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lilianne-tarot · 5 months ago

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PICK-A-CARD: How do strangers really see you ✮⋆˙

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I. II. III.

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How to Pick Your Pile: Take a deep breath, clear your mind, and look at the images below. Which one pulls you in the most? Trust your gut! Once you choose the image, The number below your chosen image is your pile. If more than one catches your eye, that just means there’s extra tea for you, go ahead and read both!

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ִ ࣪𖤐⭑Pile I

Cards pulled: 7 of wands, judgement, 9 of cups, queen of wands, ace of swords, the devil, the high priestess, pluto, Sagittarius and the oracle cards.

Okay, babe, let me start by saying this loud and clear: YOU. GET. NOTICED. Like, whether you’re walking into a room, online on your social media profiles, or literally just existing, you catch people’s eyes, period. Your energy is so powerful, it's so unapologetically seductive and alluring, very sexual too. And you know what’s hilarious, Judgment popped out, and in a reading about what strangers think of you?? Girl, I cackled. Like YES of course this card is here. Because people are definitely out here forming assumptions, opinions, even gossips about you. And somehow things reaches you everytime and you’re like “lol okay.” LMAOO

Now listen, most of these assumptions are not coming from random people on the street. This is work-related people. These people are from your professional environment, coworkers, classmates, peers. If you’re in school, think seniors, classmates, mutuals you’re not close with or literally just people who want to be you. They see you as that one person who holds their ground, boldly themselves who isn’t afraid to shake things up if that concerns your career stuff. People assume that you don’t like to play small. babe. That intimidates people. Like, badly.

You’ve got this vibe like… if someone tries to come at you with shade or some weak insult, you’re just standing there, arms crossed, looking them dead in the eye, like “anything else” 😐 And omg the way that just destroys them from the inside out 😭 They don’t know what to do with that energy. They were hoping you’d flinch, but instead you hit them with deadpan queen energy, and they will never try that again. I see that lot o people try to scare you off but fails to do that. But, the people who actually know you, They think that you are so fun, so sweet, and literally gives the BEST advice.” They’re seeing the angel core under all that boss b*tch exterior. Yall have an INSANE DUALITY. Fire energy is very strong here. You’re powerful and nurturing. Strategic and soft. People can’t figure out how you manage to be so committed, hardworking, AND still a joy to be around, but you just do.

AND, to your colleagues or classmates, You don’t even try and they feel threatened. People consider you their competition without you having to do anything. You just exist and suddenly they’re in competition mode. They feel challenged by your presence alone. Even those who seem more powerful or qualified, They’re secretly sweating. You shake people up like that.

There’s also this vibe like… strangers kind of assume your life is super intense, Like they see you as someone who’s constantly balancing a million responsibilities, always hustling, always climbing some invisible mountain. And let’s be real, you are always trying to the most you can. They think you’re burned out half the time, but you still show up smiling, determined, and ready to take on more. That’s what makes you unforgettable. Even if they’re whispering like “ugh, she’s doing too much,” deep down they’re like “wait, how is she still going?? Why can’t I be like that??” im seeing that, sometimes you take up more responsibilities than you can handle and STILL manage to complete all of them (uhm… but the breakdown you have behind close doors, let’s keep that between us lol)

And I cannot ignore this one thing that’s been echoing since I pulled the cards, the word “awesome” just keeps coming. That’s literally the first thing people think when they see you: awesome. Not “cute,” not “cool,” but just this all-caps WOW kind of awe. And one more extra information, I rolled Pluto on the astro dice while channeling, and babe, Judgment is ruled by Pluto too. Which means? You’re not just memorable, you’re transformative. People remember you. You change how they think, how they see things, how they feel about themselves. Even if they never speak to you again, they remember the vibe you gave.

from a total stranger’s perspective, they instantly assume that you’re super giving and generous with the people you’re close to. Like, you ride hard for your loved ones. That energy shows. And it’s not just vibe, , they see it in how you talk, how you act, how you prioritize. You’re the kind of person who makes your people feel safe and spoiled at the same time. And honey, that image is powerful. One of the first things people notice is your bubbly, playful nature. You’re just that fun energy in the room. You're magnetic without trying, smiling, chatting, maybe teasing people a little, just existing with that sunshine energy. But you're not just sweet. You’re also pretty. Like, actually STUNNING. That’s not even an opinion, it’s a consensus. You’ve got a physical beauty that makes people double-take, and on top of that, You're dripping in this intense, irresistible feminine energy, regardless of your gender.

And let me tell you something else… you are lusted over. Like, no exaggeration. People, especially ladies, feel something when they see you. You’re that kind of person who is called, “for the ladies” Same gender, opposite gender, whoever, it doesn’t matter. But there’s a very strong pull coming from women or femme energies in particular. You’ve got that soft, nurturing, dreamy vibe that’s lowkey addictive. They want to be around you. They want to know you. Some of them even want to claim you, period. People are easily sexually pulled towards you and maybe you also get lot of compliments from ladies.

You might even get a little obsessive yourself sometimes 👀 Like when you like someone, you like them. All in. No playing games. You’ve probably had your fair share of "crazy in love" moments. Like insane jealousy, possessive moments etc. You’re also seen as playful and brave when it comes to feelings. Like if you like someone? You’re not afraid to shoot your shot. You will confess. You’re that person who says what everyone else is too scared to say. And when you’re in love? It’s intense. Like all-consuming, addictive, wild ride type of love.

Alsooo, not to expose anyone but... some of y’all might be attracted to the same gender, and it shows. You’ve got this open, fluid, non-conforming kinda energy that just welcomes attraction from all sides. it’s like “everyone has a crush on me and that’s their problem.” your sex appeal, It’s LOUD. Even if you’re not aware of it, your sexual energy is so strong. People are drawn to your vibe physically. Your aura just screams “magnetic attraction,” and your mental presence only makes it hotter.

Now here’s the thing: some people actually think you’re just lucky. Like they’ll whisper stuff like “ugh, everything always works out for them,” and pretend like you’re just floating through life on a cloud of privilege. But WE KNOW THE TRUTH. It’s not just luck, babe, it’s your charm, your resilience, your hard-ass work ethic. You’re determined. You don’t half-ass anything. So yeah, maybe the universe does bless you, but it’s because you show up for yourself every damn day. The girls who get it, get it. The ones who don’t? Stay salty 😌you take your personal space seriously. You're big on nurturing yourself. You understand that being soft with yourself is power. People see that and think, “wow, they’re really put together,” but it’s deeper than that. It’s sacred to you. You’re also very protective of your energy, your joy, your peace. And if someone tries to overstep or bother you too much, You're not shy about putting them in their place. You don’t tolerate nonsense. You’ve worked too hard on your vibe to let someone come in and mess with it. People see you as their ideal type. The kind of person they’d manifest. You’re pursued. Desired. Romantic attention follows you like a shadow. And when people fall for you, they fall hard. It’s giving “dream partner” energy. They literally feel like their life would be fulfilled if they had you in it.

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ִ ࣪𖤐⭑Pile II

Cards pulled: 4 of swords, queen of swords, the hanged man, king of cups, justice, page of wands gemini, pluto and oracle cards

Before starting this reading, I wanna say that there are some sexual messages ahead, so if you are comfortable, then please go ahead and read it! <3

Sexual energy for this pile is soo sooo strong. It's very intense. The fact that I got the same planet and oracle card from the pile 1 for this pile 2, but even more such cards for this pile it explains how sexual energy is so strong here for this pile compared to pile 1.

People literally melt in your presence. Like no joke. It’s intense. It’s dangerous at some point. You’re that person strangers can’t stop staring at, and trust me, they try, but your pull is just too strong. To the point that it becomes dangerous. You’re charming in a way that people simply can’t resist. Even strangers, I feel, can’t help but obsessively think about you. Some may even carry intentions that aren't so pleasant or respectful. This is especially emphasised by the 8th house energy cuz it’s soo heavy here!!! BESTIEE Your sexual aura is incredibly strong. There's a raw edge to your appeal, honestly, the word "animal" keeps echoing in my mind. That’s how wild and potent this magnetism is. A lot of these people see you as a sexual figure as well.

Because of this, some of you might have unfortunately experienced unwanted attention or even harassment in the past, things like people staring too long, glances, or better say it as people glaring at you in public, or just being watched in ways that feel... off. And since many of you are highly intuitive, you can instantly pick up on those disturbing vibes. You know when someone’s gaze carries impure or inappropriate intentions, you feel it in your bones. The feeling is soo uncomfortable.

Here’s something else: people often lust over you from a distance. Very few have the courage to approach you. You scare people off just by being you. Especially those who know they’re not equipped to meet your standards or handle the weight of your presence. When people feel attracted to you, love and desire override their logic. These strangers who form assumptions about you aren’t neutral, they’re the type who are already crushing, obsessing, and yes, many of them are deeply horny and out-of-control with their fantasies. People obsessing over you are generally thouse useless horny people who have noting better to do. (i’m not saying they need therapy….but maybe) It’s not just lust. It’s craving, longing, hunger, all tangled up into one irresistible energy. Even if they try to resist, your aura breaks down their walls. You become a forbidden temptation they can’t escape. Honestly, the word “animal” keeps coming back because it perfectly describes how intense and instinctual their reactions are.

People may secretly assume you’ve got someone offering you luxury or support, like a “sugar daddy” or “sugar mommy.” That assumption may sound wild, but it’s a private thought they never speak aloud, it lives deep in the corners of their imagination. They project desires and stories onto you without knowing anything real. These people feel you are worth every risk, every fantasy, and every unspoken dream. You’re that one-of-a-kind person people only come across once in a lifetime, and they’d risk everything to have a shot with you.

Some People also assume you’re very sacrificial and giving. You put others’ needs above your own, and sometimes, they may feel like you don’t prioritize yourself enough. They see your generous spirit and assume you’re the kind who gives without limits. But your presence also makes people pause and reflect, you shift their perspective. You unknowingly challenge them to look at themselves and the world differently. Your demeanor is quietly observant, and many of you have strong intuitive gifts, you just know things, and you see beyond what’s shown.

I also see that a lot of you enjoy the spotlight. Not from these unnecessary people, but just being the talk of the town. You’re drawn to attention, and attention is drawn to you. You may thrive when all eyes are on you. Some of you are into poetry, philosophy, or activities that require deep mental engagement. You're emotionally rich, layered, and powerful.

Many people assume you’re high-maintenance, not in a negative way, but in a way that screams: “I have standards. I am worth effort.” You’re seen as mature, grounded, and composed, and you leave people speechless, your looks, your energy, the way you speak, and how you observe everything… it's a lot. In a good way. In fact, even speaking to you can feel intimidating to some. You give off this vibe of, “talk to me only if you have something logical to say” You give off that “queen/king energy,” and people feel like they’re not ready for you. They don’t think they can handle your truth, your vibe, or your standards.

BUT ALSO, You are genuinely liked by people, like, no constant haters lurking around every corner or anything. But honestly, a lot of people do find you aloof. It's not because you're mean or distant, it's your opinions, beliefs, and that confident, graceful way you carry yourself. You’ve got that fixed mindset energy that doesn’t just bend because someone said, “Well actually…” (and honestly, good for you 👏). You stay rooted in your truth, and that kind of strength, Yeah, it pulls people in like gravity.

Now, after looking at the whole spread, i can feel that people have really mixed opinions about you. Some folks, especially the ones who don’t really get you, might think you’re all maybe even shallow, just about the looks, sensuality, and appearance and stuff. Like, they see a “doll” and forget there’s a whole person there with actual feelings..

But then, THEN, we have got these deep souls, the emotionally intelligent ones, the ones who don’t just look, they e. Analyze too . And they see through you in the best way. They pick up on the depth, the power, the intensity you hold behind the curtain. That’s when the admiration splits, some people are drawn to your physical allure, while others are completely enchanted by your mental and emotional world.

People either thirst for you or think with you...sometimes both at once.

And listen, I feel like you don’t even smile much. You’re not constantly out here hunting for attention or needing eyes on you 24/7. Most of the time, you give off this calm, composed energy, so relaxed, so centered. But when it comes to values like justice, rules, and structure, You don’t play around. You NEED things to be systematic. Especially in your work life, people might see you as super methodical, maybe even a bit too stoic or serious. You’ve got this quiet authority that’s kinda intimidating. Some people are legit scared to argue with you. Like, they don’t want the smoke. You’ve got this silent, powerful vibe that screams, “I will win this debate without even raising my voice.” So they just… don't even try.

BUT, underneath all that intense energy, you’ve got this sweet, innocent curiosity. A soft person who is just a human after all. You want to learn, explore, and grow. You’ve got this inner child who still finds joy in little things, and that side of you? It only comes out around your closest people. Not everyone gets to see it. Strangers sense there’s more to you than meets the eye. They wish they could peek behind the veil, catch a glimpse of your playful, radiant, full-of-life side. And that curiosity drives them crazy (in a fascinated kind of way). You’ve got this mysterious duality, on the outside: poised, intense, untouchable. On the inside: curious, joyful, warm.

People might tell you or think to themselves, “Wait, you’re actually adorable?? I thought you were gonna crush me with your stare" 😭

But here’s the thing, this softer, lighter part of you? It’s almost a secret. You're super protective of it. You don’t just let anyone in. Only the rare, genuine ones, the big-hearted souls who truly get you, ever get to see it bloom. And when you do let that guard down and share that part of you? It's unforgettable. People get addicted to that realness, that duality.

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ִ ࣪𖤐⭑Pile III

Cards pulled: 4 of pentacles, page of pentacles, page of cups, 8 of cups, 4 of swords, 5 of swords, justice, leo, and oracle cards.

The energy of this pile is soo good😭

BABY let��s get this straight, your personality is what grabs people’s attention instantly. Like, first glance and they’re already trying to figure you out. You’ve got that wow factor that just... lingers. People don’t forget you. Ever. and something about how you look at people is so enchanting, yet so scary. It’s like, “scary? My god, you’re divine”. Buddies, yall can literally use your damn eyes for so many things you’re not aware😭

Somehow, y’all always end up leaving the best impression. People see you as courageous, fearless, and just so YOU. There’s something uniquely exceptional about your aura that makes people double-take , like, “Wait... who was that??”

But okay, reality check time: not everyone likes you. 🙃 You’ve got an equal mix of admirers, haters, and jealousy. It’s giving the main character with his team of rivals energy. Your aura of authority is so So real. Especially in professional or social spaces, people tend to feel like they’re in some competition with you, mostly for attention or relevance.

A lot of people instantly assume you’re “too extra” or “too self-focused,” and it gives them the idea that you’re trying too hard to be noticed or that you're overly ambitious. (“Umm... and what’s wrong with knowing what you want???”) Honestly though, you are ambitious and a little materialistic... BUT that’s not a bad thing. It’s actually amazing. Like hello?? You’re self-aware enough to know what you want, need, and deserve, and you’re not afraid to say it out loud. But yep, people don’t always like that, and that’s a them problem. And tbh... I know y’all don’t lose sleep over it.

Y’all are extremely mindful when it comes to your finances, and fiercely protective too. You’ve got this soft, radiant aura, I’m seeing a lot of pink and red around you, which feels pure, elegant, and full of love. But you’ve also got boundaries of steel. You don’t just let anyone in. You’ve built your world from scratch, and you’ll be damned if someone thinks they’re entitled to a piece of it. “Your vibe is: ‘Touch my energy or my stuff without permission and you’ll see the Scorpio in me REAL quick.’” but regardless of all of this hard stuff, People also see you as emotionally attuned and kind-hearted deep down. Your confidence inspires others, especially those who struggle with it. You’re like a walking masterclass in “I know my worth.”

Pile 3 people reminds me of maddy from euphoria!!! How She was fiercely confident and protective of her people. but if anyone ever betrays her, they're done for. kicked out of her life in an instant. Although she had quite a dark, bold and powerful typa vibe but still she was also such a sweetheart with other people who deserved it. she inspired them. loved them. She was just a sympathetic, compassionate and soft-hearted girl deep inside, but Cassy brought out the worst of her. so yall are also very similar to these aspects of Maddy. (Sorry for the unnecessary yap about her, I just love her throughout her show cuz she embodies the leo+ scorpio characteristic so well) and that brings me to my next point. yall might have the looks and vibe of Casey with the personality and behaviour of Maddy cuz I'm seeing pink colour a lot here, so yall look soft but so powerful.

Now, people also notice that you move on QUICKLY from things that don’t serve you anyomre. Like, your ex says “I’ll change, I swear!” and you’re already halfway out the door with your peace, You don’t waste energy where it’s not worth investing. Period. The fire energy in this pile? Off. The. Charts. You’ve got zeal, youthfulness, and it’s so infectious that people just respect you automatically. But here’s what’s i fnid superrr hilarious, they don’t feel like they’re watching you. Instead, they feel SEEN by you, and that’s why they act better around you. There’s something in your gaze that says, “I know what you’re really about.” 😭😭 You have strong principles and belief systems, and you're uncompromising about them. Try to criticize that, and ... that’s a mistake.

You’re more of a thinker than a speaker. People often assume you’re tired or emotionally distant (probably because of your “resting tired face” lol 😂). And you do look like someone who’s been through some tough sh*t, especially financial betrayal by someone close. That’s probably what built your no-nonsense vibe today. You’ve been burned, and you learned. And now? Nobody plays you. Period. 😂

You might have gone through a rebirth phase, a total energetic glow-up. The kind that comes only after deep pain and even deeper lessons. You’ve emerged like a phoenix ( i see that here) , and that’s exactly what draws people to you. People catch crushes left and right because of how poised, confident, and mysteriously collected you are. But let’s be honest, they rarely have the guts to confess.

People also assume you’re always focused, busy most of the time, or just building something quietly. Even in chaos, you stay so calm, and that’s rare.

The shadow part about yall is, people have used you, left you, and betrayed you when you needed them the most. That’s why your trust doesn’t come easily. And you never waver from your beliefs because those beliefs are what protected you when people didn’t. You built your backbone brick by brick, and now you stand like a fortress. “You're the ‘hurt but healed’ type. That’s why your energy hits so hard.”

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Thank you so much for reading all the way through! I hope my reading resonated with you and that you had a lovely time going through it. If you enjoyed it, please like and reblog, it really means a lot! Let me know which pile you chose; I absolutely love hearing your thoughts and feedback on my readings! ♡

Note: tarot cards provide guidance and possible insights into what could happen based on current energies, thoughts, and actions. the cards can highlight potential paths or outcomes, but they do not predict the future in a fixed way. this is a general reading so take what resonates!

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pricetagged · 7 months ago

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butcher paper

Here's a young (maybe 19-early 20s) Simon struggling with his emotions, working as a butcher's apprentice, and fixating on the pretty student waitress at the café next door (':

Content: plus size f-presenting reader; allusions to domestic abuse (Simon's past); fat-shaming (not Simon); little bit of violence, unedited. (Link to Ao3)

He's not sure that it counts as desire. Interest. It crawls over him, makes him feel aggressive, makes him want to dig his teeth in and shake and snarl.

It's hunger.

And he knows hunger. Knows it like he knows the cigarette burns on the back of his hand. Knows it like he knows his old man's a waste of space and that he has to defend his mum and protect Tommy and- and-

He's the man of the house, only the house is rotten. Woodloused frames, crumbling bricks. Gutted. Empty shelves hidden behind broken doors. Chipped plaster, electricity cutting off. Squeaky steps that always clued them in when the old man was on a rager (not that it helped, creaking out a warning but giving no clue where to run. The percussion leading to a gallows' jig; the heavy step before the hit).

But the old man's gone now. And Simon is left trying to fill in the boots he doesn’t know how to wear. All growth spurt and gangly limbs and anger. So much anger at the old bastard. Tear-soaked anger at his mum sometimes (buried deep behind the shame that he feels when he thinks of her black and blue. Anger and shame, bitter roots that he chews at to soothe the clench of in his jaw and the grind of his teeth). And then he sees you through the window. Through the peeling CHRISTMAS SPECIAL sign highlighting ham joints and turkey and pigs in blankets.

You're so soft.

You look like you’ve lived a life well-fed and well-loved. Something round and sweet and helpless, like the puppies he and Tommy had seen dumped in the park while they snuck cigarettes and swigged from cheap supermarket cider.

And that brings him back to the hunger. He's an awkward creature, shuffling to the café where you work part-time. He's more feeling than man, all rage and appetite stuffed into a skin suit. You sense it too, nerves tugging at the tilt of your smile as you approach the scavenger that swept in to sit at the cheap plastic tables in this greasy spoon. He sits awkwardly, too, hunched over the table like his stomach is gnawing at him. Big hands snapping the disposable plastic coffee stirrers and shredding the napkins. That first day, he just stares at you. Sneers a little when you flutter over to take his order.

