks that I haven’t thought of you." You explained and ran a hand through your hair. "The thing is... I feel weird. On the one hand you are my best friend. You are Nick's best friend. You are the closest friend I ever had. I think nobody knows as much about me as you do. And I love that. But on the other hand there is this thing between us. Something that I have never felt with anyone before. That scares the shit out of me, Noah."

You felt like you read straight out of your diary and metaphorically you lost a piece of clothing with each sentence you spoke to him.

"Y/N."

"I don't wanna be one of your adventures, Noah."

"Y/N."

"I heard you talking about so many girls that come and left. Either them or you not being serious."

"Y/N."

"I saw you get hurt and I don't wanna be the one to do that to you."

"Y/N"

"I just don't wanna be one of those short funny stories that you tell the boys while drinking beer."

"Y/N, you know that would never happen."

"Why are you so sure of that, Noah? Why would you think this all could work? Why would you think Nick wouldn't hate us being... whatever this is?"

"Because I love you."

Your mouth dropped slightly open while you felt like someone knock all the oxygen out of your lungs. You couldn't breath. He loved you.

Your gaze slightly softens while you looked at the man in front of you. The man who also was the boy who told you he would raise a child with you that wasn't even his when you were just 18. The boy who played every song under the planet on his guitar as long as you would stop crying about this guy who broke your heart in eighth grade. You looked at this man, the man who had nothing but love in his heart for you the whole time you knew him.

You swallowed while taking a hesitant step towards him, not being able to form a sentence. You came to a rest when you stood right between his legs.

"You don't have to say it when you don't feel it but-..." - "Say it again, Noah." You lifted his chin so he had no chance but to look you in the eyes. His hands came up to rest at your hips. "I love you, Y/N... I-... I think i loved you for a long time. I just didn't realize it until those things between us happened."

With that you slightly bent down and pressed you lips to his. All of a sudden you felt like you were going to explode. Nothing ever felt this good. Everything that you worried or thought about just started to make sense. It was so clear in front of you all along. You were madly in love with Noah.

You felt how he fidgeted with the sipper on your dress and when he opened it you let it slip down to the floor. He interrupted the kiss for a second to admire you.

"I wish you could see yourself the way I see you."

Everything inside you started to tingle. Maybe it was his words or his tone. Maybe it was the fact he was so vulnerable around you. You just knew there was no way back. You needed Noah.

You instantly kissed him again while you unbuttoned his pants. When those dropped to the floor, you crawled onto his lap while your tongues started to fight for dominance.

"We definitely need to tell Nick." He gasped, out of breath, while you unbuttoned his black shirt. You nodded. "But definitely not now." You joked and made him chuckle before pushing him back onto the mattress. For a second you just admired him under you. How his laugh reached his eyes. How his lips were slightly pink from your kisses. How his hair fell onto his forehead. You didn't find one thing about this man you didn't love.

You leaned down to him and kissed his cheek.

"What was that for?" He asked you surprised while his hands drew circles on your exposed hips.

"I love you too, Noah." With that his eyes lit up and with a quick movement you found yourself under him.

"God, I missed you." Noah muttered against your mouth, making you smile. You always wanted to be loved like this and didn't realise he was exactly in front of you.

He quickly helped you out of your bra and before you knew you also lost your underwear.

When he kissed you again, you grabbed his face with your hands, noticing how you missed touching him.

"Fuck" he mumbled as he kissed along your collarbone. This alone let you moan a little. Every cell of your boy craved him.

"I'm not letting you go ever again." he almost moaned out while his hand found your core. His fingers found your clit with ease and he began to work you in circles. Your jaw dropped open in surprise at the shock of pleasure it sent down your spine.

You cried out when he suddenly stopped his movements and kissed his way back up to your face.

"Noah, I need you." You moaned when he looked back into your eyes. "I'm right here." He teased and than started to attack your neck. You knew those kisses would leave bruises, making you moan even loader.

"I-... I need you inside of me." You stuttered while your body seemed to tremble in pleasure.

"Oh god, you're gonna be the death of me." He moaned while getting up to get out of his boxers.

You bit your lip as you looked at his naked form. He was so pretty. He climbs back on top of you while you open your legs for him. Never in your entire life did you need anyone as bad as you needed him right now.

So when he teases you with the tip of his cock, you could help but squirm for more. You buckle your hips and Noah laughs quiety.

"So needy and wet for me." You could only hum in agreement.

"Please, Noah." You beg. In this moment you just wanted him to tear you in half.

"God, you look so beautiful." He whispered and let his hand travel over your body one more time.

Finally, he started to sink into you. Your mouth fell open while you felt him stretch you out a bit and then pushing you to your limit. Instantly he let his head fall on your shoulder while moaning in sync with you.

Never in your entire life you heard a more beautiful sound. When he finally buried himself inside of you, he paused to let you adjust.

You couldn't even dare to breath in that moment.

"Is this okay?" He whispered in your ear. "Hmmm. Yes... Keep going."

You could feel his smile against your neck. He pressed a kiss to your temple before pulling out of you, drawing a surprised gasp from you before slowly going back into you. He did that a couple of times while heavy breathing was the only sound filling the air.

"You feel so fucking good." He groaned into your shoulder, causing you to wrap your arms around him and trying to pull him even closer.

You almost got impatient with his gentle touch so you pushed your hips off the bed to give him a hint that he got immediately.

You let out a small yelp when he suddenly thrusted harder into you hitting a certain spot. Your noises than made him go faster while your nails found their way across his back. If he wasn't that tattooed on his back, it would have been clear evidence about what was happening here.

"Harder." You begged him. He slammed into you causing you to moan even louder, but he dipped down and swallowed your sound with a deep kiss.

"You need to be more quiet, love. When we get to your place you can scream as loud as you want." He growls against your lips. Butterflies started to form in your stomach.

"Let me take care of you." He than whispered against you lips, reaching down between you with his other hand, pressing his index finger against you clit. You truly felt like you were about to explode into thin air and allowed yourself to think about what was happening right now.

Noah, your best friend of more than ten years, the man you were madly in love with, was pounding into you while also fingering you like he never did anything else in the entire world. His pace was almost punishing.

All the tension between you. Every time in the dead of the night when you gaslit yourself into believing you didn't think of him while you had your hand between your legs. All let to this.

When he changed the angle, hitting a new spot, you instantly buried your hands in his hair, as you felt your orgasm built. His hand still circling your clit while thrusting into you. "Fuck, Y/N, I need you to cum for me."

With that you were done. You moaned loudly while you reached your high, digging your nails into Noah's back, causing him to moan too.

That's when you felt it. He groaned your name and you felt him twitch inside of you, cum spreading through you.

It was an interesting sensation for you. One that made you squirm under him. He thrusted as deeply as he could for a few more times. The pleasure causing you to sink your teeth into his shoulder, biting down to lower the volume of your screams.

After you both helped each other through your highs, he slowly pulled out of you and looked you in the eyes.

"I'm not gonna drop the cheesy question, asking you to be my girlfriend because I think you know I'll not let you go anytime soon." He says before pecking your lips and than getting up to grab a cloth to clean you up.

"I would love to be your girlfriend, Noah." You answered him after came back and cleaned you up. Noah laughed and than wrapped his arms around your torso to cuddle you tightly.

He lifted his head and pressed his lips to yours. "I would love to be your boyfriend too, Y/N."

When he lay back down on your chest, you started playing with his hair and couldn't help but think about the reality that was just meters away from you.

How the hell would you explain all this to your brother?

READ PART 5 HERE.

#bad omens fanfiction #bad omens rpf #bad omens fanfic #bad omens fic #noah sebastian fanfic #noah sebastian fanfiction #noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian fic #rpf #collapsedglasshouseswrites

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ahgasegotarmy116 · 5 months

Text

Seven Days to Fall Again | Tuesday | Jeon Jungkook

Inspired by the MV "Seven" by Jung Kook ft. Latto (obvi lol) Summary: Train to take us back. Jungkook wants to talk it out so you can be together again but you're hellbent on not taking him back. Paring: Reader x Jungkook (almost exes to lovers lol) Word Count: 2k~ Warnings: No real warnings honestly just an argument. a/n: The next few days will be shorter since I had planned on making this a series with shorter parts to begin with. I just needed to set up the state of their relationship on Monday with the breakup. I let me know what you think in the comments and I hope you're looking forward to Wednesday (superior jk imo hehe) Start from the Beginning

Waking up the next morning I, on instinct reach out to search for Jungkook lying next to me and when I don't find him it all comes back to me. "Shit" I say, sitting up and feeling the pounding in my head already. 'So that's why I don't keep that wine at home' I think to myself and head to the kitchen to search for some pain meds, but before I'm even able to open the cabinet I hear the sound of my doorbell ringing.

I wrack my head thinking of who could possibly be coming over this early in the morning but no one comes to mind. I look through the peep hole and see it's the one person I hoped I could avoid for at least the next few days. "Go away Jungkook" I say, just loud enough for him to hear. "Please open the door" he says softly but even through the closed door I can still make it out.

"Why don't you open it yourself?" I ask, now curious as to why he hasn't used his keys yet. "I wanted to respect what you said about not coming home by at least knocking and waiting to be let in" he mumbles and I finally just decide to open the door, tired of having to lean up against it to hear his muffled voice. "Yet you came home anyway" I say holding onto the door in a defensive stance, still wanting to have the option to shut it in his face. Petty? Probably. Deserved? Yes.

"I wanted to talk to you and, I don't know, maybe get some clothes if you still want to kick me out" he says and I know he's doing this to make me feel bad but I just give in and walk away from the door and leave it open. Neither inviting him in, nor shutting him out. "Thank you" he says and comes over to the table, placing down a bag that I didn't even notice he had.

