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simpforboys · 1 year

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daddy’s money

rafe cameron x fem!pogue!reader

summary: rafe overhears someone being rude to you at your job. it doesn’t end well for either of you, but rafe tries to make up for it.

warnings: arguing, violence (a punch is thrown), protective!rafe, sugar daddy!rafe (?!??), fluff, reader can speak spanish (but race or anything isn't described), not proof read

these are based on my personal experiences (love working retail), just minus the punching

the ring of the bell made your ears perk up as you folded clothes.

you began working at amor, a popular clothing shop for kooks of all ages about a year ago. why they hired you, a pogue, was beyond you, but nonetheless you appreciated it.

especially since your manager, kat, loved you, as she came from rags and rising to riches.

you loved your job, being able to wear casual dresses and clothes, as half the store was beachy clothes and the other half was fancier.

“is that y/n l/n?”

you turned your head to see rafe cameron, kook prince. you hadn’t seen him in awhile, his hair now buzzed as he walked with the same prideful look.

you grinned, putting the shirt you were folding onto the table before hugging the tall man.

you and rafe had a thing, as one day he came into the shop you two immediately hit it off.

“did you find everything okay?” you asked, trying not to stare at the attractive man in front of you.

you scanned the shorts and polo shirts he was buying, noticing him smiling down at you. his hair was pushed back with a baseball cap on his head.

“i did now,” he said slyly.

“oh yeah?” you grinned, taking the security tags off the clothes. a heat rose to your cheeks as you bagged his items.

“didn’t realize they had pretty girls working here, y/n.” the man read your name tag.

“i wouldn't say that..." you trailed off, not knowing the man's name.

"rafe, rafe cameron." a cameron, huh? it had shocked you, really. the camerons were all over the news and basically ran figure eight.

"your total is going to be $259.73." you couldn't help but peek as he pulled out his wallet, his gold card practically dissing you as he put it in the pinpad.

you handed him his receipt, feeling electricity as you two accidentally brushed hands. he smiled down at you, grabbing his bag.

"i'll see you around, y/n."

"have a good day, rafe."

you watched as he exited the building, but quickly turned around after he paused. you furrowed your brows as he walked back up to the register.

"can i take you out?"

the rest of the story turned around, but you still kept in touch with rafe until he was on the ship with his father. he never texted or called you back after that.

"thanks for answering me." you said sarcastically, trying to hide your beaming smile. even though you hadn't heard from him, you still missed talking and being around him.

"sorry, mama. things got tough."

rafe's eyes wandered your body. from the way your hair was styled, your shorts that displayed your pretty legs, cropped tank top that showed some cleavage with a hawaiian shirt over it to make it seem a bit more modest, although failing to do so.

"i bet, being a cameron isn't so easy, huh?" you teased, continuing to fold the shirts you had previously ditched.

rafe didn't get to respond before kat came over, cutting off your conversation. "y/n, hay un cliente (there is a customer)."

kat was a very strong person. her family had come from mexico in search of a new life, and kat had quickly picked up the pace as she was able to open up amor. the store allowed her family to move from the cut to figure eight. she was around 5'6, brown hair that looked black in some lighting, with a mole next to her top lip that just added to herself, in a weird way.

"lo veo (i see him)." working at amor, you quickly picked up on spanish (unless you already speak it). kat eyed rafe, before nodding at him and heading back to the fitting room.

"did you find everything okay?" you questioned the man. he was around 40, dressed in a collared shirt with jeans to match. he had a rolex on his wrist, displaying his wealth.

rafe had moved to look at some of the mannequins, staying close by.

the man didn't respond, scrolling on his phone. you pursed your lips together, biting back your tongue as you continued to scan his items. his body language seemed defensive as he stood away from you.

"i like your-"

unfortunately, working customer service you had some rude customers from time to time, especially being a pogue in kook territory.

"just zip it pogue and bag my clothes. and don't try anything suspicious, either."

you were taken aback by his comment.

"don't talk to her like that." rafe had appeared next to the register, his nostrils flaring as his normal blue eyes turned dark. his pupils were blown wide as he stared at the man like he was going to kill him.

"and who are you?" the man scoffed.

"she's just doing her job, dickhead."

"if she was just doing her job, she wouldn't be tryna talk to me. now, who are you? do you even work here?" the man eyed rafe angrily, trying to appear more dominate but ultimately failed. rafe was taller and seemed to be much stronger.

"rafe-" you tried.

"rafe cameron, is that right?" the man suddenly smirked, sizing rafe up.

"i should've known. all camerons are dicks, especially your father."

you saw how rafe clenched his fist, the veins in his hand looking like they were on the verge of exploding.

"but i never expected a cameron to be protecting a pogue, or less a whore."

you gasped as rafe's knuckles made contact with the man's cheek, a cracking sound that could be heard around the store.

"rafe!" you shouted as he shook his hand, trying to not beat the man to unconsciousness.

rafe saw red as he grabbed the man by his collar, dragging him out of the store. "never fucking come back, got that?"

the man, now with a bruised cheek that appeared to have a broken bone, quickly walked off. rafe spit on the floor, walking back into the store.

kat had come running over, the noise causing her to be alerted.

"y/n, what the hell was that?" she asked, her voice thick with an accent as she was fuming.

"he was being-"

"we have a no violence policy. i told you to stay away from that cabrón (asshole)." kat swore.

"kat-" the woman wasn't letting you finish.

"you know i love you, kid. but that was unacceptable."

your lip trembled as your heart sank. you knew what her next words were going to be.

"you're fired, and i want rafe out of the store permanently."

rafe watched the scene, opening his mouth to speak but quickly stopped himself. a tear ran down your cheek as you wiped it away.

"who needs this stupid job away," you mumbled. you grabbed rafe's bicep, guiding him out of the store.

once outside, you let go of him and slightly pushed him backwards. rafe stared at you in shock, his knuckles throbbing in pain.

"what was that for?"

"you got me fired, asshole!"

"you just let dickheads speak to you like that?" rafe asked, an appalled tone in his voice as his mouth slightly hung open.

"yes! i need money, i don't care what gross rich men say."

the north carolina heat radiated off of you two, seagulls squawking as they flew above.

"y/n-" he went to grab your hands but you pulled away.

"i don't have daddy's money to support me, rafe. you just cost me my entire income and home."

your words were harsh as you stared directly into his eyes, a flame ignited in you that he lit.

"listen, okay. i can take care of you."

rafe was trying to remain calm, not wanting to scare you away from him if he raised his voice too much.

"oh, yeah? how?"

"c'mon." rafe took you down to where barry was sitting in rafe's car. the man got out as he saw you and rafe approach, the tension thick.

"long time, y/n." barry nodded his head at you, which you pursed your lips in response and watched as rafe popped the trunk.

inside were cases as rafe opened one, shiny gold beaming off the sun to peek at you. your stomach dropped, looking between rafe and barry who had huge smirks on their faces.

"how did you-"

rafe carefully handed you a piece of gold, watching as you inspected it.

"each one is worth at least 20 grand. we're set for life with these, baby."

you let out a surprised laugh, any feel of anger going away from the sight of all the cases filled with your new riches.

"no bullshit, right?"

"100 percent real, honey. rafe melted it down himself."

rafe gave barry a death glare from the nickname he called you.

"how- where- you know what, never mind. i don't care. you guys are fucking loaded."

"we're loaded, y/n." rafe put his arm around you, bringing you into a side hug as you smelt his dior sauvage cologne.

you grinned, feeling rafe press a kiss to your temple as you hugged him tightly. you ran your hand up and down his muscular back as his hand went down to your lower back.

"so.... are you my sugar daddies?" you joked. barry laughed as rafe rolled his eyes.

"c'mon, country club. we got clients to see."

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joelsgreys · 1 year

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family

Preoutbreak! Joel Miller x Reader

summary: You and Joel have some news to share with Sarah.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. (TW) pregnancy, small age gap (reader is in her 20’s and Joel is 35). fluff, fluff, fluff, Joel and Sarah being the most adorable father daughter duo.

word count: 3.3k

a/n:this is my response to this request right here; a huge thank you to whoever sent this one in!

You let out a small, tired sigh and wiped the back of your hand across your forehead. The early afternoon lunch rush at Moe’s Diner had just ended and you were exhausted beyond belief. Moe’s was one of the more popular locally owned joints in Austin, Texas, and while having a lot of customers coming into the establishment meant earning heftier tips and of course, a bigger paycheck, there was a small part of you that couldn’t help but wish that you could have at least one slow day, just one single day of the week where you weren’t waiting about a dozen tables all at once.

The moment you dropped the last stack of used plates into the plastic gray bin for Hugo, the dishwasher, to come and collect, you washed your hands thoroughly with soap and warm water and then made your way over to the old, electronic cash register behind the main counter to punch in the tips you’d earned after the rush; an hour’s worth of working and you had already made about a hundred bucks to take home at the end of your shift. As you finished logging your earnings, you could feel a pair of eyes watching you from a distance. You didn’t even need to look up to see that it was Joel. He had made something of a habit of coming to join you on his lunch hour. He’d been working longer and longer days lately, and if his only chance to spend time with you was during his lunch break, then that is exactly what he was going to do.

You tossed your receipt into the register and closed it up, turning to your coworker, Melinda. “Alright. All the tables have been cashed out, cleared, and wiped down,” You informed her, sticking your own copy of the receipt for your tips into the crisp, white apron of your uniform. “Mind if I go and take a break now?”

“Go right ahead. Don’t want to keep lover boy over there waiting for too long,” Melinda responded with a teasing wink.

“Oh, shut up,” You snipped at her, although the smile was evident in your tone of voice. You turned around and quickly poured two cups of coffee, a regular for Joel and a decaffeinated roast for yourself. Last week during your doctor’s appointment, your obstetrician reassured you that it would be a while before you really had to start easing up on the amount of caffeine you put into your body, but you figured it wouldn’t hurt to start weaning yourself off of it while you were still in the earlier stages of pregnancy. Better to deal with the withdrawals sooner rather than later. “I’ll be back in fifteen minutes to help you with the next rush,” You told Melinda over your shoulder. You took the two cups in your hands and walked over towards one of the booths in the far corner of the fifties themed restaurant where Joel had chosen to sit today. You set his cup of coffee down in front of him and kissed his cheek lightly before sliding into the booth across from him. “I am so sorry to have kept you waiting. Two for one lunch special brought in a lot more people than Moe had anticipated.” You rolled your eyes, gently shaking your head. “He understaffed us. Again.”

Joel frowned as he noted, “I can tell. You look exhausted.”

“Which is basically code for, you look like shit, isn’t it?” You asked him teasingly.

“S’not what I meant and you know it,” he replied, rolling his eyes at you as he took a careful sip of his coffee. “You shouldn’t be workin’ so damn hard, y’know. S’not good for you to strain yourself, not in your condition.”

“In my condition,” You mimicked him with an amused little chuckle. It earned you a stern glare. “Oh come on, Joel. I’m only about six weeks along.” You shrugged your shoulders and then leaned back into the seat of the booth. “Come back to me with that bullshit when I’m in my third trimester and waddling around this place.”

Joel snorted. “Well, I’m hopin’ that by that time, you won’t be workin’ at all.”

Your playful smile faded slightly from your face. “What are you talking about?” You asked, crossing your arms stubbornly over your chest. It baffled you that he would even suggest such a thing. “We have a baby on the way. That means that I have to work, Joel. I have to work for as long as I possibly can before it comes. And then after a couple months of maternity leave, I’m going to have to come back and work some more.”

“Wait a minute, what about school?” he questioned, raising an eyebrow at you. “How exactly do you plan to juggle studyin’ while workin’ and bein’ a mom too?”

Stumped on how to answer him without upsetting him, you remained quiet and chewed nervously on your bottom lip. He wasn’t wrong. You hadn’t exactly told him yet, but the reality was that you knew it would be tough to handle all three and there was a pretty good chance that your teaching degree would have to be put on the back burner for an indefinite amount of time.

“You’re not givin’ up on that degree,” Joel asserted, as if he had read your thoughts. “No way in hell, I won’t let you. You only have one year left,” he reminded you firmly. “Look, business has been boomin’ on my end of things. If it stays that way, I can get you out of this place. Let you focus on bein’ a mom and gettin’ your teachin’ credential.”

You bit back a sigh. “Joel, it’s a bit too early to even be talking about all of this, don’t you think?” You said after a moment, feeling a bit overwhelmed by the conversation. “There’s no need to worry about that stuff yet.” Noticing the exasperated expression on his face, you outstretched your arm across the able and held out your hand. “I’m serious, Joel. I don’t want you to worry about it, not right now.”

He smiled warily as he took your hand in his. He leaned over and lifted it to his lips, kissing the back of it gently. “Look, I know it’s early,” he acknowledged. “But I’m just plannin’ ahead.” He paused long enough to press another kiss onto your hand. “I just wanna take care of you, darlin’. That’s all.”

“I know you do,” You replied softly, squeezing his hand. You could see Melinda over behind the counter tapping the invisible watch around her wrist as if to tell you that your time was running out. “What time do you have to be back at the job site?”

Joel glanced down at his watch, but it was useless. The damn thing had stopped working once again, and yet he refused to take it to get repaired. “Probably have to start headin’ back soon, actually,” he realized, the disappointment present in his tone. He hadn’t gotten nearly as much time with you as he would have liked. “Oh, I forgot to mention. Tommy said he’s not gonna be home for dinner tonight,” he informed you. “Said he’s spendin’ the night with a buddy, but we both know what that means.”

You giggled. “Another blonde he met at the bar, huh?”

“Yeah, sounds ‘bout right.” Joel laughed and rolled his eyes. “But anyway, I was thinkin’ that tonight might be the night to finally tell Sarah, seein’ as it’ll just be the three of us. What do you think, baby?”

You squeezed his hand again. “I’m kind of nervous, Joel. About telling her.”

“Yeah, me too.” Joel wasn’t nervous for Sarah’s reaction because he’d thought she would feel negatively about the baby or about you. Rather, he knew his teenager would be horrified thinking about how this blessed miracle came to be seeing as he’d signed a permission slip for her to learn all about the birds and the bees in health class at school last semester. At thirteen, Sarah was in that one stage where anything that Joel did embarrassed her—or grossed her out.

And this would certainly gross her out.

“Jesus, here comes round two of the rush,” You muttered, watching three large parties of people walk into the diner. Reluctantly, you released Joel’s hand. “I should go and help Melinda. Besides, you really need to get back to work before you’re late.”

Both you and Joel slid out of the booth and stood up. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you against his chest in one of those tight, warm hugs that you’d grown to adore over the last couple of years. “I’ll be home on time for dinner tonight,” he promised you. “If you need anythin’ while I’m at work, you let me know, alright?”

You chuckled. “Yes, Joel.”

He let go of you and stood back, his eyes meeting yours. “I’m serious. You need anythin’ at all, you call me, alright? My phone will be in my pocket.”

“I’ll be fine, Joel,” You insisted, shaking your head as you laughed. “Now go on, get going before your boss chews you out for being late.”

“I am my boss, darlin’.” He grinned boyishly at you before pressing his lips lightly against yours, murmuring gently against them. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“Ugh, this is too good.” Sarah let out a small groan of satisfaction as she took another bite of her spaghetti. She turned to you a minute later, dabbing at her mouth with her paper napkin before telling you, “Have I told you that it’s my favorite? Because it’s my favorite and I simply must give my compliments to the chef.”