You slosh the tea a little when you serve it.

He sees the burn bloom, watches as you suck at the sting with plump cheeks and a rosy little mouth, and he just wants to dig in and scratch hard to see you do that again.

It becomes a habit, watching you. He finds out bits and pieces listening as he rends and chops and saws through muscle and bone, stinking of sweat and iron. You're here as a student. You're living in student digs (good, best that you avoid the up-and-downs and rough streets that would fit a student budget), and you're a real sweetheart. Old Sal who has been running the café for the past 30 years leans a heavy elbow on the display counter as he chats with the boss.

"She's lovely, taken to it like a fish to water," his raspy, smoke-charred voice is cheery as he waits for the bacon and sausages to be weighed and wrapped. "Only asked for Thursdays and Fridays off since she has afternoon classes then. Otherwise, I almost have to round her out of the shop, doing more afternoons and weekends than my own kid."

You're hardworking too, then. He wonders if it's because you're hungry too, needing something to do with your time, living on pot noodles and supermarket ready-meals like he'd heard some students do. It's strange how that thought sits uncomfortably, makes him want to hunch over you and bring you his scraps.

That week, he decides to talk to you. Only the words get caught, don't come out quite right as he stares at the way your jumper clings to the soft curves under your faded apron. When you turn around, bustling to other customers, he can't help but stare at the line of your skirt. It's real pretty, decent, sitting just above your knees but Christ, he wishes that it would roll up a little higher. That it would catch on the corner of a table or hitch up as you raise your arms and swish past with a tray full of fry-ups. He almost gets lucky as you bend over to mop up a spill just across the room. Your thighs widen as they press against the table, tights stretching thin and sheer and he just can't tear his eyes away-

(The hunger in his stomach turns hot and biting, makes his cheeks flush and his mouth dry-)

But it's ruined. Fly in the soup, hair in the dish, as you catch him and your eyebrows pinch together as you look away. There's something guarded, bitter, in your lovely eyes, and the dryness in his mouth turns wet and sour. You seem to take pains to avoid him, swapping out with Sal's son so that you can work the counter instead of the floor.

"'m Simon," he grunts as he goes to settle the bill. "Work at the butcher's across the street."

You clearly didn’t expect an introduction, shoulders relaxing and hesitant smile blooming as you give your name in return.

"Yeah, I know. Sal mentioned you a few times. He's tried to give me the rundown of practically everyone on the street, feels like."

"Y'should come in t'the shop," the invitation rushes out in a way that makes him feel clumsy. Perhaps that’s why he did it; to have you in his space, with his head and his footing right. Here, he feels every inch the artificial man. Pieced together, too big and too looming, with no help or guidance on how to talk to soft things and pretty girls.

You grimace a little, eyes focused on the till as you count out his change. "Not really on a butcher-shop budget right now."

"'S'alright. I can keep something aside for ya," he doesn't mention how it would come out of his wages. How it would come out of what he brought home to his mum and Tommy. It didn't matter, though, when he was used to going without.

"That's - that's really nice, actually," Your sweet face is glowing now, and he feels like he could bathe in the warmth of it. "Next time you come by lunch is on me."

He sees the way you tuck your chin and smile as he walks away, and that bottomless pit in his guts feels just a little more full.

(He doesn't quite catch the snickers of the boys at table three, whispering and nudging each other as you come to take their orders. This time.)

He stares more and more through the window of the shop, watching as you come and go. Watching the way you greet the regulars and skirt around the group of lads who like to linger in the evenings. There's something sharp, nasty, to the way they circle around the entrance. The way they cackle and hoot when the one with the eyebrow piercing smirks and whispers to his mates as they force you to brush past. They're a pack of hyenas, shrieking and smug as they toy with the poor little thing that's walked past their watering hole. He's seen this type before, practically grew up with them. His old man was probably one of them, perfecting his cruelty while young, cementing it as part of his nature.

It has Simon sharpening his knives while he grits his teeth. Has the boss tutting at him when he cuts too close to the bone.

He knows there's something violent in him. The old man tried to bring it out then snuff it out, getting scared when the knife that he sharpened was able to cut him in return. He's no stranger to bloodshed. No stranger to the calloused, deprivation-dimmed apathy that breeds like algae in the environment where he was forged. Dripping, slimy, suffocating.

Doesn't mean he likes it, though.

(He'd gone back for those puppies, you know. Felt wrong leaving them. Felt like a rebellion against his old man's sick life lessons as he dumped the box outside the doors of a local veterinary clinic).

So he keeps his eyes peeled, stakes out the café like he owns it. Stares down anyone who looks at you wrong until they look away, muttering under their breath. 'Fucking freaky dead-eyed git.' It seems to work.

And you seem to like it, sparing more smiles for him. Bringing him bigger portions than normal and topping up his cup before he even needs to ask.

"I know you've been working since seven, Simon. Gotta keep your strength up," You seem bashful as you slide the plate across, and he just eats it up.

You've been looking at him, thinking about him. It's not something he's familiar with, having someone care for him. His mum loves him, of course. Tommy too. But it’s not the same, not when it's been his job to take care of them. His job to step up to the mantle and into the shoes that his father should've filled. Watching the sway of your wide hips as he tucks into the steak and kidney pie with gusto, he feels satisfied. The hunger is there, always is, but it's not gouging at him under the skin. It's satiated, pleased. The kind of comfort that leaves his eyes heavy and his belly warm.

It's a routine you fall into, and everything is rosy-

Until it's not.

He's closing up shop, wiping down the counters and getting ready to haul down the shutters when he sees them. Those stupid pricks, travelling in their pack and signaling that their quarry is in sight. Look, there it is alone and limping and- You're in a rush, leaving later than usual and shrugging your coat on carelessly as you shout your goodbyes to Sal. You're in that skirt again, the one that makes his lower belly tighten and mouth feel dry.

"Oi, look! Dirty scrubber has her fat arse hanging out!"

It sets them off, chittering and howling as you freeze wide-eyed and lip-quivering.

"Gonna be sick, mate. Don't want to see your knickers, love. Didn't even know they came in that size."

He doesn't even see red. Doesn't see anything but your pretty, round face crumpling as you try to tug your skirt out from where it got caught under your coat.

The ringing of the bell by the door muffles the sound of the first punch. His fist crunches into that prick's nose, and he wants nothing more than to keep going until his face is little more than meat and pulp and blood. He can taste it, smells the blood in the air like a shark.

But you're watching.

"Bit bored with y'taking the piss out of her," he snarls it as he hauls the man by his jacket, shoving him hard against the wall until his head thwacks against the bricks. Easy as hauling a side of beef. "Why don't ya try me next?"

The man seems dazed, head spinning and nose dripping. His mates, too, look floored. Ready to scatter and abandon their leader to the bigger beast. Only the promise of more blood keeps them watching, feeds their nasty appetites and he's just itching to let them see. Watch what happens; it's coming for you next.

"Speechless now, eh? Had so much to say earlier," he's spitting the words out, teeth snapping as he leans down so close to the man's face that he can see how his pupils constrict. "Apologise."

And he's smarter than he would give him credit for. Smart enough to whimper out his 'sorry, sorry, sorry' as he drops to the filthy, damp pavement when Simon swivels towards the others. Something about the set of his shoulders, the way his hands and apron are splattered with the gore of man and animal, has them scattering.

"That goes for the rest of ya! Don't ever want t'see your ugly fucking mugs around here again," he spits on the ground, itches at his jaw with his wrist as he watches them run.

He can't hear them anymore. Can't hear anything over the sound of his heavy panting and pounding heartbeat.

It's cold out. He's only realising it now, standing in the December chill with just an apron over his jeans and t-shirt. It has him shaking, flexing his hand as his knuckles start to sting and swell. He welcomes it, welcomes the familiar bite as he pushes down the savage, ragged anger rippling through his chest.

"Simon-"

"Y'alright?" he cuts you off, faces you head-on.

And all the rage saps out. You're not cowering away. There's no disgust on your face. No tears or embarrassment either, no. You've got a crumpled packet of wet wipes in your hand, reaching out for him. Concerned.

"Figure you'd want to get that prick's blood off you soon as possible," you give him a sad little half-smile. "Didn't have to do all that for me, Simon."

"Yeah, didn't have to." He concedes as he steps closer to you. Crowds into your space until you're toe-to-toe and he can feel your warmth. He brushes his fingers against yours, lets them linger on your soft skin as he reaches for the wipes. "I wanted to."

-----------------------

Let's all pretend that this was okay and ignore the fact that I still haven't posted the wips that I keep going on about 🫠💖

Just a little self-indulgent drabble idea that I had today, thinking back to watching 'My Mad Fat Diary' as a teenager, feeling nostalgic ~ (The Finn-defending-Rae scene had 18yo me in a chokehold lol).

#you have a sweet little blossoming romance until tommy starts acting up and simon joins the army #but youre his first love and who knows...there may be a future for you years down the line #when old grizzled simon spots a familiar pretty face walking the streets of manchester while he's on leave #and really，him watching you and looking out for you is a relationship tradition at this point (:#idk im not confident with this and its not great but the idea was lingering and idk self indulgent #simon riley cod #simon “ghost” riley #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley/reader #ghost cod #cod mw2 #cod x reader #cod fanfic #cod imagine #báirseach writes #cw implied abuse #cw fatphobia

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botanicsoul · 4 months ago

Text

Bad Friend

(Yandere) Izuku midoriya x reader

MDNI!!! (18+)

𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘ 𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘ 𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘ 𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘ 𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘ 𖤣.𖥧.

You could still hear Uraraka’s voice in your head, bright and full of warmth. “I just think he’s amazing, you know? Izuku’s so kind and hardworking… I don’t know, I just—I’ve never felt this way about anyone before.”

You felt sick.

Because right now, Izuku Midoriya was pressed against you, lips bruising yours, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to leave marks. He wasn’t kind. He wasn’t soft. He wasn’t sweet. He was devouring you, taking everything you had to give, and worst of all? You were letting him.

“God, you’re a horrible friend,” Izuku growled against your ear, his breath ragged as he pulled your hips closer to his, grinding against you. You whimpered, a mix of shame and arousal twisting in your gut. His voice dripped with something dark—mocking.

He knew what he was doing. He knew this was wrong. But he didn’t care.

And that made it worse.

“She tells you everything, doesn’t she?” he continued, hands trailing up your sides, rough and possessive. “All those little daydreams she has about me. How she wonders what it would be like to hold my hand. How she wishes I’d kiss her.” His lips curled into a smirk against your throat, teeth grazing your skin just hard enough to make you shudder. “Too bad, huh?”

You squeezed your eyes shut, guilt clawing at your chest. You should stop this. You should push him away. You should care.

But his hands were on you, his body pressing you into the mat of the training room floor, his weight making it impossible to think about anything but him.

Izuku chuckled lowly, voice dripping with condescension. “You’re not even trying to fight me, are you?” He shifted his hips against you again, dragging another sinful whimper from your lips. His emerald eyes darkened, pupils blown wide with something dangerous. “Some best friend you are. Poor Uraraka. She has no idea what a backstabbing little cunt you are.”

“Shut up,” you gasped, but there was no real fight behind it.

“Make me.”

Your fingers dug into his shoulders, but he only pressed you down harder, caging you beneath him. “You knew she liked me,” he murmured, lips brushing over your pulse. “You knew, and yet…” His tongue flicked over your skin, slow and teasing, before his teeth sank in just enough to make you gasp. “Here you are. Letting me do whatever I want to you.”

You hated how much you loved the way he talked to you. Hated the way his words sent heat rushing through your body.

“Izuku…”

His grip tightened, dragging your hips flush against his. “Say it again,” he demanded, voice husky. “Say my name like you’re mine.”

A shiver ran down your spine. You shouldn’t. You couldn’t. But your lips parted, and his name spilled from them like a prayer.

He groaned, his hand fisting in your hair, tilting your head back to meet his gaze. His expression was downright sinful. “You’re not getting away from me now,” he murmured, leaning in so close that your noses brushed. “Not after this anyways”

The possessiveness in his voice sent another rush of guilt crashing through you.

Uraraka. Uraraka. Uraraka.

But Izuku kissed you again, and for the life of you, you couldn’t remember why you were supposed to care.

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checkeredflagggs · 5 months ago

Text

Love Me Tender

pairing: carlos sainz x longtime girlfriend!reader

summary: carlos loves his girlfriend so much — even more when she (a lifelong tifosi) sheds the iconic red for williams blue

a/n: ok but this picture of Carlos 😭😭😭

a/n2: I messed a little with the timeline of Lewis in 2024 I think

a/n3: all quotes are by Enzo Ferrari

Masterlist | Taglist

tifosi_girl

liked by carlossainz55, landonorris, charles_leclerc, and 2,173,183 others

tagged: carlossainz55

tifosi_girl: do you know many Ferraris? Luigi follows only the Ferraris

view all comments

user1: girl you know all the Ferraris!

↳tifosi_girl: I know ☺️☺️

↳user1: do you know how jealous I am?? liked by tifosi_girl, carlossainz55

carlossainz55: Vida mía… my life…

↳tifosi_girl: Guapo… handsome…

↳carlossainz55: Oh, sabes lo que me hace cuando hablas español...Oh, you know what it does to me when you speak spanish...

↳tifosi_girl: Por supuesto que sí. Of course I do.

↳carlossainz55: Vida mía, Mi alma My life, My soul

↳user2: uhhhh you guys know we’re still here right???

↳user3: yeah I think they forgot…

user4: I have a bold take to say

↳user5: do it. Speak your truth

↳user4: those 2 are the Ferrari Morticia and Gomez

↳user5: oh my god yes…

↳user6: that’s the truest thing I’ve heard today

landonorris: No, no, no, no, no. They race on the European circuit. I'm in the Piston Cup!

↳tifosi_girl: sorry I only follow the Ferraris

↳landonorris: yeah we know liked by carlossainz55, charles_leclerc

user7: Siri how do I get that jacket?

↳tifosi_girl: baggsie a Ferrari man who lets you steal from his closet!

↳user7: know any that are looking?

↳carlossainz55: no.

↳charles_leclerc: non

↳user7: damn

tifosi_girl (2022)

liked by carlossainz55, landonorris, charles_leclerc and 863,146 others

tagged: carlossainz55

yourusername: “I don’t sell cars; I sell dreams.” Baby you are my dream and to see you on that top step was memorizing. To celebrate — today’s treat was a red velvet lava cake with a cherry sauce!

view all comments

user8: that looks so delicious oh my gosh

user9: thank you queen for the recipe

carlossainz55: Vida mia, gracias por venir conmigo hoy. Esta victoria fue gracias a ti. My life, thank you for coming with me today. This victory was because of you.

↳tifosi_girl: Oh, mi guapo hombre — esta victoria fue toda gracias a ti y a tu arduo trabajo y talento. Yo no tuve nada que ver con eso. Oh my handsome man — this win was all because of you and your hardworking and talent. I had nothing to do with it.

↳carlossainz55: ¡No, no, no, eres obviamente mi amuleto de la suerte! No, no, no you are very obviously my lucky charm!

↳charles_leclerc: Peu importe ce que vous êtes. Ce qui compte, c'est de savoir si je peux avoir un de ces gâteaux, s'il vous plaît? Whatever you are doesn’t matter. What matters is if I can have one of those cakes please?

↳tifosi_girl: I don’t think they’re part of your diet?

↳charles_leclerc: S'il vous plaît? 🥺🥺

↳tifosi_girl: 🙄🙄 sure

landonorris: sooooo….are those cakes up for grabs or??

↳tifosi_girl: only for those that drive red cars?

↳landonorris: really???

↳tifosi_girl: yes

↳maxverstappen1: hey

↳tifosi_girl: sure max — I’ll swing by and drop a couple off for you and checo

↳landonorris: SERIOUSLY???

tifosi_girl (2023)

liked by carlossainz55, landonorris, charles_leclerc, and 1,283,923 others

tagged: carlossainz55

tifosi_girl: “What’s behind you doesn’t matter.” Baby you had the entire grid behind you tonight and it was something out of this world to watch. Gutted to not be able to be there but Beary and I made do with strawberry waffles

view all comments

user10: Beary?? That’s so cute

user11: love how she uses Ferrari quotes in all her posts

↳user12: gotta love a loyal girl liked by carlossainz55, tifosi_girl

carlossainz55: Vida mia, al otro lado del mundo y tú sigues siendo mi amuleto de la suerte. My life, across the world and still my lucky charm.

↳tifosi_girl: Mi guapo hombre, sabes que esta victoria fue todo tuyo. Yo tuve poco que ver con eso. My handsome man, you know this win was all you. I had little to do with it.

↳carlossainz55: Mi vida. Mi amor. Mi alma. Esto fue todo para ti. My life. My love. My soul. This was all for you. liked by tifosi_girl

↳user13: wow. you managed to call us single in more than 2 languages…

user14: heading to the highway tonight…

↳user15: sleepover?

↳user16: sleepover! I’ll make her waffles because they look fantastic

landonorris: ok but can I get some of these?

↳tifosi_girl: Guidi un'auto rossa? Do you drive a red car?

↳landonorris: what???

↳tifosi_girl: 🙄🙄🙄

f1gossip

Be the first to like

f1gossip: in a stunning shock to the entire f1 world — 7 time World Champion Lewis Hamilton is to exit Mercedes at the end of the year and to drive for Ferrari!

What are your thoughts?

Be the first to comment

Private Messages, Carlos and y/n

tifosi_girl

liked by carlossainz55, charles_leclerc, oscarpiastri, and 1,627,283 others

tagged: carlossainz55

tifosi_girl: “I have no idols. I admire work, dedication, and competence.” Baby, no one can say you don’t give it your all (including your appendix!). Dinner tonight includes these delicious toasted tomatoes and peppers.

view all comments

user17: oh is that shade I see being thrown?

↳user18: I do believe it is

↳user20: I don’t exactly blame her

user21: ugh don’t remind me Carlos won’t be in red next year…

↳user22: the question is will she?

↳user23: that is the question isn’t it? Life-long tifosi vs the apparent love of her life…

oscarpiastri: do you share?

↳tifosi_girl: sure. Drop by our hotel and I’ll give you a plate

↳oscarpiastri: thanks!

↳carlossainz55: really vida mia? Him??

↳landonorris: WHAT?? You said only Ferrari drivers could get some!

↳tifosi_girl: landonorris I actually said people who drive red cars. That’s not you

↳landonorris: HE DRIVES AN ORANGE CAR TOO

↳tifosi_girl: congratulations on learning your colors Lando!

↳tifosi_girl: and carlossainz55 he’s a polite young man. Of course I’m going to give him some

user24: thank you queen 🙏 your recipes have saved me many a time

↳tifosi_girl: no problem! I’m glad they’re working out for you!

Private Messages, Carlos and y/n

f1gossip

liked by tifosi_girl, carlossainz55, landonorris, and 2,193,193 others

tagged: carlossainz55

f1gossip: to complete the thrilling saga of Carlos Sainz, it was just announced by Williams that he would be joining their team in a multi-year contract starting with the 2025 season, replacing Logan Sargeant.

What are your thoughts?

view all comments

user25: oh he’s gonna look good in blue!

↳user26: he looked better in red ngl

user27: not where I expected him to end up…

↳user28: well where else was he supposed to go??

↳user27: I don’t know but I didn’t expect Williams!

user29: what a extreme Silly Season this year

↳user30: and it’s not even over yet…

↳user31: don’t remind me — we still have like 6 open seats still…

user32: again I wonder what y/n is thinking… the iconic red to Williams blue??

↳tifosi_girl: the number 55 all the way!

↳user33: but red or blue?

↳tifosi_girl: 55!

tifosi_girl

liked by charles_leclerc, carlossainz55, landonorris, and 2,728,172 others

tagged: carlossainz55

tifosi_girl: Mi hombre guapo... Qué viaje tan salvaje ha sido estos últimos años; Victorias y derrotas, podios y abandonos. A pesar de todo, has sido el mejor socio que cualquiera podría haber pedido. Ahora que esta temporada ha terminado, ¡vamos a la próxima gran cosa! My handsome man…what a wild ride it’s been these past few years; wins and losses, podiums and dnfs. Through it all, you’ve been the best partner anyone could have asked for. Now that this season is over it’s on to the next big thing!

view all comments

user34: I’m so sad right now

↳user35: oh I know…I can’t believe this is over

carlossainz55: Mi amor, mi vida, tenerte a mi lado en este viaje ha sido una de las mejores cosas que me han pasado. Gracias por todo el apoyo que me han dado; No puedo esperar a lo que viene después. My love, my life, having you next to me through this journey has been one of the best things to ever happen to me. Thank you for all the support you’ve given me; I can’t wait for what comes next.