I look at it questioningly for a second waiting to see if he might disclose what is in said bag and luckily he does so before I have to swallow my pride and ask. "I brought breakfast" he says unloading some takeout boxes from the nearby bakery that I love. "And pain meds, just in case we had run out" he says and places that on the side of the table closest to me.

I ignore the last part and look in the kitchen cabinet to search for some on my own and to my dismay I come up empty handed leaving me having to accept one of his peace offerings. "Thank you" I mumble and head to the sink to get a glass of water. "How did you sleep?" he asks, watching me gulp down the glass to aide in getting it down.

"How do you think I slept?" I question back sarcastically, him now looking at the disheveled state I'm in. "Right..." he trails off, realizing it was a pretty stupid question to ask. "Jungkook what do you want?" I ask wanting to bypass his stupid excuse of small talk.

"I want to talk about what happened last night. Why do you want to break up?" he asks and I slam the cup down on the counter, infuriated as to why he would even ask that question again. "I told you in explicit detail last night and you still don't know? I didn't realize I needed to add clueless and a horrible listener to the list as well" I say crossing my arms over my chest. "Unbelievable" I mutter to myself.

"What is unbelievable is that you didn't give us the opportunity to actually sit down and communicate things like adults in a controlled environment. Noona, half the stuff you said was difficult for me to hear because of the other people around us. I wanted to give both of us a chance to talk this out a bit more so we can figure out if there's any way we can work this out so we can still be together" he says trying his best to convince me to even give him a chance to at least say his piece.

"I told you last night Jungkook. I'm done and I don't want to be with you anymore" I state and turn to go back to the bedroom. "Just let m-" "I need to get ready for class. Grab what you need and make sure you're gone by the time I get out of the shower" I say grabbing a towel and closing the door to the bathroom behind me and turning on the water before he tries to say anything else.

Feeling the warm water run over my body has me sighing in pleasure, finally getting rid of the tension throughout my body and eventually the medicine kicks in and is able to reduce my headache to a dull pressure which is definitely an improvement from earlier. Jungkook's surprise visit making it even worse. I just need to go to the library to write and submit my paper so I don't get distracted at home and then I'll have the rest of the day to relax after cleaning up the house for a bit.

After I finish getting ready I walk past the kitchen and notice that the take out boxes he brought are still there. My stomach grumbles and I contemplate eating it. 'He wouldn't know either way' I think it to myself. I take a second, debating on if I should just do it but decide on leaving them where they are, adding it to the list of my to dos.

I grab my bag and get ready to go while letting out a frustrated sigh, upset with myself for being so stubborn. If I give in to him too much I might end up taking him back, I just have to keep rejecting him and hopefully he'll eventually get the memo.

Opening the door and taking a quick glance around the hallway I am thankful to say that he's no where to be found. 'Well at least he listened to me this time' I say to myself, locking the front door behind me and taking the elevator downstairs to start on my journey to the library. Once the doors open at the ground floor I am unfortunately met by the sight of Jungkook leaning up against his car right outside.

"I thought I told you to leave" I say and fix the strap on my bag before continuing on my journey. "Just let me drop you off. We don't even have to talk" he says chasing after me. "No" I decline, sticking to my strategy of rejecting him. "Then let me walk you there" he offers up instead. "No, leave me alone" I say and start walking faster and he thankfully he doesn't chase after me.

After a few minutes though I can still sense his presence behind me, "Stop following me" I say without turning around. "I'm not following you, I need to go to the station too" he says, making up a sorry excuse for his motives. "Whatever" I mumble under my breath and we, to my dismay, both make our way to the station.

"Where are you even going?" I asks once we both end up standing in the same line waiting for the same damn train. "I'm going to the library" he says simply and looks past me to where the train will be arriving in a minute. "But I'm going to the library" I say, crossing my arms and raising a brow at him. "I know, I knew you were lying when you said you had class because you don't have any classes on Tuesdays" he says, surprising me that he actually remembered part of my schedule.

I open my mouth to respond but before I can the PA system tells us that our train will arrive in 30 seconds so I turn back around to face it and start making may way in after it arrives. Before I'm all the way inside though I catch Jungkook off guard by shoving one of his shoulders causing him to stumble back, stunned for a second which is just long enough for him to not make it past the doors in time, with them closing before he can even recover.

I smile and wave at him triumphantly, seeing his slightly irritated expression but when the train starts moving he runs alongside it for as long as he can, causing me to roll my eyes at him and turn back around to face the inside of the train and put my earbuds in, praying that I'll be able to go through the rest of my day without him...

Seeing that luck is not on my side today I find him right on the steps of the library waiting for me. "I brought you coffee. I know you didn't have any this morning and you usually get even more of a headache than you probably have now if you don't have any caffeine in your system" he smiles sweetly, to which I send him a sarcastic one and take the coffee out of his hand before throwing it in the trashcan and making my way up the steps to get inside.

He is able to run up the steps faster than I am, enough to where he's able to open the door for me to get inside. I ignore him and go to one of the other sets of double doors and open it to let myself in. This day was already going to be hard enough with this stupid hangover that the slightest things will irritate me and he knows that. So why he would possibly think that following me around and pestering me would be a good idea is beyond me.

"Leave me alone, I need to study" I whisper when I finally find a spot that unfortunately has an empty seat right next to it. "I know, just let me keep you company" he says and lays his head down on the desk and looks up at me for a while with a lovesick smile. "Don't give me those puppy dog eyes or I'll gouge them out myself" I threaten, which gets him to sit up straight and take out his laptop that he somehow was able to hide from me.

"How are you able to be here? Aren't you supposed to be at work?" I question quietly, hoping I won't get scolded by the other people around for being too loud. "I work from 'home' this week" he says putting home in air quotes. "You've never worked from home before" I say getting suspicious. "Well, now I am" he says simply, opening his laptop and getting to work.

After a few hours of sitting next to him with only the sound of our keyboards to remind us of each other's presence I submit my paper and pack up my stuff so I can head back and Jungkook decides to do the same even though he was clearly in the middle of something. "Are you done for the day?" he questions, as he lets me lead the way when we get out of the library.

"Not that it's any of your business, but yes I am done for the day" I say and make my way toward the station again. "Can I give you a ride home now?" he asks with us clearly passing his car. "Nope, but feel free to take yourself anywhere that isn't home and never come back" I huff and make my way back to the train station. He decides to do the first part of the statement after watching me walk away until I'm out of his line of sight but we know as much as I don't want him to, he'll always comeback...

Monday / Wednesday

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179 notes · View notes

draculaxias · 1 month

Text

ᯓ 𓈒ㅤׂ𐙚 🫧 PTN AUS .ᐟ

Tell me what you guys think! I might write a few of these, hopefully you guys take inspiration from these as well!

NOT PROOFREAD

ZOYA ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི

— (Maybe part of my rockstar Zoya collection?? Anyway this is hugely inspired by NANA) Younger Zoya, still not a famous star but with determination to make it happen, meets you at the train you both take. Both of you leaving to go to Tokyo perhaps for different motivations, you for a fresh restart and to finally see your dear sister, and her to make her wishes come true.

Throughout the ride you both get to know each other, both of you were opposites, but you connected so well; to you, Zoya was cool! On the other hand, Zoya thought of you as a dog following people searching for an owner.. Well, although less of an insult than it sounds-. Once the train has stopped to its destination, she disappeared in thin air leaving you wondering where she was.

Until next day looking for a place to stay and start your adult life without the help of your parents turned out to be quite difficult. Either rent was too expensive, weren’t available, or wasn’t a … Well, fitting place to stay. But it all went right when you got recommended a much older building, but totally fitting and with a reasonable price!

But what happens when it turns out someone else wants it? Especially when that someone is no other than the cool girl you met on the train!? Perhaps you can become roommates! Even friends! Things get better for the two of you when you realize you only have to pay half the rent each! Of course you both agreed.

Strangers to friends, and friends to lovers. But before getting together, you both face struggles. Zoya with her own insecurities, ones she keeps to herself not wanting other to see her vulnerable side, while not being sure of her own feelings. While you are also struggling to see your true feelings for Zoya, and being in unhealthy not-so-lasting relationships.

How long will this journey last?

— BULLY HIGH SCHOOLER ZOYA AU! Zoya has been your bully ever since 6th grade, her intimidating presence and her rather large group of friends didn’t really help you stand up for yourself. You always felt small around her, she always had control over you.

Although it’s all thrown in the trash when her body language starts to change, her behavior. She still picks on you but what you once thought was pure hatred towards you slowly started to turn into much more. From pinning you against the wall, to getting ticked off when you talk or give your attention to somebody else that isn’t her. Dare you say she was jealous.

— MAFIA BOSS ZOYA, you were chosen along with some other women to be the boss’s “pet”, never did you think the boss was going to be a woman; an attractive one in fact.

You stood out from the rest to Zoya, she wanted you, and paid a lot of money for you, her now property, and she makes that clear. At first she is cold, However it isn’t long before she truly falls in love with you, you’re now her weak spot, her one and only who she will protect and fight for forever.

You, her princess who she spoils and adores so much, she would even die for you.

!!! ^^

RAHU ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི

— HIGH SCHOOLER RAHU, imagine a rather quiet girl x loud bubbly girl, opposites but perfect for each other??? People are honestly surprised how you two even managed to become friends with how not very social Rahu is. As your friendship continues, slowly she becomes comfortable around you.