You lifted your chin slightly, feeling pleased with yourself. “Thank you.”

Joel pouted, feigning offense. “Now wait a damn minute, I thought the spaghetti that I made you was your favorite?”

“Dad, you use the jarred crap,” Sarah reminded him. “Her sauce is homemade. She actually makes it from scratch, like you’re supposed to.” She pointed her fork at him. “Your spaghetti is just one step above Chef Boyardee. And that’s being generous.”

Joel picked a crouton from the salad bowl in the middle of the table and flicked it at her. “Turd.”

“Bigger turd,” she shot back at him with a tiny giggle as she picked up the crouton and popped it into her mouth.

“Alright, alright, that’s enough,” You chuckled, waving a hand. “Settle down you two or I’ll put you both in timeout.”

“Y’see what you do? Gettin’ us in trouble,” Joel joked before biting into a slice of garlic bread.

Sarah stuck her tongue out at him. “You started it.”

You giggled, shaking your head.

You adored the dynamic between the two, although there were times when it could be a bit much. Somehow, you seemed to bring a bit of balance to it all—you had become the calm, level headed presence if and when Sarah and Joel’s antics ever went overboard.

You wouldn’t have it any other way, of course.

Although Joel had been seeing you for about two or so years now, he hadn’t introduced you to Sarah until six months into the relationship. You hadn’t been offended by that in the slightest—you knew that he’d done his fair share of dating around before you came along, and he had made the sore mistake of introducing his young, impressionable daughter to a large number of different women who, in the end, never stuck around. Not wanting to cause any further confusion or strife for Sarah, Joel vowed never to bring another woman into his daughter’s life again, not unless he was absolutely certain it was someone who would actually stay.

That woman turned out to be you.

Joel had met you when he and his younger brother, Tommy, walked into Moe’s one afternoon for lunch. Tommy set his sights on you first, flirting up a storm, but it was Joel who you’d connected with. Joel ended up visiting the diner several times after that, going in for a cup of coffee at least every other day until he’d finally worked up the courage to ask you out on a date. That one date turned into two, two turned into three, and by date number six, you two had completely fallen for each other. Joel realized early on that you were the real deal, but nevertheless, he still chose to wait to introduce you to his then eleven year old.

When the time to meet Sarah finally came, you’d been so nervous; you were in love with Joel, but you knew that if his daughter didn’t like you, it could all come crashing down. Your first interaction with Sarah had been a little awkward, but as you got to know each other, things slowly started to shift in the right direction. The more time you’d started spending around her—with her—the closer you two became and your bond eventually flourished.

A few months later, you moved in with her, Joel, and Tommy.

“It’s going to be so nice having another girl around here,” Sarah had told you excitedly while helping you unpack a box of your things in Joel’s bedroom. “There’s way too much testosterone around here.”

The two of you had become inseparable.

Joel often liked to joke that she liked you more than she liked him.

He wasn’t totally wrong about that.

All you could do was hope that the news of the baby wouldn’t change how Sarah felt about you. You loved Joel, of course, but you’d grown to love Sarah too. They were your family.

The timer that you’d set on the oven started beeping loudly, pulling you from your train of thoughts. “Those would be the cupcakes that I made for dessert.”

“Chocolate?” Sarah asked you with shining, hopeful eyes.

“Of course. What other flavor is there?” You winked as you stood up from your chair.

She punched the air lightly. “Yes! Can I help you frost them?”

“As soon as they cool down,” You promised, touching her shoulder lightly as you walked by her and off into the kitchen.

“Tonight just keeps getting better and better,” Sarah sighed contentedly, picking up her fork.

Joel watched her for a moment in silence, a small smile on his face. “Hey,” he said after minute or two, garnering Sarah’s attention. “You really like her, don’t you, kiddo?”

“Of course! She’s got to be like, the coolest person ever,” Sarah remarked in between more bites of her pasta. “What’s not to like? She’s smart, she’s pretty, she’s fun to talk to,” she started ticking things off her list. “She has amazing taste in movies and music. Oh, and she lets me borrow her clothes.”

He laughed, suddenly realizing that the Red Hot Chili Peppers band tee shirt she was wearing actually belonged to you. “You’re askin’ for her permission to wear her stuff, right?”

Sarah batted her eyelashes innocently at him. “She said that I didn’t have to ask. In fact, she said I could just help myself to her side of the closet whenever I wanted.”

Joel tossed another crouton at her. “I don’t care what she said, it’s still polite to ask, missy.”

“I’m just kidding, dad! Jeez,” Sarah rolled her eyes. “Of course I ask her. You didn’t raise a heathen.”

Joel snorted lightly and leaned back into his chair. “Sometimes I ain’t so sure about that, babygirl.”

After a minute, Sarah’s eyes met his across the table. “Hey, dad?”

“Yeah?”

“You like her a lot too, don’t you?”

“A hell of a lot,” he answered, honestly. “You know, I never thought I’d meet someone like her.”

“Me either,” Sarah admitted. “But I’m really glad that you did.” She paused, offering him a tiny, but genuine smile. “You deserve to be happy, you know?”

Joel’s heart warmed inside of his chest. He lightly kicked her foot underneath the table with his. “Look at you being a big ol’ pile of sentimental goo.”

“And this is exactly why I don’t ever say anything,” Sarah huffed, but she giggled. “You always ruin it.”

“Always ruin what?” You asked as you walked back out of the kitchen. You took your seat and picked up your glass of iced tea looking between the two. “What did I miss?”

“Oh nothing, my dad is just being annoying, as always,” Sarah kidded before she began to polish off the remainder of her dinner.

A long, but comfortable silence fell over the table.

You glanced over at Joel, wondering when it would be time. His gaze met yours and he raised an eyebrow, as if silently asking you if you were ready. Although you weren’t, you gave him a subtle nod.

Joel cleared his throat. “Sarah?”

“Hmm?”

“There’s somethin’ that we want to tell you,” he began to say, earning himself a puzzled look from his daughter. He hesitated, as if trying to figure out the best way to just spit it out. “We’ve been wantin’ to tell you this for a couple of weeks now, but we wanted to find the right moment and well, I think this is it—we’re havin’ a baby.”

Sarah’s fork clinked loudly against her plate as she dropped it in surprise. “What?” she gasped, her wide eyes flicking to you. “Are you freaking serious?”

You nodded, wondering if that was a good reaction or a bad one. You couldn’t quite tell just yet. “I’m having a baby,” you confirmed, lifting a hand and running it nervously through your hair.

Sarah stared at you, her eyes still wide and what looked like a smile threatening to break out across her face. “Swear it?”

You exhaled a breath of relief. “Swear it. I’m six weeks right now.”

Letting out a little squeal, she jumped up from her chair and ran over to you, throwing her arms around your shoulders. “I can’t believe this!” She squeezed you tightly—a little too tightly. “Do you know what it is yet? When will you know? Can we start looking at baby stuff this weekend? Can we buy it clothes already?”

“Sarah, breathe.” Joel shook his head, although he was grinning from ear to ear. “And more importantly, let her breathe.”

“Shut up, Joel. She’s fine,” You waved a hand dismissively at him as you wrapped your arms around her, hugging her back. “I honestly didn’t think you’d be this excited.”

“Are you kidding me?” Sarah exclaimed as she pulled away. “This is the best news ever! I’ve been all by myself for so long!”

“Hey, what are we? Chopped liver?” Joel threw his hands up and then brought them back down onto his lap.

“Oh, you know what I mean.”

“No, I really don’t.”

Sarah shrugged. “Well, it’s just been me all these years, dad. But now I get to have a little brother or sister.” She paused and glanced at you. “Is it wrong to say that I really, really hope it’s a girl?”

“Then it would be three against one,” Joel realized, the color draining from his face slightly. “Jesus Christ, I really hope it’s a boy.”

“You have Uncle Tommy.”

“He doesn’t count.”

“Joel!” You snapped at him, causing Sarah to throw her head back and laugh. “Don’t say that.”

“The score is even,” Sarah stated. She pointed a finger at him as she walked back to her chair and sat down. “Two boys, two girls. The baby will be the tie breaker. When will find out what it is?”

“In a few more weeks,” You responded, chuckling at the way her face fell. “Trust me, they’ll go by faster than you think.”

“I can’t wait!” Sarah beamed brightly, looking between the two of you. “Oh man, this is awesome.”

Joel tilted his head curiously at her. “Yeah? You happy, babygirl?”

“I get to have a family,” she murmured, her hand resting lightly on her chest. “A real family, like the ones you see on TV or in the movies." She looked at him, her eyes twinkling brightly. “Happy doesn’t even cover it, dad.”

#joel miller x you #joel miller imagine #joel miller x reader #joel miller fluff #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller pedro pascal #tlou fanfiction #tlou imagine #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller hbo

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targaryenluvs · 5 months

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guys, dw, i’ll take one for the team and ask for some good ol’ finnick fluff :)

SPRING CLEANING!

pairings: finnick odair x fem!reader

warnings: nothing really, kisses n hugs, fluff, pretty short blurb, flirting, sexual implications near the end

summary: finnick finally decides to clean out the garage with your help after you asking him forever.

a/n: i would die to have a domestic life with finnick r u joking

“ah!”

“what was it?” finnick shouted as he ran back to the garage the second you began shouting. “it’s a spider!” you groaned as you rested your head on his chest. “here i thought you were dying, you survived the hunger games and you’re screaming over a spider?” finnick laughed as you hit his chest, “those things are dangerous man!”

“it won’t hurt you, i promise. it’ll find its own way out of here.” you looked up at him in disbelief, “yeah outta here and into our bed you psycho.”

the two of you had decided to clean the garage out finally, after youd managed to shove finnick into said garage after a month of asking him to do so. it’d taken you all day but you’d managed to clear out half of it. it was basically a storage place since you mainly kept your cars in the driveway. but you didn’t know that so many memories were stored away in there.

“and this! its from our first official non-capitol surrounded date.” finnick spoke excitedly, pulling out the receipt for your restaurant date. you felt so happy. finnick was the love of your life, you were in an amazing relationship after waiting in the dark so long, your light was bright and especially gorgeous. seeing him so speak so enthusiastically made your heart swell, knowing he loved you as much as you did him, if not more.

“you are unbelievable.” you smiled as he grinned, “well of course i am. have you seen how big my arms are? how big my- well of course you’d know how big that is.” you threw the empty box to your side at him as he had a laughing fit. “you can’t say things like that you idiot!”

finnick placed his hands on each side of your face, “no? it’s just us here? and is it such a bad thing for people to know my girls well satisfied? that i love you? because i do, everyday, every night, every minute. i love you y/n, even if you force me into spring cleaning.” he kissed you sweetly, and then your cheeks, and your forehead and all of a sudden you were under attack.

“okay okay i get it!” you squealed as he picked you up, “we can finish cleaning tomorrow, my girl doesn’t believe how much i love her, so i gotta show her, all night.” finnick smirked as he carried you away.

#finnick odair x you #finnick odair x reader #finnick x reader #hunger games x reader #hunger games

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literaila · 11 months

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untrustworthy

tasm!peter x reader

summary:

"are you mad at me?"

"did you get me bologna sandwiches?"

warnings: angst, alludes to depression, lost of interest, pushing people away, this is a pining fic because they’re not actually together, angst, fluff at the end, peter sucks but he’s also great?

a/n: i haven’t written anything in weeks and this is so terrible but take it or leave it. i am.

if you've learned anything in the past year, it's that you couldn't trust peter parker.

you couldn't trust him to finish his portion of your shared slideshow for your physics class. and you shouldn't have trusted him to tell you if he couldn't get it done before the due date--sparing you both from the wide-eyed, slightly over-amused gazes of classmates who thought peter's "the end" slide was purely a comedic stroke, and not just laziness, or a miserable attempt to pretend he hadn't cost you thirty percent of your grade.

and even after, you couldn't trust him not to give you a look--his signature look--sending you plummeting towards forgiveness before he'd even gotten the chance to apologize.

you couldn't trust peter parker to pick up a mutual friend's birthday cake or get himself home safely without cracking his glasses, or not to eat all of the cookies that may made for you on his way to your apartment. you wouldn't trust him to wash your dishes or sleep on your couch without burning the entire building down.

it was a dangerous thing, you'd realized, about three months after you'd met him, to try and count on him.

peter parker would borrow a pen from you, flicking his hair your way and smiling that charming smile, and then proceed to give it back to you at your thirty-year reunion. or never.

you'd learned not to expect him to show up for anything on time, ask him to pick anything up for you, or let him do laundry in your apartment.

peter parker was anything but dependable. and if you could give the past version of yourself any advice, it would be not to trust him.

not to let that foolish hope exist before it was crumbled between strong hands like a grocery receipt, never to be seen again.

you wouldn't let that faded, reliable version of peter exist.

you couldn't trust peter parker to do anything or make any promise he would actually keep.

you couldn't even trust him to stay away from you when you wanted space the most; like now.

because as soon as you heard that knock on your door, a bitter part of you was scowling at the intrusion, cursing your friend for bothering to exist or always showing up when you didn't want him to.

and you knew that just like every other thing peter did, he wouldn't take no for an answer. even if you didn't answer the door. even if you threw your phone down into the garbage disposal.

you were pretty sure peter could pick a lock. and also slightly suspicious that he'd had a copy of your key made behind your back.

so when peter walks into your living room, hair dripping from the rain, arms full of grocery bags, you aren't surprised.

you barely even blink at him before returning your attention to your tv, where a couple was viciously debating the cost of crown molding.

his presence is its own curse because you can feel every movement he makes, just like always.

"hey," peter says, smiling evilly. he ignores your ignoring. doesn't even mind the fact that you haven't looked at him. "i brought you some stuff."

he kicks his shoes off--into your living room, of course, mud sticking to your carpet--and heads to the kitchen.

"just some basics," he continues, not bothering to listen to any reply, verbal or not. "bread, eggs, milk. i got you some disgusting orange jello and a couple of those pre-made sandwiches they make at the deli. they're a bit... flat, but they should be okay still."

you turn the volume up.

peter doesn't mind. "there's also some protein bars in there--chocolate--just in case you want something quick," he walks back into the room, holding a glass bottle. "and i saw this banana-flavored soda when i was walking out, for us to try and throw up together."

he shakes the bottle around, smile on his idiotic face, not even bothering to think about the harsh reality of carbonation.

"open that over the sink," you mumble to him, still not meeting his eyes.

you curse your weak willpower for ruining your silent game. and peter, for knowing that he would win eventually.

peter tilts his head, tsking at you. "not even a thank you for your very thoughtful, handsome--" he plops down next to you, moving your legs so that he can tickle your feet. "and genius best friend?"

"thanks, peter."

instead of looking over at the man who was definitely trying to get you to yell at him, you choose to watch the ceiling on the tv crumble over brand-new hardwood.

you frown.

peter runs his hand up your calf, goosebumps riding his wake. "are you mad at me?"

"did you get me bologna sandwiches?"

"no, turkey."

"then no."

peter removes his hand. "what's wrong with the bologna?"

"they put rat poison in it."

peter pokes your thigh. "and you've been letting me eat it? you know i love those sandwiches."

you turn even further on your side, wall going up between the two of you, forcing his hand off, mumbling, "wanted to test a theory."