↳tifosi_girl: you’re gonna make me cry my love

↳user36: I don’t want love if it’s not like you guys liked by tifosi_girl, carlossainz55

charles_leclerc: it’s been a pleasure Carlos

↳carlossainz55: it really has but I will be a few doors away

↳charles_leclerc: indeed you will!

↳tifosi_girl: (and yes that does include my food) liked by charles_leclerc

landonorris: so since Carlos doesn’t drive a red car anymore…does that mean your restriction has been lifted??

↳tifosi_girl: much too soon

↳tifosi_girl: so….that's a big fat no

↳landonorris: oh COME ON

oscarpiastri: do you take requests?

↳tifosi_girl: potentially?

↳oscarpiastri: blueberry cheesecake?

↳tifosi_girl: sure

↳landonorris: SERIOUSLY???

tifosi_girl

liked by carlossainz55, alex_albon, and 2,812,239 others

tagged: carlossainz55

tifosi_girl: well blue might not be my color but you are my man so needs must I guess…(also these blueberry cupcakes are bangers). Here’s to an amazing season mi hombre guapo

comments have been restricted on this post

carlossainz55: vida mia…

↳carlossainz55: thank you so much for everything

↳carlossainz55: (especially adopting the blue)

↳tifosi_girl: only for you, my love

alex_albon: sooooo…

↳landonorris: if he gets something baked before i do, im gonna be sooooo mad

↳tifosi_girl: lol liked by carlossainz55, alex_albon

↳landonorris: 😠😠😠

Taglist

@anamiad00msday @suns3treading @daniskywalkersolo @awritingtree @justheretoreadthxxs @coral7161 @lost4lyrics @mastermindbaby @freyathehuntress @angelluv16 @nichmeddar @mxm47max @justaf1girl @a-beaverhausen @tallrock35 @elizamoe133 @imlonelydontsendhelp @jessica3478 @il0vereadingstuff @msimpala-67

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feeder86 · 8 months ago

Text

The Curse of Deansgate

An understudy for Chris Peterson? Most of Ned’s friends could not believe it. Nor could Ned, to be fair. The fact that Chris was even doing Broadway was almost just as unbelievable. Hollywood superstars, like him, rarely gave up the time for a twelve-week stint in a production like ‘The Gentleman of Deansgate’. It was going to be, without a doubt, the hottest ticket in town.

Ned watched through some of Chris’ old movies before rehearsals began. He devoured them all: the romantic comedies, the science fiction classics, as well as the action hero thrillers where Chris’ shirt was pleasingly absent for multiple scenes. Ned swooned, still feeling unable to comprehend his good luck. He’d done the Broadway circuit for a few years now and was slowly building a name for himself. A major role in his last show had earned him the attention he craved within the industry, despite the show actually selling rather poorly. But Ned simply loved the theatre and couldn’t wait to see Chris in action on stage. He imagined that the guy would feel quite nervous performing to a large crowd every night, especially after exclusively working on movies for so many years. And, as his understudy, Ned would be sure to support him. He fantasised about them becoming best friends and forging a bond like no other. He felt the bubbling excitement in his stomach as the days ticked down, getting closer and closer to the beginning.

The media coverage was already everywhere, even before the two week rehearsal period. ‘The Gentleman of Deansgate’ was a rarely performed production due to the superstition surrounding its commercial failures in the past. Written in the early twentieth century, ‘The Gentleman of Deansgate’ had apparently never once completed a full run in any theatre; although Ned doubted that to be completely true. Like all superstitions, it made Ned laugh to think that the play would make the usually level-headed investors go weak at the knees; much like all the actors he had met over the years, too superstitious to utter the words ‘Macbeth’ on stage. But a ‘cursed’ play certainly made for an awful lot of clickbait; cleverly helping to fuel the audience’s anticipation, as well as the advanced ticket sales.

However, there was also another reason why the play was being discussed so much; one that Ned felt a little more nervous about. The director would be the incredibly talented Gordon Harrison; an absolute master; especially here on Broadway, crafting incredible productions over a career that spanned decades. He had once played the lead in ‘The Gentleman of Deansgate’ back when he was in his twenties, and was resurrecting it now, perhaps as a form of nostalgia for himself. However, if anyone was to meet Gordon, it might not have been his ingenious directing creativity that they first noticed. Gordon was known to be one of the largest men working in the industry; a ginormous gut and wide butt, weighing in at a waddling five hundred pounds or more.

Ned was sure that many people had probably made fun of Gordon’s weight over the years, but none so publicly as Chris Peterson. It had apparently happened early on in Chris’ career, when he was still making a name for himself, playing a small role in one of Gordon’s rare movie productions. When asked what he thought of the renowned director, a young, pretty-boy Chris had been less than complimentary, remarking to a journalist about how grotesquely greedy and lazy the fat director was on set; rarely getting out of his reinforced chair to offer notes to the hardworking performers and crew surrounding him; also referring to him as just another ‘failed actor’ who had shifted to directing once his first career ended. They were throwaway comments, but even Ned remembered the media storm that inevitably came from it.

Perhaps not for the right reasons, Chris Peterson undoubtedly became better known afterwards. He’d been remembered and picked for bad boy roles where a little edge to the character’s personality was definitely a requirement. From there, he’d only gone from strength to strength, after his management eventually taught him to hold his tongue a little more when it came to badmouthing people he had worked with. Now, the director’s offer of the lead role in this play had been widely seen as an olive branch to the handsome actor, as a way to leave the past behind them; one that had been graciously accepted by Chris’ management team who convinced him to sign up straight away. And so, for the first time ever, the money was pouring in from investors, hoping to get a slice of success as ‘The Gentleman of Deansgate’ was about to be performed to the public for the first time in thirty years.

Some men just had that aura about them. It was the thing Ned most remembered about Chris Peterson, the first time he strolled into the theatre. Like any Hollywood hunk, he was painfully handsome, not to mention stylish. But Chris was also incredibly tall and muscular, giving the perception that he could have turned his hand to any sport at all, had the acting career not worked out so well for him. Ned remembered how aroused he was, sitting in the wings, watching the final act, when Chris rehearsed the penultimate scene, completely shirtless: the broad back, the stunning chest, the insane six pack. Not that Ned was a stranger to the gym himself, it was pretty much given in his line of work, but there was just something so awe-inspiring about the physique of a true Hollywood leading man.

Unlike any other production Ned had ever been involved in, there were journalists waiting outside from day one of rehearsals. Gordon had made it clear that no one was to talk to them or pose for pictures, but that didn’t stop them shouting for attention each time the cast walked out. Usually they wanted to know about Chris, or about how Gordon was doing, working with a guy who had so badly insulted him almost ten years ago. If Ned had been allowed to answer them, he could have told them that, in fact, everything was absolutely fine. Ever the professional, a now twenty-seven year old Chris took to the theatre work with ease, and Gordon didn’t seem in the least bit resentful towards him at all. Perhaps that was the point. The reality was so fundamentally boring, keeping the air of mystery kept the media writing about the play and building that appetite for it.

As for Ned’s dreams of becoming best friends with Chris Peterson, well, that had always been unlikely. Although the man had learned all their names and was friendly enough, Chris kept himself to himself during break times and retained that Holwood mystique with the rest of the cast; continuing to be one of the only people Ned knew who could get away with wearing sunglasses indoors and still look sexy. But, in regards to being an understudy for him, Gordon had told Ned straight out that it was never going to happen. People were coming to this production to see Chris and that was exactly what they would get. It was the investors who had insisted on there being an understudy, just in case, but Ned was never going to actually get the chance to perform to an audience. He would simply stick to his significantly smaller role, dying before the end of the first act each and every night.

“Break a leg!” Ned smiled at Chris as the curtain was about to go up on their first night. He still got butterflies each time he had the opportunity to talk to the guy, even after the long rehearsals.

Chris smiled back, seeming as cool as could be; as if none of this phased him in the slightest. Then, with a final intake of breath, he stepped onto the stage, in front of a cheering crowd, surreptitiously dotted with some of New York’s harshest critics.

There was the strangest of feelings in the theatre that night; like an unheard frequency that was somehow ringing in the ears. Chris’ performance was powerful and moving; rising above anything they had witnessed in the rehearsals. Ned could already see the awards and accolades the Hollywood star was about to amass. The final act was a marvel, and Ned saw their large, oversized director sitting in an extra large chair on the front row, smiling with pride the entire time. When the final curtain fell, the audience rose to their feet, but Gordon remained seated. He looked pleased with himself, like he had just accomplished something he had been working towards for many, many years.

At the afterparty that evening, the excitement was electric. Everybody knew that the show was a hit; perhaps the biggest success they would ever be involved in; the pinnacle of their careers. Their director stood, having graciously acknowledged everyone in the cast and crew for all they had done, only leaving one final man to congratulate. He called Chris to stand beside him and slipped his big, heavy arm over the hunk’s broad shoulders.

“You’ve joined a very exclusive club this evening,” Gordon smiled. “There are very few ‘Gentlemen of Deansgate’ out there!” he nodded; acknowledging the fact that he too had once played the part, some twenty-five years ago. “You’re never going to be the same after this.”

The grin on Gordon’s face was a little too perplexing for Ned. He couldn’t quite make it out. He held Chris’ stare for an almost uncomfortable time, until finally raising his glass and toasting the biggest Broadway smash in many, many years.

The reviews the next morning sang with praise, just as they had all expected. Ned poured over them all, hoping for even a brief mention of his own performance. Instead, Chris had stolen the show, and the promotional image of him in the final scene, shirtless and steamy, dominated much of the pages that were dedicated to the reviews. By lunchtime, Ned could recite almost all of them word for word. It seemed like he wasn’t the only one who had felt the curious atmosphere in the theatre that first night. Each review, every single one, seemed to comment on it in some form; like some magical awakening of acting greatness. Still, Ned cut every last one of them out, saving them all for his own personal scrapbook.

“Do me a favour,” Gordon insisted, raising his hand to get Ned’s attention as everyone else busied themselves backstage for the second night. “Drop these off with Chris, will you?” he insisted, thrusting a box of doughnuts towards Ned.

“What? Take them to his dressing room?” Ned asked, delighted and nervous about getting the opportunity to go and see Chris before the curtain went up. “Does he even eat doughnuts?”

Gordon chuckled. “Oh, he eats them alright!” he smirked, already waddling away to deal with something more pressing.

Ned held the large tray of doughnuts in his hands, feeling empowered, simply to go and see the star of the show before he went on stage. He raced along the corridor like a man on a mission and knocked firmly on the door until he heard Chris’ deep, masculine voice telling him to come inside.

Half dressed, Chris’ fine torso was on show as he collected all of his bits for the first act. Ned felt like he had entered at the absolute perfect time. “Um, Gordon sent these over,” he mumbled, trying to think straight and not stare too much at the gorgeous man in front of him. Just how many people would have paid serious cash to be standing exactly where he was right then?

“What are they? Doughnuts?” Chris asked, dropping his belt on the floor and heading straight over. He reached in and grabbed one with each hand, pushing one immediately into his mouth with the biggest bite Ned had ever seen. He moaned aloud and chewed quickly, as if he hadn’t eaten in days.

“I didn’t know you were so keen on doughnuts,” Ned chuckled awkwardly, simply standing there, holding the box, not knowing where he could put it down. Chris was still purposefully in front of him, seemingly getting ready to take another round.

Chris didn’t answer. He simply moaned as he gorged on doughnut after doughnut; not even caring that his mouth was now covered in sugar. Ned stood there, watching the car crash in slow motion as the entire box was devoured in less than three minutes flat.

“Fuck!” Chris chuckled, swallowing the last of it all. “I had no idea I could do that!” he smirked, turning to look at himself in the mirror, then laughing at how immediately bloated his stomach had become. “Bring me another one of those trays after the show and I’ll let you suck me off,” Chris suddenly declared, reaching his hand down to his crotch and readjusting the suddenly obvious erection that was pressing against his purposefully tight pants.

“What?” Ned asked; his heart beating faster than ever before. Had he heard that right?

“Don’t act coy,” Chris shot back. “You heard me. I’ve seen the way you look at me. Bring me another tray of doughnuts after the show and I’ll let you suck me dry,” he repeated, reaching for Ned’s limp hand and placing it directly across to his boner. “Deal?” Chris asked, knowing that there was no way Ned would ever refuse him.

Ned left Chris’ dressing room almost shaking with elation. Was this really happening? The hottest, straight hunk in the world was going to let him go down on him after the show? Surely this was just a dream?

With the first act soon over with, Ned snuck out to the doughnut place across the street and bought the exact same tray of treats that had been delivered earlier. He stood around, pretending to wait purposefully in the corridor, having concealed the order under a pile of clothes in his small, shared changing area.

The next thing Ned knew, he was back on stage for the curtain call. He’d started to doubt himself; to dispute reality. He was going insane. Chris hadn’t really made such an advance on him, nor made the bizarre request! He was just slowly succumbing to madness. But as they all cheered their way off the stage, Ned felt a very firm hand on his shoulder and the Hollywood superstar bringing his mouth close to his ear, whispering. “You’ve got fifteen minutes.”

After the buzz of the first night, the second night always felt anticlimactic, with people darting off quickly after the show ended. Ned waited until there was a slight lull in the noisy corridor, until he stood outside Chris’ dressing room holding the doughnut tray, knocking until he heard the call for him to enter.

This time, Chris was sitting. already stroking himself in his chair; legs parted and pants removed, ready for Ned to do what he had come here for. Of course he had a large penis, Ned thought to himself, watching the sexy guy stroking it like he was filming a porn scene.

“Give them to me!” Chris demanded, having eyes only for the tray that Ned was carrying. He reached out, ripped them from him and immediately began gorging, like he had before. Then, with only a nod of his head, he ordered Ned down to his crotch.

Slipping onto his knees, Ned could hardly believe what he was about to do; something he never imagined could be done. He started slowly, determined to get it exactly right; to give Chris as much pleasure as he could. If he delivered Chris the best blow job of his life, he would. He pursed his lips and worked his tongue to perfection, hearing Chris moan with pleasure as he pushed those doughnuts into his mouth. He felt the guy’s large, sticky, icing-covered hand press onto the top of his head, pushing him deeper into his crotch. Ned obliged, willing himself not to gag as his throat opened further. Then, absolute magic. He’d done it. He’d made the Hollywood superstar climax in what sounded like the most intense orgasm imaginable.

Ned stood, feeling proud, looking down on the hunk slouched in the chair. The man was a mess, covered in icing and sugar all around his face; his toned stomach now bloated and hard. The man seemed dazed, either from the eating, or the intense relief of having ejaculated so forcefully. He sighed multiple times and began tapping his own face as if to bring himself back into reality. “Fuck! That was good!” the man growled, before sitting up and casually feeding himself the larger fragments of doughnut that had fallen onto his chest during his rampant gorging minutes earlier.

Grinning, Ned knew that this was a tale he would be able to recount for the rest of his life: the day he sucked off Chris Peterson in his dressing room!

“What are you doing this evening?” Chris asked, finally getting to his feet.

“Um, nothing much,” Ned replied, feeling the shadow of the large man cross over him.

“You know this city, don’t you?” Chris pondered. “You’re from here, aren’t you? You can take me out.”

“Yes,” Ned answered, without evening thinking; his heart almost leaping out of his chest. “But I wouldn’t know where to take a Hollywood star like you. We’d be harrassed by journalists the whole time if I took you to the bars I usually go to.”

“Then don’t take me to the bars,” Chris shot back. “Take me back to your place and order in.”

“You… you want to come back to my apartment?” Ned spluttered, overjoyed and simultaneously embarrassed by the thought of hosting Chris Peterson in the miniscule space he rented in the city. Still, he had kept the place fairly clean… Maybe Chris just wanted another opportunity for them to be alone together again.

“Is it far from here?” Chris asked, already gathering all that he needed and slipping a few items of clothing back on.

“Not far,” Ned replied, realising that he didn’t really have a choice either way. “We can head out through the back and be there in five minutes.”

“Good,” the man nodded, already pushing Ned towards the door. “Lead on.”

Just over an hour later, Ned was accepting the second delivery at his apartment whilst Chris lounged on his couch, gorging himself on the pizzas that had arrived five minutes earlier. The moment he went back in, Chris dropped his greasy pizza down and made to grab the bag of Chinese food, not caring that the slice landed topside up on the couch, leaking the oily residue into the material.

“I didn’t know that you were such a foodie,” Ned sighed, hoping that Chris’ hunger wasn’t going to get in the way of them having more fun later on. He ran to grab a cloth and began attempting to get the stain out.

Chris’s kisses were passionate and arousing after all the food. Ned had seen some bizarre Hollywood diets in his time, but this binge eating of Chris’ had bloated his stomach up like nothing he had ever known. He was gentle around the man in the bedroom, wondering whether he might throw up should things get a little energetic. Hosting a Hollywood superstar, making him climax in his very own apartment, it felt like a moment Ned had been waiting for his entire life; an experience he could boast about for years to come. Had Chris wanted to stay the night, Ned would have been more than delighted, but the man seemed restless and keen to get back to the hotel he was staying in, ordering himself a ride and bidding Ned a goodnight.

Gordon didn’t seem to care when Chris didn’t show in time for their pre-show meetings, rolling in with just enough time to get into costume and get on stage. For the first time, the backstage crew began to grumble about him, knowing that they were only one week in, with another eleven long weeks to go. But just as the lead actor had seemingly lost all passion for it, so had their esteemed director; no longer bothered by the silly little mistakes that were made by the lighting department on the fifth night, nor the fact that Chris had missed his cue several times by the start of week two.

On their opening night, the show had felt like a slick, well-oiled and ambitious machine. Now things were getting sloppy and haphazard. The excellent reviews of the previous week were being replaced by curious clippings in gossip columns about Chris’ amateurish performances. Not only that, but a rogue cell phone had snapped a picture of Chris during his shirtless scene looking significantly thicker than he had seemed in the promotional shots. Ned had seen it first hand as he continued to slip into Chris’ dressing room after a performance for some fun. He’d known that the make-up department had painted on a six-pack for the last three performances. However, nothing could mask the unmistakable width of Chris as he turned to his side; a distinct paunch starting to form. All of a sudden, that one picture seemed to be everywhere and all of the press interest in the play turned directly towards Chris’ weight gain.

“There’ll probably be more people trying to get pictures of you tomorrow,” Ned warned as he snuck into Chris’ dressing room and caught the guy gorging himself on a couple of boxes of cookies that had been left in there for him.

Chris scowled and nodded for Ned to lock the door behind him. “That’s tomorrow’s problem,” he grumbled, sliding down in his chair and pulling out his hardness for Ned to suck on as he ate.

Ned assumed the position, noticing the roll of stomach fat that was beginning to encircle Chris’ waist. His fingers slipped onto it as he took Chris’ hardness in his mouth, noticing the soft and doughy nature of it, slyly ruining the ultimate Hollywood sixpack. Ned knew he was in some way enabling Chris by not walking away and failing to challenge him on his eating but when else in his life was he going to have the chance to be with a global superstar like this?

With the doughnuts gone, Chris stood up and removed the last of his clothes, ready to fuck Ned over the table at the back of the room. Ned obliged, catching the view of Chris’ softer glutes in the mirror as they began kissing; the back fat standing out so much, the skin starting to roll. “Chris…” Ned started, knowing that he could no longer stay silent. “Don’t you think you need to do something about this?” he asked, pinching the actual lovehandles that had blossomed in just over a week.

“Do you want to get fucked, or not?” Chris growled back, clearly too consumed with arousal to think of anything else. Discussions about the guy’s weight were clearly off the table. Ned, lay across his table, spread his legs and allowed the horny glutton to at last get some exercise.

Their esteemed director seemed slightly different over the following days. Unlike Chis’ stomach, which seemed to grow more prominent each day, Gordon appeared to be deflating. His large gut didn’t seem quite so extreme as he strolled about at a faster pace, going from department to department. There was a twinkle in his eye as he saw Ned and a look that suggested that he knew exactly what went on between him and Chris behind the closed doors of the dressing room.

The man had rejected calls for the shirtless scene to be altered so that Chris could cover himself with a shirt, positively laughing at all the press that surrounded the hunk’s sudden gains. “All publicity is good publicity,” he grinned as if he hoped for a boost in ticket sales from it all; not that there was any need. The show had been booked out for weeks before they’d even started rehearsals.

News outlets began reporting that Gordon had insisted Chris diet immediately and that he had threatened to kick him out from the show should he not comply. However, none of it was true. Of all the people working on that production, the director was the only one who was not in the least bit flustered by it all, even as Chris’ management seemed determined to find a way to get him out of the play and end this constant barrage of bad publicity.