Rahu wasn't necessarily a shy kid, just not the most social, but gosh was she the highest in her class--- a good kid always turning in her assignments on time. You on the other hand tried, but let's say you get lazy at times, but that's where your relationship with Rahu begins! You, asking for her help! She is a high ranked student after all!

And from that you got stuck to her like glue. It was surprising to her, you? Interested in befriending her? Hah. You'll forget about her eventually. That moment however never came and as you grew closer something inside Rahu changed. Her perspective of you changed. Every night she was thinking about you, every time she wakes up, she things about you, every time she looks around the crowded hallways to catch a glance of you.

All of the sudden, she doesn't want to be just your friend.

— KNIGHT RAHU, a forbidden love between the princess and her loyal knight. It would be a scandal if people found out about your crush towards your knight. She wasn't royalty, a noblewoman, no matter how much you wanted to kiss her you knew your family and the society wouldn't agree with your choices.

Things get more difficult when you finally confess and she admits feeling the same way, that night you both made love in the garden. Your parents would've killed her if they ever found out. Knowing she loved you too made your heart ache because you knew you two could never be happy together; not with the consequences you may face, the judgment, and hate.

As if fate couldn't be anymore crueler, your parents arranged you a marriage. Rahu's heart broke, and so did yours. Even more once Rahu told you it's best to forget the love you two hold for each other before it gets too hard to let go. Yet, you can't accept this fate.

"Rahu.. I can't... I don't want to let go. Please, let's escape this place together Rahu I just want to be with you, please."

!!! ^^

DEREN ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི

(Not much of an Au but rather an idea I guess)

— DIRECTOR DEREN X ACTRESS Y/N, hooking up with your director seems like a terrible idea. Even so worse once people find out about the affairs between you, a beloved actress, and Deren, a well known director who hasn’t released a movie for a while. Not a so great comeback from Deren huh?

You on the other hand aren’t safe either. You’ve been in a relationship for already 3 years with someone else, people think how could you ever hit so low? Ruining a relationship that has lasted for quite sometime, and a happy one. If only they knew how it truly was.

Your relationship with your partner was great at first, until they started to show their true colors. Of course, people see whats in public rather than what happens during closed doors. A toxic relationship, one where you even started to fear the person you were supposed to love more than anything, yet you couldn’t leave as much as you wanted to. Not when they would make it seem like it seem like it was you who was the problem, making you feel bad and stay.

Meeting Deren… Was the best thing that has happened to you. What was at first simply platonic feelings turned into more. You both knew it was wrong, you were in a relationship, she was your director. But kissing her, it felt right, feeling her skin against yours felt right, everything that happened that night felt right.

— LOSER HIGH SCHOOLER DEREN AU (so many high school aus IM SORRY ITS CUZ I HAVE SO MANY CUTE FLUFF IDEAS), your best friend Deren has always been… fun yet what others would call a loser? Yet there is no other way you’d have her. Constantly helping her with homework because she slept throughout the whole lesson and now she doesn’t understand, having to hear her rambles about movies and how she wants to someday make a movie herself.

Your parents have always liked Deren; they would ask you how she’s been doing; you joke about them loving her more than you. Therefore they quickly accepted when you asked if she could come over and have a sleepover tonight in your backyard.

It was also the night you started to like Deren, but like her in a way a friend shouldn’t. That night Deren once again rambled about how she wanted to become a director in the future, and how she would release the best movies of all time.

“Ya know… I want you to be one of my actresses.”

“You.. you do?”

“Heck yeah! You would be perfect, you’re so talented and pretty..” She turned around to look at the sky full of stars— it was hard to catch a glimpse of her red cheeks due to how dark it was, “You’re.. Amazing y’know. I’m lucky to have you, although sometimes I wonder why you wanted to be my friend in the first place. I know I talk a lot and—”

“I would be more than glad to someday be in one of the oh so Great Director Deren’s movies! Deren, trust me. I love hearing you talk about your interests and dreams, I .. Like listening to you. It’s not annoying.” You turned your head to look at her, “I wouldn’t have you any other way, I like the way you are even though you’re a total loser sometimes.”

With a smile Deren held your hand. Truth is, she has always had a crush on you. You were the most kindest, beautiful, sweetest girl she has ever met. Hopefully soon you’ll realize how much you mean to her.

“Watch (Y/n), i’ll make you a star someday.”

!!! ^^

CHELSEA ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི

— SUGAR MOMMY CHELSEA MEETING FLOWER SELLER (Y/N), she has many sugar babies, that is no doubt, but you for sure are her favorite girl… Although you aren’t exactly hers, yet.

You met when she was in search of flowers herself, so when she heard of flower shop near her mansion with pretty great reviews she knew she had to take a look. When she found out who was running the place, she immediately thought about enchanting you with her charms; you were just too cute she couldn’t help herself!

Her heart shattered into millions of pieces when you rejected her. Who doesn’t want to be her sugar baby? She will literally spoil you so much! That simple rejection won’t stop her— so Chelsea began to visit your flower shop every day just to see you. Everyday she offered more and more. Do you want expensive jewelry? Or a mansion? Or maybe she can help you grow your business if you accept being her sugar mommy!

Yet, as good as her offers were they were always rejected; and as the more you rejected her the more she wanted you. Throughout the days however, you two got to know each other, learn things about one another, will your relationship improve???

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ginnsbaker · 11 months

Text

In Losing Grip On Sinking Ships (2/?)

Chapter summary: You face your own struggles after the divorce

Chapter word count: 4k+

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader, Yelena Belova x Fem!Reader

Chapter Warnings: Brief smut, Fingering (r giving), Oral sex (r giving), only mentions of Wanda in this chapter, sorry

Author’s Note: Things will pickup considerably after this.

AO3 | Masterlist

Next Chapter: Three

----

Two

“Thank you for giving me the best years of my life. Goodbye, Wanda.”

You couldn’t escape that room fast enough. The room that kept the person you love most in the world–was your world. Natasha approaches you carefully after handing the check to your lawyer. Her brows are snapped together in what seems like a permanent frown whenever you’re concerned, and it puts you off more than usual.

“You alright?” she faintly asks, already knowing the answer. The part of you that refuses to die–the part that endlessly cares for Wanda and wants to protect her at all cost–inexplicably wants to send Natasha to that room so she could offer her comfort to your ex-wife instead. Wanda’s been left by you. She is alone for the first time in her adult life, without the same support you’re getting from Natasha. You give thought to the fact that you were Wanda’s best friend first, before you were her lover and eventually her wife. And it dawns on you that, maybe, Wanda's losses outweigh yours. It’s a sick form of victory for some, yet you certainly don’t feel like you’ve won anything.

“Honestly?” You groan and clutch your stomach, frantically scanning the hallway. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

Natasha calls on a staff member to direct you to the nearest restroom.

You nearly miss the toilet in the first empty cubicle you find. Feeling the cold, hard tiles on your knees, you think it couldn’t get any worse than this. You’ve finally hit rock bottom, and you’re still alive–

–If the burn in your throat and the bitter taste of bile in your mouth constitutes being alive.

Slumped against the porcelain seat of the bowl, hardly a good place to deliberate one’s life choices, you try to figure out what’s next.

Following the divorce, you don’t last a month at your new job. Your newfound love of whisky before bedtime may have contributed to it when you only managed to be on time for work twice: your first day and your last.

In the beginning, not being able to see Wanda in the flesh helped. Being back in your beloved city and taking refuge in the small confines of Natasha’s spare room initially distracted you enough to carry on as normally as you would. That lasted a full twenty-four hours before you started seeing her ghost everywhere–on the subway platform while waiting for the train to arrive, on the street lining up for a morning bagel, and even in your bed, whereas she no longer has any business being in.

You briefly considered moving to a new state, but financially, it wasn’t the best option. With Wanda out of sight, there’s just yourself to deal with. And dealing with yourself gives you a strong urge to flee; to a place or time that would take away the remnants of yourself that stubbornly belong to Wanda.

“You can stay here as long as you like.” Natasha says when she catches you mindlessly scrolling through real estate listings in the neighborhood.

“You’ve helped enough, Nat. I can’t keep being your charity case.” you mutter, continuing with your search.

She raises her hand to aim for your temple, but thinks better of it and pulls it back. “You’re lucky I’m done with violence or you would’ve had your ass handed to you for saying that.”

You snicker. “I’m your golden ticket to heaven for being so good to me. Even my mom would’ve kicked me out by now.”

“You want to pay me back? Stay. Don’t argue anymore.”

“But, Nat–”

“I said drop it.”

Your mouth snaps shut at the forceful dismissal. Natasha’s eyes dart everywhere to avoid yours. You’ve been so caught up in your problems, you missed the obvious signs that maybe she needs you as much as you needed someone when your life was falling apart (and still is).

“Babe, are you okay?” you ask, keeping your tone casual.

“Babe,” Natasha chuckles at the nickname you haven’t used on her for almost a decade. “God, it sounds so weird, now that I’ve heard you call Wanda that countless times.”

You scrunch your nose, recalling also the times you’ve screamed that endearment during sex with your ex-wife. “Fuck, you’re right. I kind of want to barf all over this couch.”

“Don’t you dare.” You’re both laughing now and it feels really, really good.

“So,” you say once you’ve both recovered. “Is there something you’d like to share with me?”

Natasha pauses to think, and it’s more than enough to let you know she doesn’t want to talk about her own problems and feelings.

“I’m good. Now, where are we on: not abandoning your best friend after exploiting her?” she says, effortlessly putting you back in the spotlight.

Whatever it is she’s going through, you want to be there for her.

“Fine,” You already owed Natasha your sanity; you didn’t want to owe her money too. “But I want to pay rent.”

Natasha grins in satisfaction. “Deal.”