"what theory?"

finally, your eyes meet his--stupid brown, caring, auburn, and hateful eyes. "if rat poison would kill you or not."

peter scoffs.

you let your lip quirk up, irritated at his perfect mouth and thoughtful grocery list, and warm hands climbing up your stomach, and then look away. back to the house infested with termites. if there's anything to hate, it's adoration. the ridiculous attachment you have to him, even now.

"are you calling me a vermin?"

you roll your eyes. "well, you're not dead so..."

and it was all normal. peter sitting this close and trying to mold himself into your skin, the puppy eyes he was trying to give you, and his devious smirk. his teasing and lack of common sense, his stupid jokes, and stupid thoughtfulness, ruining the silent treatment you'd meant to give him. the space you'd been forcing between the two of you.

it was all normal, but you can feel him lurking, waiting for a moment to say something. you can feel him staring at you.

"what?" you say, sharp and rough, after thirty seconds of it being too much. of peter being too close and too quiet.

his presence is a burden on your heart.

peter's hands began to massage your legs, forcing you to let him in closer than you want him to be. "what, what?" he repeats.

your eyes meet his with defenses already prepared. "what are you doing here, peter?"

the words are weapons. one punch to the jaw and a knife shoved into his back.

you're trying to get him off of you, get him out that door and back into the world where he belongs so that you could stay here and rot, just like you want to.

but peter's eyes stay soft, his hands are kind and his intent is obvious. he isn't trying to fight with you.

he blows out a breath. "what're you doing here?"

you both stare at each other for a moment and then you look away, shaking your head. "i live here."

"you know that's not what i mean."

"do i?" you ask, voice sarcastic and mean. and it would be fine--usually. you and peter are mean to each other for sport.

but he wasn't being anything but easy. careful as he stretched your muscles out like he could tell that you hadn't used them in days.

trust peter to break your only rule.

it was silent again; only the sounds of commercials in the background, a woman swearing that aleve changed her life.

peter clears his throat. "why haven't you been answering my calls?"

"lost my phone."

"and class?"

"i've been sick."

"you missed an exam," he pushes. "you're gonna have to make it up."

"already emailed connaly."

"good." peter swallows, and you can feel his pounding, his questions even when he's not asking them.

you want to push him off of the couch. you want to push him off of you, leave bruises from the fall, and tell him to find someone who can be his friend. who can do this.

you want to be understanding, and as careful as he is. you love him enough to not scream, even if you want to.

"peter, i really just want to be alone, so--"

"when's the last time you ate?"

you sigh, pulling away from him.

but peter has a firm hold on your legs, and even if you tried, you couldn't kick him away.

"when was the last time you showered?"

"i've been sick, peter, it doesn't--"

"left the house?" he prods. "or moved from the couch? when was the last time you looked in the mirror?"

you sit up, looking at him without meeting his eyes. "you should go. i could still be contagious." the words are tense, your face is stone, unmoving, and unwilling to do any of this with him.

peter moves closer to you, his hands lingering just inches away from your marble face. "what's going on?" he asks, so softly that you can barely feel it on your plastered skin.

his concern and care, his stupid face and stupid eyes and--

"i can't do this, peter."

"you need to talk to me," he says, without even processing what you've said. "you need to tell me what's happening because it's been almost two weeks since i've seen you, and this..." he gestures around the room.

a place that used to be your home.

"what happened?"

and if anyone could get it out of you--pull the secrets you have hidden in your chest, ignoring your screams of pain--it would be peter. he would be the person that you talked to.

that is if you wanted to talk at all.

if you wanted to move from his couch and look into his eyes like you had been for months before this. like he was more than a classmate, or friend who had stuck to you. like he was someone who you wanted to care about.

someone with perfect lips and wonderful eyes and an addicting laugh.

someone who you might want to tell more, share more.

the person that you'd been a month ago would've told peter. even unsure if he could keep that secret or stay with you, you would've told him. trusted him that much. more than he deserved.

but the person sitting on your couch staring into those same eyes doesn't want anything.

to move or breathe or have to tell peter that you just don't care anymore.

that whatever you have to tell him is gone, that your words and voice have been ripped from your chest, that this couch, this distance you've been trying to build is the only remedy to fix the hole that remains.

but you don't want to see him. you don't want to tell him anything. you don't want to breathe his air and risk infecting him.

"nothing, peter. i'm fine."

"you look like you've spent the last month in the hospital."

"well, you look like a goddamn swimsuit model, so i guess we're even."

you're watching as his serious face shifts, and you can see it as he fights back a laugh, his eyes just barely flickering.

and you wish that you didn't care. you wish so badly that it didn't matter. you look away, thinking to pretend that none of this exists.

you've had enough nightmares like this lately.

"hey," peter says, one fingertip turning your eyes back to his. and you know it's not a dream, because your imagination can never get those eyes just right. "i'm here to listen. whatever it is. we'll work it out. i just need you to talk to me."

"i told you, there's nothing--"

"and you've got to stop lying to me like i can't tell."

you scowl.

peter's eyebrows lift, a fraction of affection appearing on his face. "c'mon, just tell me. i won't laugh."

you look down, at his hand resting on your thigh, and the hole you've burned into the couch.

you don't want to look at his eyes anymore. you're tired of trying to look away. and not talking to him.

you sigh. "nothing, peter. just..." you blink, but it's not enough to push his regard off of you. to rid yourself of the toxins he's breathed into you.

you were almost immune to them, just a few weeks ago. mithridatism only works if it's consistent.

and his eyes are more dangerous when you haven't seen them.

you freeze. "there's nothing," you repeat, defenses falling, hands going to push him away from your face.

and peter knows what's going to happen before you do. "hey," he says, already soothing. "whatever it is..."

and peter grabs you before you fall. he catches that first tear, and it's his forever. his arms fold around your shoulder, his strong hands keeping your head up.

"there's nothing. it's all gone. everything i want, everything i--"

his hands are tilting your face up to his but you can't look at him. you can't look into his perfect eyes and feel ashamed of yourself anymore.

you're sick and tired of feeling sorry for yourself.

"i can't feel anything, peter. i don't want to do anything but sit here and hope that eventually, this feeling goes away. that it all just..." you shake your head, feeling him invade you.

and then you lean in and let peter hold you up.

you hadn't even realized that you were crying. hadn't realized how far down you'd pushed the words until they were bubbling up.

bile crawling up your throat.

"i'm sorry," you whisper to him, just before he crushes you into a hug, your head buried into his neck. your tears staining his perfect skin. "i'm so sorry."

peter shakes his head against you, holding you even closer.

and you can't breathe with how tight he's holding you, but this sort of breathlessness is welcome. much better than the other kind.

you laugh against him, feeling how sore your body is. how angry you are with yourself.

"i've got you," peter whispers, into your hair, kissing your forehead. "we'll figure it out."

you shake your head but say nothing.

you finally breathe him in, desperate after denying yourself for so long. you don't have to worry about anything as long as peter is right there.

"god," he says, after a few minutes pass. "i'm sorry i didn't come sooner. i thought..."

thought you were okay, you can hear. thought that you needed space, that time was a perfect solution.

"not your fault," you mumble into him.

peter leans back, just so that you'll look up at him. "why didn't you tell me? you know i would've come," he says, "if you'd just called."

"i didn't want--" you swallow, looking away. "i didn't want you to know. or see."

peter scowls. "what did you think would happen? i would leave? or tell you to get over yourself?"

"maybe."

"are you insane?"

"maybe."

peter doesn't even laugh. he makes you look at him again, not knowing how cruel those eyes of his are. "i would've stayed," he tells you, "no matter what. even if you told me that you murdered someone. or run over a squirrel with your bike. i would've been there. i'm going to be there."

his jaw is tense and his eyes are so serious, but you sniffle, shaking your head. "even if i murdered a squirrel?"

"i mean... it would be hard. but i'd do it."

you laugh.

he swallows, shaking his head. "you need to tell me what's going on, okay? instead of ghosting me for two weeks, acting like you died or something."

"i answered a couple of your texts."

peter glares at you.

"okay. i'm sorry."

he shakes his head again, almost smiling, if a little bit sad. "are you okay?"

you fall back into him, suffocating yourself into his shoulder. you don't want to answer that, and hope that peter doesn't push.

for once, he does what you want, wrapping his arm back around you, pulling you in closer.

"okay," he says, and breathes with you.

you sit with him for a few seconds, glad that he's there, and then you ask, "how'd you get in?" voice muffled by his shirt.

"it was unlocked, you idiot."

you frown, looking up at him.

peter laughs.

"no, it wasn't."

his eyes return to normal, deviance stuck in his expression. "i used my key," he answers, innocently.

trust peter to ruin the moment.

my masterlist here.

tags:@moonlarking-blog @v1ci0us @preciousbabypeter @alexxavicry @directioner5life @inthegetawaycarwithtaylah @localrockstargf @thestudiouswanderer @take-my-hand-time-boy @thoughtsofagodlovingsunflower @nyomjoon @moo-b1tch @raindropstearsandtea @rqmanoff @hollandweather @wetcoldnoodle @urlocalavenderhazestan @valvlry @imthatcoolmom @spideysimpossiblegirl invisibletrolleyson-jeremy @sharkswaters @rowniebow @anaislfbv @take-my-hand-time-boy @mileyc111 @starsval @ratsys

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pascallatte · 11 months

Text

Y/n L/n | In The Bag

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x Actress!reader

Summary: dive in on what you have in your bag, some might be yours and some might be not.

Date: August 2018

A/N: wanted to try the Vogue stuff (1 of ~) so here's a tryout, also a little tbt cause I lost the fic I was supposed to post today😵‍💫. basically, this is some sort of filler atm so without further ado enjoy reading and stay tuned for more!!!

You were sitting on the couch wearing a white silk dress that your stylist had prepared for you to wear. The video featured you showing off your prized headphones before cutting back to you sitting down.

“Hola Vogue, soy Y/n L/n, y esto es “¿Qué hay en mi bolso?" But since they told me to speak in English then I’ll have to speak in English…” looking directly at a camera smiling while placing the bag in front of you.

“This bag is very old, by old like really old. It was given to me by my mama when I got my role in Pirates of the Caribbean. It’s from a small shop, near our place in Madrid and it’s been with me ever since.” You explained the history of your bag of choice when asked off-screen.

“And as you can see it is a very big bag so I have most of my personal stuff here. It’s not the cleanest but it’s organized, just the way I like it,” beckoning the camera to come to take a look at the inside, which was in fact organized.

Setting the bag down on the table, you stretch your arms in exaggeration, “Ok!! Let’s dig in…my bag.” Reaching in you take out a small green purse, “Ah so this is my “legal things” purse, like all my IDs and cards are here- you’ll be seeing a lot of purses by the way. It’s how I separate things for easy access.” Opening up the purse, you pull out a card given to you by a brand and your license.

Showing your license to the camera, “Look this was taken, let’s say about 7 to 8 years ago, and you can still see the cheeks that I’ve tried the hardest to lose, but well it’s still here,” you said shrugging placing it back in the purse. “But hey, I’m actually happy it stayed it gives me the youthful look, most lose when they....age,” you said whipping your head to the camera.

“Next are these glasses most of you see me wearing if I’m out and about. These rectangle sunglasses actually come in a.. pouch I think? And these reading glasses in a hard case that I totally lost so they’re just sitting on top of my bag so they don’t get squished.”

You tried the sunglasses on and posed for the camera silly, before shaking your head and laughing. “Oh I actually- the sunglasses come in a pair, so the other one is with my partner, obviously. But he doesn’t really wear it since he prefers those big ones,” crossing your arms and looking at the camera straight-faced.

The video cut to you pulling out a wristlet, “ok, so here we have the wallet that I just bought, 'cause I really didn’t lose my old one, it just disappeared.” Opening up the wallet, you showed the insides towards the camera, it shows cards, receipts and a very well hid picture behind one of the cards that the camera was able to detect. “So, I don’t really keep any cash on me, just these cards cause bills are too bulky, I do keep my coins though.”

“Do I prefer coin purses or wristlets?” You said, repeating their question. “Uhmmm I love a good coin purse, but wristlets do come in handy and I can like slip it in somewhere easily.”

“Makeup and lady essentials that I won’t be showing you, sorry,” you bring out a see-through pouch with your balm, sunscreen, and powder inside. “I don’t really wear make-up if I’m not working so I have this…” you paused thinking what it was called, “.. tinted lip balm- I have two actually I just left the other one at home. I also got this sunscreen to keep the skin safe from the sun and of course, wrinkles, 'cause we don’t want that.” You said, squeezing some of it in your hand.

“Lastly, we have this powder that was given to me a few months back. And it’s useful when you want to look put together in a rush or like look fresh, so thank you to whoever gave this to me,” cheekily as you waved the powder around.

“Okk, what else do we have here- oh!” You exclaimed looking around, wondering if you can show it. Deciding to, you brought out a cap that clearly did not belong to you and fans would know whose it was. “Ok, so we have this cap that I didn’t know was in my bag, until now. I don’t really wear any head accessories but he does so, let’s just say it’s their essential, not mine,” you said placing the cap that was noticeably big on you, on your head bopping around.

“Next is, MY must bring. Drumroll please,” joking, before pulling out a camera. “My camera, I am the sort of person that wants to look back on moments I love so this camera is really the best. Usually, I would use my phone but I got this as a present. At that time since I was debating whether to buy one, so they just said here you go, your very own camera. And yeah, I’ve had this for about a year now” Looking through the viewfinder you took a picture of the crew showing it to them afterwards.

“Photos? You’re asking me if you can see some?” Shyly you nodded, and moved to show the small screen, you’re back facing them. “This was the latest one, like a few days ago in a party, then us having a drink at home, and-“laughing to yourself as you saw the picture,”-and this picture that I really can’t explain what was going on.” It was basically a picture of you laid up on the floor wearing clothes that were significantly bigger and longer on you, a fake moustache drawn on your face and your hair stuck in all different places.

“Brief explanation Ummm, let’s just say it was a fun night that led us to do weird things, one being this photo,” you giggled to them, which you nodded before placing it down on the table.

“Now, these are my headphones, I got them last June and they’re really helpful when you like some quiet time or you just really have to focus on work. I don’t really like those wired ones, different to what someone prefers, since I wreck and lose them easily so these headphones are my best and safest options.”

Snickering, you brought out a half-eaten bag of chips, “here, my friends are the chips I’ve had in my bag since last week. Why I haven’t finished it is because it’s too hot for me to handle. My friends laugh at me for they claim it isn’t spicy at all- it is.” You pop one in your mouth before offering it to the people you’re with.

“I mean, I’m not a big fan of chips and spicy food, but I’d enjoy it from time to time.” You said popping a final Cheeto in your mouth.

The video cuts to you bringing out something big from your bag. “And this pouch, this pouch actually takes up almost half the space in my bag, so let’s see what’s in it,” you pulled out a big cream pouch, which looked heavy to say even on camera.

“I have all sorts of chargers here my phone charger, headphones, iPad charger surprisingly,” you mumbled, knowing all too well you don’t own one, “and some cord I don’t know its use.” Placing it on the table you pull back your hand before sticking it in the pouch once again, “this is a small hair brush I keep in my bag, it’s supposed to be in the makeup bag, not sure how it got here so-yeah this brush cause we don’t want our hair to be tangled.”