Ned felt it all very personally, having fallen for Chris during this strange period of his life. But with so much gossip and speculation flying around, how much longer could his fling with Chris stay a secret? A public ‘outting’ was absolutely the last thing either of them needed right then.

“Eight more weeks to go!” Gordon sang, almost tauntingly at them all as Chris stepped up behind the curtain, a rounded stomach pressing out, ready for the shirtless scene. Gordon appeared to wait, listening intently for the inevitable gasps of the stunned audience as the former hunk went out on stage. Then the director would chuckle to himself and stroll happily away.

Getting in to see Chris was becoming harder and harder. A team of people seemed to surround the man the entire time he was at the theatre; men and women who had been flown over from Hollywood to kick Chris into touch. None of it seemed to be working. Even under the strict eyes of his babysitters, Chris’ stomach seemed to be expanding daily. Tensions with the director seemed to flare up as Gordon failed time and time again to renegotiate the star’s watertight contract. The looming fear that the play would end hung like a dark cloud over all of them. As Chris’s belly blossomed into a small, stout and rounded beer gut, each of them looked at each other and sighed. Would this be their last show? How much longer could this insanity continue?

Like a petulant child, Chris appeared to detest all the fussing around him. Sometimes, at night, he would appear at Ned’s apartment, having snuck out undetected from his hotel. He’d order take-out, complain bitterly about his situation and completely fail to show any self-awareness of his own part in the evolving crisis that surrounded him; even as he gorged on pizza after pizza. He’d drawn Ned in, making him feel like the only one in the world who could sympathise with him; the one sane person in his life whilst all the madness threatened to consume him. Ned had been flattered. He felt special. And even though he could see the giant ball of stomach fat growing larger and larger; even as a double chin began to spread itself under Chris’s handsome face and his tight glutes softened with each passing day, Ned still fell for him and stayed up late into the night, pleasing him in any way he could.

It was week four when everything seemed to crash around them. Ned saw the news flash up on his cell phone before anyone at the play got in contact with him to let him know. Chris had left the production, paying a hefty, multi-million dollar fee for exiting early and ending the show.

“You’re up!” Gordon sang down the phone an hour or so later. “You’re my Gentleman of Deansgate!”

“But I thought…” Ned mumbled back; his head spinning.

“One last performance!” Gordon exclaimed excitedly. “Chris’ team were quite insistent upon it as they added a nice buffer into the cheque they signed this morning to get him out of his contract.”

“Why?” Ned asked, remembering how adamant Gordon had once been that he would never allow Ned to understudy for Chris. “What does it matter to them?”

“Just be here early,” Gordon replied, immediately ending the phone call.

Ned didn’t know how to feel. The last few weeks had been the strangest of his life. On the one hand, he felt elated that he was about to have the biggest career highlight to date, seeing his name appearing in the articles about Chris’ sudden departure as the Gordon’s team sent out their official press release about the final show. However, he also knew that he was unlikely to see Chris ever again. The media had already reported that he had left New York for his home in Los Angeles. Just like that, it was all over.

Gordon positively skipped about backstage, racing between the different departments. There was no denying that he had lost a significant amount of weight in the last few weeks and the spring in his step seemed to catch everyone off-guard. Everything had to be perfect once more and the sloppiness of the last few weeks had to end immediately. Yet, despite all the demands and high standards Gordon was insisting upon, there was still a smug, sickly grin plastered all over his face.

“He’s just had a massive payout from Chris’ people,” whispered one of the lighting guys as Ned watched the man with obvious confusion etched across his face. “I was here late last night when they were all negotiating.”

“Well, I expect it must be a relief for him now all the tickets will have to be refunded for the rest of the run,” Ned nodded.

“That stuff’s all covered,” the backstage man replied, shaking his head at Ned’s misunderstanding. “I mean Gordon himself. He’s just had over five million dollars from Chris to let him go early and to ensure there’s this last performance tonight.”

“They paid Gordon personally?” Ned asked. “But that makes no sense!”

Twenty minutes later and the crowds were starting to move into the theatre, bitterly disappointed that the main attraction for attending this play had inexplicably left the production. Ned had no doubt that he wouldn’t be able to please the audience, no matter what he did that night. Ned had braced himself for Gordon’s assertive approach to managing him, yet the man had barely uttered more than a few words. Despite micromanaging everyone else, as the new lead actor, Ned felt almost as if he was going into the whole thing blind. Gordon stood behind him as the music began to rumble into life, placing his hand on Ned’s shoulder just before his cue. The role had been Gordon’s once, many, many years ago. Perhaps he felt like he knew how Ned was feeling. “Welcome to the club,” he whispered, grinning excitedly and nudging Ned onto the stage.

If Ned could have found the words to describe the feeling as he acted on stage that night, his explanation would have been akin to the accounts of out-of-body experiences. It was as if he no longer needed to recall the lines of dialogue; like they simply flowed through his body. His movements did not feel like his own; his walk and stature had altered. It was as if he embodied the character and had no control over any of it at all. In the papers the next morning, they would criticise him for mimicking Chris’ performance to the very last detail, but in Ned’s mind, the only thing he had actually done was to step out onto that stage. Everything else had been autopilot.

Unlike the final show of every other production Ned had ever been in, the mood that night was too low to celebrate afterwards. People hugged backstage and collected all their things, knowing that they would not have an opportunity to do so at any other time. Meanwhile, after all the obligatory praise, Ned headed back into the main dressing room as if his mind had drifted below a dense fog. He simply sat in his chair, staring at his reflection in the mirror. What on earth had come over him?

Half an hour later, a drunken Gordon came skipping into the room, holding a glass of champagne for himself. “You did wonderfully!” he beamed at Ned, despite the fact that Ned had already been told that Gordon hadn’t seen a moment of it; too busy celebrating backstage. “And now, no one else will perform this play for many decades to come!” he beamed. “‘The Curse of Deansgate’ has struck again! An incomplete run, just like every other time it’s been attempted. No financial backers will go near it again,” he laughed, as if this had all been such a vast, cunning plan from the very beginning.

“Everything worked out pretty well for you, though,” Ned managed to utter, catching the scent of something sweet down the corridor and suddenly feeling remarkably hungry.

“Even better than I expected,” Gordon nodded emphatically, running his hand down his surprisingly deflated gut. “But the curse has never been about financial ruin, has it?” he laughed. “The curse has always been something much more insidious. I taught that arrogant fuck a lesson and got a very decent payout at the same time.” He looked at his reflection in the mirror, seeming pleased with what he saw. “It’s been a very successful few weeks!”

“You never really did forgive Chris, did you?” Ned asked, feeling the strangest sense of familiarity with Gordon. The man’s last words to him before he had gone on stage had been to welcome him to the Deansgate ‘club’ and now that Ned was there, he felt as if he could ask Gordon anything and be told the exact truth.

Goron closed the door that he had been propping open with his large body and stepped inside so that he could not be overheard. “Of course not,” he laughed. “And you sealed your fate the moment you started sucking him off back here after each performance.” He looked down at Ned disapprovingly. “You’re a serious actor. You should have known better than that!” he scolded him. “Perhaps I should have fired you then and saved you from all this.”

Ned dropped his head. Gordon was certainly right there.

“I hadn’t ever planned to let you take the lead. But when Chris Peterson’s management figured things out, the opportunity to throw you under the bus was simply too easy.” He looked down at Ned with triumph dancing in his eyes. “Lay down with dogs and you get fleas.”

“What did they figure out?” Ned asked, having the strangest feeling that the way his mind was so clouded at that moment was all related to something much larger.

“Here,” Gordon grunted, reaching into his pocket and pulling something out. “I’ve been told to give you this.”

An envelope was thrown into Ned’s lap without Gordon even making an effort to step forwards. Ned opened it up and found a plane ticket to Los Angeles, departing at 2.05am.

“Lover Boy wants to see you!” Gordon explained, holding back a snarl.

Silently, Ned felt elated. From the moment he’d read that Chris had left New York, he had believed that their fling was over. Now he was realising that he hadn’t been forgotten after all. “Well, I guess there’s no point in sticking around here these next few days, anyway” he sighed, looking around the dressing room he would have to vacat shortly.

“No, I quite agree,” Gordon smirked. “I’ll message him to let him know that you’re on your way.” He placed his hand on Ned’s shoulder. “Now that you’re the very latest Gentleman of Deansgate instead, I have a feeling that you’re about to meet the real Chris Peterson at long last…”

Ned felt eyes on him the entire time as he made his way to the airport and flew across the country, not really knowing what was going to happen when he finally arrived. In the arrivals lounge, a driver was waiting, holding up a banner with his name written across it. Ned’s only backpack was taken off his shoulders as he made his way to the expensive car that was to carry him away.

They pulled up forty minutes later at the most obscene residence, overlooking the Hollywood hills. The whole residence seemed llavish beyond words. Unlike the chill of a New York winter, the sun shone gently on Ned’s face and he sighed in appreciation at his own good fortune.

A member of Chris’ extensive team came straight out to greet him, ushering him inside almost as if he was expecting a team of photographers to ambush them from the gates . Everywhere was pristine and surprisingly immaculate, from the large marble pillars to the extensive windows at the back of the property, overlooking an enormous swimming pool and the incredible view across the valley.

Ned sat down at the large breakfast bar in the kitchen, where pastries and snacks filled several plates for the members of Chris’ entourage. He was told to help himself whilst the man left the room to let Chris know that he had arrived. Whilst Ned ate, he heard the splash of someone emerging from the pool and suddenly saw the large, looming shape of Chris Peterson marching across the terrace towards the expansive kitchen. Dressed in only his swim shorts with a towel lazily draped over his shoulders, Chris moved with an assertive speed that Ned had not seen from him before; although, his fat stomach popped out in front of him, firm and rounded under his large pecs.

“Excellent!” Chris cheered, spotting Ned and striding straight over to place his hands on his secret lover’s shoulders as he ate. Chris’ strong fingers massaged Ned’s shoulders, not offering any other sign of affection, most likely because his team were all so close by. “Did anyone see him arriving?” Chris asked someone behind them.

“No, sir. It was all very fast and discreet,” replied a deep masculine voice.

“Good,” Chris replied, his hands massaging more softly now and leaning in to whisper into Ned’s ear. “I bet you’re hungry after all that travelling.”

Chris suddenly stood bolt upright and marched about once more, heading to the refrigerator and pulling out as many things as he could.

“Sir, sir…” counselled a woman from his staff. “You don’t need to do that. We’ve got this covered. You can head back to the pool. We’ll look after Ned.”

Chris looked across at Ned, as if calculating whether he could trust his entourage to do what they were promising. “Fine,” he spat, turning around and marching straight out, clearly in a mood about something. “But I need results. I need all of this mess sorting out now!”

Coming down from the high of his great performance the night before was almost impossible. Ned had hardly slept at all on the plane and he had the remarkable feeling of being almost drunk. Time seemed like nothing at all as Chris’ friendly team fussed around him. He was led out onto the terrace to watch Chris’ gruelling swimming training with his coach. Every now and then, the unnecessarily angry actor would call out to his team any time he looked up and saw that Ned wasn’t being looked after with something to eat or drink.

“You’ve got one fucking job!” he yelled from the pool, making them all rush about to serve Ned something else.

Ned was half asleep when he heard Chris’ voice mumbling around him. “Fucking wake him up then!” he ordered one of his team, before huffing and coming over himself. “Ned… Neddy…” he called out in a voice that was barely soothing. “It’s dinner time, buddy!”

Ned opened his eyes.

“He’s awake,” Chris nodded to two guys, who promptly lifted the back of Ned’s deckchair up so that he was sitting upright. “It’s time to eat now, buddy,” Chris explained to Ned, like he was a toddler, using the kindest voice he had heard from him all day. “Mmmm! Look at all this!” he cooed, as a perfect height table was rolled underneath the deck chair so that a table sat just in front of Ned, loaded with different items.

Overcome with hunger, Ned set to work without questioning any of it. Once food was in front of him, nothing else seemed to matter.

“Good. This is good,” Chris nodded again at his team, as he looked back and forth between them and Ned. “He seems to like this the best,” he pointed at one of the dishes, as if that was a cue for them to get more.

Faced with so much food, Ned found it hard to concentrate. He was given large, chocolate flavoured drinks that were thick and almost difficult to swallow, however Chris seemed to nod his head in approval each time Ned managed to get one down.

Ned wished that everyone else would disappear. He felt so uncontrollably horny for Chris, yet there were always people around, making it impossible for them to come together. Something about the food seemed almost… erotic. He’d never felt this way before, nor eaten so much in only a few short hours; although he wasn’t quite sure how much that was.

As night time approached, Chris entered Ned’s bedroom carrying a large tray of doughnuts. “A little treat before bed!” he winked charmingly, throwing them down on the mattress.

Ned felt his body lunge for them and he began stuffing the first one into his mouth. Chris hopped on beside him, throwing his arm over Ned’s shoulders like they were old friends, rather than lovers.

“That fucking play, huh?” he grumbled to Ned as the guy ate. “Gordon did us both dirty with that one… and I had no fucking idea!” he laughed, like he had had some lucky escape. “That’s why it’s always important to have people looking out for you behind the scenes. That could have been the end of my whole career!”

Chris noticed a large piece of Ned’s third doughnut break off as the houseguest ate a little too fast. Chris picked it up, not caring about the sticky icing that had spread across the sheets, but keen that Ned should get it down him.

“I’m afraid I’m not going to try and stop you eating, like you did with me.” He looked down at his own, stout gut and sighed. “Look at all this!” he complained, grabbing a large wedge of it. “How the hell did you ever let me fuck you, looking like this? It’s disgusting!”

“You’re beautiful,” Ned mumbled through a mouthful of food, spitting a little out.

Chris tutted and exhaled in frustration. “You’re wasting it!” he growled in annoyance. Getting more fed up when Ned tried to apologise and did the same thing again. “Look, just sit back a bit more and let me take care of this,” he insisted, handing Ned yet another doughnut and feeling his hand into the eager guy’s crotch, grabbing at the hardness, but not stroking until Ned started to eat.

Ned had never known bliss like it: the tastes on his tongue and the pleasure down below. Each time he swallowed and opened his mouth to moan, in went a fresh doughnut. There were multiple points when he felt like he could have climaxed, yet Chris seemed to hold him back until the very last moment. He came, feeling like a strong jet had erupted from his groin, opening his eyes moments later to see Chris dropping the emptied doughnut tray onto the floor and wiping his hands on the bed sheets. “Was that nice?” he asked, returning to that slightly patronising tone.

Ned nodded, feeling utterly spent.

“Good,” Chris smiled. “Would you like the same again tomorrow?” Chris asked, like he was trying to bargain something out of Ned. So when Ned nodded, stuffed full of food and bloated, the man couldn’t help but chuckle, heading back to his own master suite.

Chris had lost weight. With all his training and determination, Ned had never seen a belly shrink so quickly. Yet, over the coming days, he felt an onslaught of fat begin to slide onto his own stomach, inflating it with softness in an unnaturally speedy manner. Sometimes he would wake from an afternoon nap to find a measuring tape had been wrapped around his arm or thigh, by a member of Chris’ staff; no one seeming in the least bit surprised at the sudden transformation, despite monitoring it closely.

Ned knew he should be paying more attention to his body. But food was everywhere and his brain felt like it was in such a fog. Dressed only in a pair of swim shorts, he couldn’t detect a stretching in his clothes, nor remember where he had even put his cell phone to communicate with the rest of the world outside of Chris’ incredible house. Nothing he seemed to do from that point on appeared to annoy Chris, with the man’s face lighting up each time he saw a shirtless Ned lazily trotting towards the breakfast bar to eat. The other staff were relaxing too, with fewer of them there in the day now. The ‘crisis mode’ of the previous week was now over.

Chris lifted his arm and still felt a slight stubborn clinging of fat around his love handles. “Do you want some ice cream?” he asked Ned, as if this would somehow remedy the problem. Without waiting for an answer, he headed over to the freezer to fetch it and dumped the complete tub in front of Ned, along with a large spoon.

Back Chris went to the mirror, turning and flexing, all the while keeping a watchful eye on Ned.

“It’s almost time for you to go home soon,” he smiled. “A couple more days and things should have worked themselves out.”

“I don’t think I want to go home,” Ned replied, feeling his heart sink.

Chris laughed and came over to pat his chubby friend on his back. “I know. I know,” he smiled. “But what am I supposed to do with you once I’m back to my old shape?” He looked down at Ned’s shirtless body and seemed to grimace at the rolls of fresh blubber along his side. “You’ll just be getting more and more out of shape and I don’t really want that hanging around outside by the pool.” He ruffled Ned’s hair playfully. “I’m sure you can understand that,” he laughed, pulling a fresh bottle of water out from the refrigerator and sliding a bowl of potato chips closer to Ned instead. Then, off he went onto the terrace, diving into his pool once more.

Ned didn’t see Chris after that. The guy had disappeared later that afternoon after a lucrative advertising deal had emerged. He read later on that Chris had claimed his appearance in the play had been caused by some form of abdominal distension, unrelated to weight gain. Several so-called ‘experts’ disputed that, but when the hunk reappeared in beach shots looking just as fit as ever only a few days later, all other explanations seemed to be implausible.

No such rapid recovery came for Ned, however. Once home, his ravenous appetite seemed to consume him and he was dropped by his agent only six months later after piling on a ridiculous amount of weight in that period. And, although he could never prove it, Ned always had a suspicion that Chris Peterson’s team had been at least partly behind his declining career; desperately wanting to reduce his influence after everything that had happened with their golden boy.

Ned’s handsome face seemed to bloat and his chiselled jawline was engulfed and framed by an unflattering amount of neck fat. His pecs drooped within a month and his stomach fat swelled into a giant ball of surprisingly squishy blubber. Pants were hard to come by, given how wide his rear had become after the first year. Ned found that he had to detach himself from his old life and form something new; taking inspiration from the only other man he had known to have gone through the same experience….

It was thirty years later when Ned sat in the same old theatre where they had performed ‘The Gentleman of Deansgate’ all those years ago. It had taken him decades to finance a new run and convince his investors. But, at long last, the show was ready to audition the lead roles.

Years ago, after Ned had had time to think and understand it all, unemployed and gaining pounds and pounds of lard by the day, he wrote it all down; every last detail of that play he would one day hope to direct: the lighting, the sound, the timings, the instruments. He didn’t know which parts were important to whatever power fuelled the curse that he had lived with for so long; transforming him into the gluttonous man he had been all these years. Everything had to be perfect.

“I’m very grateful to you for coming all the way over here to audition,” Ned smiled at the handsome, young hopeful standing on the stage: the image of his beautiful father.

“I’m very flattered that you wanted me,” the athletic twenty-seven year old replied. “I believe you were the understudy for my father when he performed here? It was his only Broadway appearance.”

“Yes, yes,” Ned nodded. “That seems like a lifetime ago!” he lied. “And I’m sure your father would be very proud to see you standing there now, ready to fill his shoes,” he smiled, pretending to be sorry that Chris Peterson’s drug-fuelled car crash had claimed his life five years earlier.

The audition went well; not that Ned had ever seriously considered anyone else for the role. Revenge could come in many forms, but few as sweet as this poor boy.

“I think this show is going to be a huge success!” Ned grinned, eyeing his new lead actor’s cute butt as he skipped out of the theatre having just signed a watertight contract. “I can’t wait to get started!”

#gay feedee #gainerstory #gayfeeder #gayfeedee #gainerfic #gainer stories #gainer story #gainer fiction #gainerstories #gainer fic

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thbbie · 1 month ago

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༄ teachers pet!nanami x professor!reader. (poll)

this isn't how he gets the grades that he does. no no, kento is a good student — a great student; hardworking and diligent.

incredibly dedicated too. both to his education and to his educator. to you. it's his own future that he's looking out for after all.

you'll lie through your teeth, swearing up and down that you don't have a favourite student,

so when kento nanami, you're star student, who always first to respond to a question, always first to turn in an exam or assignment, the one with the nearest notes, the one that gets to class earliest and always leaves last, has you propped up on the wooden desk of your office, your cute pencil skirt hiked up your waist and the buttons of your blouse undone, hair gone astray in every direction — you hardly look like the respected professor you are.

kento holds one of your legs at his hip, leaning his weight the other to support himself on your desk as he plunges himself into you repeatedly, hips angled to hit the spot inside you that makes you mewl into his shoulder, biting your face into the crock of his neck where the shirt he wears is unbuttoned to expose the smooth expanse of his skin.