It was either you get drunk on alcohol, or you get drunk on memories of Wanda. Apparently, it only takes a while before they eventually mix up to mess with your head tenfold. One second you’re struggling to keep your eyes open to take just one more shot before you call it a night, and the next your fingers are inching towards the waistband of your shorts, your mind wandering to moments you’ve woken up in the middle of the night mid-orgasm, your wife’s head buried in between your thighs.

Nothing sobers you up more than the near mistake of touching yourself to thoughts of your ex-wife. You’re beyond disgusted that you still fantasize about a woman who’s no longer yours.

A woman who basically destroyed your ability to trust.

The bed of Natasha’s spare room is a double, and you’re still not accustomed to having all the space to yourself. After downing what’s left of the bottle of whisky, you place all the pillows on the unoccupied spot to your left and lay down on your side, waiting for sleep to take you.

The days that follow are a mere repetition of the day you officially quit your job. They mostly adopt a template that consists of three things: Netflix, pizza and housekeeping.

(In truth, it’s four things, but you keep the liquor in your room, where all the drinking takes place without your best friend’s knowledge.)

Apart from being a lifestyle that’s easy to maintain, it is also a far cry from your old life. You want to remove as much detail in your life that reminds you of Wanda, and this is what you’re left with. Your mother(and only living parent) who has retired in Montauk, is not pleased to discover that you’re reliving your college era–jobless and sharing a flat with Natasha. But at least she had more to say about your current situation than when you told her about your failed marriage over the phone.

“I did warn you about that girl.” your mother remarked frankly during that call, and then proceeded to flatly ask if you were okay, like she was reading a script on how to react when you find out your daughter is getting a divorce. In retrospect, it was the best reaction you could ever hope for considering her dislike of Wanda–a feeling she’s never attempted to hide at every opportunity. Wanda, to her credit, only ever respected and loved her through the side-eyes and snarky comments, and this capability of hers to do so surprised you given her relationship with her own mother. The way she loved your mother certainly felt like an extension of her love for you.

Right after letting your mother know you’re out of work, she wired you a ridiculous amount of money for your “allowance”. You tried giving it back, but she refused and alluded that you should take some time to enjoy yourself without the pressure of getting another nine-to-five desk job. You graciously relented, knowing it was her way of looking out for you and being sorry for what happened with Wanda.

And that is basically how you are able to keep up being a kermit in Natasha’s apartment. If it’s up to you, you wouldn’t change a thing in your routine, but Natasha has other ideas after finding her study tidy and uncluttered–which she often leaves in a state of anarchy.

“Here,” she says, handing you a purple key fob. “Go to the gym, and use up all your energy on lifting weights instead of ruining my order of things around here and wallowing in self-pity.”

You pause the television and put down the slice of pizza you’ve been holding to receive the key with greasy fingers.

“If I go, will you promise to leave me alone for the rest of the week?” you ask around a mouthful of cheese and pepperoni.

“Do it, and then I’ll think about it.”

You shrug and return to finishing a whole box of pizza by yourself and your eleventh re-run of Modern Family.

“One more thing,” Natasha says, tossing you a watch. You click pause again and look at the offending item on your lap. “Wear that so I’ll know if you actually do the workout.”

You groan and Natasha smiles in triumph at your agony. You don’t know what her deal is, but you’re actually thankful someone’s making sure you don’t stuff yourself to death with pizza.

The gym looks more like a hotel lobby than a place where people grunt and sweat and ogle their reflection.

By the counter near the elevators, a receptionist is wearing an ensemble that belongs more to a fashion magazine company. You had expectations that it would be a luxurious place due to it being housed on the penthouse floor of Manhattan’s newest skyscraper. It’s ridiculously aboveboard, however, and you’re starting to feel uneasy and out-of-place.

“Welcome back, Ms. Romanoff.” The receptionist greets you, flashing her unnaturally white and straight teeth. You respond with a timid nod before heading straight to the lockers in case she asks for ID.

After changing into a black sports bra and biker shorts, you walk straight to the lifting section.

There are only two other clients in that room, both of them male, and they’re not exactly subtle as they let their gaze sweep over you from head to toe.

Oblivious to prying eyes, you attempt to deadlift just a tad more than half your weight, but think better of it when your forearms feel like they would snap out of your elbows if you try to raise the bar a few more inches off the ground. Exhaling sharply, you drop the weights and it causes a resounding bang as it hits the floor, turning a couple of heads in your direction as a result. You hear snickering behind you, and sweat forms along your hairline as you duck your head in embarrassment.

Your eyes flit to the rows of treadmill to your right. That’s something you definitely can’t screw up. Hopping on one that’s situated in the corner, you are presented with a spectacular aerial view of the city.

The last time you’ve been to the gym was the day you learned that Wanda was fucking one of her students. While you haven’t lost weight (quite frankly, you’ve managed the opposite), you’ve lost all the muscles you’ve developed in a measly gym back in Westview. Your habit of googling everything led you to actually read a few dozen articles on how to heal a broken heart, and while their advice varied from developing a healthy habit to copious amounts of rebound sex, they all suggested daily exercise or taking up a new sport. Running was the only sport you fell in love with in the suburbs, but you found it hard to motivate yourself once you moved back to the city.

You and Wanda spent a lot of time in Central Park the first few months you began dating, and you knew how much she enjoyed taking random walks there. No matter its vastness and the odds of randomly seeing her during a stroll being less than ten percent, you can’t rely on your subconscious not to bring you to some of the areas that might result in an encounter.

Not that you haven’t thought about the possibility, on the contrary, you’ve thought about running into Wanda a lot.

You’ve thought about how you’ll feel and what you’d do. If you see her, should you say hello like two old friends meeting after a long estrangement? Should you apologize for not answering her texts and returning her calls? Would she apologize for it again? Are your interactions from now on, going to be awkward exchanges of hellos and sorries?

Will words be exchanged at all? Or will you be strangers passing each other on the sidewalks, like parallel lines that would walk the same paths but never intersect each other again?

How do you cope with knowing someone from the inside-out, only to cut them out completely out of your life?

“Excuse me?” you hear a female voice next to you, cutting your line of thought.

Speeding on the treadmill at eight miles per hour, you’re lucky to hit the stop button before you could trip all over your feet. Once you’re sure you won’t lose your balance, you steadily turn around to address the owner of the voice–

The girl is stunning, and–as cliché as it sounds–has the appearance of a Victoria’s Secret model. Her auburn hair is styled in an intricate braid and she smells too good for someone who’s just finished their workout.

“Can I help you?” you ask, suddenly feeling self-conscious about your own appearance and scent.

It doesn’t help your diffidence when she deliberately takes a step closer.

She must’ve sensed her effect on you, because she makes the bold move to place a delicate hand on your damp arm, then says, “I’m about to do some post-workout stretch, and I know this is gonna sound weird but I need your help.”

You swallow dryly. “My help… stretching?”

“I understand if you’re not comfortable with it. It’s just, I don’t want to ask a man to do this for me.”

You blink at her. Otherwise, you barely move a muscle in your face.

At your lack of verbal response, she gives you an apologetic smile and starts walking away. “I’m sorry for disturbing you, thank you for your time.”

You catch a whiff of her perfume, and suddenly your tongue finally catches up with your brain.

“Wait!”

Like a trained ballerina, she swivels gracefully on her heel, and you swear she looks even younger from this distance.

“I can help. Just tell me what to do.”

You’ve never done this. You’ve never done anything remotely close to this.

Not before Wanda, and certainly not in a semi-public place where anyone could walk in and hear you.

(Although in this case, they’d be hearing her.)

Her name is Charlie (or was it Lottie?) and she’s riding you on a bench in the women’s dressing room. Her towel has pooled to her waist, barely covering her ass as it bounces on your lap at the motion of her hips lifting and forcefully coming back down to fuck herself on your fingers.

You’re so mesmerized at the sight of someone’s pleasure, and the fact that you’re the one causing it. By your standards, it hasn’t been too long. But the nights you’ve woken up to a throbbing sensation between your legs and not once seeking release, had you acting on impulse when Charlie/Lottie kissed you as soon as you stepped out of the shower.

“Fuck, it feels so good.” she moans against your ear. “More, please.”

You don’t bother to ask what she’s asking for specifically, as you insert a third finger into her pussy, and push in and out of her at a speed that has your wrist cramping in a matter of seconds. She doesn’t last much longer after that. As soon as she starts coming, she buries her head in the area where your neck meets your shoulder; her teeth biting rather harshly at the flesh there while her walls flutter around you.

She kisses you softly after she comes down from her high, and it almost makes you cry.

“Thank you.” she murmurs sheepishly, and you try not to think about the last person who thanked you for an orgasm.

“You haven’t cum yet. Do you want–”

“Can I taste you?” you whisper, blushing at your own request.

She nods eagerly at that, and you gently lay her down fully on the bench. You take her towel off completely from her waist and place it over her chest in case she starts to feel chilly. Securing your own towel around you, you lick a trail down her body. The thing about Charlie (you decided to just call her that) is she’s inconceivably hot. Half of your thoughts are fixated on that one particular fact, and the other half is still fumbling with what’s already happening. Charlie’s thighs close around your head, causing your cheeks to rub against the smoothness of them. Her supple skin feels as expensive as it looks, her stomach is taut and defined, unlike–

Nope.

You’re not supposed to compare. You’re not supposed to even think about her at this moment.

When you reach your destination, you place an open-mouthed kiss at the top of her cunt before flicking her clit with the tip of your tongue in short, quick strokes. At the same time, your right hand travels to your own wet heat, and you groan at her taste and the relief of finally attending to your own needs. Charlie impatiently removes the towel covering her torso to grab her own breasts and squeeze them.