“I also have these perfumes in my bag don’t ask who owns who, they both have this vanilla scent on them which we love to use when we go out on a walk and that’s actually the reason I have it in here.” You said, reading the labels on the bottles you have on each hand. One that was really used and the other barely.

“Lastly I have this hair clamp and silly socks. When it gets too hot I put my hair up and when it’s cold I got some warmers on my feet. The funny thing is that this hair clamp has been missing for a couple days now, and finding it here in my bag just makes me laugh at myself for not checking it properly.”

Leaning back on the chair, legs cross you beam up at them, “Well vogue, that’s what I have in my bag. I’m sorry that took me too long but thank you for spending time with me it’s a pleasure. Bye Bye!!” Waving to the camera, you blow a final kiss before the video ends.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙

Taglist: @benonlinear @t-stark35 @heyitsme-2 @elleeeee21 @holmesstrange @tagakalat @flyestvenustrap @oldermenaremyreligion @cherryred444 @hobiismyhopeu @ilovehotdadsandshit @djarinsstuff @guacala @avengersheart @pukka-latte @lilvampirina (the ones in bold are the blogs that I can't seem to tag, so please inform me if you aren't getting tagged. thank you!!)

#pedro pascal x actress!reader #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal fluff #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal x female reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader

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woniverse-writes · 7 months

Text

“Backfired Birthday”

bada lee x reader

summary: trying to surprise bada for her birthday with a cake and decorations, but it goes horribly wrong

word count: 2.2k

warnings: uhm they shower together but it's cute and wholesome, slight angst?? reader lowkey has a breakdown, not proofread

notes: I FINALLY MANAGED TO WRITE A SHORT FIC LET'S FUCKING GOOOOOOO- also, the other Bada birthday fic will be posted later, seeing as it's technically ready to post now, but I wanna add a little more spice to it lol

The week leading up to Bada’s birthday had gone really well- you would even say it was perfect! You had everything set in stone and were determined to give her the best birthday ever, especially since it was the first one you were celebrating as a couple. You two had been friends for the last few years, having met through dance. You were both choreographers and instructors for Just Jerk Academy and got to know each other through another dancer from the studio. When Howl had said he wanted to introduce you two to each other, neither really knew what to expect, you assuming that Bada and him were a thing, and her assuming the same of you and him. So it came as a shock when he set you two up on a date and claimed he was trying to help his girls stop being single. And here you are years later, happier than ever, preparing for your now girlfriend's birthday.

When you woke up that morning, you made sure to get up a little earlier than usual to prepare an extra special breakfast for your lovely girlfriend. it was storming severely outside and it eventually got so bad that the power went out- cutting the line for your toaster, your fridge, your microwave, and your electric stove. You were so disappointed in your failed breakfast that you ended up just going to lay back in bed with Bada, who gladly accepted your warmth as you snuggled your way back into her arms.

The two of you woke up again, together this time, about an hour later. The power had seemed to come back on at some point, although it was still raining pretty hard outside. You ended up making a simple breakfast and ate together quickly before Bada had to head off to the studio for some lessons today. You made sure not to take on any classes in order to prepare all the festivities and gifts for your girlfriend, in order for her to have the most relaxing and satisfying birthday when she got off work.

The first thing you did was head to the store to pick up some ingredients for a cake, as well as look for a nice champagne or wine that would make the evening even more romantic. After getting the basic ingredients, you spent the next 45 minutes stressing over whether you should get champagne or wine, reeling you knew nothing about your girlfriend’s more refined drinking preferences. Eventually, you decided just to skip the alcohol (even though you definitely felt like you needed some right about now) and move on to the checkout.

After the unnecessarily long shopping trip, you made your way to the floral shop to pick up the arrangement you had ordered a week ago. When you arrived, an older lady who seemed to have been working there a long time was working the front register. You went up to her and let her know you were there to pick up an order. She scanned through her system and looked confused briefly before asking if it could be under a different name. After you shook your head, she asked for your phone number and email address to track your receipt, but nothing came up again.

You were beginning to panic until a younger-looking girl walked about from the back and the older lady flagged her down.

“Marcia, do you remember if you took this young lady’s order any time recently?” the older woman asked turning stiffly toward the younger worker, who tensed up and flitted her eyes back and forth between you and her manager.

“Uhm… I think so…” The older woman sighed shortly and asked

“Well did you give her any sort of receipt?” to which the younger girl shook her head and looked like she was about to cry, but to be honest you were too. Things were quickly starting to fall apart and you could feel it. After about 30 minutes of searching, they ended up not being able to find any sort of receipt to show your order was taken, but the younger employee admitted to having taken your order earlier that week and not giving you a receipt, so the older lady, who you assumed to be the shop owner, offered to whip something up for you at a discounted price of what you would've originally paid, to which you accepted, then had to immediately decline after hse told you it would be ready after Bada would've already gotten home.

Leaving the flower shop and heading back home, you tried to focus on the tasks at hand, which were decorating and baking Bada’s birthday cake. As you pulled into the driveway, the rain picked up again, soaking you as you got out of your car and grabbed all the groceries from the back of your trunk. While you were trying to walk as fast as possible, a stray cat ran out from one of the bushes in front of your house, startling you so badly, that you dropped the bag with all the decorations in it, spilling them onto the concrete, causing them to get soaked in the rain and some covered in mud, leaving them unusable. You tried to pick them up and quickly make your way inside to assess the damage and hopefully still be able to use some of the decorations, but you had no luck seeing as they were so damp and stained with dirt that there was barely anything left from what could've been saved anyways.

You let out the biggest sigh ever and threw your head back with a groan. You told yourself it was okay, seeing as you still had about three and a half hours until Bada would be home, and in that time all you had to do was bake a cake, seeing as you had no champagne or decorations to prepare. But that also made you realize you hadn’t gotten her a present or even a card.

In a state of absolute panic, you slipped your shoes on and ran back out to your, starting the engine and swiftly backing out of your driveway. You ran to the nearest store, which happened to be the one you had already visited today for the cake ingredients, and picked up a birthday card. Soon after that, you ran to the mall and spent the next 45 minutes trying to decide between getting Bada a new jersey or a new pair of sneakers. You didn’t feel as if either was enough to showcase how much you loved her, so you just bought both, not even worrying about your bank account at the moment.

Once you made it back home for the second time, you immediately set the oven to pre-heat while you began preparing the batter. You have an hour and a half now before Bada gets home, so it’s crunch time. You still wanted to shower and change into a cute outfit so you’d be all ready for when she got home, but thought that was a bad idea since you were in the middle of baking. The cake batter was coming together nicely until the power suddenly went out again in the middle of you mixing the batter. You let out a mix of a scream and a groan in frustration.

The power suddenly turned back on a few moments later, which you weren’t prepared for- especially since your mixer decided to turn back on as well while didn’t have a grip on it, sending the bowl flying off the counter and batter to splatter everywhere- all over the walls, the counters, and covering you as well. You let out a shocked scream as it happened and immediately reached to unplug the mixer, frozen in shock afterwards.

You felt like such a terrible girlfriend as you stood in the messy kitchen, wondering how you were gonna clean up the chaos and yourself before Bada got home. She had no cake, no decorations, and You couldn’t even get her the proper flowers. Everything just felt like a disaster, and you couldn’t help but tear up as you surveyed the mess around you.

You didn’t even hear the door unlock, only noticing your girlfriend swinging the door open and walking through after she had already closed the door and locked it behind her.

“Hi baby- woah, what’s going on?” the tall girl giggled and smiled lovingly at you from across the kitchen as she took off her hoodie and threw it on the back of one of the chairs. You looked around in a daze and once you made eye contact with her, you felt your lip quiver as you tried to put on a smile.

“Happy birthday my love” is what you tried to say but couldn’t even finish as you burst into tears. You felt pathetic, covered in cake batter, crying in your messy kitchen in front of Bada on her birthday. It made you cry even harder when you became self-aware and felt you were being selfish since your girlfriend probably had a long day and now here you are trying to take the attention away from her on her day.

Bada wasn’t thinking that at all though. She immediately made her way to the other side of the kitchen to wrap you in a hug and kiss your head, ignoring your protests (“You’re gonna get batter all over you-” you cried into her shoulder. “Shhh it’s okay” she shook her head and pulled you closer). You stayed that way for a while until you calmed down for the most part. When you pulled away slightly you looked up at Bada with puffy eyes and a pout, which she smiled enedaringly at and pressed a soft kiss to your lips. You began to tear up again, so disappointed in yourself for not being able to pull off something so simple. But Bada put a stop to it once again immediately.

“Princess- it’s okay” she giggled sweetly, wiping away your tears and caressing your cheek. She tucked a piece of hair behind your ear and began slowly leading you towards the bathroom.

“Why don’t we take a nice shower together, yeah?” the tall girl asked softly, still not letting go of you, making sure to have some sort of physical contact at all times while the two of you made your way around. Neither of you even bothered to grab clean clothes, heading straight for the bathroom. Bada started the shower, holding your hand and softly looking over her shoulder every few seconds to smile at you reassuringly. Once she was satisfied with the water temperature, Bada took her shirt off first, leaving her in a sports bra and cargo pants. then she proceeded to help fully undress you before taking off the rest of her clothes and ushering you both into the shower.

You relaxed slightly under the warm water and closed your eyes, letting the droplets soak your hair and skin, already slightly cleaning you off. Bada reached behind you to grab the shampoo off one of the shelves and squirted some out into the palms of her hands before lathering it in your hair. She stood in front of you, gently tilting your head back as she continued to wash your hair, you standing with your arms wrapped around her waist, eyes still closed, finally feeling at peace for the first time that day.

After taking a little longer than expected due to getting distracted by some innocent shower kisses, you both finished helping each other clean up and hopped out from under the water which had gotten a little colder than what it was before. You playfully dry each other off, giggling and pressing sweet kisses to random areas on each other’s face, neck, and shoulder; you head back to your shared bedroom wrapped up in your fluffy towels. You sleepily pick out some clean clothes to wear, both of you only grabbing an oversized shirt and a clean pair of undergarments to sleep in.

After getting dressed and hanging the towels back up, Bada turns off the bedside lamps, and you both snuggle up under your covers.

“I’m really sorry I couldn’t give you an amazing birthday, and that I cried the second you got home” you apologized, staring up at Bada in the dim light with sad puppy eyes. You could barely make out the loving smile on her face as she pressed a kiss to your forehead, then a couple to your cheeks, and then one to your lips.

“Don’t apologize for anything. I had an amazing birthday, simply because I got to spend even a sliver of it with you…” Bada reassured in a hushed voice, pulling you in closer to intertwin her legs with yours under the covers. She kissed you once again softly on the lips before resting her forehead against yours.

“I love you so much, and any moment I get to spend with you is already such a gift, so thank you, my sweet girl.” her sentiment and sweet words made you tear up again, but you were able to swallow it down this time.

“I love you too. Happy birthday, my love.” and you both fell asleep happily cuddled into each other, with the sound of the rain pouring outside.

permanent taglist: @uwulyn

#bada lee #street woman fighter 2 #bada lee x reader #street woman fighter x reader #bada x reader

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xoxoavenger · 4 months

Text

Lost It All

pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

summary: Y/N had it all, if only for a couple hours

word count: 1877

warnings: lots of angst no comfort

12 Days of Christmas masterlist masterlist

"Oh my God," Y/N groaned, leaning back in her chair and tilting her head back dramatically.

"Y/N," Steve starts, but it's no use. Her hands are over her eyes and Steve knows he's already fucked.

"Steve, I am so close to fighting you." She whispers. She's exhausted, having not slept much during the mission, and she couldn't sleep on the way home, overtired in a way that she knew only one person could help.

"I know. We're almost done," he tries to soothe, but he knows it's no use.

"No, we aren't." She mutters, head coming back down to stare at him. "You know as soon as he figures out I'm here he's gonna knock you out and take me anyway. Just jot down your notes and I can leave." Her eyes were bloodshot, sloping down and slightly wet from her frustrated tears. She was clearly exhausted, and if it wasn't protocol he wouldn't have forced her to debrief with him now.

"Please tell me you wrote everything down." He had told her once that if she wrote everything down everyday and gave him the notes, he would keep their debriefs, well, brief.

"I thought you'd never ask." She smirked as she whipped out the journal, smacking it on the desk. "I marked this one with a receipt for the last coffee I was able to get before I left." She winked and Steve sighed as he looked down at the thick book, which looked like it had been through hell.

"Is that blood?" He asked, looking at the stain on the cover.

"You're the one who wanted me to keep a detailed account." She shrugged as she slapped her hands down n the table pushing herself to stand.

"What, did you use it to hit someone?" He called after her as she walked out of the room. She didn't respond, but Steve heard her squeal and turned to see Bucky picking her up around the waist, her arms wrapped around his neck and her head buried in his shoulder. Neither of them looked back at him as Bucky walked to their room, still holding her close.

"Did you sleep at all when you were gone?" Bucky asked as they lay in the huge bathtub, Y/N's back against Bucky's front, who was doing all the work of washing her up before bed. His thumb was rubbing under her eyes, where she was sure there were deep bags. She sunk against his shoulder even more, keeping her eyelids closed and rubbing his knee comfortingly.

"Do I ever?" She smiled slightly, but it made Bucky upset.

"I wish you would." He didn't like thinking about how exhausted she must have been while fighting off multiple men. They had talked in length about this, about the fact that Y/N could barely sleep on her own, let alone alone on a mission, but nothing they tried helped. The closest they'd gotten was calling every night, but with their busy schedules it just wasn't feasible. Besides, she used the night to think, sometimes sneak up on targets, and calling Bucky didn't help her think at all.

"Me too." She muttered, sighing as Bucky ran a fancy soap bar up and down her body, the warm water paired with his touch making her relax even more somehow.

"Don't fall asleep on me now." He gently nudged her, knowing that she would hate him and herself if she fell asleep in the tub, since Bucky would have to wake her up to get out.

"'M not." She muttered, head lolling to the side - a telltale sign she was basically out.

"Come on." He helped her up as she groaned, pulling a towel off of the warmer and wrapping it around her before cleaning up the bathroom quickly. He dried off quickly and pulled on briefs as he watched Y/N towel herself off and flop onto the bed, butt-naked and practically snoring.

Bucky chuckled as he grabbed clothes for her, dressing her like a doll and smiling when she reached out on the bed, trying to find his pillow. She had forgotten that she had taken his pillow on the mission, so it now was in the washer with everything from her bag.

He turned off the light before walking over to the bed, using the light from the window to guide him to the covers. He often cursed New York City for being so bright all the time, even when the sun was on the other side of the earth. It lit Y/N's sleeping body, however, so maybe it wasn't so bad.

"I missed you." He whispered as he brought her body close to his, finally being able to breathe now that she was in his arms. His head was on her pillow, just as it had been every night for the past week, and she was curled into him, his chest her pillow.

The truth was, he didn't sleep when Y/N was gone either.

Bucky was barely awake when she spoke.

"Do you wanna get married?" Y/N was staring at him, head tilted up and hand on his heart. He feared she could feel it skip a beat.