"such a dirty professor i've got hmm? letting your favourite student have you in this way"

"not- fuck. not my favourite. kento."

his thrusts are rough, each harder than the last but they're slow. punctuated by the pauses in between. sliding his whole length into you, meeting your hips with a harsh smack, pausing for just an instant so you really feel him deep in your guts. pulling out of you slow like nothing in the world could rush him. nothing could be more important.

it's driving you mad.

because he just might be your favourite, kento nanami just might be more. and that's what you swore to yourself wouldn't happen. it's the condition you'd set for yourself before getting involved in this.. this arrangement with him.

"to thank you" he'd said, something about him being grateful to you. brushing it off as a drunken mistake would be easier, despite of course the crucial point being that you weren't. neither of you were.

it wasn't something he just sprung on you one day, nanami built it, this tension — your.. entanglement, he built it by hand, brick by bricking easing you into him.

kind words and tender looks. he was a great student but that wasn't the extent of it. kento was dedicated to his studies and equally as dedicated to you. he paid attention to you. learning all the little things there are to know about you. he even notices your off days, when your voice carries behind it the tired weight of that day, that week.

kento knows you.

and shit you might love him.

"come back to me. focus on me" and you try. each of his thrusts feel as though they somehow are getting deeper with each slow harsh snap of his hips.

the length of him hit and heavy against your walls, massaging them tenderly with his blunt tip kissing at your cervix. you wanna focus on him, to believe that in little cramped space of your office this is okay.

gripping him by the collar of his half buttoned shirt, eyes wet from pleasure and the thoughts that won't leave you, you want him to quell them for me. "kento nanami i need you to kiss me"

you melt into it, both his hands coming up to cup your face. you wrap your legs around him, hooking your ankles just above his ass. his hips flow, nearly stopping, the movement stuttered by the kiss you share. it feels like more than just a kiss; a confession. pure and honest and starved.

kento thinks you might be eating him alive. are you even aware of the effect you have on him?

his blonde locks falling over his face, tickling your own when you reluctantly break the kiss for air. sweaty foreheads resting against each other. the words dance in the tip of his tongue.

quiet with the sounds of his hips against yours rattling the desk and your mingling moans. kento looks deep in your eyes, it's unlike him to yearn so desperately for something so improper and yet he does.

"say my name again"

"kento na-"

"just my name. shit- .please [name]"

he's ruined. completely and utterly ruined for anyone else.

pushing your thoughts aside 'just enjoy this now.' you take kentos foggy glasses, hanging low on his nose and put them on your own face, throwing him a sly grin. "please kento." unsure of what your asking for but it seems to have done the trick.

his head thrown back and hips speeding, he pulls you closer into himself, handling you oh so delicately. the most precious thing hes ever held.

"i'm gonna- fuhhck~"

that's the only warning you get before nanami spills inside you, panting harshly, trying to regain control of himself. how embarrassing, he thinks looking down at himself still buried deep in you.

part of him doesn't want to look up to find the insufferable smirk he knows is on your lips, but he does anyway. sharp angular face flushed a deep rouge. his glasses are still on your face, leaning your body back on your hands.

disheveled and slicked in sweat you're still the most beautiful person he's ever seen. maybe especially when you're like this.

then it dawns on him; you're yet to cum.

and kento (in his opinion) would hardly be worth the title of your favourite if he can't so much as make you cum. make you lose yourself in him completely.

he pulls out of you slow, dragging his length out of you and dropping to his knees in front of you watching how his seed spills out of you. he doesn't feel all that embarrassed having seen the visual, atoring the image safely in his brain. "kento what are you- ahh"

throwing your thighs over his shoulders, caging himself between them, kento dives in nose first. his honey brown eyes glued to you the entire time as he does. sucking his own release out of you. after all, it would be irresponsible of him to do otherwise.

the bitter taste of himself not bothering him, accompanied by your sweetness, your smell; kento thinks it's actually rather pleasant.

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deliciousangelfestival · 18 days ago

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Her Turn Now - 4

Character: CEO!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Summary: Twin sisters. Opposite worlds. The eldest is a tough, no-nonsense soldier. The youngest is a quiet, hardworking corporate girl. They rarely meet—until the younger sister collapses from stress, hiding months of workplace bullying.

Furious and protective, the soldier twin trades places with her. Heels off, boots on. Now, the office has no idea what's coming.

She doesn’t play nice. She doesn’t play fair. And while she's serving justice in a pencil skirt, the ruthless CEO starts to take notice…

Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on Ko-fi 🙏🏻

Chapter 1 , Chapter 2 , Chapter 3 , Chapter 4 , Chapter 5 , Chapter 6 , -

The next morning, Bucky couldn’t shake the gnawing feeling in his gut. There was something… different. Levi sat across from him in his office, looking calm, composed, and almost stronger. He squinted slightly, watching the subtle changes.

Could the doctor have given her some kind of vitamin boost? Or was it something else entirely?

As they discussed the department's remaining issues, Bucky casually leaned back in his chair, folding his arms as if relaxing. But his words were careful, calculated.

"You know," he began with a light smile, "ZENES is having a concert next week."

The name hit you like a spark. ZENES? So that was where he was steering this. Testing you. Of course, you knew the band. Levi had recommended a few of their songs years ago, mostly their quieter acoustic tracks. It wasn’t a mainstream group; only a small circle followed them.

You nodded, steady and easy. "Oh, ZENES? Yeah, I saw that on my feed this morning. Their new live album's actually decent. Not as good as their studio stuff, but I guess that’s normal." You smiled faintly, trying to layer your answer with just enough detail to sound natural.

Bucky's eyes softened slightly, as if you’d passed some invisible test.

He smiled back. "Yeah, you're right. The studio version’s cleaner."

But beneath his nod, the weight in his gaze remained. He was still watching.

As the morning moved on, you carefully followed the routine Levi had described. But one misstep nearly slipped through.

You placed a cup of hot tea beside him after lunch. No matcha today. He glanced down at the steaming cup and then back at you, brow slightly furrowed.

"You didn’t have your matcha this morning," he said gently. "You always drink it first thing."

Your heart skipped. Another test. You kept your tone casual, almost dismissive.

"Doctor’s orders," you replied, waving your hand. "No sweet drinks while I’m taking the new meds. Matcha’s off the list for now."

Bucky gave a small, apologetic laugh, shaking his head. "Right. Silly me. I forgot."

You could feel his eyes lingering for a moment longer than necessary. Testing. Always testing.

Stay calm. You knew this game.

When the day wound down, both of you made your way to the lobby. The moment the glass doors slid open, chaos greeted you. A crowd of journalists and camera crews swarmed outside, blocking the exit. Microphones shot forward like spears.

"Mr. Barnes, is it true your negligence caused thirty employees to be hospitalized?"

"Is it true the Planning Department was operating under unsafe conditions?"

"What about the fire? Are you responsible for those homes being destroyed?"

Bucky tensed beside you. His jaw locked. The camera flashes reflected off his suit, making him blink rapidly.

Before he could speak, you stepped forward. Years of military drills made the weight of camera equipment and microphones nothing compared to the field gear you'd carried.

"Back off," you said firmly, raising your hand. You pushed a reporter aside with practiced ease, forcing a path forward. Your voice stayed calm but cutting. "You’re obstructing company business. Step back."

Bucky stood frozen, eyes wide. He wasn’t used to seeing Levi move like that.

Once you were past the crowd, you let out a small wince, placing a hand on your shoulder. "Ah... I think I pulled something," you said, adding a weak smile for effect.

It was bad acting. Even the nearest cameraman arched an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. But it worked well enough. The reporters eased off, sensing the scene was dying.

Inside the safety of the car, Bucky let out a long breath, still looking at you like you were something unfamiliar.

"You okay?" he asked softly.

You gave a faint nod, keeping your eyes forward.

"I’m fine. Just a little sore."

****

The car hummed softly as the city lights blurred past the window. For a few moments, it was calm, until Bucky’s phone lit up again. He sighed before answering. You watched his jaw tense, his hand gripping the phone a little tighter than before.

"Yeah," he said flatly.

The voice on the other end was loud enough that you could hear bits of it leaking through. His stepbrothers. Again.

"Bucky, you really screwed up this time. The board is furious. The press won’t stop talking about the hospitalizations and the fires. Do you have any idea how bad this looks for the company? Dad’s ready to let you take the blame for all of it."

Bucky's lips tightened into a hard line. He stayed silent, letting them vent.

"You always wanted control, didn’t you? Well, congratulations. When the company falls apart, it’s all on you."

The call ended with a sharp click. He didn’t say a word for a while, staring out the window as if the darkness outside might offer him some kind of answer.

"What an asshole," you muttered, breaking the tense silence.

That pulled a faint, tired smile from him. "They all are."

"So you're just gonna sit here and let them mock you like that?" you pressed, your tone sharper than you intended. You couldn’t help it. Watching him quietly absorb all of their cruelty—it stirred something inside you. The part of you trained never to back down.

He glanced at you, the faintest amusement flickering in his eyes. "I feel like my drill sergeant is sitting beside me."

His words caught you off guard, and for a second, your breath hitched. He wasn’t supposed to say something like that. Was he… noticing?

You quickly covered, refusing to let your face betray you. "Well," you said, forcing your tone light, "after months of being bullied, I’ve learned to stop being quiet. Sometimes you’ve got to fight back."

He let out a low chuckle, his eyes still studying you as if searching for something beneath the surface. But he said nothing more.

"They want to remove me from the succession," he finally said, breaking the silence.

You turned your head, your gaze steady. "Your brothers?"

He nodded, his jaw clenched. "They're the ones who sent those journalists and reporters. Stirring the pot. Making sure my name stays tangled in the mess."

A quiet breath escaped you. "Do you know their weakness?"

He allowed himself a dry chuckle, eyes narrowing on the road ahead. "Of course. Being the outcast had its advantages. No one acknowledged me, but that meant they never cared to hide anything when I was around. I've heard and seen more than they realize."

You tilted your head, voice sharper now. "Then use it."

For a moment, Bucky glanced at you, his brows raised as if taken aback by your boldness. "Levi... you're kind of straightforward tonight."

"Being silent because of the bullying made me quit being silent," you said simply, voice calm but laced with something steel-like beneath. Your gaze returned to the window, but you felt his eyes linger on you a second longer.

He didn’t reply, but his thoughts raced. She’s different. Stronger. There was a depth to you now that hadn’t been there before. Or maybe… had he never seen it before? His grip on the wheel tightened as her words repeated in his head like a steady drumbeat.

Later that night, those words rang even louder.

Alone in his apartment, the city stretching endlessly outside his windows, Bucky sat at his desk. The screen of his laptop glowed in the dark. Enough. He'd had enough.

He opened file after file, digging into years of hidden scandals, offshore accounts, and quiet backdoor deals his stepbrothers thought were buried. All things he had heard in whispers, half-conversations, or drunken confessions they thought meant nothing.

One by one, he compiled everything. Every dirty secret, every transaction. Then he hit send.

By morning, the house of cards came crashing down. Their father’s furious voice echoed across the halls of the Barnes estate. His stepbrothers stood in front of him, pale and defeated. Disappointment burned in Mr. Barnes’ eyes as he stared at his sons.

"You’ve disgraced this family," their father said coldly.

And just like that, Bucky had flipped the board they tried to control.

******

A week slipped by, and only one week remained.

Surprisingly, the days spent with Bucky had become… pleasant. You shared quiet conversations over coffee, brief glances filled with unspoken words, and even the occasional bursts of laughter that made your heart tighten unexpectedly.

An invitation came.

The private house party was on a scale you hadn’t yet experienced. A helicopter waited for them on the rooftop, blades slicing the air as Bucky guided you toward it.

The weather had turned moody, dark clouds swirling above as the helicopter lifted off. Wind buffeted the aircraft, making it sway. The pilot’s voice shook slightly through the intercom. "Wind speeds are picking up, sir."

You calmly leaned forward, placing a hand on the pilot’s shoulder. "Steady on your pitch. Keep your nose slightly higher against the crosswind. Let the updrafts help you, not fight you."

The pilot blinked but nodded, following your calm instructions. The helicopter stabilized, cutting through the sky with surprising ease.

Bucky stared at you, utterly stunned. "You know aviation?" he asked, voice laced with disbelief.

You realized you may have slipped. You forced a soft laugh. "Our dad used to teach us a little bit of everything. He says it’s good for survival."

Bucky nodded, but a flicker of suspicion passed behind his eyes.

The mansion came into view. No, mansion wasn’t even the word. It was more like a private empire. Several helicopters rested on the pads, yachts floated lazily in the nearby private harbor. A different level of rich entirely.

The host greeted them with a wide grin, clapping Bucky on the shoulder and offering you both cigars. Bucky politely declined, but you took one.

You studied the cigar for a moment, fingers feeling its familiar texture before lighting it expertly. The rich aroma filled your lungs, and you exhaled slowly, savoring it.

The host laughed, clearly impressed. "Most ladies I meet don’t handle a cigar like that."

You smiled sheepishly. "Sometimes, after coming home for Christmas, I share one with my father. He enjoys the expensive ones."

The host’s laughter grew heartier, his impression of you warming instantly. Bucky, however, remained silent beside you, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly. Levi never smoked. Not even a puff.

The party swirled around you in glittering conversations and empty politeness. The buzz of forced laughter, clinking glasses, and backhanded compliments grated on your nerves. After a while, you slipped away from the main crowd and found your refuge near a grand marble fountain.

You sat quietly, staring at the ripples in the water, lost in thought. Moments later, you heard footsteps approach.

Bucky sat beside you, his posture relaxed but his gaze quietly observing.

"These kinds of parties always exhaust me," you admitted softly.

He smiled faintly. "You and me both."

The silence settled between you before he spoke again. "You remember back in college? That tiny bar outside the campus. The one with the old upright piano in the corner?"

Your breath caught slightly. Careful.

"You used to play there sometimes," he continued. "Mostly late nights. I remember one night... you played ‘The Winter Waltz.’"

The memory tugged at something inside you. That night wasn’t Levi’s. That had been you. You were the one who had played that song, sneaking out after drills.

You gave him a faint smile. "I never could resist that song. The melody always stuck with me."

Bucky’s eyes locked onto yours for a heartbeat longer than necessary. The suspicion was there, quietly blooming behind his gaze. He didn’t say it aloud. But he knew.

Not Levi. Still, he stayed quiet.

*******

The sunlight poured gently through the tall windows of the McCain house as laughter echoed down the grand staircase. Levi had been getting stronger these past few weeks. The hollowness in her cheeks had filled in, her eyes brighter, her steps lighter. She was regaining herself, piece by piece.

Downstairs, the familiar voices of your team filled the living room. Casey, Ortiz, and Dom had arrived after being summoned by David. Their banter filled the air, making the house feel less like a hospital and more like home.

Levi took a deep breath, smoothing her sweater before stepping into the room.

Casey was the first to spot her, nudging Ortiz with a mischievous grin. They both fought back their laughter the moment Dom turned toward her, utterly oblivious since he didn't join when you rushed to the hospital.

Dom stepped forward confidently, his usual wide grin on his face as if greeting you.

"Boss," he said with a nod, his tone light but confused. "You look... different today."

Levi blinked at him, holding back a chuckle. "You don’t know, do you?"

Dom tilted his head. "Know what?"

"I'm your boss's younger sister," Levi said, her voice calm but amused.

Dom squinted, glancing back and forth between her, Casey, and Ortiz, trying to catch the joke. "Boss… you told me you have a younger sister."

"I am the youngest," Levi clarified, crossing her arms, a playful glint in her eyes.

Dom still stood there, completely frozen, as if his brain refused to process what he was seeing. His gaze shifted from Levi, to Casey, to Ortiz, then finally landed on the family photo displayed on the mantle. His jaw dropped.

"What?!"

Laughter erupted around the room, Casey doubling over, Ortiz wiping his eyes, even David chuckling as he stood with arms crossed, silently enjoying the scene. Levi couldn’t help but laugh too, shaking her head as Dom finally threw his hands up in defeat.

"You’ll catch up, Dom," Casey teased.

As the laughter died down, Levi’s phone buzzed. She glanced at the screen. A new notification. A photo from one of the business party blogs.

The image displayed you standing beside Bucky at the party, his hand resting lightly on your lower back as he leaned closer to say something in your ear. You were laughing, your head slightly tilted toward him. The intimacy of the photo was subtle but undeniable.

Levi’s stomach tightened. She forced herself to breathe, but something inside her simmered, an unfamiliar ache twisting through her chest.

Without thinking, she dialed your number.

The phone buzzed again in your hand. You had been expecting it—dreading it, really.

You answered softly.

“Hey.”

You closed your eyes for a moment, your chest tightening. You had rehearsed this conversation in your head so many times, but now that it was happening, it felt heavier than you imagined.

Levi’s voice came through, calm but carrying a weight you could feel even across the distance.

“I’m ready to come back.”

“Okay.” You forced a smile, even though she couldn’t see it. “The office is running smoothly. He’s… waiting for you.”

“I know.” Her voice stayed calm and patient. Not accusing. Just… knowing.

There was a pause on the other end. Neither of you spoke for a few seconds. She was giving you room to say it, but you didn’t want to. Not directly. Instead, your voice softened.

“It’s… harder than I thought, Levi.”

“Okay.” Her answer was quiet, but final. “Thank you.”

That almost broke you more than if she had been.

“I packed my things,” you added quickly. “I’ll head back to base tonight. Everything’s ready for you to step back in tomorrow.”

The call ended.

You sat there for a while, the silence of the room pressing down on you. Your heart felt tight, heavier with every passing second. It was painful, not because you were leaving the job, but because you were leaving him.

You quietly slipped out of the apartment that night, heading back toward your military base, carrying with you the weight of everything you didn’t say.

You zipped the last part of your bag shut, took one long breath, and stood up.

Duty first. Always.

******

The next morning, Levi stood before the mirror, smoothing the wrinkles on her blouse and brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Her heart fluttered with excitement and nerves. Today was her first day back at the office. After everything that happened, after everything her sister had done for her—it was finally her turn again.

She stepped into the company lobby, head held high. Familiar faces greeted her, though most didn’t notice anything different. She offered polite smiles and short nods as she made her way to her department.

When she entered Bucky’s office, he looked up from his paperwork and smiled.

"Morning, Levi."

"Morning," she replied softly, her voice calm and steady.

At first glance, everything seemed perfectly normal. But as minutes turned into hours, something began to gnaw at Bucky. The energy around her felt… different. The usual spark, that subtle sharpness he had grown accustomed to over the past few weeks, wasn’t there.

Instead, Levi carried a calm, more reserved demeanor—one that he vaguely remembered from before all the chaos. It was familiar, yes, but something was off.

Then came lunch.

As always, Levi walked to the break counter, humming faintly. She pulled out her usual matcha set—the one she had insisted on using every single afternoon.

The soft whisking sound filled the room, the earthy aroma of matcha drifting through the air.

Bucky stared at the cup in her hand, his mind racing. His chest tightened as realization struck.

This was Levi.

The real Levi.

His brows furrowed slightly as he closed the file in front of him. His eyes never left her.

"Levi?"

"Hmm?" She glanced over her shoulder, flashing him a soft smile.

His throat felt tight for a moment, but he forced the words out. "Where is your sister?"

Levi's hand paused, mid-stir. Her smile faltered, just for a brief second, but enough for Bucky to catch it. She straightened, placing the cup on the counter carefully.

"I…" she started, but no quick lie formed on her lips. She knew she was caught.

The room suddenly felt smaller, quieter.

Bucky leaned back in his chair, studying her with quiet intensity. His voice softened, but the weight of his words pressed into the space between them.

"I’ve known for a while," he admitted. "Or at least, I’ve suspected. You two may look identical, but you feel different. She didn’t drink matcha. She liked tea after lunch. She handled my brothers like a soldier, not like you. And yesterday, at the party…"

He let the sentence hang in the air, unfinished, heavy.

Levi lowered her gaze, guilt flickering behind her eyes.

"I didn’t want to drag her into this," she whispered.

"But she chose to be dragged in for you," Bucky replied gently.

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itstheghostofmypast · 1 year ago

Text

Big Stupid

Highschool AU Choi San x (F)Reader

Summary: He wasn't the brightest, but he sure was hardworking, especially when it came down to spending some time with his girl. But one thing was sure, no one could hurt his queen.

Genre: Fluff

Rating: PG-17

Warnings: Implied Bullying

Word Count: 2.6k

Est.Read Time: 13 min

Networks: @cromernet @k-labels @illusionnet

Banner: @cafekitsune

Quietly, ever so delicately she nestled between his spread-out legs, his entire frame occupying most of her single bed. It amazed her how he'd be able to make her bed look small, well, he often amazed her, there were moments though, where she'd wish he didn't, he didn't do something that would catch her by surprise.