Moving lower, to the place where she’s ostensibly gushing, you stick your tongue in a slow but deliberate movement. The action causes her to abandon one of her tits in order to cover the scream that escapes her mouth. You switch up tactics. Flattening your tongue against her clit, you alternate between massaging and giving it little licks, all the while you mimic the same measures to your own nub. You start moaning against her pussy, sending subtle vibrations that add to her building climax.

You meant to tease her to no end, until she impatiently whines, “Hurry, my boyfriend’s picking me up soon.”

“Yeah, my boyfriend is on the way to pick me up.” Wanda said after you asked her if she’ll be okay on her own. Natasha had been ringing your phone for the last fifteen minutes, and it wasn’t going to stop vibrating in your pocket unless you got to the subway.

She’s the prettiest girl you’ve ever met, but the universe apparently had other plans and was telling you you’re in over your head.

You tried to contain your disappointment. “It was nice meeting you, Wanda.”

“Likewise, Y/N.” Wanda beamed and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. The faint glow of the golden hour hit the side of her face at the most perfect angle. Her bottom teeth weren’t perfect, but her smile was so carefree and so unrestrained, it lit up the empty hallway where the two of you were standing close together. A warm fuzziness seized your entire body, reaching the end of your toes and your fingertips.

It’s a mystery to you as well, but you genuinely hoped she was happy and properly loved.

With a grateful smile, you waved her goodbye.

However, just right before you turned a corner, you heard your name echoing in the hallway.

“Y/N?”

You turned around and met Wanda’s green eyes that pulled you like magnets. “Yes?”

“Do you, maybe, want to hang out sometime?”

You didn’t think you’d eventually find yourself at the other side of the equation. That someone would use you to cheat on their partner. Karma has a dark sense of humor, and you can’t do anything but chuckle in disbelief. Her revelation makes you freeze in all respects, and there’s no way you’re going to cum after knowing that you’re fucking someone else’s girlfriend.

“That was incredible,” Charlie murmurs in between pants. She reclines on her back, unabashedly naked like a renaissance painting. “I wouldn’t mind doing this again with you.”

You pick up her towel that has fallen on the floor, and carelessly toss it right at her face.

“I would.” is all you say, and start dressing yourself without another word.

You don’t remember much of the so-called walk of shame. One minute you’re eating a girl out, and the next you’re back in Natasha’s apartment, staring at the mirror and not recognizing the person staring back. You took another shower–a scalding one–when you got home, cleaning off the woman’s traces from your skin. What you couldn’t remove is the mark she left on your neck: a glaring purple bruise that will probably won’t go away for at least two days.

With a long sigh, you close your eyes at the detail that won’t leave you.

She had a boyfriend.

For a short moment you were in Vision’s shoes, even if you had no idea that she was using you for the very same thing that broke you.

“Y/N?”

You visibly jolt out of your stupor, and reach for the knob of the bathroom door to make sure it’s locked.

“I’ll be out in a minute.”

“No, it’s fine. Please don’t come out yet. I prefer saying this without you seeing me right now.” Natasha says, and you can tell she’s now standing just on the other side of the door.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, uhm…”

A pause. Two deep breaths drawn, and then–

“I’ve decided I’m going back.”

“Back…?”

“Back to work.”

“Natasha,” You say in quiet shock. “Does he know? You’ve talked to him about this?”

Natasha nods. “He said I can do whatever I want. We’re on a break, anyway.”

“Oh,” Your eyes drop to the floor, thinking of something else to say.

“You’re going to be okay on your own, right?” you hear Natasha whisper through the door.

You? She’s putting her life in constant danger once again, and she’s asking you. It just about makes you smile with boundless affection. You’ve been through countless conversations with Natasha, trying to talk her into a career that is not life-threatening at the very least. You used to think that Bruce coming into her life years ago would change her mind, but it seems her work is so etched to her identity that she could not just be without it.

“I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me. When are you leaving?”

“The day after tomorrow.” she says.

You open the door this time. “Wow, they really need you that bad, huh?”

Natasha smirks. “Clint’s throwing me an impromptu send-off party tomorrow night. Will you come?”

“As long as you’ll pay for the drinks.”

“He’s got us covered,” Natasha says, and then her eyes zero in on the evidence of your earlier tryst. “Oh, and you might want to cover that up.”

You blush as your fingers automatically stroke the hickey on your neck.

“I–” you try to explain.

She doesn’t let you and only says, “Good for you. Sweet dreams, stranger.” with a knowing little wink, before retreating to her own room.

Good for you. Somehow that makes you feel infinitely worse.

You pad quietly towards your bed, and as you settle in it, you hear a vibration coming from inside the nightstand next to you.

It’s your old phone. The one you keep but no longer use. The one that Wanda’s been relentlessly calling and texting. It’s buzzing to notify you that its battery is at a critical level.

You still haven’t decided what you should do with it. When you were married to Wanda, you were naturally each other’s emergency contact, and so you’ve convinced yourself that maybe you should keep it for that reason alone.

Picking up the phone with the intention to plug it, you see one missed call from Wanda. Guilt, however irrational it may be, settles at the pit of your stomach as your mind returns to what happened in the gym. It mortifies you now to realize that you have touched Charlie the way you would touch Wanda when you made love to her.

Aside from the missed call, there’s a text message from Wanda that reads: Took Sparky to the vet today. He said there’s nothing to worry about. Maybe he just misses you.

Biting your lower lip, you think about responding.

‘I miss him too’, you begin to type. ‘I miss y–’

You quickly press the backspace button to delete it altogether. Deciding not to text back, you return the phone to its hiding place. The battery will eventually run out, and maybe then, you’ll be able to decide its fate.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x you #ifiss 2 #ilgoss #wanda maximoff #marvel #natasha romanoff #unbetad #My writing #my fic

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milla-frenchy · 8 months

Text

Fav Joel series

All of them are 18+ and nsfw

Please check for each fic all the warnings indicated by the author

Summaries are those written by the authors

Raider Joel @toxicanonymity

You think Joel is saving you from the bad guys, but he's claiming you for himself. You're his now, and he won't let you or his men forget it. How long until Stockholm syndrome sets in? Will his persona start to crack?

Slasher Joel @toxicanonymity

He's a tow truck driver and you're stranded. You're already DTF but end up fucking for your life when you offend him.

Night walks @toxicanonymity

Joel, an older neighbor you've been walking with late at night, asks you into his basement to sell him weed but not really. You can't stop fucking him after that.

Carnal @pascalsbby

You thought you had it all figured out before him. Animals. Tender, primal flesh. That’s what we are at the end of the day, no? Fucking, testing one another and then eating each other alive, heart first. Maybe the heart is the sweetest part of the body- or maybe it’s just the easiest to get to. You knew you wanted to be completely devoured by him. You wanted to fill the space between his teeth.

Dom!Joel @atticrissfinch

The wrong number that texts you ends up being a man much hotter than you’d ever expect…

⭐ Meet me in the back @atticrissfinch

When the gas station clerk refuses to sell you alcohol after a shitty day, you need to get creative

I know it when I see it @bageldaddy

It's the golden age of porn. sex and sin are the national pastime. Your career in adult films starts opposite a man who goes by the name texas.

I can be your pretty girl @walkintotheriveranddisappear

After your bodily insecurities stop you from exploring your sexuality, your dad's best friend offers to help you gain some confidence and help prepare you for experiences with men. as things progress with joel, you realize he's taking advantage of you, but that doesn't stop you from having a good time, too.

Online friends @walkintotheriveranddisappear

Hot single dilfs in your area want to chat, and you're more than willing to comply (anonymous sex chatting with joel)

Something wretched about this @covetyou

Your father has been medicating his long term illness for as long as you can remember, and he'd always been grateful to find medication suppliers even after the world went to shit. When he can't pay up, what lengths will you go to to protect your entire world?

Ravish @psychedelic-ink

Joel, only now starting to feel the impending sense of loneliness, decides to listen to Tommy and sign up on an online streaming service called Ravish.

Ghost of you @thetriumphantpanda

Grief is a strange thing. In the beginning it had been all-consuming. There wasn’t a moment of the day where you didn’t cry, didn’t ask yourself why it couldn’t have been you instead. And no-one ever explains the guilt you feel when it isn’t anymore. When it’s just a dull ache and you can finally breathe again, when you can start letting people get close to you again. People like Joel Miller.

Trial & error @thetriumphantpanda

Tommy has always been the loyal and doting boyfriend, the literal man of your dreams. Ready to take things to the next step, you soon find that Tommy is unable to have children. A family is all you’ve ever wanted, and neither of you are going to let this get in your way. Enter Joel, dark and mysterious and willing to do anything for his little brother, including fucking his girlfriend to get her pregnant. That’s what brothers are for, right?

Come away with me @thetriumphantpanda

Four years have passed and you’ve managed to raise a beautiful baby boy into a sweet little boy. Four years of one night with Joel Miller and countless others with his brother. You’ve been trying for months now for your second baby and it’s proving much more difficult than first time around, so Joel has a plan. One week, alone, on the lake, with one goal - another baby.

A lover's pinch @hier--soir

A one-night stand with a charming texan turns into something much more thrilling when you discover he is your new college professor. joel miller is entirely off limits. but now that you’ve had a taste, will you be able to keep your hands to yourselves?

You summer dream @swiftispunk

Fresh on the heels of the worst breakup of your life, you find an unexpected kindred spirit in joel miller, who's agreed to tag along for seven days to a tropical resort with you and your parents.