"What?" He finally said after what he knew was too long. The silence was honestly confusion on his end, because he had just woken up and didn't expect that. It had to be early in the morning, the sun barely risen, and he was sure she hadn't been awake for long either.

"I was just wondering." She looked down, starting to shrink away from him. He definitely didn't want that, so he tightened his arm around her and tried to gather his thoughts.

"I didn't mean to sound like that." He told her, one hand going to her chin to tilt her head up and let him look at her. "You just caught me off guard." He couldn't read her, but it was early in the morning, and his brain clearly was not working.

"I know you don't sleep either." Everything about this conversation was surprising Bucky. She didn't need to specify what she meant, because they both know she was talking about how when she went on missions, as well as when he went on missions. "Steve told me." Bucky looked away, caught.

"Of course he did." The little bastard. He was the only one that was able to tell that Bucky didn't sleep at all when he was away from Y/N, when they weren't in the same bed.

Suddenly, he was starting to see where the two ideas were connecting.

"I think getting married is the best idea you've ever had." He turned back to her, watching her eyes widen and feeling his chest expand with love.

"Are you being serious?" She asked, and instead of responding Bucky shifted to be on top of her, bringing her lips to his.

"I've never been more serious." Before he had even finished she squealed, face lit up in joy and full of love, the most love Bucky had ever felt.

"I love you so much." She whispered, letting him bring him in and kiss her. His hand was on her lower back and she was practically on top of him.

"I love you more." Bucky couldn't believe this was his wife. This was the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.

"That's not possible." She muttered, and he flipped her over to show her just how possible it was.

They had a deal. They didn't talk during missions. They acted like the other didn't even exist, because otherwise they would tear the mission down to save the other. They couldn't compromise everyone else. Except, everyone else was actually only Sam this time around.

This mission went worse than expected.

Y/N, Bucky, and Sam were behind a large wall outside the workshop they were supposed to infiltrate, hiding from the couple of agents they had yet to take out. There were too many of them. They had been grossly unprepared for this, not enough of them and unable to call for back up. They were trapped.

"When I give the signal, you get the fuck out of here." Bucky was talking straight to Sam, who nodded. Y/N was in between them, but they were talking over her head.

"What the hell are you talking about?" She asked, looking between the two. Neither of them paid any attention to her.

"Are you sure?" Sam asked, ignoring Y/N. Bucky nodded once, then kissed Y/N on the forehead and ran out the of cover before she could say anything. Shocked, she went to follow him, but Sam grabbed her. She felt like she was watching a movie on her phone, or playing a game she couldn't control.

"No, wait," She started, but Sam had a hand over her mouth. She was pulled back against him, barely able to breathe, much less yell out. Her heart was in her throat, making her want to throw up. What was Bucky doing?

"It's me you want." Bucky started from far away, and Y/N's eyes widened. He was giving himself up to the Hydra agents. He was giving himself back to the Winter Solider.

Y/N thrashed against Sam, who was keeping her from giving up their position. Tears flooded down her cheeks as she hit her fists against him, trying to claw his hand, but he was stronger than her. She felt weak, helpless, not unlike how she imagined Bucky felt when he was brainwashed.

"Take the asset." She heard someone say, and Y/N's heart broke. Her tears were falling onto Sam's hand as she went limp.

"We're going," He whispered in her ear, but she shook her head. She wouldn't leave Bucky, she couldn't leave him. They were getting married. They were supposed to be together forever. He was supposed to be done with the winter solider. "If we don't go now, he did it for nothing." His voice snapped her out of her hurt, and she let Sam tug her away.

"What's the plan?" Y/N asked shakily as they ran. Sam didn't answer. "Sam," She grabs his arm stops, making him skid.

"The plan is we get back to the quintet." As his face turns to her she realizes he's been crying too.

"What about Bucky?" She asks, barely breathing when Sam tugs her forward. "Sam, what about Bucky?" She cries, lucky that they made it far enough away that the agents can't hear her.

"We'll send an extraction team." Sam tells her as he pulls her onto the jet. She screams and pushes in protest, her heart painful ripping in half slowly. She couldn't leave him, knowing what they would do to him.

"No, we have to go get him back! They're going to do it, they're going to make him into the solider again!" She cries, fighting Sam as he tries to strap her in.

"We can't! They'll kill us, and then it'll be for nothing. We have to keep going." He moves quickly to get the jet in the air, somewhere Y/N can't jump out in a suicide mission. Her screams pierce his ears, but he has to keep moving. Bucky made his choice.

"James!" She screams, dissolving into sobs as she curls into herself. She just lost her everything. Her lover. Her future husband. Her future.

She lost it all.

tags: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @one-sweet-gubler @thefandomplace @punzoquack @mcueveryday @icequeen1371

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes #marvel #marvel imagine #the winter solider fanfiction #the winter solider #marvel x reader

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winchesterszvonecek · 7 months

Text

Come to Bed - [ Brian ‘Otis’ Zvonecek ]

Summary: You try and get Brian to come to bed

Word Count: 786 short and sweet

Warnings: female!reader, fluff

Masterlist | Otis Masterlist

It was late out. The sun had set hours ago, darkness had crept in and yet still the other side of your bed still remained empty. You knew Brian was on the other side of the door, most likely brooding over Molly’s business, much like he’d done all day. You knew he was stressed, that all this business with Game Day and Arthur was getting to him, which is why you wished he’d simply take some time to himself, before he worked himself sick.

He’d been running on empty for days now, between Molly’s and work, you were surprised he was even able to function. You’d tried your best to make him slow down but it was no use, he could be stubborn at times, but then again, so could you, which is why you wouldn’t be returning to your bed without him.

You slid from the warmth of your covers, grabbing one of Brian’s t-shirts from the dresser and slipping it over your body before you opened the bedroom door, stepping carefully over the dog toy that lay directly in front of it. The last thing you wanted was to wake the dog by squeaking his favourite bear, then no one would ever get to sleep.

Your feet patted softly against the cold ground, sending goosebumps shooting up your legs as they carried you further into the living room, where you could see the faint silhouette of Brian, barely lit up by the dull lamp next to him. He had his back to you but you could tell he had his thinking face on, simply by the way his shoulders sat and his arm was bent, no doubt scratching at his chin.

You didn’t need to see the coffee table to know it was covered in papers, all of which had scribbles of Brian’s semi-messy handwriting on them, making notes about what they could do to help gather more profits. Enough to pay off that sleazy fourth partner who’d weaselled his way in… You never would forget the day you first met Arthur, the day Molly’s had officially been signed over to Brian, Herrmann and Gabby. And you technically, since you were married, but you didn’t want to be involved in all that, something Brian knew and respected. He was also kind of glad as then you didn’t have to deal with Arthur either.

You sighed softly, moving closer to him where you could soon hear his faint mumbles, barely whispers but they were enough to make your stomach flutter, something that still happened after a year of marriage. You stepped up behind the couch, sliding your arms around his neck, feeling his shoulders loosen beneath you as you gently kissed the side of his head.

“Baby, it’s late. Come to bed.” You whispered, leaning your chin on your arm as you glanced down at the papers before back at him, his brow so furrowed you were surprised it hadn’t frozen that way.

“I will… Soon.” He said, the shuffling of papers following closely behind as he flicked through Molly's receipts, most of which came from Cruz and Mouch.

“Brian.” You said a little louder, leaning over him to take the papers from his hands, which he allowed as he was too tired to resist. You threw them aside, lacing your hand with his as you straightened, tugging him gently upwards which got him to his feet. You walked with him down to the end of the sofa, having to practically drag him until the two of you met, his face falling against your shoulder the second your bodies touched.

“You’re exhausted, baby. You need to sleep.” You said soothingly, stroking the back of his head and feeling the soft curls beneath your palm. “Come on… Let’s go to bed.”

“Okay.” He mumbled, allowing you to lead him slowly towards the bedroom, his feet dragging beneath him and his eyes heavy. That was a lot easier than you thought it would be. Guess he really was as exhausted as he looked.

You basically had to undress him as he was too tired to even move now that he’d become aware of how late it was and how little sleep he’d gotten lately. You climbed into the bed next to him, his arm wrapping lazily around you as you nuzzled up against him, feeling his body heat mix with yours as you rested your head atop his chest.

It didn’t take more than a minute before his breathing shifted, telling you he was fast asleep already, something you couldn’t feel more grateful for. You turned your head a touch, placing a soft, lingering kiss against his chest, right above his heart, before you whispered.

“Goodnight, Brian.”

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ineedaplacetostay · 9 months

Text

It’s late, but I wasn’t about to let Tome’s day go by! I present: so many words.

Summary: This is not a psychic union. It’s an employee union.

Word Count: 2,005 (…yeah)

—

look for the union label…

The more Tome thinks about it, the better the idea sounds. She isn’t sure what benefits members of the Sun Psychic Union get, but they have to be good ones if they can keep all those superpowered psychics around. If they’re worth paying hard-earned dues over instead of going freelance, then it has to be a top-tier organization. And it’s one she can’t join.

It’s not like Tome doesn’t like the job she has, she wouldn’t work for any other psychic in Seasoning City! Reigen could pay her a little better for all her hard work, snacks don’t grow on trees—except for that one weird month with…spinach?—, but she’s not trying to leave. A union’s good backup if she ever does need something, someday. If she was a psychic, she’d have to join the Sun union, so if you think about it, this is basically going along with the rules.

Except there’s no union for employees of a psychic or the invaluable backup work people like her and Mr. Serizawa do. Like filing or…or billing receipts for curse-breaking massages. Or going out on cases in the evening at the beginning of the school year.

They deserve a union. And if they’re the ones in charge, they can choose their own benefits, like better pay, or days off, or more snacks, not asking if Peppercorn expects her to do homework. Reasonable stuff for a Spirits & Such exclusive union. Probably. She isn’t sure.

But she does have the office to herself today and the other option is working on her history homework…so she has all time she needs to look up anything. Everything! Using Reigen’s computer is fine too, it’s for the good of the workers.

—

All of Tome’s sources agree, the first step to a successful union is getting your coworkers on your side. When you have three of them, that’s gonna be a very good thing or a very bad one. She decides to focus on the positives as she takes the familiar route back to Salt Middle School.

She’s not exact sure what happened between the city almost breaking to pieces—again—and now, but when she spots the brief member of her old club, it seems like it’s been…good. Mob smiles at her and waves backs when she flags him down leaving the school yard.

She knows how much Reigen means to him and that Mob’s not really an employee anymore, but if she can get him on her side, she can convince anyone.

“A union?” Mob looks carefully over her printed list of employee benefits.

Tome takes a deep breath. She knows she got wild about aliens and it wasn’t really about aliens and the alien hunt almost didn’t turn out well and Inukawa went missing for ten days, and maybe she misses the structure of the Telepathy Club a little, but. There isn’t much to do at Peppercorn yet.

“I like it. I think you should have one,” Mob says, handing the paper back before Tome can lay out her ten steps to union success.

There’s something in the way he says it, not angry, but…whole in a way she hasn’t heard from him before. She thinks it’s good for him.

“Really?” she asks before course-correcting. She did not expect it to be that easy. “I mean, thank you for your support, Mob. Ah, Shigeo.”

It feels more like him to call him that for some reason, even if he looks surprised she calls him that too.

Once Shigeo’s out of sight, Tome lets out a long, winded sigh out into the twilight she didn’t know she had in her. Wipes a bit of sweat off her palms. Okay, she did it. She actually did it. One down, two to go.

She’s gonna start a union.

—

“Why is it on mobgle again?” Tome overhears Reigen mutter to himself, making one of those weird faces at his laptop.

She to tries to make it look like filing is the most interesting thing in the world.

—

The thing is Mr. Serizawa is a really nice guy, kind of a pushover sometimes if Tome’s honest, but she still brings Shigeo with her to talk to him. Just for more proof that this is a serious offer.

All the suggestions said it was better to talk to coworkers outside of work, so that’s what she does, brings Shigeo along and catches up with her other coworker about two blocks away from the office.

“A…union?”

“Like the Sun Union,” she cuts in this time. “We’ll have benefits and if we don’t want to do something, we can use collective bargaining power. So we can tell the boss ‘no.’ Really stand up to him!”

Mr. Serizawa gets a kind of look on his face.

“Like if the union, us,” she pushes on, nodding to Shigeo to include him, “votes that we’re not going into a sewer after a spirit, we won’t have to.”

She figures Mr. Serizawa can agree they don’t want to do that again.

“I don’t know…” he hedges, sounding almost sorry to tell her. “I never thought I’d have a job as good as working at Spirits & Such.”

“There’s strength in a union, Mr. Serizawa. We can make important decisions for the future of the company. Better pay! Better hours! And–and a new desk!”

He does look more interested at that, a flicker of doubt in his eye. And Tome jumps on it, slamming her fist to her open palm, a familiar excitement coming up.

“Those are working conditions, Mr. Serizawa! We can put that in our demands! And if we don’t get it? We strike!”

“A new chair would be nice,” Mr. Serizawa says, more to himself that to her but she’ll take it.

“Shigeo’s joined too,” she sweetens the deal. “We outnumber the boss three to one and we’ll get you that chair!”

She thinks Shigeo nods, but the unionizing articles said eye contact was important.

“…I don’t think he’ll fire us,” Mr. Serizawa says, considering.

“He won’t,” Shigeo agrees.

“That’s the spirit!”

They only need part of a workforce to get a union and she has three out of three. She knew her counselor was lying when she called Tome too forceful.

—

The problem is sometimes it’s harder to have Mr. Serizawa as part of the union before they’re—she’s—ready to list their requests than not having him in it. Something about keeping the (temporary) secret makes him more nervous around Reigen than usual. That’d be great as a friend, but it’s exhausting as a union president.

She can’t say Reigen’s noticed yet though. Probably because Mr. Serizawa looks kinda generally haunted sometimes, but she’s had two weird nightmares about it already.

—

“I want to join your union.”

Halfway across a crosswalk, a list of possible wage increase bargaining tactics in her hand, Tome gets ambushed by Shigeo’s little brother. Well, ambushed might not be the right word, but she does yell and almost lose her list.

“…you worked for Spirits & Such?” she asks once they’ve gotten to the other side of the street.

Reigen’s filing system before Mr. Serizawa was strange enough to be in French or something and she doesn’t know how he remembers to pay his taxes, but he always wrote down when they had any expenses.

Ritsu grimaces. “I…interned. Will I be allowed to join or not?”

…well, numbers are numbers.

Tome feels like she’s gotten the politest mugging in the country.

—

“You know this won’t work, don’t you?”

“You don’t qualify as an employee,” Tome says instead of answering the only spirit around here who hasn’t been exorcised. If she says it through a mouthful of chips, that’s fine. She doesn’t have to be polite right now.

Reigen’s out dealing with the office’s owner about a window getting blown up mid-exorcism and Mr. Serizawa’s gone to pick up a drink order. She figured this would make the best time to put the last touches on their requirements to keep the union from going on strike, but now she has an old ghost telling her she’s doomed for failure.

She’s heard that and it never stuck! Thinking about it, she should hit him with that net again.

No. She has a better idea, grinning and talking around another handful of chips. “You’re mad cause I didn’t ask you to join, aren’t you?”

Ekubo huffs, forming tiny legs and sitting down mid-air. “I’m the reason this place lasted as long as it has. Reigen wouldn’t even be alive if it wasn’t for me.”