"Hold still." She whispered, moving closer, not acknowledging the hands on her waist, too focused on his cheek. At any other given moment, this position would have had her blushing mad, just the thought of him being in her room, having her little brother constantly opening the door to check up on her when he'd hear her squealing in her pillow, only to roll his eyes and close the door again.

He nodded at her statement, but did not divert his gaze, instead his sharp eyes were settled on her soft features, flickering to every freckle, every twitch of her lips, to the way her eyes were trembling- with fear? Truth be told he didn't mean for it to happen, especially not after he worked so hard to get closer to her, to get in the same stupid class as her- even if it was just one class.

"Don't...look at me like that." She whispered, turning to reach across his thigh, picking up the bright pink box of plasters she sighed, turning to face him again, something bubbling within her, swirling with the feelings she often kept locked away, but he was making it difficult for her, especially after what had happened tonight, the conflict within her was on full boil, the inner turmoil. Should she be upset with him or should she feel flattered? Was he not worried about himself- should she be worried about him? But should she feel this way towards someone who broke their promise? Was it fair with her-

“Are you…mad at me?”

Eyes flickering up to meet him, catching the cracked glass of his frames, relieved it hadn’t shattered, saving his eye- this moron.

The words left hanging between them, hands ripping the paper of the little bandaids, part of her emergency kit, never thinking she’d be using her cute heart plasters on him- she was no medic, but she had to do something to stop the bruising, were the plasters enough? No? Yes? Love always makes things better, no?

Love.

That’s what it was, wasn’t it, had her hands clammy and sweaty, fingers gripping onto his blazer to hold him back when they had come too close for comfort, gut twisting when he had landed on the ground, surrounded by them, sneakers padding across the moist ground, voice shrilling through cold silent night, knees scraping against the ground, crystal droplets clinging onto the lashes of the ‘independent, smart and perfect’ class president, meeting the curious eyes of the newest addition in her life- the big stupid- watching him slowly rise from the ground with a victory smile, as if he had not just been socked in the face, as if they were not surrounded by the same hooligans who had been the bane of her existence for the past few months- only for the verbal assault to turn somewhat physical, somewhat stalker-like, somewhat scary.

Truth be told, she was more afraid of the way he had looked at her at that moment, than she was when they had followed her to the empty park, the way he had sat up, slowly reaching for her face, cupping her warm, wet cheek, thumb stroking the skin, the way he had whispered how he was sorry for what he was about to do, the way he had broken his promise, that bat of his coming back into the picture- her big stupid.

“Y-you said you won’t get into anymore fights…” she mumbled, gently sticking the plaster on his cheek, smoothening it with the tip of her finger, before repeating the motion with a new plaster, this time on his chin, her other palm flat against his shoulder, pressing him into the baby pink fluffy pillows, the same pillows he’d love to rest his head on when he ever came by to study- only to float into wonderland, flying across the warm hued clouds with her, waltzing across the azure heavens, looking up at him, her smaller hand clasped in his bigger one, other hand gripping onto his shoulder, holding onto him as he swung them around, dancing to the symphony of her laughter, making his bruised heart flutter, soar across the skies, only to nestle next to her calmer, sweeter and brighter one, ready to beat in synch with her- thus, to be shaken awake by her, bringing him back to her, a pleasant smile catching his eyes, blinking up at her, basking in her glow, enveloped by her love.

“I didn’t…I tried to…stop them.” he mumbled, a small pout catching her eye, as she bit her lip, trying to stop herself from mimicking him. He was right, he did, her big boy did try to stop it all, tried to warn them, tried to tell them to leave, perhaps they should’ve listened to him, it was no surprise that he could take them on like that- with or without the help of his friends.

Head tilting as he observed her, noting the way her head dipped in thought, chewing on her lower lip as she tried to contemplate the gravity of the situation, weighing the facts and figures. It was true, he did not mean to break his promise, he had no intention of doing so, thus, he was only following her back home from her daily math tuitions, as quiet as a cat. Making sure to keep his distance, it was his fault that things escalated though, mid-mission he had gotten distracted, spotting a vending machine, deciding to get her a little snack, while she stood at the crossing waiting for the signal to turn green.

That was his mistake, by the time he had realised that who the idiots passing him by were talking about ‘teaching her a lesson’ were, he’d already lost them- which is why he had run down the familiar path, hoping to find her the one place she’d go to get away from it all, her safe space, the place where he clumsily admitted his feelings for her, standing there with a poster that he had made with his friends, with a crooked ‘I <3 YOU.” It hurt him to find her in that same space, no longer safe, no longer secure, as she slowly backed into a tree, trying to negotiate with her peers, who knew kids in AP Math could be so psychotic- it wasn’t even that hard, ever since Jongho had given him these magic glasses he’d been scoring so well, they put him in the same slot as his girl- mission accomplished.

He had called them out, walking towards them with peace in mind, asking them politely to leave, but apparently wearing these glasses somehow meant that he had magically lost all the physical strength and wit he had- again, he wondered how these kids ever ended up being so smart if they were so stupid. No, he still didn’t pick a fight, he had merely maneuvered around the hooligans, clasping his girl’s hand and pulling away, until a sneaky bastard had snuck up on him, which led to the others to join the fun, once the small mountain fell to the ground, trying to block the hits. Though that didn’t last long, once he saw the way she was shaking, eyes trembling and moist, her hands clutching onto him- no one made his queen cry.

“Thank you…for following me.”

Her words breaking his train of thought as he nodded instantly, body that had slumped and relaxed, jerked back awake to attend to her, regardless of how she was the one tending to his wounds at the moment. “If you weren’t there…I don't wanna know what they would’ve done.”

She could feel his grip tighten around her at the statement, noticing in the way his warm eyes had hardened at just the thought, though she knew deep down her big stupid was a softie, especially for her. Crumpling the wrappers of the plasters she smiled up at him, trying to bring him back to her, leaning closer to brush her lips against his, careful of the cut on his lower lip, trying to ensure it didn’t sting, only to gasp when he pressed her against him, squeezing her closer, looking down at her with his signature smile, causing her to gently poke his dimple, “Take off your glasses…they’re broken.”

“No.”

Her brows furrowed at his curt response, no? Who said- no one ever says- he barely ever said no to her! With a huff, somewhat bratty, she reached up for his crooked glasses, only for him to turn his head the other way, earning a whine from her, which almost had him believe that she had given up, though as soon as he looked at her eyes, he internally groaned, he had seen that look before- that’s what he gets for dating Jongho’s sister, even if she was older than his friend, she would become as bratty as he did when either didn’t get what they wanted and right now, she wanted his glasses.

“Sannie! Take them off! They’re broken.” with that she reached for them again, only for him to pull away, having her pounce at him, trying to push past his hands- an unfair wrestling match- one that ended as soon as it started, as he pushed her over, rolling her onto her back, her wrists gripped in one hand, pinned above her, pressing into the soft pillows as he pouted down at the way she was glaring up at him. “You dont even need glasses!” she spat, trying to pull out of his grasp before whining, kicking her feet against the bed, enough for the metal container to bounce off the bed, a loud metallic clang echoing across the room, though he didn’t even flinch, too focused on something else that was bouncing during her little temper tantrum, man, she really looked good in this uniform.

“Sannie! Stop staring like a creep and take them off!”

“I can’t” he licked his chapped lips, eyes flickering from her button up to her face, noticing her confused look, the way she tilted her head up at him, trying to understand him, as if she were trying to tell him that ‘she didn’t speak stupid’, so he’d have to translate- which he did, “They’re magic glasses, I can only take them off when I’m sleeping or showering, otherwise I’ll turn dumb again!”

“I-Magic-What?” Her words cut short as her face contorted in confusion, before a sly smile stretched across her face, a negotiation ready as usual, “if you take them off, I’ll let you see my- SAN!” she shrieked when he flipped her skirt up, glancing down at the pink cotton then up at her face, his face wearing an unamused look, as his hand fixed her skirt again, “Like I said, they make me smart, I’m holding you down, I can easily check it out myself, you don’t need to flash me.”

“You’re not smart, you’re a perv!” she whined, face blushing mad from embarrassment, true, it was a cheap tactic, but hey, he was her boyfriend and she really wanted to take those glasses off, they were cracked and crooked, obscuring her view of his perfect face.

“No, I’m smart, that’s how I moved up to your class too.” he stated as a matter of fact.

“San…you…you studied to get there- who told - who gave you these glasses?”

“Jongho. I told him I wanted to spend more time with you…but since you’re super smart I could never be in the same class as you, and being president meant you’re busy with club activities and school so I couldn’t drag you away from all that, you worked so hard for it- so he gave me these glasses, and said if I use these while studying, I’ll become smart! That way at least I’d be able to be with you and I’d become smart enough to do it all. And I did! Now we’re in Math together!”

Honestly, she wasn’t sure if she should find it sweet that her brother was helping her boyfriend or be upset about how stupid he was, or be amazed at the way Jongho was able to fix her boyfriend’s attention span issue- glasses to concentrate, wow. With a heavy sigh she smiled up at him, her heart swelling with joy at the realisation, behind all this stupidity, the premise of this nonsense, was her- it was all for her. God, he looked so sweet, hovering above her, with those glasses, heart printed pink plasters all over his face, his uniformed all worn out from the day’s events, hair a mess- but his expressions held the kind of softness that had her falling to her knees, his sharp eyes boring into hers, swirling with tenderness that had assured her of his caring mannerism the first time Jongho had brought him home, when the shy mountain of a boy had meekly dipped his head, bowing whilst he had introduced himself- who knew that shy boy would be holding her down like this, physically with his strength and mentally with his love.

“Sannie?”

“Hmm?”

“Let me fix them.”

That’s how she found herself back in their original position, sitting between his legs as she tried to wrap the pink plaster around the hinge of his glasses, she couldn’t fix the glass but she could fix the balance- ever so often, she’d glance up at him and smile at the way he had his eyes clenched shut. He had told her that he’d keep them closed so the ‘smart wouldn’t escape’, and now she’d look at his face, one contorted in pure concentration, his angular face waiting there, all putty in her hands- he really was her big stupid.

“There…we’re all done.” she smiled, leaning closer to slip his glasses back on, making sure to be as gently as she could, pulling back to smile at him when he opened his eyes and smiled back at her, “Do you feel smart, Sannie?”

“Mhmmm…”

“That’s good.” she cooed at his response, leaning closer as she sighed, finally relaxing, laying on her side, head resting on his shoulder, hands holding onto his bruised one, gently tracing the reddened knuckles with nimble fingers, his other arm holding her close by the waist.

“Sannie?” she whispered, pulling his hand up to her face, pressing a gentle kiss against his knuckles, earning a squeeze at the waist, followed by a shy, “Hmmm?”

“Thank you for saving me.” she mumbled, eyes drooping as the exhaustion of the day finally started to settle in, not bothered about the position they were in, or the fact that she was still in uniform and so was he- his warmth and presence was comforting enough to lull her to a blissful state between sleep and consciousness.

“Anything for you…” was all she heard, before her body slumped against his, her gentle breathing and steady heartbeat pulling him in with her, his body sliding down to lay against her soft bedding properly, his sore back cracking when he stretched, slowly manoeuvring her to lay beside him, trying to accommodate the two on the small bed, so that she was on her side, head on the pillow facing him. His hand cupping her cheek, as he blinked at her, taking in her relaxed features, the cracked glass no longer obscuring the view as he smiled at her with tired eyes, scooting closer to her, placing his chin on top of her head, heart jumping with glee when she wrapped her arms around him, pressing her face in his neck, his own grip on her tightened,

“Anything for you.”

A/N: Yes, I am obsessed with Baji from Tokyo Revengers, its adorable how and why he wore glasses. Yes, I am obsessed with this song as well- blame @edenesth

Taglist: @edenesth @yessa-vie @mlysalt @the-kpop-simp @spooo00oky @bunnyluvr25 @s-h-y-a @ateezswonderland

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corvidcall · 1 year ago

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ive been a big fan of Supergiant's games since Bastion, and the things that I would think of when I thought of their games was: really cool, unexpected concept; really good writing and characters; really good soundtrack; gameplay that was........ fine. pretty fun, certainly not bad, but i probably wouldn't recommend Transistor based on its isometric hack and slash combat alone

Hades was really fun to play, to a degree that prior games from the studio didn't even come close to. but i thought the setting was a lot more... conventional? than prior games (i think we can all agree that Greek mythology is pretty well-trodden ground, especially compared to whatever the fuck was going on in Pyre), and i did not enjoy the soundtrack as much (i thought most of the tracks were kind of dull and repetitive, which is fine for background music in a very chaotic video game level, but not something i would listen to again on its own), and i thought some of the writing was actually like. shockingly bad (i never understood why the game expected me to like Nyx when she literally fired her employee with no warning because she didnt like that said employee was befriending her surrogate son, or that she told her actual son to stop telling people she was his mom. but everyone irl ive talked to just thought Dusa and Hypnos were annoying so i guess we don't care how they're treated!!!!!)

Hades 2 has fixed like... all of those? While the setting is still greek mythology adventure, it feels pretty different from the first game, and they're having to use some more obscure myths (because they already used all the famous ones in the first game). I've really enjoyed the music so far. and Nyx hasn't been in it so far, and even if she shows up later, I at least got some time away from her.

i was honestly really disappointed that Supergiant's next game was a direct sequel to Hades (they've never done a direct sequel before, and i was sad that it would be many more years before we got another weird, high-concept Supergiant game like Pyre) but i am happy to report that my reservations were wrong. Hades 2 is good and i like it

been playing hades 2 and my current opinion is that it's like hades but if they removed all the stuff that annoyed the piss outta me

#to be perfectly honest i also..... never really liked Meg. OR Thanatos #they were both the kinds of characters that are adjacent to stuff i like but just off enough that i find them really grating #way more than characters who are NOT solidly My Type #i am always saying that a video game needs to have a Mean Wife Who Hates You if they want me to like it #but Meg... wasnt really that? she was basically your girlfriend that's taking your decision to go to school out of state REALLY personally #i like the Mean Wife type character because part of MY fantasy in fiction is being able to win people over #but there was nothing to overcome. she already liked you. i had no involvement in whether or not meg liked zagreus #because she already liked him before the game even started #Nemesis however? my fucking WIFE #that woman hates my fucking guts and i want her to like me soooo bad. i want to win her over by being cute and hardworking and niceys

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punkpandapatrixk · 1 year ago

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❤️‍🩹I Just Want to be Loved ♦︎ Timeless Pick A Card

We attract terrible loves for various reasons; so many lessons; but now sorrow has got to lessen. Let’s reveal patterns by exhuming roots. We’ve got to stop this cycle of disappointments. Done being made to feel as if we’re hard to love.

We’re not hard to love. Many of us were simply denied love, warmth and affection as we were growing up… Don’t know how to love self; don’t know how to love others; basically don’t know how to even receive Love… Who’s to blame now?

Why the hell were so many children denied love, warmth, affection…?

What are you going to do with yourself when you were denied love, warmth and affection as you were growing up?

☆♪°・.

‘The child who isn’t embraced by the village will burn it down to feel its warmth.’ – an African proverb

People denied warmth and affection tend to fall into a desperate loop of fishing for attention as a result of love-deficiency, right? Some learn to lick love off a knife; some pursue success (whatever that means) all too frantically; some…shoot complete strangers in broad daylight; and some who ain’t got the guts to murder complete strangers in public places go instead for antagonising strangers on social media… Gosh, that is desperate.

But you know what, not all hope is lost because there’s still plenty of us who are blessed with this incredibly RARE thing called self-awareness. There are plenty of us who will take our traumas to the graveyard than pass them down the next generations.

You, don’t deserve to have your sanity and your Life ruined by some psychos who didn’t know how to love you. Reclaim lost pieces of yourself by understanding THREE Houses in your natal chart, babe:

4th House: your roots; tells you what was lacking in your home; explains your erratic 10th House ambitions

8th House: your marriage or your desire for a bond like it; this the House where trauma manifests itself in full spectrum

11th House: your wish fulfilment; where you connect with people who support your visions; breeds a healthy sense of connection, even community

SONG: Emptiness by BoA

MOVIE: Breakfast at Tiffany’s (1961)

[PAC Masterlist] [Part 2] [Part 3]

[Patreon] [Paid Readings]

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 1 – Because I Can’t Even Trust Myself

VIBE: Trust by Hamasaki Ayumi

lost pieces (pertaining to 4th House) – Ace of Pentacles Rx

It’s clear your childhood didn’t offer a sense of stability or security—the physical kind that children usually need. It could be that a grownup left early or it could be that you moved around a lot, so you easily lost contact with new friends you’d just made. In essence, it feels like you grew up feeling ‘everything disappears eventually; everyone leaves eventually’.

Some of you might’ve grown up not having a lot of material resources, but for the majority of you tuning into this Pile, it was more a feeling of a lack of warmth. For children, the pain of neglect and a lack of emotional connection do really affect our physical health more severely. You might’ve grown up poor and sickly due to all the grownups around you being inattentive, unaffectionate, and just…unreliable at best.

Because of this awareness, from a young age you realised you would have to do everything yourself. You wanted to grow up quickly and do your own things your own ways. It’s not like you had to grow up fast, you wanted to grow up fast to have your freedom and power! It was…hard to trust adults. It was hard to trust the world at large.

growing pains (pertaining to 8th House) – 8 of Pentacles

On the path of growing up, I think you became a hard worker of sort? This is very nuanced though—there are layers to your developing yourself to become a hardworking person. In many ways, you grew up responsible because you didn’t want to become like the adults who had disappointed you. But since this sense of ‘responsibility’ is a product of neglect and trauma…this is coming off as your feeling responsible for everything. Everything!

Some of you could’ve been too hard on yourself, expecting way too much for your age. You’ve felt like you’re always the one with everything to prove. It’s hard living like that. It feels like you’ve put so much effort into keeping everything together, and yet, nobody sees how much you care. Nobody truly understands the fear in your mind and pain you carry in your heart.

In matters of relationship, you cling extra hard to friends or lovers, too; because deep down you’re afraid of losing things and people, again and again. This unhealthy attachment—and to some extent, controlling behaviour—is truly your wounded inner child attempting frantically to keep your Reality from falling apart…

reclamation (pertaining to 11th House) – 4 of Cups

I’m very sure that at some point in Life, your Higher Self and team of Spirit Guides are going to kick in and meddle with your Earthly business. For some people, it’s possible you could lose contact with everybody you’ve ever known in Life and go into a hermit mode to find yourself again. For some, it could be that your whole Life is simply flipped, without necessarily losing key people in your Life, for you to look at Life and human connections from a very different point of view.

It’s going to be hard, of course. Emotionally, it could be devastating. Themes of abandonment and betrayal are big in your incarnation. But you know, ultimately, all of these challenges serve to remind you that the Cup of Love and Affection you’ve been looking for has always been right inside of you. You’ve had a bitter time with a lot of people because deep down you couldn’t trust them. You couldn’t trust other people’s loyalty because you didn’t even believe that you’re worthy of that Love and Loyalty you yearn for.

Your Spirit Guides are saying, that although at some point in Life things are going to get really tough, know that when you’ve graduated those lessons, you’re going to be rewarded with the most beautiful Soulmate-shit friendships, familyship and relationship. Truth be told, part of your Soul’s scenario in this incarnation is to find your Soul Tribe; and find your Tribe you shall~

A L O N E🔻💗

ALL of you – Red Alchemist (John Dee)

becoming ONE and whole – Priestess of Healing

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 2 – Misled by My Own Compassion

VIBE: Cry Me A River by Julie London

lost pieces (pertaining to 4th House) – Knight of Cups

It’s very likely your 4th House is in a Water sign, but if not, you’re still very much a Water-y person; perhaps your Ascendant or Moon is in a Water sign, or that you have Neptune/Moon near/in your 4th, 7th or 11th House. All of this generally makes you a deeply compassionate person. No matter what outer appearances give, you strive to look deeper into a person’s Soul. You have so much empathy and you want to believe in the good of people.

Alas! This rotten world doesn’t make it too easy. This world is not a world where kindness and compassion are truly rewarded, if we don’t learn to be a tad cruel ourselves. You’re not in the wrong for being so genuinely good and compassionate; it’s this world that’s the wrong world. You know that? Therefore, it is paramount you learn to be a bitchilante! But I’m getting ahead of myself.

In spite of this PAC’s intro, I sense the majority of you tuning into this Pile actually grew up quite well. Many of you actually grew up in loving homes and that’s why it’s been quite challenging for you to grapple with the realness of the ugliness of the world outside of your loving home. Really…people in the real world…are monsters! And you were taken aback!