Lost in the dark @iamasaddie

One time you decide to cheat on your boyfriend is, of course, the time his dad catches you. Once normal relationship turns into something new, and you are forced to face the fucked up reality of your life

Hard to be soft, tough to be tender @iamasaddie

Desperation was never a good advisor, and yours led to find yourself as a very special person among Joel Miller's birds. You'll have to see for yourself if you have what it takes to live up to the status, and in the meantime Joel will "train" you and take care of you. // Joel Miller is a pimp and you are at your all time low, that's it.

Feelings on fire @joelscruff

You're back from college for the summer, staying with your devout catholic parents in your childhood home while they order you around and try to keep authority over you. as an act of rebellion you ask your new neighbor mr. miller to teach you how to play guitar, but it turns out there's a lot more he wants to teach you.

With pleasured hands @magpiepills

You’re Tommy Miller’s girlfriend, you’re on vacation with him and Joel, Tommy likes it when you’ve got an audience, Joel prefers being an active participant

Bullet for you darlin' @kewwrites - Dead dove do not eat

Joel takes something a little more personal from you after you run out of things to trade

Sunshine @kewwrites - Dead dove do not eat

A look at the innocent relationship between Sunshine and Joel till one night something changes the course of their relationship forever. 'Loss and heartbreak often turn the best of us into our worst selves.'

⭐ latest series added (11/18/2023)

HUGE thank you to all the authors 🙏🙏🙏

Fics recs

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel x reader #joel tlou #dbf!joel #dbf!joel miller #joel miller fan fiction #joel miller fic #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us #the last of us fic

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rocknrollbabe14 · 26 days

Text

Rock-a-Bye Professor

Part One

First Professor story "Hot for Teacher" here :

Rating: 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

Warnings: Direct mentions of sex, birth control, missed period, nausea, vomiting, pregnancy and abortion. Professor/Student trope at college level. Both consenting adults. Don't like it, don't read. Thank you!

**I have this one almost completed and have had it in my drafts for over a year now. Since I wrote the first one. Lmao. This continues their relationship. First part is shorter but I left it on a cliff hanger.**

Special thanks to @usererics for my header. I love it and you! ❤️

“You sure you don’t want to go to the party?”, Tori called out from the living room.

“No thanks, Tori. Not feeling the greatest.”, you sighed, laying in bed feeling like death.

You had felt nauseated for several days, chalking it up to a stomach virus. You’d gotten sick in the mornings before class—even missing a few classes. You had to get your shit together if you wanted to graduate in the spring. You were too close to fuck things up now.

“Call me if you need me?”, Tori asked.

“Sure, but I think it will be the other way around.”, you smirked, pulling your covers up.

Tori told you she’d be two blocks over before closing the door, finally leaving you alone. You got out of bed, pulling the box out of your purse as you heard your phone ding.

-Coming over tonight? Miss you.

It was your Professor—boyfriend. You were still getting used to calling him your boyfriend. Now, things had grown more complicated. You had missed your period. You knew this usually meant one thing—but you had been super stressed lately.

-Maybe. Still feeling really bad. ☹️

It took everything in you to raise yourself up from your bed and go to the bathroom, your hands beginning to shake. It made you nervous to even toss the idea around in your head that you could be pregnant. You heard your phone ding and you were certain it was Joe, but you had more pressing matters to attend to at the moment. Shutting the bathroom door, you read over the instructions on the back before practically ripping the box open. It had two tests to help ensure and confirm accuracy.

Obviously, two pink lines meant ‘pregnant’ and one pink line meant ‘not pregnant’. You needed and prayed for one pink line before sitting down on the toilet to do your business. Ripping open the wrapper, you took the cap of the pregnancy test. You looked up at the ceiling as you followed the instructions before pulling the test from between your legs and recapping it, laying it flat. You got up and flushed the toilet before going to get your phone—anything to distract you for a few minutes while you waited on the results that would change your life.

-So sorry, love. I could take care of you. Warm bath, massage, soup? What do you think?

You felt your insides twist into a knot as you read his text. The idea was tempting. It sounded amazing and the thought alone was turning you on.

-You mean it?

Another ding.

-Of course, love. Want me to pick you up?

You bit your lip, really wanting to take him up on his offer. After you estimated two minutes, you went to check on the results of your pregnancy test. You swallowed hard as you closed your eyes, picking up the test. Opening your eyes, you felt your heart drop down into your stomach. An audible gasp escaped your lips. Two dark pink lines. You were pregnant—whether you wanted to be or not. Feeling like you were in complete disbelief, you felt the tears pricking at the corner of your eyes.

Your life was over—or at least you felt that way. You always wanted a baby after you were married. You were nowhere close to being married. You had a relationship with your professor—one you had to hide. Now, you were also pregnant by him.

-Yes or no, love? Won’t be mad either way. Just miss you so much.

You sighed.

-Yeah, sounds okay.

Part of you didn’t feel like going over to visit him, but you knew you had been a little distant with being sick and all.

-Great. Did Tori go to her party?

You clutched the pregnancy test, coming out of the bathroom. You slid both tests into your bedside table. Couldn’t risk Tori finding them or taking them in your purse.

-Yes. You can park on the curb. I’ll be out. Just text me when you get here.

-Sounds great, love. Can’t wait to take care of you. 😉

Another deep sigh escaped your lips, laying your phone down on your bed. You knew you needed to make a doctor’s appointment soon. That was the first step. Throwing a few things in your bag, you began to ponder how you could have gotten pregnant. You took your pill every day—shit. You grabbed your pack of pills, eyeing them. You went down each row until you gasped. You had missed two. How in the hell had you missed two pills? You groaned, immediately beginning to curse yourself.

Not only was it your own fault you had gotten pregnant, but now you had to explain it to your professor—boyfriend that you missed two of your pills and got pregnant. The thoughts alone made your head spin and made you dread having the conversation with him—if you decided to. While your world had stopped spinning, your phone dinged and you just knew it was him letting you know he was here.

You grabbed your overnight bag, locking up the dorm. Your heart began to beat faster as you took two of the steps at a time. You saw his Mercedes, looking around and making sure no one else was watching you. You jogged over to his car, hearing him unlock the passenger door. Looking through the car window, you could see the big, stupid smile spread across his lips. You couldn’t help but give him a small smile back as you got inside the car.

“Hey, love.”

“Hey.”, you smiled softly.

“Maybe it’s the lighting, but you look pale.”

You laughed easily. “Thanks, babe.”

He smirked as he shifted into drive and pulled out. “Don’t worry, I’m gonna make you feel better.”

His free hand found your knee.

“And just how are you gonna do that?”, you countered.

He smirked, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. “Mhm, well I can start by running you a warm bath. Let you relax while I make you some dinner. Have you been able to keep anything down?”

“Not hardly. Just some water.”

“You’ve got to eat something.”

“We can try some soup and saltines, I guess.”

He rubbed your leg reassuringly as you leaned your head against the door. You felt like shit if you were being honest, but you knew he wanted your company. The weekends were some of the only chances that you all got to be with one another. Your head was pounding from vomiting constantly over the past several days. He rubbed your leg in silence as you both continued the drive to his house. It was dark, the street lights illuminating you both every few blocks.

It felt like forever before you finally reached his house. Your stomach already felt queasy again, but now you knew why. It was like he could read you. He could tell exactly what was on your mind.

“Are you doing okay, baby?”

You shook your head. “Feeling sick again.”

“Let’s get you inside, yeah? Let you lay down for a bit while I run your bath?”

You nodded as he came over to the passenger’s side of the vehicle and grabbed your bag, throwing it on his shoulder. He helped you out, keeping a hand on your waist to ensure you didn’t fall over. You knew you were weak considering you hadn’t been able to keep anything down. You were probably dehydrated. He held onto you as he stuck his key in the door, it popping open to reveal his lowly lit home. You remembered the first time you saw his house—you were very drunk. You thought you were imagining things.

He assisted you over to the couch, helping you sit down easily. The room felt like it was spinning as you laid back and closed your eyes.

“Want some over-the-counter nausea medicine?”, he asked as he pulled a blanket over you.

Your mind immediately wandered to your unborn baby. Would it be safe to take something like that? You were still undecided on what to do but were still being very cautious.

“Um…..no, it’s okay.”

He raised his brows surprisingly from behind his glasses. “Alright. Do you think you should go to the hospital? You’re probably dehydrated, love.”

Your heart dropped down into your stomach and you knew that was a bad idea. They’d do a pregnancy test on you for sure when you told them when your last period was. He’d find out you were pregnant and you weren’t ready to tell him yet.

“No—an expensive bill for nothing? Worst case scenario I need some Pedialyte.”, you laughed nervously.

He chuckled surprisingly. “Okay, love. We won’t decide yet but if you keep getting worse, we’re going. You don’t need all your electrolytes getting out of whack.”

You nodded as he kissed your forehead.

“No fever.”

You smiled softly as he leaned back up, looking down at you with his piercing, deep brown eyes.

“I’m gonna run your bath, okay?”

You nodded as he kissed your cheek and headed off to the bathroom. Joe was very affectionate with you behind closed doors, the only chance he had was to show you how much he loved and adored you. How would he take the news of you being pregnant? Did he even want a future with you? The thoughts alone made your stomach twist and turn, the nauseous feeling rising in your chest.

“Joe?”

“Yes, babe?”, he shouted from the bathroom over the sound of running water.

“Um, I’m feeling sick—again.”, you groaned.

“Coming!”

He rushed out of the bathroom, holding a small bathroom trashcan before bringing it to you. He sat down beside you on his couch, pulling your hair back. You hated throwing up in front of him. It was the worst feeling and you knew it was definitely not romantic. He rubbed your back with his other free hand as you felt yourself beginning to dry heave, signaling your torture was almost over. Not that you had much to get rid of anyway, but some water and Sprite that you had attempted to drink a few hours ago.