Tome guesses she believes that with how much trouble Reigen gets into. Someone had to have tried to kill him before.

“Fine. Wanna join the union?” If this doesn’t do anything else, Tome can say she’s part of the only union in town with a ghost.

“You don’t stand a chance. Yes.”

—

Tome’s been a class president already and she held it together, more or less, for most of that year. She even brought Shigeo in, more or less, and that got her to this huge supernatural world most people don’t even notices. She knows what she wants and she goes after it! That’s why she’s here now.

She’s even had input from all of the other employees, the things they think are important like calling ahead and someone else who agrees about school nights. Hell, she cut her snack demands to fit what she guesses is the total S&S budget, all for the good of the union.

It’s something, right here in her hands and important and she doesn’t miss her friends who are still in middle school as much with her coworkers waiting at her signaland she can do this, bursting through the front door of the one and only Spirits & Such Consultation.

Reigen almost climbs up his desk with the door slam, but Tome’s not going let that stop her.

“We are officially announcing the formation of the Spirits & Such union as agreed by all employees, part timers, interns—”

“Interns?” Reigen squawks.

“—and freelance spirit consultants. Here are our requirements.”

She puts the hard copy down on the desk, between her and Mr. Serizawa it even has the company logo on it. And a shiny border, she paid to have it printed up herself.

Besides it’ll give Reigen the opportunity to follow along. Tome has the terms memorized.

They need clearer hours and leeway if they can’t make it! A competitive wage, or a better division of goods for services rendered!

“This is not a livable wage, shishou,” Shigeo adds about here in the speech. She thinks Reigen looks proud through the confusion.

And there’s the value of their labor! She and Mr. Serizawa could work other places! He has superpowers! She could focus on high school!

There’s the overtime, they have no overtime pay! No school night double time! A new chair!

Tome hasn’t felt this energized in months.

“And,” she says, winding down and half-out of breath and so, so proud, “if these terms are not agreeable, we’re going on strike.”

“Oh,” Reigen says. And goes through one of those things where he goes through several possible faces before landing on one. He puts the list back down. “I don’t agree to those terms.”

“But I—” slips out of Tome’s mouth before she can stop it. She’s not going to get upset like last time. She won’t. If they have to strike, and she has to apologize to her coworkers for that, so be it.

“I’m not agreeing to all that,” Reigen says, punctuating his words by pointing at various spots. “Look, there it says I have to give six hours notice and even I don’t know that sometimes. The supernatural doesn’t stop for peoples schedules. And here, we don’t have the budget for that type of raise in this economy.

“So you’re going to have to stay here and negotiate, Kurata.”

“Negotiate?”

“You’re the one in charge of this union, aren’t you?”

Tome grins and pulls a chair up to the desk.

#my writing #my fanfiction #mp100 #mp100 girlweek

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thesoftestpunk · 2 years

Text

Blue is your favorite color

@sanguineterrain said I should post this blurb I had and I figured what the hell? Let’s do it!

Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: you don’t pay attention to what you’re texting Bucky while he’s away on a mission

Warnings: just suggestive situations? I’d say it pretty tame.

Sometimes, she can text Bucky while he’s out on a mission, and she’ll get a response back. More often than not, he leaves his phone off until the flight back. When she can’t sleep, and he’s not there to keep her company in person, she’ll text him something even though she doesn’t expect a response for hours or even days. It’s a long sleepless night and she doesn’t even know what time zone he’s in, but all she can worry about is if they’re safe. The danger level was relatively low, but sometimes there were miscalculations. It didn’t help that he’d been radio silent for nearly four days either. She knows she should’ve fallen asleep around the first yawn, but she kept putting it off. She stumbles across a funny image she thinks Bucky would chuckle at and saves it to her phone. It’s hard to work it when her eyelids are drooping and thumbs move slower. All she really registers are colors while hitting send along with her tiny message: found a meme you might like old man.

The immediate buzzing of her phone startles her and she squints at his reply.

Bucky: are memes new slang for nude photos?

Wait, what?

That wakes her up as the horrifying realization slaps her in the face. She had sent him a picture she took of herself in some lingerie Nat encouraged her to buy. It shows almost everything in every perfect way, which was great at the time but extremely embarrassing now.

Y/N: oh my god. Delete that. Forget it ever exists.

Chewing on her thumb nail, she nervously watches the chat bubble pop up before briefly disappearing until he’s typing again. It feels like literal years before he responds.

Bucky: so it was an accident. Didn’t realize you were going steady with anyone.

She has to bite back a stupid giggle at his still outdated terminology. Feeling slightly less on edge, but definitely still a fuck ton, she lays on her side to get more comfortable. Might as well if they were going to get into this now.

Y/N: Who on earth do I have to go steady with? I never leave the compound

Bucky: I don’t know, Steve? He’s pretty sweet on you.

She scrunches her nose and tries to pretend to not be offended.

Y/N: gross! He’s basically a brother at this point

Sam too

The picture wasn’t for anyone

Just me

I felt weird about owning it idk so I took some pictures

For a few long moments, she gets nothing in return. Bucky caught on pretty well to technology, especially phones, but he wasn’t smart enough to turn off his read receipts. The word burns itself into her eyes as she waits, foot shaking and her thumb nail between her teeth again.

Bucky: we used to print them out which would definitely help avoid something like this.

For the record, though, you look very good in blue.

Oh dear. If his plan was to kill her, it was working. She’s still trying to think of a normal but flirty response back when a picture from him nearly fills her entire screen. He’s shirtless. Oh dear. She might actually die.

Bucky: whoops. Thumb slipped. ;)

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #Bucky barnes fanfiction #my writing

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bird-inacage · 1 year

Text

LOVE IN THE AIR | Sky x Prapai Fanfiction

An Admission of Surrender

Summary: Here it is. I’m giving you all the power to hurt me. But you won’t hurt me, will you? Maybe that’s partially the reason he held onto those words for so long, because they are the final vestiges of safety he has remaining, before he’s completely given himself over, before he’s whole-heartedly and willingly surrendered himself up to be hurt all over again.

Details: Canon, based on TV series knowledge up to Ep11. No novel influence.

A/N: *NOW AVAILABLE ON MY AO3 ACCOUNT HERE* I will be continuing the post fics there. (I’d like to dedicate this to @shipsaremylifesource, @prapaiwife, @fortpeat and @moonchildridden, who have been the absolute most darling supporters, and just overall awesome, hysterical mutuals to be sharing the delirium of this pairing with. To my fellow members of the Insane & Deranged Prapaisky Victim Support Group/Comrade- in-Arms/Family).

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“Aren’t you going to say it back to me?”

Sky startles, notices the slight quirk in Prapai’s brow which is laced more with bemusement rather than any serious concern, before it dawns on him that he’s been silent for more than a few minutes. His heart feels skittish in his chest, so he dodges Prapai’s eyeline in an attempt to calm the tightening sensation in the pit of his stomach.

Prapai’s fingers are lightly massaging Sky’s hand. He waits a beat before nudging, “Did you hear what I said?”

He knows Sky heard what he said. He’s teasing. As per usual.

The first time Prapai said it, had been nearly a fortnight ago. Sky had proposed to bake a cake for his family dinner that week. He never liked to show up empty-handed, and though it was never anything fancy, Plerng and Phan had been all too keen (if not overly, slightly suspiciously so) on receipt of everything he had brought with him so far. He still hadn’t decided if the siblings were simply humouring him or there was some other joke at play that he was not privy to. Prapai had insisted on helping once Sky had made the suggestion. And as a matter of fact, he had been attempting to teach Prapai how to cook as of late.

As a responsible boyfriend, Sky felt it was only right to equip Prapai with a basic means of survival, which meant venturing beyond simply frying an egg or boiling a bowl of ramen without assistance. Prapai would just cheekily retort that he had Sky didn’t he? Sky was fully aware that Prapai was unlikely to ever be in a position where he would go hungry, with significant wealth to rest on eating out for the rest of his life, but still... It had been to Sky’s immense surprise, that the request had come from the man himself.

The downside unfortunately was that the kitchen always became a war zone when collaborative cuisine was attempted, despite Sky’s futile efforts to maintain order. He blamed Prapai, obviously, as his namesake came with a tornado-like aftermath as far as cooking was concerned. Whilst Sky had dubiously handed Prapai over the task of piping cream, a healthy smattering had somehow ended up on his face. Smiling, Sky had taken a kitchen towel to Prapai’s cheek, wishing he had seen for himself how cute Prapai must have been as a kid. All lop-sided, impish grins most probably. He could only entertain his imagination, based on the baby pictures Prapai’s mother had all too enthusiastically presented to Sky on his first visit.

It was only after a minute or two that Sky realised Prapai had been uncharacteristically quiet, and was about to chide him for not listening, when he turned to find Prapai watching him in a bit of a daze, clearly having done so for quite a while.

Sky felt that now familiar and sudden rush of heat to his chest whenever Prapai caught him off guard like that. Sky immediately swiped a hand across his cheek, “Do I have something on my face?”

Prapai had continued looking at him, eyes all soft and wandering and noticeably vacant as his gaze did an excruciatingly slow once-over across Sky’s face before finding his eyes.

Sky had shifted restlessly in his seat and instead turned towards the ingredients spread across the table, deflecting in an attempt to save himself from possible humiliation. “I can’t decide whether we should go for a berry jam or maybe something less sweet like a lemon curd? What do you think? Your Mom has less of a sweet tooth, so perhaps we could even do a bit of each?”

“I love you.”

Just like that.

It took Sky a moment - a few moments before he fully registered what Prapai had said. But to his astonishment, he hadn’t felt the cold fever of panic seize him in its grasp like it used to. Something had fluttered in his stomach, a nervousness of an altogether different kind.

As much as his mind had been going into overdrive, he would never doubt Prapai’s honesty. The man was a notoriously bad liar anyway. The reason Sky was dumbstruck was not the fact that Prapai was in love with him. He'd known that for a while now. But why Prapai had chosen to say it then, when Sky was certain he was powdered in billows of flour, hair still a bit mussed from their lie-in this morning, and fashioned in an old t-shirt and apron he’d thrown on as it had been laundry day.

Sky’s apparent flustering only made the grin on Prapai’s face even wider. But to the other man’s credit, he had not dwelled on the sudden declaration, which made Sky wonder if he had heard it at all. As if to test that theory, Prapai had proceeded to say it a few more times since, each delivered at an exceptionally mundane moment where Sky had not been anticipating it at all, and every time had without fail proceeded to send Sky into a small meltdown. Sky was beginning to suspect that Prapai was purposely trying to get that reaction from him, for it seemed to delight him no end.

“You’re ignoring me again.”

Prapai tugs the hand he has hostage up to his lips and presses against the raised line where Sky cut himself with a scalpel last week. The knot in Sky’s chest soothes a fraction.

Sky’s gaze quickly sweeps across the far end of the room, to the clock sitting on the dresser. “Don’t you have a meeting this morning?”

The attempt to change topic doesn’t elude Prapai, who now knows him far too well for comfort. Prapai rolls his eyes, which Sky immediately catches. He’s definitely rubbing off on the other man, and he doesn’t like it one bit when that attitude is directed at himself. Undeterred and still punchably smug, Prapai closes the distance between them by another inch or two. His eyes are bright, an ever present hint of mischief there, “I said I love you.”

And the confession bellies Sky once again. The utter sincerity of it. How Prapai manages to say this so easily, as if he were commenting on the weather or what he ate for dinner the night before, baffles Sky. It isn’t that Sky doubts his conviction. Not in the slightest. But mostly Sky’s brain is still stuck at The Why? The Why that has been festering in his gut ever since it dawned on him that Prapai wasn’t going anywhere. The Why every time Prapai stares into his eyes like there’s nothing else that exists on this earth but him alone. The Why when Sky considers that Prapai has the means to pick anyone he wants and for some demented reason (possibly due to some serious cognitive defect), has chosen him.

He doesn’t realise he’s said it out loud until he notices Prapai’s nose scrunch up slightly in that annoyingly endearing way.

“You’re asking me why I love you?” There’s an edge of admonishment in Prapai’s tone, like he’s genuinely a bit upset by the implication but quickly returns to his usual lilt of amusement, which grates because it usually means Prapai is about to make fun at his expense. “You want me to list all the reasons? Because I can if you want.”

Sky rolls onto his back and huffs.

Prapai simply follows, looming over him and takes a moment to search his face, before a smile tugs at the sides of his mouth, “I love how easily you get wound up and the way you tell me off. Because you’re usually right and I usually deserve it.” Sky shoots him a ‘oh you don’t say?’ face. “I love the really focused expression you get when you’re concentrating really hard. You’re always so engrossed in what you’re doing, you forget everything around you.” Prapai stares pointedly at Sky’s injured finger. “Sometimes even me,” which is delivered with an added pout.

“I love it when you get that ‘deer caught in highlights’ look in your eyes. Like you’re suddenly a kid again, lost and helpless and desperately searching for something - or someone”, which earns a small scoff. “It always reminds me of the night I first met you. I love the way you sneak glances at me when you think I’m not looking. It’s very sweet. It’s incredibly adorable actually. Haven’t I told you that you’re more than welcome to openly gawk at your stud of a boyfriend all you want? Why be so shy about it?”

Sky’s skin bristles with embarrassment, the telltale heat of a blush rising up his neck, and he flings a hand in Prapai’s general direction to try and halt the onslaught, “Stop.”

He hates how lovely it is when Prapai says things like this, and without any degree of hesitation. Hates how much it makes him squirm because it’s cheesy and sappy, and so bloody sentimental. But mostly he hates how much he likes it.

“I love how wickedly smart and quick you are. I love the dynamic you have with your friends, and watching you bicker with Rain. It’s welcome entertainment for both me and Payu actually. I love it when you take control, it’s extremely sexy. I love everything you cook...”

Sky’s eyes begin frantically searching around him, desperately wishing he had a dictionary or something substantially heavy within arm’s reach that he could use right now to knock his boyfriend out.

“I especially love the way you moan my name when you c—”

Sky’s eyes widen and he uses both hands to give Prapai a firm shove in the chest, “You have no shame!”

Prapai buries his face into Sky’s neck, hair fluffing in disarray as he laughs heartily into Sky’s collarbone, “Joke’s on you, you’re the one who fell for this shameless asshole”. The sound goes straight to Sky’s heart and he feels momentarily dazed, like he’s the one whose been clubbed on the back of the skull. Prapai re-emerges, rising only the few inches necessary to allow him to talk unheeded, but his weight atop Sky’s has them both breathing a little heavier than usual.

“I don’t know how else to explain it to you. I just love you. I love you fiercely, madly.” Prapai’s face is surprisingly earnest all of a sudden as he lightly combs Sky’s bangs away from his face, “You have absolutely no idea just how much.”

Sky feels himself go loose and pliant like he always does when Prapai stares at him like that, like he’s delving into the depths of Sky’s very soul and seeing him laid completely bare. His eyes dart between Prapai’s eyes and lips, lulled by the comforting thud thud of Prapai’s heartbeat. His hand is drawn to sit there, right in the centre of Prapai’s chest, where he can feel the steady thrum beneath his fingers. Warm, comforting and so very alive. Something in Prapai’s eyes turn molten, the thinly veiled desire behind them drawing Sky further and further away.