But some of you instead most likely grew up in chaotic, battlefield-esque homes and that’s why you’ve striven to be so good to a point of detriment.

growing pains (pertaining to 8th House) – 0 The Fool Rx

Be that as it may, you being you… Well, you do put in the effort to try and understand what makes monsters the way that they are, right? It’s all good and wonderful, until you get yourself in deep trouble where nobody can save you but your own monstrosity. Depending on your age when reading this, this could be something that’s happened in the past or will happen; where you will be forced to grow up in the sense of seeing the world as it is and get firm with assholes!

Dr Jordan Peterson has this gold shit to summarise this spiritual lesson you will be taking at some point in Life: ‘You should be a monster, an absolute monster, and then you should learn to control it.’ Well, that’s male speech. In female speech, we just say: ‘you gotta grow up and be a bitchilante!’

Be a bitch only to those who deserve it. How would you protect yourself from monsters if you don’t have the strength to fight them at their own game, darling? If you’re harmless, weak as a fawn, if anything, the real monsters in the world are going to toy with your sanity: ‘I saw my “crazy” side once and decided I wouldn’t be involved with anyone that would take me out of my peace like that ever again.’

Be a bitchilante. That whole concept of ‘good, harmless, love and light, positivity-only’ bullshit was put out there not to really make you good but to weaken you against the truly monstrous ones. WAKE UP, BITCH!

reclamation (pertaining to 11th House) – 4 of Pentacles

So? So what if you’re selective with your affection? Not everybody deserves your compassion. That’s for sure. There are many people in the world and you can’t be nice to all of them. One at point or another, you’re gonna be a villain in someone’s story—so what? Everybody else is the main character of their own Stories; that, you can’t control.

Be careful that you’re not falling victim to your own narcissism in wanting to be praised in everybody’s Story, yeah? So then, pertaining to your 11th House, weirdly enough, your wish fulfilment is in the form of a psychological liberation from your own idea of yourself in the minds of others. I sense that if you’re East Asian this is gonna resonate much harder and louder LOL

Anyway, I want to assure you that once you’ve graduated from your spiritual lessons, you will be met with unique, courageous, rebellious weirdos who will be just as clear as you are about what it truly means to be a good person in a world that’s often very bad. How good should a person be to truly be considered a good person?

‘If I offended you, cry me a river. I’ll bring snacks and a raft. I will literally float down your tears eating chips and working on my tan.’ – Fuckology

A L O N E🔻💚

ALL of you – Green Geographer (Gerardus Mercator)

becoming ONE and whole – Priestess of Success

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 3 – Lights Out; I’m Out to Find Myself

VIBE: To. X by Taeyeon

lost pieces (pertaining to 4th House) – Ace of Cups Rx

I’ve to preface this Pile by saying this the pile that gets a little violent…

You were originally such a positive, happy-go-lucky kid, but quite early on, this world gave you so much darkness. So many reasons to be sad. It’s not been a very kind life, to be honest. Defo many of you have tragical placements here—your 4th or 5th House could start or end in Scorpio; have Lilith/Pluto/Chiron/Saturn there or in the sign of Cancer/Pisces; or it could be that your Venus/Moon is imprisoned in the 8th or 12th House and harshly aspected, too...

If your childhood has been violent or mightily confusing, it’s a group thing, OK? You can think like that. It’s not your fault. Know that practically everybody who has these harsh placements has gone through very similar things as you. So you’re really not the only one who’s failing—whatever that means. You’ve been gaslit a lot into believing there’s something wrong with you, but it was your environment that was just filled with totally terrible Human beings. That much I’d like to assure you.

It wasn’t natural how you were abused psychologically and emotionally. The people around you drew a parallel to Cinderella’s stepsisters in the Disney classic. It’s ridiculous like that. I think you grew up terribly lonely and created comfort characters in your head to console your sorrows? It’s very likely that your comfort characters were in actuality a mirror fragment of your Soul Family’s existence locked in your memory bank.

growing pains (pertaining to 8th House) – XIV Temperance Rx

Life, unfortunately, isn’t a Disney movie. As a result of the psychological and emotional abuse you’ve endured in childhood, your friendships and relationships might’ve been quite turbulent, at times even violent. Juuust a small number of you could’ve dealt with being called a violent kid, or you could’ve struggled with anger management and have terrible tantrums. All of these have made human connections quite difficult to navigate.

It’s not like you want to be a nasty person, right? Many times, you couldn’t help the way you react/respond to what’s being said and unsaid because, somehow, there are many things that people do and say that trigger a trauma response in you. There’s a very difficult Mars thingy going on here. I think many of you resonating with this Pile have some difficult Mars (ruler of Scorpio) placements/aspects that affect the way you manifest human connections in your Life.

Speaking in terms of synastry, it could be that you’ve attracted a great deal of people whose Mars aspected badly in your natal chart—consequently triggering bad traumas and manifesting violent outbursts in your connections. Ultimately though, these negative experiences with other people could’ve enforced your belief about how unlovable you are, which, really, is a false belief…

reclamation (pertaining to 11th House) – 5 of Wands

It is a false Reality that you’re unlovable or unworthy of a healthy relationship. That bullshit was implanted in you through the creation of a harsh environment that caused you a great deal of rage. Of course, you’re accountable for how you behave towards other people, but your foundation was never quite healthy or peaceful or harmonious, so… How about we put it all behind us and focus on healing? After all, it’s not like the people you’ve had a beef with were completely innocent? XP

It's kinda selfish to think like that, but you can depend on your own discernment to distinguish who amongst the people you’ve hurt or had a beef with to apologise to. Remember: sometimes apologies only make you weaker and looking at the unique bullshit astrological placements you were born with… apologising to the wrong fucker would only get you gaslit even more! So, don’t. Don’t apologise for the distress you experienced under other people’s lack of support.

Burn that bridge and detach yourself from that old stinking world. With your sheer willpower, you have it in you to rebuild your own little world of love and peace. After all, those harsh placements you were born with, are you aware of just how much power they bestow you? These placements come with a lot of turbulences but once you graduate your first Saturn Return, they also give you a burst of power unlike any other!

Lights out. Not entertaining aenergies that seek to nip your power at the bud anymore. Burn, baby, burn strong! Burn the whole Tower and find yourself on new lands~!

A L O N E🔻💜

ALL of you – Gold Alchemist (Roger Bacon)

becoming ONE and whole – Priestess of Solitude

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

[PAC Masterlist] [Part 2] [Part 3]

[Patreon] [Paid Readings]

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aurorawrotethis · 3 months ago

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a rose for your thoughts | a. v

alexei vronsky x reader sadness, fluff, tears, mention of adultery, internal conflict, feelings of guilt, self-doubt, feeling of shame words: 5.4k

The chandeliers dripped with candlelight, their glow colouring the vast ballroom in a shade of gold. Music in the air, but it was distant, muffled, as though you were submerged beneath water. The perfume of waltzing couples amplified the air, along with the scent of the strawberry pastries and champagne.

There, in the middle of it all, in the middle of the ballroom. Him.

Your husband, your Count, wearing his white button up shirt with golden buttons. His hair glowing in the golden light of the chandeliers. His posture being the epitome of his nobility. But his hands — his hands were around another's waist. Leading her in the sensual waltz.

The woman's face lay against his shoulder, a smile adorning her face. He leaned in, his lips ghosting her ear, whispering something meant for her, only her. Something he had once whispered to you.

What was once a sentimental moment for you and your husband was now shared with your husband and some other woman.

The woman's laugh rang through the room, delicate and sultry. Her laugh had seemed to drain out any other sound of the ballroom.

You felt your throat close up. You tried to call out for him, but no sound escaped your lips. The room felt stuffy, as if the walls were closing in on you. The walls stretching, the heavy fabric of your dress suddenly feeling as if it was strangling you.

Your hands clenched around the silk of your dress, you swallowed hard.

His gaze met your eyes as he spun her around. A glint of amusement, recognition, and something else, something sinister. His gaze left you right just as it met yours, as if you were easily dismissible. You, his wife, the woman he swore to protect, the woman bearing his child.

Suddenly the ballroom chandelier was too bright, the smell of strawberries and champagne being all too much, the sound of the music turned from a sentimental, beautiful ballad to a mocking tone, as if it were telling you that you lost.

You were not enough for him to stick to you. Not enough for him to love. Even the fact that you were growing his child inside of you did not make him stay; you meant nothing to him.

You felt your knees buck as you felt nauseous, feeling as if you were mere seconds away from fainting. Your eyes shut for a second and you embraced yourself for the impact with the floor — you gasped, your eyes shooting open, your chest heaving up and down, panting.

You looked around the room, you were in your chambers, in your nightgown, a strong arm around your very pregnant stomach, a face nuzzled into your neck, snoring softly. The scent of your husband filling your nose.

You shifted your head to look at his face, fast asleep. You let out a breath, still coming down from the gut wrenching feeling of betrayal you felt in your dream. It felt so real; so genuine, as if he would wake up and betray you like he did in real life.

It made your dinner from last night want to escape you. You sat up slowly, leaning against the fancy headboard of the bed. Alexei's arm dropping from your waist to your lap. He stirred in his sleep, feeling you shift, he didn't wake from his slumber as he still felt your warmth near him.

You let out a shaky breath, feeling tears well up in your eyes. You felt foolish, ridiculous even, for crying over such a thing. For being angry at him for such an act, an act he did not even commit. An act he would never so much as imagine committing.

Your husband — your hardworking, devoted, uxorious husband — was right next you, lightly snoring, his chest heaving up and down slowly in a peaceful, rhythmic pattern — contrasting yours immensely — in a blissful state of tranquility. Completely unaware of the storm that raged inside you.

The feeling clung to you, as if the dream had left a scar. Not Alexei — no, he would never allow for that dream to become reality; Count Vronsky might be many things, but unfaithful? Disloyal? Coldhearted? No, those words would never belong to him

You were not unaware of how loyal your husband was, no, he made his intentions with you very clear, since the beginning of your courtship. He is to love and care for you, in sickness, in health, in happiness, in sorrow, in peace, in anger. Whatever it was; he was to love and care for you.

He vowed to it. And everyone knew when the Vronsky's vowed to something — they would rather die than have that vow broken.

You knew all of this, you knew, and yet you were still crying. What sort of wife doubts her husband? Even in the captivity of her own mind?

Your oh so loving husband. The husband that goes riding with you when you feel like it, the husband that smiles at you adoringly as you speak about your daily activities, the husband that whispers sweet nothings to your unborn child before vanishing into a peaceful slumber every night.

Natheless, the image of another woman in his arms, a content smile on his face, the look of love in his eyes as he stared at her. The thought haunted you, like a phantom, unwilling to leave you alone.

You sniffled and wiped your tears with your hands, taking in a shaky breath. Ridding the tears that had no right to exist. Merely for more unjust tears to flow out of your waterline. Your heart burned in your chest, your stomach churned. It felt as if there was a pit in your stomach.

Your baby came into your mind, all this unnecessary stress would be bad for the baby. His baby. You calmed yourself for the health of your baby. Though the calmness did not guarantee that the sorrow would dissolve.

The light shone through the space in the curtains, softly whispering to you, telling you that it was morning. You hear soft noises from outside your chambers — the maid were already working.

You looked back at your husband, the light softly hitting his face, making him look oh so beautiful. You were truly a lucky woman to have such a handsome Count as your husband. It made you insecure; he was so beautiful, he was adored by all the young debutantes'. Eyes filled with thirst to grab at him any chance they get, but he was a married man.

You criticised yourself, comparing yourself to those debutante's, even though you yourself were one just a year and a half ago.

You sighed softly as you slipped your legs off the bed, gently pushing yourself off the bed, waddling to the door, leaving Alexei in bed, fast asleep. You opened your door and peeked your head out, looking for one of the maids to help you change into your day gown.

"Vanya!" You whispered as you caught a glimpse of her right before she put her foot down on the first step of the staircase to make her way downstairs. She furrowed her brows and looked for the source of the voice that had just called out her name.

"Vanya" You whispered again, she looked at you, her face relaxing and a soft smile displaying on her lips.

"Countess, you are awake, much earlier than expected" She smiled as she made her way to the door of your chambers. You smiled softly, a smile that did not quite reach your eyes.

"Well, the little one does not allow me to rest in comfort." You joked as you put a hand on your stomach and rubbed your swollen belly. Vanya smiled at you, looking down at your bump and then back at you.

"I would like to get ready for the day" You smiled at her, and opened the door slightly more. She glanced inside to see the Count still in bed, deep in slumber. She looked back at you and furrowed her brows, you never wake before the Count, it was either the both woke at the same time, or the Count stayed in bed with you until you woke.

"Uh yes, Countess, right away" Vanya shook her thought away and looked down at the floor as you opened the door slightly more for her to enter, closing the door after she entered. You guided her to your boudoir that was connected to the bedchamber.

Vanya's gaze on the floor until she reached the familiar tiles of the boudoir, to respect the Count's privacy. She headed straight to the dresses and chemises and petticoats, skipping the corsets because you were nearing your due date, meaning you were too big for corsets.

She helped you dress, wearing a blue dress with fur lining around the collar of the dress and the sleeves of the dress. You had asked her to not put any jewelry on you, you felt overwhelmed enough. After changing you guided Vanya out of the bedchamber and she helped you down the staircase to the commons.

You sat yourself at the loveseat near the big window, overlooking your beautiful garden, a book on your lap and your eyes still tired from the lack of sleep and the feeling of insecurity. You watched how the cold, Russian, autumn breeze made the trees sway, your flowers swaying in the process as well.

"Countess, I must suggest that you breakfast" Polina, another house maid, said walking into the commons. You looked away from the window and looked at her.

"Is it ready?" You asked putting a hand on your stomach and pushed off the loveseat with as much energy you could muster up.

"Yes, ma'am, would you like for one of the men to wake the Count?" She asked as she held the door open for you to head out the commons and walk to the dining.

"No, that is not necessary, I would much rather have him well rested" You said simply and walked to the table, allowing Polina to pull out a chair for you and help you sit down.

"Very well" She said simply and left you alone to eat all by your lonesome. Leaving you alone with your thoughts. Not the best idea with the storm raging within you since even before you woke up.

Alexei grumbled something under his breath as he stirred awake. His arm naturally going to feel you, touch you in some way, but he was met with a cold spot in the bed, and not your swollen belly. His eyes shot open, and he sat up, looking around the room to find you.

He sighed and rubbed his face in his hands to wash away any feeling of fatigue so he could go on with his day. He removed the soft quilt off of him and got off the bed to get ready for his day. Slightly concerned about your whereabouts.

Since he had married you, he had never woken up in an empty bed, you were always beside him, but he did not worry his mind too much about it; he knew you'd be at home.

He made his way downstairs, stopping at the end of the stairway, thinking about where you would be, that is until he saw Polina.

"Ah Polina," He called out for her, Polina stopped in her tracks and turned to the Count.

"Good morning Count" She greeted him with a smile. He nodded back as a greeting.

"Would you know where my wife is?" He asked as he looked around the first floor of the house, as if in search of her.

"She is in the dining, breaking her fast" Polina explained and nodded slightly towards the doors of the dining, down the hall. Alexei nodded, as if thanking her and walked away, walking with a purpose to see you and his child in the dining.

He softly opened the doors and turned to the table to see you, poking your fork into your egg. He smiled softly and made his way to you, slowly, so as to not startle you.

"Good morning, my dove" He said softly and kneeled down beside you, his hand already on your belly. You turned and smiled at him, a smile that you gave to Vanya when you woke that morning.

"Good morning" You smiled at him and greeted him back. He kissed your cheek and then bent down slightly more to place a kiss on your belly.

"Good morning to you too, kroshka" He mumbled against your belly as he planted his kiss. You smiled, your heart feeling heavy. This was the man you were doubting. The man that came straight to you after waking, to kiss you on the cheek, and to kiss your belly, to greet you with a sweet tone on his lips.

You picked up your fork again and poked it into the sausage on your plate. Alexei stood properly and sat on the chair next to you, nodding at the servant who was in the dining hall to get him his food. He turned back to you, a soft look in his eyes.

"You did not wake me, serdtse moyo" He said, watching you carefully as you ate. Making sure you had enough nutrients to carry on your day and carry his child.

"You looked so peaceful, I did not want to interrupt" You said simply, not even sparing him a glance. Alexei raised a brow at your tone and your action, confused.

"Very thoughtful of you," He said softly, trying to understand you. Ever since the doctor had told you that you were with child, he had been extra careful with his actions and words around you. Knowing how his brother's wife acted when she was with child, he learned his lesson.

A maid had come in with a plate of food and placed it in front of him. He picked his fork up and started to eat, right after taking a sip of water to quench the dryness of his throat. Eating in silence, which would usually be calming but at this moment it felt as if tension would not leave you.

"How did you spend your morning my love?" Alexei asked, trying to make conversation to ease the tension.

"Just some light reading" You said simply, which wasn't technically a lie, you had tried to read but your thoughts were too loud for you to properly comprehend what was going on in your story. Alexei nodded at your answer, expecting you to continue speaking about your book, explain the plot and your side commentary.

But you just stopped speaking, eating your eggs.

He looked at you, watching you deliberately. You didn't spare him a glance, making his heart hurt and his head think about everything he's done since yesterday to make you act so cold towards him.

"Are you alright?" He asked softly, his hand reaching for your hand that was on the table. Softly rubbing your knuckle with his thumb. You finally looked at him, your eyes held a sadness he couldn't bear to see. You tried to hide the sadness with faulty joy.

"I am fine, why?" You asked, masking the pain you feel in your heart and the pit in your stomach.

"Are you tired? Did the little one not let you rest?" He asked, his hand going back to your stomach to feel his child. You shook your head, heart warming at his concern. The eggs taste bittersweet on your tongue.

Your heart was warming up and crumbling all at the same time. You wanted to tell him that you were fine, that you were happy and content, to tell him about your dream and have him tell you he'd never do something so cruel to you.

But shame filled you. The thought of telling him that you doubted him, the look of hurt on his face if you were to tell him, you feared that you could not handle it.

"I am fine, Alexei, please calm your mind" You chuckled as you looked at him with a smile on your face. The smile on your face told him to not worry, but the look in your eyes told him that something was wrong. But he let it go, not wanting to make you uncomfortable.

"Very well" He mumbled and continued to break his fast, his hand still on yours. You finished up your food and stood up from your seat, Alexei's gaze moving from his plate to you.

"If you need me, I will be in the commons" You said simply and waddled out of the dining room, leaving Alexei in the dining by himself. The act made Alexei's heart crumble in his chest. You had never left him to eat alone, you had either waited until he finished eating to leave the dining together, or he would finish before you and do the same for you.

Alexei watched you leave and once the door shut he turned to the servant who was in the corner of the room. The servant himself looked confused at your actions, it was very unlike you.

"Do you reckon I did something that upset her?" Alexei asked the servant to see what anyone from an outside perspective had anything to say about it. The servant looked down to the floor before he spoke.

"No Count, it is not in my recollection, perhaps it is the gloomy weather that has made the Countess act this way" The servant answered with proper thought.

"Hmm perhaps" Alexei mumbled and looked down at his glass of water. He stood up abruptly and left the dining, leaving his food half finished.

"Feed the remaining to Frou-Frou, will you please" He said to the servant as he made his way out the doors, wracking his mind as to what he could have done to make you act so cold towards him. He went to the commons, following you, and sitting on the seat opposite to the loveseat you were sat on. You were once again reading your book.

Not really reading; you were stuck on the phrase ‘Was it a vision, or a waking dream? Fled is that music:—Do I wake or sleep?’ not fully able to comprehend or understand what the book was trying to say, for your mind was much too occupied from your dream.

It did however seem as if the world was telling you something, was it just a dream, or was it a vision? You had asked yourself, over analysing everything in your life. Was the world trying to tell you something by sending you signs?

Don’t worry too much of it. It was just a visio- dream. Just a normal dream.

Alexei watched you closely as you were in reverie, hiding behind the newspaper, pretending to read and glancing ever so often at you to see the state that you were in. Trying to understand you and what was going on in your head.

You had not turned your page for a while, and Alexei, knowing that you were quite a fast reader compared to the other ladies of the season, was worried. Were you not actually reading?

“Milaya moya, what is that you think so deeply about?” He asked, breaking the silence and tension in the room. You jumped slightly, startled, putting a hand on your sternum as a reaction to the shock.

“Ah, Alexei, you startled me, I did not notice you” You laughed slightly, looking at him.

‘I did not noticed you’

But you always notice when he walks in the room. Your eyes always light up, your smile always deepens, and your shoulders relax knowing that he was there to take care of you.