Once you were done, you sat the trashcan down and wiped the tears away from the corner of your eyes.

“Baby, are you sure you feel like taking a bath? We could still go to the hospital.”

“I’ll be fine. Just let me bathe and lay down in bed? Maybe cuddle me?”, you asked, puppy dog eyes.

He sighed easily before a small smile came across his lips. “Okay—fine.”

Giving you a small kiss, he went to check your bath water. He came back and told you it was warm and ready for you. Once again, it took all your strength to get off the couch and head to the bathroom. You pulled your top off, laying it on the sink.

“I can get your bra—if you want.”, he breathed.

You nodded easily, lifting your hair up. You felt his fingertips brush your soft, bare skin as he made his way to the clasp of your bra, unhooking it gently. You inhaled sharply, missing his touch but you were in no position for sex. You felt your chest fall free. Joe’s breathing hitched and you could tell he liked what he saw. His hands snaked around your chest, taking both breasts in his hands, causing you to choke back a hiss. You had no idea your breasts were that sore and sensitive.

“Still so sexy even if you’re sick.”, he hummed, placing kisses on your neck.

You swallowed hard, trying not to let on like anything was wrong. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. I hope you feel better soon, love. I miss making love to you.”

You smiled softly, attempting to hide your expression of discomfort.

“I’ll leave you to finish your bath. You’ll call if you need me?”

You nodded easily as he kissed your cheek again, leaving you in the bathroom but leaving a small crack in the door so he could hear you. You slid your sweatpants and panties off, laying them with your other clothes. You wasted no time sinking down into the warm bath, exhaling some relief on your newly aching body. It felt good—you weren’t going to lie. After a few minutes, you decided to quickly wash off and wash your hair. It had been two days since you’d taken a good shower since feeling so crummy.

Once the water began to grow cold, you got out and grabbed the towels Joe had set out for you. You wrapped one around your body and the other was put in your hair. Draining the water, you began to feel a little queasy again. You wished this baby would give you a break. But once standing back up, you felt a little better. You quickly dried the water out of your hair making it less dripping and damp before looking at yourself in the mirror. You looked rough, he was right.

Joe had laid out one of his t-shirts for you and grabbed a clean pair of your panties from your bag. His t-shirts were definitely more comfy than your gown. And it smelled like him.

“Doing okay, love?”, he called out from his bedroom.

“Yes. Coming to bed.”

You hung your towels up quickly before grabbing your clothes and turning off the bathroom light. Opening the door, you noticed him grading papers while lying in bed. He looked up at you easily.

“Feel better, baby?”

“A little.”

He looked over his glasses at you as you circled the bed, climbing in on your side. Well, it wasn’t technically your side but it was always the side you slept on when coming over. You peeled the covers back easily before sliding into bed, pulling them back up on you easily as you stared at the ceiling. He had a single lamp on, the one on his side. It provided him with enough light to work by.

“Ready for cuddles?”, he asked softly.

You nodded.

He chuckled softly as he laid his papers and red pen down, reaching to grab the lamp to turn it off. You heard his glasses hit the bedside table before he wrapped you up in his strong arms. He exhaled softly, a sign he was relaxed. He planted a kiss on your cheek.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Joe.”

It was a matter of minutes before he was snoring lightly but all that was on your mind was your unborn baby. What were you going to do?

Over the next couple of weeks, you avoided Joe. You hadn’t spent the weekend at his house since that night. You had your first doctor’s appointment where they confirmed you indeed were pregnant and estimated you at being six weeks along by the time you got in to see the OB. She did an ultrasound, confirming that everything looked good and the baby was growing healthy for its age, your HCG levels were perfect for the timeframe of your pregnancy and gave you printouts of your baby. All you could do was stare.

She had noticed you weren’t like most mothers who were crying tears of joy or bringing their husbands or boyfriends with them. She asked if you wanted to know your other options. You answered yes. She gave you a pamphlet explaining alternative solutions—adoption and abortion. She told you the sooner you made a decision, the better off you’d be. All you had to do was say the word and she’d write the referral to the abortion clinic. She asked if you were married to which you answered no.

All you could think about was Joe and how he’d feel about all this. He’d texted you every day, hoping you’d come back around. He knew something was off with you, but he couldn’t pin it down. He absolutely had no idea you were pregnant with his baby and going through all this emotional turmoil. Your OB told you that you didn’t have to come to a decision that day—to sleep and think about it until your next appointment. It would be at the ten-week mark and she told you that you would be able to hear your baby’s heartbeat if you wanted to.

That was three weeks ago. Back at your dorm, you pulled your shirt up and looked in the mirror. You were getting a very small bump. It was barely noticeable but you could tell a difference. Your phone dinged.

-Can we have dinner and talk? I really miss you. I love you and can’t stop thinking about you.

You laid your phone back down on the bed, sighing. You could have your abortion secretly and things could go back to normal. He’d never have to know. But deep down inside, you knew that wasn’t fair to him. Sighing, you decided to finally give in.

-Yeah, I can come over.

You blew air, waiting for a response.

-Want me to pick you up?

Biting your lip, you responded.

-No, it’s okay. I’ll catch a cab. See you soon.

-Ok, be safe. Love you.

You got up and gathered a few things and arranged for a cab to come get you. This was now or never. The day you dreaded but he deserved to know. Climbing in the cab, you gave his address and the ride seemed to take forever. Your stomach felt sick, but you didn’t know if it was the baby or your nerves. It wasn’t long before you came up to his house, seeing the lights on. You paid your fare, thanked the cab driver, and grabbed your bag. He pulled away, leaving you alone as you walked up the steps and rang the doorbell. Here goes nothing.

#eddie munson #eddie stranger things #joseph quinn x reader #joseph x reader #joseph quinn #professor joseph quinn #professor quinn #eddie imagines #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson hc

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undreaming-fanfiction · 1 year

Text

Someone is eager to see Mafia Mamma and that someone is me. So anyway.

When a twenty-two year old Steve Harrington gets the call, he isn't in the best spot in his life. Sure, he survived all the Upside Down crap, but his parents finally had enough of his so-called trauma ("the earthquake was bad, Steven, but you can't let that influence your life forever! It's like you're not even trying!"). He didn't get to college and his love life is abysmal, but hey, at least he does something useful now - he's training to be a paramedic and he lives in a small, old flat, regularly calling Robin and his gaggle of kids and hanging out with Eddie whenever possible. So maybe it's not the best spot in life, but it's his.

Well, apparently his great-uncle that his mother never really talked about died and asked that Steve takes over the family business in his will. Family business that is in Italy. Cool.

Look, Steve likes first aid, saving lives and all that, but, after the second shared joint with Eddie, admits he's curious. No one said it has to be forever, but maybe it would help him to try something else for a change. Eddie absolutely approves, squeezes Steve's shoulder, but - a little sadly, it seems to Steve - admits he's going to miss the only person who went through all the shit and stuck around. He even jokes he'll hide in Steve's suitcase and will go to Italy with him. "You know, somewhere far away from the Satanist rep. Well, Vatican is there so that's not ideal, but maybe with no murders and levitation this time, I'd just pass as the weird American?" And without thinking, Steve blurts out: "Come with me."

They land in Italy with almost nothing, Eddie with a beat up backpack and his guitar ("not even death or other fucked up dimensions will us part, Steve!"), Steve with a sports bag full of clothes and graduation pics of his kids plus Robin and Nancy, and his trusted hair spray. He really, really wanted to take his spiked bat, but apparently that would be a hazard on the plane. Go figure.

And of course, the "family business" is full of black suits, guns, rapid Italian threats and on top of that, the other families know that the old head of the family is gone and they smell the blood in the water. Especially when the new leader is barely an adult who looks more like a model than a criminal. And his friend who looks like a criminal? That one looks more like a petty thief or vandal than an actual mafia member. Now is their time to strike.

Turns out, that wasn't the best idea. Not when the doe-eyed metalhead grabs the nearest chair and smashes it repeatedly over the assailant's head while yelling "I-DID-NOT-SURVIVE-BEING-CHEWED-ON-TO-DIE-TO-A-FUCKING-BULLET-YOU-MOTHERFUCKER!" while the new boss reaches for the nearest lamp and, like a bloody ninja, renders three assassins unconscious, then setting down the bloodied rod (goodbye, lamp shade and light bulb) and tells his advisor that he wants a baseball bat, a hammer and a bunch of nails. For...reasons.

They gradually settle in. Steve excels in keeping his family in line by adopting his best mom pose, hands on hips, while sternly uttering "What did we say about excessive violence, Francesco? Hm? If you start there, what do you do when you need to escalate? Why do you start with the worst? And they call me dumb." When his bodyguard cocks his gun and asks who called him dumb and where do they live, Eddie snorts into his coffee. (also Steve later apologizes to Francesco for calling him dumb, but also adds that rules are made to be followed, especially those that save a lot of blood and pain)

As for Eddie, without the academic pressure he becomes and unstoppable language student. He's like a sponge, being semi-fluent while Steve struggles with basic phrases. They study together and Eddie begins feeling more confident, takes up more languages and slowly starts functioning as Steve's interpreter and teacher in one. Also a bit more, when they have to evade another assassination attempt and Steve finds himself laying on top of Eddie, on the ground where he pulled him to save him from a nasty punch, and no one comments on it when they get up a few seconds too late, their lips and faces red.