A shrill ring cuts through the fog like a knife, dousing them both alert, and Prapai let’s out a low groan. No doubt his secretary calling to chase. They both eye each other for another moment longingly before it is eventually Prapai who makes a move, swiftly planting a kiss on Sky’s forehead before plucking himself out of their shared embrace.

Sky registers the pang he feels at the loss of contact, the empty space that Prapai vacates in the very air around him. He sits up, perching his chin on his knees to watch Prapai fish for a clean shirt. Sky unconsciously dips his nose against the sleeves of the top he’s currently wearing - one of Prapai’s long-sleeved whites - and lightly inhales. It smells of Prapai of course, which eases the ache in Sky’s chest slightly. It’s why he began wearing Prapai’s clothes in the first place, because it’s comforting to feel close to him in this small way. But also he just likes how Prapai’s eyes twinkle when he notices Sky wearing his clothes, and how that makes him tingle all over.

He continues to follow Prapai’s movements, making no attempt to avert his eyes as he watches the rippled muscles along his boyfriend’s back disappear beneath cotton.

“You have a workshop this evening don’t you? I’ll drive by and pick you up afterwards. We can grab something to eat together—” Prapai stills when he meets Sky’s gaze, and his eyes go instantly soft. He offers a warning tut, “don’t do that.”

Sky is aware that he’s becoming increasingly reliant on Prapai, and that growing realisation is starting to seriously hurt his pride. So accustomed he was to being independent, he now feels handicapped by that fact. He distinctly remembers the first business trip Prapai had taken once they’d started dating, and the uneasiness that prospect had stirred within him at the thought of being left behind. Prapai’s eyes had been immediately apologetic when he told him the news, hand smoothing across Sky’s cheek in an attempt to soothe, “The shortest I could bargain for was three days.”

Sky had been mortified by just how humiliatingly needy he must seem for making Prapai feel bad for doing his job. He hated the idea of being the classic, desperate, clingy boyfriend, and so he’d plastered on the best carefree smile he could manage, “Seriously, three days is nothing. As if I haven’t spent a short lifetime living alone before I met you. You should be prioritising your work or your Dad will have a go at you again. Go for as long as you need to.”

Prapai had looked at him in a way that meant Sky had not convinced him in the slightest. “I’ll call every day okay? Multiple times a day. I promise.” He had then proceeded to kiss Sky all over, and nuzzle sulkily into his neck like a small, dejected animal. The irony was not lost on Sky that Prapai appeared to have taken it much worse than he did. Though he had to eventually admit that those three days had proved to be much, much harder than Sky had initially anticipated, and as soon as Prapai had returned, he didn’t detach himself from Sky’s side for a solid week.

That little knot of worry which persistently forms in his gut every time Prapai has to leave him (even briefly), is something he recognises akin to abandonment, which he knows is silly, ridiculous even, —paranoid definitely. He’ll be back Sky.

“Sweetheart?”

“Hmm?”

“You stop that, now.”

Sky blinks from his spiralling reverie, “Stop what?”

“That.”

Sky nibbles into his bottom lip, “What?”

Prapai leans down and levels his gaze, something disapproving flickering across his face, “That thing you do with your eyes. I can read each and every thought in your head.” Prapai’s hand reaches out to stroke the back of Sky’s head gently as he lowers his voice. “I’m not going anywhere, remember?”

Somehow Prapai knows. He always knows.

His phone rings again, incessant and demanding, and Sky can only imagine the exasperation on his poor secretary’s face. The same expression she’d made when she had walked in on them kissing across Prapai’s desk, which Sky can safely say was wholly Prapai’s fault. It had been his idea to drag Sky along to his office, and Sky should have known better that he was not going to behave, even when in a professional setting.

Prapai hisses audibly, eyebrows raised in displeasure, which Sky responds with a wry smile, “Go.”

Prapai never expects anything from Sky. He may tease, but he'll never truly push which Sky is endlessly grateful for. He’s all too happy to offer up his heart and serve it on a platter even if Sky doesn’t ask for it. The fact that Sky has not said it back to him yet has not appeared to phase him in the slightest. And that’s the part that makes Sky feel increasingly guilty. Prapai soothes and coaxes all his jagged concerns away without expecting anything in return, and is surprisingly patient even when Sky is unable to match his pace. Worse yet, the man seems perfectly content with that, and Sky knows he has ample reason not to be.

He wants to be able to do more. Give more. But Sky is self-aware enough to recognise that he’s still a bit broken, and though he may want to, his anxieties haven’t allowed it.

It’s whilst Prapai is collecting up his scattered belongings from around the bedroom, that an urge bubbles up inside Sky like a shapeless thing that begs to be released. It’s not like he hasn’t thought about those words. Thanks to Prapai, they’ve rolled around in his head an awful lot recently, but he hasn’t been able to find a means to command their influence.

Something twisted in Sky’s gut says; what if he walks out that door and something were to happen to him and you regret not saying it? What if something were to happen to you, and you regret that he never heard it? He’s not sure exactly what type of unhealthy scenarios his mind is conjuring up to terrorise him, but the fear is all too real. Sky is no stranger to the creeping suspicion that this is all far too good to be true, and he’ll wake up soon or Prapai will come to his senses. After everything Prapai has done for him, he deserves more. Sky wants Prapai to know that he cares about him and appreciates him just as much.

As Prapai locates his jacket and car keys, he shoots Sky another one of his reluctant-to-leave-you smiles as he finally retreats towards the door, clearly dragging his heels. “Get some more sleep okay? I’ll call you later.”

Sky knows he’s exceptionally partial to sentimentality whenever Prapai has to leave, and his anxieties converge on him to act without thinking. Sky stares at that handsome, warm, loving face and feels himself overcome with affection.

It takes him a moment before he realises the three words have slipped out without prompt. Quiet. Tentative, and quite frankly a bit fumbled. As if he had only been planning to test drive the words on his tongue. Not at all as assured in tone as the same three words Prapai said to him only moments ago. Something in Sky panics, feels frantic all of a sudden. He tries to reassure himself that this is the least that Prapai deserves, to hear Sky say it back and more importantly, Sky wants to. But as much as Sky hates to admit it, it’s not so much an admission as much as a plea.

Here it is. I’m giving you all the power to hurt me. But you won’t hurt me, will you? Sky already knows the answer to that question, but it still crosses his mind like a bad omen. Maybe that’s partially the reason he held onto those words for so long, because they are the final vestiges of safety he has remaining before he’s completely given himself over, before he’s whole-heartedly and willingly surrendered himself up to be hurt all over again (despite everything he’s been through and suffered, despite his deepest, darkest fears)... After this, Prapai will well and truly have everything he possibly has to give.

He just wishes he had sounded more confident when he did eventually say it. Now he’s worrying himself stupid that it may have come across uncertain or questioning, and the last thing he wants is for Prapai to think he’s doubtful about his feelings.

Sky spots Prapai’s hand clenched round the door frame, where he had swiftly stopped himself mid-exit. Sky immediately flushes, diving back into the duvet, suddenly acutely aware of what he’s possibly done, and the havoc he may have just caused.

“You should go now, you’re already late—”

The keys in Prapai’s pocket jingle as he takes three long strides back towards the bed. Prapai’s breath is hot against his face as he presses Sky bodily back into the sheets, but not before he gathers him absolutely flush against him, and kisses him desperately on the mouth. Sky’s coherence spreads paper thin as Prapai’s hand skirts beneath the fabric of his top and along his spine to pin him closer, whilst the other tilts his jaw up to meet his eagerly. Sky’s hands curl into the fabric of Prapai’s shirt, fingers occasionally wandering into the hair on the back of Prapai’s neck, as he allows the man to completely engulf him.

When Prapai releases him momentarily, his freshly laundered shirt is a crumpled mess beyond salvation. His smile is positively beaming - everything will be alright - that boyish charm creeping in which always makes Prapai look instantly younger and sweeter than usual.

“You really—”, and it irks Sky that it takes another attempt before he’s able to find his voice again, “You really have to go now—”

“Nnn mmn, one more,” before Prapai angles in to kiss him again, and the jackass takes his sweet time. Languid and probing, it sets Sky alight. They break apart briefly to breathe before Prapai impatiently leans into him again because he’s full of shit, and once is never just once.

Sky feels scattered and light-headed when Prapai draws back just enough to allow himself access to Sky’s throat, voice slightly husky against his pulse. “Say it again. Please.”

“I jsst—”

Sky vaguely considers if Prapai may be attempting murder if he doesn’t comply, because he’s struggling to draw air or even formulate one complete thought whilst Prapai continues to assault his lips. If they don’t stop soon, there’s not a chance in hell that Prapai’s going to make that meeting or work at all.

“Again,” Prapai demands but his eyes are achingly tender.

Sky is once again winded by the sheer elation in that gaze, that he cannot possibly bring himself to deny him. So he musters his courage, takes Prapai’s face in both hands, and despite the blush he can feel colouring his cheeks, he meets those eyes evenly and steels against the sheer pounding of his own heart.

“I love you.”

There. Better.

Something in Sky seems to fall into place then. Because all the fear and worry falls away and all that’s left is him.

Prapai’s eyes are brimming with reverence, pride and adoration.

“My Sky.”

The endearment would usually make him inwardly wince with embarrassment, because if there’s something Prapai has an innate talent for, is saying the most corny, toe-curling declarations of love without so much as batting an eyelid. But right now, Sky can’t resist that all encompassing love wring him utterly boneless, weightless, senseless...

You’re mine, it says, and Sky couldn’t be happier at the declaration.

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I hope whoever has the patience to read this, does enjoy!

#LITA #love in the air #love in the air series #LITA fanfiction #love in the air fanfiction #bird-inacage pens a fic #prapaisky #prapai x sky #sky x prapai #canon-compliant #tv canon only - no novel knowledge #let me know what you think guys #this is a long 'un #ive already got a possible second part loosely written #prapaisky fanfiction

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inkandpen22 · 2 years

Text

An Electric Connection (2/?)

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Female!Reader

Warnings: mild language, drugs, mentions of anxiety

Word Count: 2.0k

Part Summary: Y/N and Eddie meet in the woods and have a heart-to-heart neither of them were expecting

Masterlist

As you sit and wait at the picnic table Eddie described, you listen to music on your walkman and work on some homework. You always try to get as much done before a game because the rest of your weekend is basically a wash with college applications and dance planning.

Out of nowhere, something slams onto the table out of your peripheral vision. You scream and nearly fall back off the bench.

Eddie settles down across from you, laughing his ass off.

"Munson!" You scold, removing your headset.

"Couldn't help myself," he holds his hands up in surrender through bits of laughter.

You stuff your walkman back into your purse with a huff.

"So, the Bangles got any interesting new stuff?" He teases as he sets down his metal case.

You glare at him bitterly. "Is that all you think I listen to?"

"Well, let's just say you don't exactly take me for a Black Sabbath-type girl," he grins.

"Come here." You wave for him to lean forward as you start your walkman again.

He hesitates, giving you a knowing look.

You scoff. "I don't bite."

"Well that's a shame," he remarks flirtatiously.

You roll his eyes and ignore his comment.

He presses on the table and leans forward so you can place the headset over his ears. You watch as his eyes grow wide and meet yours with the comprehension that it's music he actually listens to.

"No freaking way!" He sits back down with a jaw to the floor. "You listen to Mötley Crüe?"

"Don't tell Chance!" You state sternly. "He doesn't know and would totally flip."

Eddie peers at you truly impressed. As if he couldn't already be crazy about you enough. "So, you do have a little metal freak in you."

You giggle at his conclusion as you stuff your books and walkman into your purse.

"You ever heard of Quiet Riot?" He asks.

You bite down on your lip. "Maybe..." you answer timidly.

He slams his hands down on the table with a bright grin. "Bullshit!"

"So, I'm not as predictable as you thought?" You joke.

"The Cheerleading Preppy Prom Queen not fitting her mold? Yeah, didn't see it happening!" He argues. "Kinda goes against the rules of the universe."

You can't help but giggle. He can be so dramatic and more excentric than anyone you've ever met.

"Speaking of rules. There are some with this," he remarks as he brings his case in front of him and pops it open. "They're pretty obvious. No receipts and cash only. I'll give you half an ounce for twenty bucks."

He tosses a ziplock of weed between you so casually it's mind-boggling to you. All you can do is stare at the bag while you bite down on your lip anxiously. Your hands pull down the sleeves of your cheer sweater and bunch in your palms.

You don't notice but Eddie is watching and analyzing your reaction. Your little nervous habits he's noted since the moment he developed a crush on you... which was the day you met practically.

He shakes his head. "You don't have to worry," he assures you. "We're safe, no one ever comes out here."

You peer up from the bag to meet his uncharacteristically soft gaze.

"I promise," he mutters.

You nod slowly and try to swallow your nerves. "Will it... does it..." You struggle to find the right words.

"Is everything okay, Y/N?" He asks, growing more concerned.

"It's... I don't know I have a lot going on and..." You pause, searching your brain for a reasonable explanation, yet you can't find one other than to be honest. "Do you ever feel like you're sort of losing your mind?"

Eddie chuckles, his eyes scanning the table as he brings his arms to rest on it. "Basically on the daily..."

His reaction makes you laugh, genuinely and wholeheartedly laugh which you can't remember the last time you have. Only Eddie would admit that too. If you had told Chrissy, Jason, and even Chance, they would've all denied it or looked at you like you were crazy.

"If you don't want to do this just say the word and I'll go," Eddie states, moving to place the bag back in his container.

"No!" You blurt out and place your hand over his. "I... I don't want you to go," you mumble.

For a moment, you stay like his, your hand covering his and peering at one another. Eddie's are eyes full of concern and beneath your's a debilitating anxiety.

Eddie flips his hand over, allowing yours to rest in it gently. His thumb rubs the back of it comfortingly. It eases your nerves immensely like a security blanket or a rope tethering you to Earth.

"Look, if you're nervous to smoke alone and afraid of how you'll react, my uncle works nights. I know there's a game tonight but how about we meet up after? I can walk you through it," he offers.

Your immediate reaction is to accept and you even start to say it but then you remember the party. Chance would get suspicious if you didn't go. "I'm supposed to go to this thing..." you mumble.

"Oh, of course." Snapping back to reality, Eddie slips his hand from you. For a second, just a second, he forgot who you were. "I forgot, it's busy being the Queen of Hawkins High."

Again, he starts to collect the bag and close up his case to leave.

As you watch him do so, you come to the realization that spending a night with Eddie Munson smoking weed sounds more appealing than a drunken party. "You know what," you voice right as he rises from he spot. "I'll just tell everyone I have a family thing in the morning and can't go."

Eddie peers down at you wide-eyed. "You sure?"

"Positive," you express confidently and stand up. "Besides, I need this..." You sigh. "But we'll have to be discreet! If my friends or parents-"

"Don't worry, Princess." He grins. "Wouldn't want the rest of the world to know you're associating with the school freak, right? Not the best for your pure image."

"I-"

"It's okay, really," he assures you. "How about I pick you up by the loading dock at the back of the school? No one goes back there."

You nod slowly, doing your best to remember the information.

"You got a ride home?" He asks as you two head back toward the school.

"I..." You pause and conclude your mistake with a huff. "I guess I didn't think that far ahead.