Your words upset him, he knew something was clogging your mind, he just did not know what exactly it was. He was determined to find out and rid you of those thoughts to make you happy, to see you happy.

“I was rather silent, I suppose” Alexei said, pushing his thoughts of sadness away, trying to figure you out.

“Now, my love, do tell, what is bothering you” He said, putting the newspaper down onto the seat and getting up, making his way to you, kneeling right in front of you so you would meet his eyes.

“I have told you, I am f-” You started but Alexei cut you off, softly.

“And do not say that you are fine, because you seem very enervating” He said and softly placed one hand on your knee and the other on your stomach.

“I do not wish for you to stress, my dove, it will only cause you and the child harm, so please do tell me what is causing you to be so burdened. Put it on me so I can carry that burden for you” He said softly, his eyes sincere and carrying a pain, and empathy, a mixture you never want to see in his eyes.

You looked down, feeling your eyes start to water, your throat started to burn, your eyes stinging slightly. You did not want to meet his eye, you felt shameful. Felt disgusting for feeling the way you feel.

You trusted him, you really did, but the dream, the vision, felt so real, so genuine, it was hard to not brood.

He reached his hand up to your cheeks, cupping it right after pushing a stray strand fall from your beautifully plaited hair.

“Darling,” He said softly, reminding you that he was still there. To listen, to hear, and understand you. You swallowed and licked your lips. You looked at him, through your eyelashes, his eyes boring into yours. His eyes, so blue and clear, every single feeling of concern and sadness engraved into them.

You cleared your throat and shook your head.

“I would like some time alone” You whispered and looked back down to your lap, watching his hand on your knee, his thumb rubbing the fabric of your dress.

The hope in Alexei’s eyes left and he felt his shoulders slump. He licked his lips and stood up, lending out a hand to you to hold. You looked up at him when you saw him stretching his hand out for you to use to get back up on your feet. He had a soft smile on his face, calming your nerves.

“Then time alone is what you shall get” He said and nodded to his stretched out hand for you to grab onto, to help you stand up.

“That is with me at a safe distance” He quickly added as you closed your book, putting it to the side and putting your hand in his, allowing him to pull you up. He led you out of the commons and walked the hallway.

“Where would you like to go for some time alone?” He asked, still holding onto your hand gently, taking smaller strides than normal to match your pace.

“The garden” You whispered, looking around your home, as he nodded and led you to the doors to the garden. He held the door open for you and allowed you to head out first, you walked along the pathway, walking to the gazebo near the garden wall. He followed suit.

An hour passed, you had watched the leaves on the tree fall due to the weather; thinking to yourself that you’d have to ask one of the men to clean it up. You watched how your flowers were slowly decaying, some surviving due to the fact that winter was not that close.

The Count had watched your every step, every content smile, everytime you put a hand on your stomach when you felt your baby kick.

He watched as you threw two or three pebbles into the fountain, watched as you smelled your flowers, watched as you swung the leaves on your willow tree. He adored you, he yearned to be beside you, to help you; but he respected your wish to be alone for some time.

But now that some time had gone by, he felt as if it was time to talk to you again. The once very pained look in your eyes had become less weary. You looked content, but something was still bothering you. He walked to the rose bushes, lined up beautifully near the fountain, picked up a red rose and walked towards you with a purpose.

You sighed, feeling the feeling inside of you slowly dissipate, but somehow remnants of it remained. You were bathing in the cold-warm light of the sun when a rose appeared in front of you. You furrowed your brows and looked at the individual who had just offered you the rose.

You tilted your head slightly to look past the rose to look at your husband who had a small, soft, smile on his face as he gazed at you lovingly.

“A rose for your thoughts” He said and lowered the rose from right in front of your face, and handed it to you normally. You took the rose from him and inhaled the scent of the sweet rose. Your eyes closed peacefully. He admired you as you did so.

You opened your eyes again and looked at him; the pain in your heart had lessened by now, your eyes now holding some form of happiness, a feeling of content.

“Would you like to tell me what is bothering you?” He asked softly, his hands behind his back, enlocked with one another, waiting patiently for your answer. You sucked in your cheek and looked at the rose in your hands, feeling the texture of a petal between your thumb and index finger.

You nodded softly and looked back up at him. He smiled and offered you his elbow to hold onto. You softly wrapped your arm around his elbow, the rose in your other hand as he led you to the gazebo. He pulled out a chair from a little tea table there.

“Sit, you have been standing for long enough” He said and helped you sit down. Once you relaxed onto the chair, he kneeled down and put his hand on your knees, dirtying his nice dress pants.

“Alexei, your trousers” You said watching him get on his knees in front of you to be on eye level with you.

“Doesn’t matter, what matters is whatever that is bothering you” He said, cupping your face in his hands. You sighed softly and leaned into his hand. He looked at you attentively, ready for whatever it is you were about to say.

“I had a dream” You started, looking straight into his eyes. It was time for you to be brave and swallow whatever bitter taste there was in your mouth.

Alexei nodded, urging you to continue. You deep breath and continued,

“I had a dream where you were in another's arms” You said, your voice lowering as you spoke, the confidence dissipating as you admitted to him. Alexei’s brows furrowed and he tilted his head, utterly confused. He opened his mouth to say something but you cut him off.

“We were at a ball, perhaps it was Viscount Motka’s function — that is apart from the point —. You were dancing with another woman, it made me feel… feel rather strange” You said, taking a deep breath before continuing to tell him how your dream made you feel. Alexei looked pained.

“Please do not be cross with me, I do not mean to doubt you, but it seems as if the dream has shaken me quite a bit” You said quickly, trying to comfort him.

“I feel atrocious just feeling this way, I do not want to feel such a horrible emotion. I do not even know how to describe it —” You started, ranting slightly, he cut you off by placing his lips softly on yours.

A kiss.

Your eyes fluttered close and you kissed him back. It was rather odd, you usually partake in such endeavours in the privacy of your bed chambers. His hands cupping your face had never left you. He pulled away and laid his forehead on yours, nose nudging one another.

“My dove, now why on Earth would you be so perturbed over a dream?” He asked, slightly chuckling at your silly antiques. You pouted as he chuckled, and he stopped right away.

“It felt real, Alexei. I was hurt” You pouted deeper and your eyes were sad. Alexei felt his heart crumble at the look on your face.

“My darling, I would never do something like that to you. They could torture me for days to do so, and I would not. My respect and love for you is ineffable” He said, a smile on his face, feeling a lot better about the whole situation.

Not the issue of you being sad, but the fact that he can help you feel better. All this time he had thought he did something wrong, that he did something to hurt you — and if he did, he would never find a way to forgive himself.

He could now do this favourite thing; to show you how much he loved you.

You looked down at the rose on your lap, feeling abashed. Alexei moved one of his hands to your chin to tilt it up, making you look at him.

“Do not doubt my love for you.” He said simply, his eyes so loving, so soft, so delicate. His touch on you is so intricate, as if he would touch you any harder, your skin would bruise, as if you would break into pieces. As if you would slip through his fingers like sand.

He moved his hand to hold your cheek again, this time firmly as if it would prove anything. He started,

“From the moment I close my eyes to the second I open them again, you are there. You are in every single thought I have, in every single thing I look at. Your smell does not leave me, no matter how far I am from you. Your smile– engraved into my head and it brings me strength when you are absent from my side.

So do not for a moment even consider that I do not love you because you are the better part of me. And if you ever so find yourself doubting the love I have for you, do tell me and I will spend every waking moment on this earth proving my love to you.” He said, looking so deeply into your eyes, his face mere millimetres away from yours, eyes holding so much love, so much adoration.

You felt a tear escape your eye and he wiped it away. He removed his forehead from yours and tilted your head down slightly to set a kiss on your forehead. He stayed there, kissing your forehead for a bit and then moved to put his forehead on yours again.

Looking at you with the same look in his eyes. You smiled softly at home, you heart content, the pit in your stomach long gone, the pain in your heart and head, all gone.

“I love you” You whispered, looking deeply into his eyes. His smiled deepened and he kissed the top of your nose, which was now cold from the chilly autumn breeze.

“Apart from that, why would I want to dance with another, when I married the best dancer?” He asked, trying to make a joke to lighten the air. You let out a small laugh and shook your head, he laughed softly, his heart warming at the sound of your bubbly laugh.

He let go of you and stood up, lending out a hand for you to hold.

“It is getting colder outside, shall we go in, my Countess?” He asked sweetly. You smiled and put your hand in his, he pulled you up. You wrapped your arm around his bicep, your other hand gripping the rose he had given you.

“We shall, my Count” You said softly laying your head on his shoulder as he guided you back in the house. Leaving all your doubts and weariness outside.

fin. alexei vronsky masterlist

#atj #atj x reader #x reader #f!reader #fluff #angst #alexei vronsky x fem!reader #alexei vronsky #alexei vronsky x reader #alexei vronsky x you #aurora writes #anna karenina 2012 #my man #he's so beautiful #he's so pretty #he's so babygirl

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willowser · 2 years ago

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i will never stop writing bakugou as a shy, blushy loserboy, but. the idea of you being more inexperienced than him ??

you're carefully bandaging him up at the agency clinic, after he'd taken a nasty hit that left his shoulder scuffed up, and he's been in here with you more times than he can count, much too late at night, and maybe that's how you get into this conversation in the first place; weird stuff always gets said at this hour.

"no, i'm telling you," despite the vulnerability of what you're saying — despite the awful look that must be on his face — you're laughing. "never dated anyone, never been taken on a date, nothing."

and — he really must look truly terrible, with his mouth open and his lip curled over his teeth and his brows furrowed, because he can't hardly believe a fucking word you're saying. it pisses him off and he doesn't know why, just seems. a waste, for no one to have appreciated someone like you.

someone that he maybe thinks about too much, that is too nice and not funny to anyone but themselves but still laughs and hardworking and. so pretty that it annoys him.

his question comes out rough, harsh. "why the hell not?"

"i don't know," you shrug, eyes cutting to his before focusing back on patching him up. "i'm — probably too shy and weird, or something. and online dating is hard, y'know! some guys are really into the purity thing, like too into it, and some guys find out and won't touch me with a ten-foot pole, so," and then you shrug. like that's all there is to it.

and katsuki is just astounded to know this. not that he's ever done all that much himself, but all his bases have been covered, by now in his life, and he just really can't imagine anyone knowing you and not wanting to—

he realizes the irony of thinking this, like a punch to the gut. after knowing you for almost two years now and never so much as complimenting your stupid hair and the stupid way you wear it.

"well," katsuki grumbles, averting his eyes to the walls of the clinic, trying to seem more interested in your creepy, anatomy posters. "maybe he's comin'...or whatever."

"who's coming?"

"your guy, i don't know!" it's unfortunate that his shirt is off for this, because there's no way you aren't getting a perfect view of the flush that spreading down to his chest. "your dude, maybe he's...figuring it out."

"hmm, maybe. that's what my gran says, but who knows?" you shrug, oblivious — and suddenly your singleness makes a smidge more sense. "i've resigned myself to a touchless, loveless life for—"

"he's comin'!" katsuki barks and you startle at the outburst, eyes casting over his warm cheeks and then down his chest and back. finally, it fucking clicks for you, like he hasn't been finding excuse after excuse to see you every damn night for ages. "he's...checkin' his work schedule and then he's...gonna figure it out, alright?"

you brighten considerably, lip going between your teeth. "oh, yeah, yeah," and your smile is unstoppable, not hidden in the slightest as you turn to the steri-tray at your side, shyness bleeding into his own. "alright."

#WAAAAHHHH #he considers himself so inexperienced #to the point he's such a flustered fucking dork about dating anyone #and so it makes him remarkably nervous around you to begin with #and then he goes absolutely bonkers learning that you've done even less than HIM AKFHDJSKAKAL #he's PISSED like WHAT THE HELL DO YOU MEAN NO ONE HAS EVER KISSED YOU BEFORE #NEVER BOUGHT YOU SHITTY FLOWERS BEFORE #it is probably the thing that riles him up enough to make his move because he's just. so pissed about it alfbsisjai #lmaoooooo #✿ willow writes #✿ thoughts: bakugou #✿ theme: pre relationship bakugou

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suguru-getos · 1 year ago

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| Bully! Gojo Satoru x F!Reader | Part 4 |

Part: 3 / 2 / 1

Summary: You had just transferred schools, and your first day was an encounter with your new bully. He’s mean, terrifically hot & absolutely a menace. Though there’s more to that personna.

Chapter Summary: After the cafeteria incident, Gojo denies to accept your money in halves, and your primal urges of snapping at him come out after suppressing them for weeks. He’s bored of being a bully because it’s not fun anymore. Why would you give him money like that? Jeez… 🙄

Warnings: Reader is mean and Satoru is mean T_T A/N: Can’t do more than 50 mentions in a post 😭 I’m sorry I will be adding the rest of yall in the comments in the next part. Comments and reblogs are highly appreciated. 🥰

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To be honest, your guts were excruciatingly high yesterday. You essentially ruined everything there is. All your efforts & hardwork to get rid of Gojo’s clutches in vain because you couldn’t control your mouth. After kicking the guy down in the cafeteria, you were called by Yaga and suspended. What else did you expect really? A freshmen kicking a senior? Nope. When Satoru does it you’re sure it wouldn’t have anyone bat a single eye to the ordeal. Another grumpy reminder that — you & the Honored one, are different. Satoru didn’t need to prove it himself.

Cowardice and your name are rhymes right now. All that classes for Taijutsu paid off to recover your leftover shred of dignity, however, you couldn’t fathom the expression in Gojo's face. He looked amused, impressed… weird. Satoru looks weird. He didn't respond when you told him to shove the money up his ass. Now you have to walk the talk. Staring at the wall, you try your best to think of a believable excuse to ask your mom for the sum of money. You check your savings, only 700 dollars. You should probably kill yourself. You can't really ask your mother about this… what were you thinking?

The thoughts are cut off by Satoru's blade like voice in your head. God you hate him so much. So much… if you were ever forgiven for a murder, it would be his. Your mind was tired with everything happening and you could feel the force in your heavy lids lulling you in bed. School next day…

You take your 700 dollars with you, you will tell the bastard that you will return the rest of the money tomorrow. Once you're outside Tokyo Tech, you take a deep breath. Walking inside and ready to be mauled. There he was, standing at the entrance and waving pathetically cheerfully. He loves making you suffer doesn't he? You grit your jaw, walking towards him. "Good morning, Gojo san." You could almost choke yourself for adding the honorific.

"Morning lil shit." He muses, leaning in closer to you until his breath fans over your face. "We were bein' a little too bratty yesterday." He muses, and your face lacks colour instantly. His eyes were launched at your frame without a care in the world. He likes making you suffer, doesn't he?

"So?" He clicks his tongue, smirking in his usual charming way, looking at you through his glasses. "Kneel down and apologize, and I'll forgive you. We can start again, no biggie. See? I have such a big heart." You bite your lip, he has no regards for your self-respect whatsoever.

You finally meet his eyes, gathering your courage to withstand his insults once again. "I have uhm, seven hundred dollars with me right now." Oh you look pathetic fiddling with your bag and giving him the cash you saved for your new laptop. "I will return the rest tomorrow." You sound determined, at least your mom wouldn't pay the full sum of it. It would be bearable.

"I can't shove it up my ass s' too less." Satoru laughs, clinging on to what you said to him. He almost feels sick now. This was unnecessarily dragged to the point of no return, he thought you would apologize and beg him to leave you alone, and he would. Then you'd see how amazing he is and why everyone is in love with him. Why girls wish they could go on a date with him pft- even if he talks to them, they feel grateful.

Here you were, holding a sum of money for the richest boy in school, in the city even. "I'll pay you the rest tomorrow." You managed to speak, and Satoru HATES this.

There is a difference between bullying and teasing and abuse. He crossed that line, not backing down because he hoped you would. You're the first one not to. He feels his chest tighten and a pinching in his throat as you hold his wrist, bringing it closer to you and putting the sum of money on his palm.

His baby-blues widen at that, and it feels like the money is practically burning his skin. It's a reflex with which he yanks his hand away. As if its burning him.

"I don't take half-payments." He managed to come up with that pathetic lie, growling and enraged, walking away.

What a fucking cunt… but hey; at least he didn't bother you for the rest of the day.

During the lunch time, you almost feel liberated that you don't have to report to him anymore. His problem he didn't accept the money. His fucking problem. You stood on your words, almost… you will give him the rest of the money tomorrow and be free of him for good. How amazing… how beautiful to imagine that.

Everyone fears him, everyone loves him. What kinda dude even. Maybe he doesn't have any real friends because he bought them all with money. Tsk…

You take your food and walk to the area where your classmates stood. You are like a walking marvel to them, someone who stood up to her senior and kicked his ass. What you don't know is Satoru Gojo ended all chances of revenge coming your way. What does it take? A simple: 'You have beef with her you have beef with me'.

Lunch is… peaceful, until you notice Satoru walking in the cafeteria, drinking Cola and with his pathetic group of friends. They can rot too.

You looked down, evading eye contact is the best way to avoid any unwanted conversations after all.

You were eating secluded, your only friend sitting beside you who doesn't mind being judged to be around you sitting next to you. "Uh oh, he's coming here." She hummed, getting nervous. You sighed, looking at her and holding her hand gently. "Thanks for your company, I can handle from here, I promise." You wouldn't let her be stomped by the Prince charming. She's been kind to you. "Are you sure?" She asked, and you nodded, patting her shoulder.

Before she could lift her plate, Satoru sat next to you. "I don't remember allowing anyone to leave? Did I?" he smiles, all childish, feigning a harmless look. "Sit. Down." He warns and she instantly sits down. You could feel her hands shiver. No, you wouldn't let her be dragged into this.

"What is it? Gojo san." You looked at him, making eye contact. "Just came to check if you had a spine." His hand lands on your nape, touching and probing the spine bone peeking out. "You do, no?"

You shudder, leaning away a little only to have him hold your neck and pull you close, whispering gravely, "If you haven't paid me back then you can't run off from your job, Pet."

You snarled at that nickname again. "I told you to take the fucking money today and tomorrow." Struggling gravely and looking at him like a wounded lion. He's wounded your pride, your self-respect.

"And I said, I do not pick up pennies. Until then, you do what I say." He chuckled, "Or you're dumb and lack common sense?"

It's been weeks. Literal weeks and you're at your breaking point. Frustration bubbles in your eyes and they gloss up. You don't want this jerk to see you like this. Fucking hell you don't!

"What did I even do to you I don't understand…" You mumble, watching him lean his hand away.

At this point things have been too rotten, and Satoru hates to admit but he just wants to hang out. He can't admit that now after raining hell on you and he's too prideful to. It's not fun anymore, it stopped being fun the moment he asked you to fetch ice-cream and the moment you looked at him with 'expected' eyes when he pulled that stunt in the cafeteria.

"You've been a bitch that's all." He shrugs, looking away. His tone surprisingly tender. "Maybe if you can apologize for being one instead of all this drama and cryin' and victim bla-"

A loud smack echoed through the hall, and Gojo's cheeks had your handprint crisp and clear. "I'm fucking sorry I wouldn't suck your cock and wag my tail around you pathetically." Oh you're losing all of the carefully supressed rage, your patience waning off to nothing. You've been supressing and supressing and supressing…. and now it's erupting out. Dangerously.

Tears fall from your eyes as you look at him, "I hate you so much I wish you could just fucking die! Not everyone's as rich as you ASSHOLE! MY MOM WOULD FREAK THE FUCK OUT AND CALL ME A USELESS PIECE OF SHIT FOR BORROWING MONEY ON RUINING SOMEONE'S HIGH CLASS SHIRT! Not everyone's born with a silver spoon!" People look at you and Satoru both judgementally. You know things have sprung out of hand. "You fuckin- GO! GO AND ASK MY MOTHER AND MY FATHER AND MY BROTHER AND EVERYONE IN MY LAST NAME TO PAY MISTER GOJO SATORU BACK BECAUSE HIS SHIRT GOT RUINED AND HE DIDN'T GET AN APOLOGETIC COCKSUCKING BITCH IN RETURN!!"

Before your senses could take over, you took your bottle and put it on his hair, drenching him. You can't let Karma take care of him, you are Karma.

Satoru only stays silent and Suguru snorts from the sidelines. In a weird, sadistically twisted way, he likes what happened. You just removed some of his guilt with this.

"R-right.." He hummed, "Okay so…" He stood up, extending an arm. "Now that we're even. I think we are…. let's restart. Nyeh?"

"Gojo Satoru." He extends his hand, as if he is introducing himself for the first time ever. Your eyes will fall off your fucking sockets and you will die of an awkward mouth-agape heart failure.

What the fuck was wrong with this dude?

"ROT IN HELL!"

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