Eventually Steve becomes fluent as well and that's when Eddie experiences the best time of his life - when they walk together in a market, bodyguards giving them just a little bit of privacy, and someone spits on the ground behind them - "stupid American." But before Eddie can react, Steve throws a bitchy look at the offender and says in perfect Italian: "and you look like a poorly shaved goat, yet I'm not judging."

Eddie howls in laughter and nudges Steve's side. "Careful, Stevie. I might think you don't need a teacher anymore."

Steve wraps his arm around Eddie's waist. In here, surrounded by the bodyguards and his family, he can finally do that. "Maybe not. But I'll always need a boyfriend. Wanna apply?"

#steddie au #steddie drabble #steddie mafia au #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things drabble #the movie is an action comedy so of course mafia is a serious and cruel organization #but we deserve some silly AUs and you have one right here

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arminsumi · 8 months

Note

hey if ur up for it could u write promt 8 of friends to lovers for armin.. but like the reader teaches him how to kiss bc she really wants an excuse to finally kiss him? hehe

KISSING ON THE COUCH.

𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐈𝐍 — アルミン ⋅ fem reader

8 — "I'll teach you to kiss."

NOTE: wheee!! i'm ngl this prompt was made with armin in mind hehe 💗

WORDCOUNT ≈ 1.7k

🍒 𝐉𝐚𝐲 ⋅ 𝐑𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬/𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐭 !

"Ah, yeah, I mean, kissing is a core part of romance for most people, right? But there's no way I can do that."

Armin's chatting with you in the living room of your parent's house, just like you've always done since you were kids.

"Why? Kissing is pretty fun." you look over at him, drifting from the interleading kitchen over to where he sits slacked on the couch.

He mutters a quick and sweetly Armin-esque thank you under his breath when you hand him a soda. Vanilla Cola, his all-time favorite; he's drank it since he was twelve and didn't intend to stop drinking it.

"But kissing is awkward... you know how my first kiss went." he grimaces at the memory. You let out a breathy laugh, he looks so cute, almost like a drawing of a cute boy rather than a real one.

"Personally, I wouldn't count that as a first kiss. You were, like, what? Thirteen?" you open your own soda with a pop. It fizzes loudly, the bubbles audibly popping.

He opens his own soda, but of course — he does it in such an Armin kind of way. Very delicately pulling the tab back with his very delicate fingertips, as if the metal hurt his sensitive skin. You know he had the worst acne phase out of all your friends, there are faded scars on his cheeks. Rather than mar his beauty, you think they add to it; of course he never believed you when you said that.

"I think I was fourteen. Didn't you have yours when you were — eighteen? Right?" he looks over at you, fingertip circling the soda can lid.

His eyes always get you. They're entrancing. Hypnotizing. Spellbinding. Armin's unaware of the effect he has on girls, but that just makes him even more attractive.

"I did, yes. No need to remind me." you grumble, taking another sip of your soda and coming to a kneel at the coffee table.

You two always sat like that; him lazily on the couch, you on the plush carpet by the coffee table. Always propping your elbow on it, squishing your cheek on one palm. In the middle of a conversation, Armin would mimic your pose just to get a laugh out of you.

"Eighteen isn't too old to have your first kiss. I've told you that before." he reassures.

"Yes it is! Some people have their first kiss when they're little kids."

"But those kisses don't mean anything. They're childish kisses." Armin says.

"What age d'you think people start having adult kisses?" you ask him curiously, setting your soda down on the table.

You watch as Armin looks up in thought for a moment, his hand swiftly wiping some residual soda liquid off his upper lip. How does he make everything so attractive? In fleeting moments like these, you felt a strong urge to kiss him.

I could kiss him. I just need a plan. We're on the subject of kissing already.

You plot your moves like you're playing chess. It really isn't that difficult, but to you it feels like an impossible match.

"I think, adult kisses — eh that's a weird way of saying it — good kisses are after you're eighteen. Or maybe when you've had enough practice? But never mind, I think all the kisses I'll ever have will always be slightly awkward because I don't know what to do." he says.

He glances at you. His heart pangs when you and him make electric eye contact and he looks away. "You know..." he begins, but you cut him off.

"Why don't I teach you to kiss a girl?" you blurt out. "I mean, we're friends. Why not. I mean if you want to. Just a thought..."

He cracks a shy smile, "Just a thought?" he chuckles, then sits up and sets his soda down after a brief moment of thought.

"Alright, teach me." he asks and pats the seat next to him.

You climb up on the couch and settle down into a comfy position next to him — oh, you're very close, he thinks. The proximity makes his heart pang again, he can feel it sharp in his chest. But why? I mean, like you said, you're friends.

Do friends sit on the couch practicing kissing?

"Don't look at me like that." you tease lightly.

He blinks at you, "Like what? Oh, sorry." he giggle and widens his eyes a little. You've scolded him for having bedroom eyes many times, and he's defended that it's not bedroom eyes but rather he just has naturally lidded, sultry eyes.

"So... question." he asks as you lean in. His breath fans your face, it makes your lips tingle. You can smell the Vanilla Cola.

"Hm?"

"Where do I put my hands? Because that's something I've never really understood..."

"Oh... well you can put them anywhere you like."

"Can you guide me?" he asks.

You look at him for a moment. His heart goes wild when you take his hands in yours. Yes you and him have held hands, plenty of times in fact, when you walk around town or when you run down the school corridors or while you explore abandoned buildings.

"Personally... I would want your hands here." you tell him, placing them on your neck, "And if you'd cup the back of my neck like — yeah, like that..."

Was it getting stuffy in here? But there's a good breeze coming in through the open window. Yet you feel like you're choking up. It seems like he is, too.

Warm hands cupping the back of your neck, gentle fingers holding you like a trophy, two big blue eyes staring into your soul.

He pulls you in for a peck. A sweetly awkward one. Your noses bump. Well, now both of you can't stop smiling which makes it hard to do anything.

You lean in for a peck, but it lasts longer than his and — oh my god, he melts. It's history from there. Feeling his best friend's lips sent him to another dimension, as dramatic as that sounds.

He's levitating when you keep pressing teaching kisses to his lips. He loves that you take your time, like you're savoring the taste just like when you sip on your soda.

"Y-you can tilt your head, too, it makes it feel better..." you tell him, a little short of breath.

His head spins a bit at the sensation. His lips are tingly.

"Okay..."

So he tilts his head into the kiss, and holds the back of your neck and slides one hand down and finds your hand. He holds it.

He breaks from the kiss, lips hovering hot over yours, and looks at you through his lashes. "Is this good?"

"Mhm. Really good. You're doing g-good." you assure him.

"Can I keep going?" he asks.

"Yeah..."

So he keeps kissing you, gliding his lips over yours slowly. If anything, he only gets slower. He's really trying to savor it. Like he savors the taste of Vanilla Cola.

Minutes go by, though time dissolved in your minds by now. It was just another meaningless concept. Did past and future exist? Well, did it matter while kissing? No. No it didn't.

You pull away. He blinks and sucks in a breath, bangs lightly ruffled from pressing so close to your forehead. He can taste you on his lips, on his tongue, you're pervading his whole system and he loves it.

"S-so... that's... yeah... any questions?" you laugh, regaining composure quicker than him.

"Huh? What — questions? Yeah... can we do that again?" he asks eagerly.

"Huh?"

"What?"

"I just meant... like... keep teaching me. I think I can learn a lot from those lips." he backtracks nervously, Addam's apple shifting a little when he swallows sharply.

"Oh, right... well... y-yeah. Let's keep going then. Why don't you try kissing me now — mmf."

He goes in for it without hesitation. He kisses with his whole body, you can feel a surge of his passion wash over you, and he can feel a surge of tingles across his brain.

There's a lot of serotonin to be farmed from your kisses.

Light smacking sounds, subtle saliva sounds, lips on lips. He's never enjoyed kissing like this. But it's just practice. You're just teaching him so he can kiss... who? Who does he want to kiss? He doesn't have anyone in mind other than you.

He gets lost in it, and without thinking much he nibbles your bottom lip and swipes his tongue across it. You let him poke his tongue in and — well both of you melt harder than before. It's so impossibly soft. No wonder people praised French kissing. But did they ever get French kissed by such a gentle sweetheart like Armin? You were the only one to have that honor.

"Hah... sorry." he pulls away, breathless.

You pant very lightly, " 's okay..." you smile, "I don't mind if you... use tongue. I like it a lot..."

"Okay..." he gulps and then goes right back in to continue.

Weren't you supposed to be teaching him? It feels like that's not necessary, since both of your lips mold together perfectly. You and him are two matching puzzles pieces.

"Y/n?" he breaks from the kiss and looks down at you, hands gently squeezing both your hands now.

"Hm?"

"Can I ask you something?"

"Yeah?"

He slightly smirks, lips glistening with your saliva, "Did you really wanna educate me on kissing, or did you just wanna kiss me?" he asks. Damn that sharp intuition.

"If the latter, how would you feel about that...?" you ask tentatively.

His heart thumps. Throbs. Palpitates. Malfunctions. You look so sweet, he wants to kiss you again and again.

He doesn't answer with words, he just dives back in for a feathery kiss, tangling his body with yours. Hands cupping your cheeks, in a very indescribably Armin kind of way.

He speaks in between each smooch.

" 'shoulda — kissed me — sooner." he mutters, taking a deep inhale as he kisses you harder than before, leaning into your body, cupping your cheeks so comfortably.

#♥️ 𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐈𝐍 — アルミン #fluff #armin #armin arlert #armin x reader #armin arlert x reader #armin x y/n #armin x you #armin fluff #prompts #armin aot #shingeki no kyojin #fic #fanfic #aot fanfic #aot x reader #armin x fem reader

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