"Don't worry about it. I'll drop you off," he suggests and glances over at you. "That is if you don't mind risking the chance of being seen in my van."

"Oh stop." You snicker and playfully nudge him on the arm, earning a laugh from him.

"Hey, uh, what other tapes you got in there anyway?" Eddie asks, pointing to your purse.

A smirk appears on your lips. He's going to regret he asked that.

In his van, you two go back and forth debating on what to listen to on the ride to your house. From an outsider's perspective, they would never be able to tell you've never hung out before. You argue like an old married couple all while laughing at the same time. A vastly different image than what was seen in the woods just minutes ago. You two can flip like a switch, from quiet and peaceful to chaotic and unpredictable.

"Just give it a chance!" You request, attempting again to put the tape into the stereo.

"No, no way!" Eddie blocks the slot with his palm as he drives. "You're not corrupting my car with...What even is that?" He questions, glancing down at the device in your hand.

"Fleetwood Mac, you'll like it!" You argue. "You're Mr. Guitar, right?"

"How'd you know I play?" He grins and side-eyes you as he tries to focus on the road.

"Your band, isn't it called Corroded Coffin," you state nonchalantly with a shrug.

"Yeah but..." Eddie pauses, then comprehends something with a gasp. "You remember that from middle school?" He asks enthusiastically.

"How could I forget?" You practically shout through your giggling. "You played the guitar."

"Still do, yep, still do." Eddie shakes his head in disbelief as a permanent smile has remained on his face since entering the van. "You should come see us. Uh, we play at The Hideout on Tuesdays. It's pretty cool," he stammers slightly. He can feel the warmth rise to his cheeks and hope you don't notice it. "We... We actually get a crowd of about five drunks."

You giggle and Eddie's smile grows. The warmth in his cheeks deepening.

"It's not exactly the Garden, but you gotta start somewhere, right?" He shrugs.

"That's wicked!" You compliment. "I could never play an instrument. I have basically no hand-eye coordination."

"Maybe I could teach you a few cords or something," he offers, glancing over at you as he stops at a light.

You smile, meeting his dark eyes. "I'd like that."

As Eddie stares into your eyes he can feel his tough rocker exterior fading every passing second. He would do anything, be anything for you, anything that makes you happy.

"Well, you're lucky flattery works with me." He complies and points to the stereo as the light changes. "One song!"

You squeal and slip the tape in. "Thank you! Thank you! You'll like it, promise."

Eddie peers over at your glowing expression while you skip tracks to your favorite. His heart hasn't stopped racing since he saw you sitting at the picnic table. This whole time together feels like a dream, something he imagined in one of your many classes together. For years, he's wanted to be with you, alone, doing anything you wanted. It didn't matter as long as he got to talk to you, be with you.

"See?" You remark, glancing over at him with a pleased look in your eye.

Eddie hadn't even been listening to the song. He was too enthralled with you. "Always surprising me, Princess."

"Gotta keep you on your toes," you joke, leaning back in your seat. "Like you are with me and your driving. You really do drive like a maniac!" You laugh as you buckle your seatbelt.

"I'm only a little quick." He symbolizes with his thumb and pointer finger.

You giggle and glance out your window as the many buildings zoom by in flashes. The lyrics of "Go Your Own Way" playing in the back of your subconscious.

The silence and obligation to focus on the road allows Eddie to actually listen to your music. The words are more relatable than he'd care to admit, especially to you. The willingness he is crippled with to give you everything he has plagues him even in his dreams. Yet, there are so many factors that keep you from him, your boyfriend, your social circles, but most importantly your complete unawareness of his feelings. In Eddie's ideal world, none of that high school crap would matter, Chance wouldn't exist and he would actually have the balls to tell you the truth.

He's completely and uncontrollably in love with you.

Sooner than you'd like, Eddie turns onto your road. You would've never guessed this morning that you'd end up in Eddie Munson's van listening to some of your favorite music and actually having a good time.

"So, which corner do you want me to drop you off on?" Eddie asks. "I'm assuming you don't want you parents to see you hopping out of a scary black van."

"They're not home. They're never home," you mumble the last part with a deep sigh. "I'm the blue one at the end."

Your words don't go unheard by Eddie. While you're peering out the passenger window with your smile faltering, he feels a sting in his chest. He wishes he had driven slower or waited a minute before scaring you in the woods, anything to make your time longer together. Seeing the smile, the smile that he put on your face, disappear pains him more than he'd like to admit.

Reluctantly, Eddie pulls into your driveway. He does his best to hide his gawking. Your house is three times the size of his trailer and your perfectly landscaped yard makes his look like a mud pit.

"Thank you for the ride." You grab your purse before hopping out of the car. "So, tonight?"

Eddie looks away from your house with a hum. "I'll be there."

You climb out and start toward your house. Almost every day when Chance drops you off you're reminded you're coming home to an empty house. From the outside, it looks so grand and welcoming. Yet, inside, most rooms remain untouched, dark, and above all quiet.

While your music plays, Eddie watches as you stroll up the sidewalk leading to your front door. Then, it hits him, your music is still in the stereo.

"Oh wait, shit!" He quickly tries to get the tape out. "Y/N!" He calls to you while he struggles. "Y/N!"

You stop and whip your head around. After setting your things down on the front steps, you jog back over to Eddie and stand outside his door.

"Your tape." He holds out the cassette to you between his fingers.

You urge it back to him. "Keep it. Give me your thoughts tonight," you suggest and start back to your house.

Eddie smirks, placing the tape back into his stereo to listen to on the way home.

"By the way!" You holler to him from the sidewalk. When your eyes meet, you smile. "I just... I just thought you should know I've never considered you a freak. The people who call you that are just too self-conscious to admit that you have better taste," you tell him with a wink.

Eddie chuckles, tapping his fingers on his wheel with a nod.

You spin on your heels and head up toward your house.

As Eddie drives down your road listening to your music the smile on his lips grows sore from being present the last hour, yet he can't find the means to care. He couldn't remove it if he tried. The best part of today and the major reason he continues to smile even though you're gone, he gets to see you again tonight.

"I'm so freaking screwed!" He laughs to himself nervously, well aware that there are only two options for tonight, either you break his heart or he falls in love with you more than he already is, if that's possible.

_______________________________

Masterlist

Tags: @mrsdarcyinlovewithbuckybarnes @totallynotkaibiased @riffcrusader @hurricane-abigail @httpjiikookook

#eddie stranger things #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson imagine #stranger things fanfic #stranger things image #stranger things smut #stranger things #imagine #fanfic

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hadeantaiga · 5 months

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Hello ! I saw a post of yours where you said that "the radical feminist -> TERF -> NAZI pipeline is very well documented" I'm looking for things exactly on that subject, do you have receipts and stuff like that ?

The radical feminist to TERF to NAZI pipeline isn't so much a pipeline as they are both sitting in the same sewer called "bioessentialism", which is in and of itself a fascist belief system.

Summary: belief in gender bioessentialism is an open door to being convinced of the authenticity of other forms of bioessentialism like racism and antisemitism and ableism, and the people promoting those things are NAZIs. Many radfems already believe some of this shit, and you can find it on their blogs.

(I'm going to use man/male and woman/female interchangeably a lot here because to a lot of these people, those words mean the same thing)

---

Bioessentialism is the belief that there are traits about people that govern your behavior and are baked into your genes, your chromosomes, and your hormones.

According to gender/sex bioessentialism, women/females are inherently weaker than men/males and men are inherently more violent than women. Biologically, men can't help but want to dominate women. In "nature", this creates a "natural" hierarchy with men on the top and women on the bottom.

Gender/sex bioessentialists believe there's absolutely nothing we can do to stop men from doing these things, because these behaviors are not a result of someone's upbringing, they are baked into their very being.

(radfems hate this hierarchy, and patriarchs love it, but they both agree it exists and is immutable)

If you are a radical feminists and you believe this, it's basically impossible to not become transphobic. Men are horrible evil monsters! Being trans isn't real, therefore they must be doing it on purpose to "invade women's spaces" and "fetishize female suffering".

Trans people are so hated by bioessentialists because they are defying the natural order, "playing god", and perverting nature. Some radfems are pro-eugenics - quite a lot of them think that trans people deserve death instead of life-saving care, even when they simultaneously view us as mentally ill.

There are some fringe beliefs that come out of this. A few radfems promote "female separatism", that is, entirely separating society into females and males. Some radfems literally want all males to die out, though admittedly this group are a fringe minority of radfems, so they don't really reflect the wider radfem movement. But it's a natural extension of their beliefs.

---

Bioessentialism is, of course, crap. It's also racist and ableist, among other things. But it produces a hierarchy, and that's what these people want. And that's where the NAZI shit comes in, because NAZIs are also bioessentialists, and they apply it to race and ability and a bunch of other things on top of gender. You know - smart rich abled white men on top, white women just below them, then disabled people and Jews and people of color on the bottom, etc.

Notably, the only people who get to have "real genders" under white fascist bioessentialism are white people. This is why so many of the "gender markers" you'll see transphobes talk about seem really racist: because they are. They define womanhood based on white Eurocentric beauty ideals, and anything that deviates from that is "masculine". It's why white TERFs so often accuse women of color of being "men" - because they're racist! Also, a lot of white radfems are extremely racist towards men of color.

This shit is easy to observe if you go on their blogs - A lot of them will be openly antisemitic on their blogs, especially right now. They will use marginalized women as a front to be openly racist towards men of color, or to be Islamophobic, or antisemitic, etc. They don't actually give a shit about those women though, and will turn right around and falsely identify a woman of color or a Jewish woman as a "man" whenever they feel like it.

A lot of them are fully willing to align themselves with right-wing/ conservative celebrities and politicians if it means advancing their transphobic rhetoric. In the USA, they'll even go so far as to align themselves with the "alt-right", which is the USA's current fascist party. "Well known" radfems have been seen on talk shows with these jerks.

Also, right-wing men love the gender bioessentialism of radical feminism. Women are weak? Men are strong? Hell yeah! Conservatives/ right-wingers/ fascists eat that shit up. They LOVE it. Bioessentialism is literally the core of the patriarchy because it is how they justify the hierarchy of men on top, women on the bottom.

The only difference between men who love the patriarchy and women who are radfems is what they think the solution is: radfems advocate for female-lead cultures or female separatism or male genocide, while the men who love the patriarchy think women would be happier if they all stopped being feminists and accepted their natural position in the hierarchy: on the bottom.

But they both believe in the hierarchy produced by bioessentialism.

Do I have research papers or screenshots? No. But it's not hard to observe this stuff in radfem and terf circles for yourself.

#anti radical feminism #anti terf #anti fascist

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maxverstepponme · 1 year

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This is a lazy summary on Kelly 101. I might come back with receipts and polish up the list. Feel free to add stuff.

*Rumors she lost the job as FE social media correspondence because she slept with a married man and blocked the wife from the official FE chanel. *Rumors she tried hopping on all the Redbull drivers like she is a Whoo girl on an electric bull in a Taxen bar on ladies night. *Rumors she cheated on Daniil several times and tried to become an IT girl, but Daniil didn't like it. *Rumors Daniil broke up with her once and for all, apparently there were small separations beforehand, when he found out Kelly leaves P with the nanny all the time to go party/shopping instead. *Daniil broke up with her when she was in Brazil for her birthday, however she painted it as if she dumped him. Extremely childish break up notice "trash is dumped, so are you" *Rumors Kelly might be responsible for Max breaking up with Dilara *Max was flirting with a lot of girls online and used the most cringe pick up lines. Kelly then used HIS pick up lines ON HIM. *End of September 2020 Serendipity is born. Went on wagsf1 page and claimed everyone knew Max and Kelly are dating *Serendipity send in private pictures in October to proof M&K. *Serendipity got really defensive of Kelly and fans found out with proof Kelly is behind the account because of same language she used on her official accounts to argue with Max fans. *Fans found out she has 2 more finsta accounts. One named Jenssen and the other Chantal

*January 2021 Max confirmed the relationship and she moved herself into his place immediately renovating it to her liking *Several people have negative run ins with her, especially female fans. *Something happened Zandvoort 2021 which led her to leave the GP after qualifying and Max slept in his motor home. She didn't come back and claimed to be a mother as the reason. Rumor was huge fight with Jos. Jos stops following her *Kelly uses the GP for merching and was called out by many fans. Rumor says RB sponsors did not like she use their image logo in her merching and forbid her to come to the next races Cota and Mexico. *Kelly befriends Yasmin by slipping into her DMs and they have a wild girls night out several nights in a row. They just met. *Kelly joins Max in Brazil and her family have a professional photoshoot with him because her family uses him to sell their products. *Kelly spend birthday in Monaco and there were a lot of specific cheating rumors. Any page mentioning this was deleted swiftly. *Kelly made Abu Dhabi about herself and accepted well wishes. Her finsta accounts defended criticism by saying she is his lucky charm, basically claiming she is the reason he won. *Max was supposed to spend Christmas 2021 at home with his family like all years before and confirmed by RB staff after their Christmas party. Rumor has huge fight with Jos and they went to Brazil instead. She had a friend leak the confirmation beforehand. *During winter break she posted Max a lot mostly when he was completely drunk. *She posted a ice skating video, in which she theatrically fell to the ground. Fans called her out for how fake it was. She argued with fans online and told them to go see a psychiatrist *Preseason 2022 and rumors started Kelly will baby trap Max. Supposedly he got confirmation of a friend and during testing in Barcelona was overheard on the phone saying "You better be gone when I'm home" *Kelly left for Brazil. Rumors about another man started. Also rumored they broke up however she just ignores it and plays as if everything is business as usual. *1 week before Bahrain she returned with Otitis. Don't worry somehow she was good to fly to Bahrain *Rumors on race morning they had a fight at breakfast. She did not spend the race in the box but in the grandstand confirming that rumor. After Max's DNF further rumor she was clinging onto him when he wanted to be left alone. *Kelly wore an unflattering dress that made her look chubby. She had her fanpages and wags accounts take down the pictures. Leaked screenshots confirmed Kelly talking to them *Another round of cheating rumors. Only post that was ever taken down swiftly by instagram of Just Another. *Generally hate between Kelly fan accounts towards Max fans who don't like her.

*A lot of Max fans were blocked from his page and his fanpage. When his mother was asked about this, she said to bring it up to Kelly *Nelson Sr video in which he called Lewis the N word and says homophobic things showed up. Kelly defended the use of it by liking a post that says it's her nanny's nickname and let Max handle the backlash for her and her family *In October she posted fake news about Lula because she and her family support Bolsonaro *In the Vogue NL story she admits to grooming Max talking about a special connection first time they met.

I got a bit lazy there in the end. Guys there is just too much. The amount of crazy of herself with the 10 finstas and her crazy fans bullying and mass reporting anyone that does not kiss her ass. Rude fan encounters. Her following him everywhere and inserting herself in Redbull team pictures. Calling the paparazzi on them over and over. Generally posting a lot of private moments especially making Max look like a stepfather. Lying her ass off and we can proof her lies constantly. Playing the victim card whenever convenient. Her entire family being a guest in his place all.the.damn.time. they barely spend time apart after she returned from Brazil in March 2022. There was always minimum 1 extra Piquet in his house.

If this was a lazy list I can’t imagine what a proper one looks like. I forgot half of this shit happened so thank you 💀

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