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wndaswife · 1 year

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(fic request) pls write this w nun!wanda (if you want) 😵😵😵

to worship and submit | wanda maximoff & fem!reader

Being the daughter of the man that leads the church choir means attending the services when you run out of excuses to be anywhere else, but a young woman who's recently joined the parish to become a nun has begun to make your time there worthwhile.

Word count: 7419

Tags: smut, fluff, humour, sacrilege, quite literally fucking in front of a crucifix, even i feel slightly guilty for writing it, strap-ons, rough sex, spanking, slapping, spitting, degradation, praise, daddy kink, mentions of masturbation, sub!wanda maximoff, dom!reader | MINORS DNI

A/N: SO... i did do some research for this fic... but only SOME... meaning some of the info may be incorrect fyi!!!

gif credit to evilly

Every Sunday since your dad joined the church as their choir leader, you’d been making yourself busy in advance just in case he’d ask if you wanted to come to the services.

You were proud of your dad — really, you were — because he loved music and loved the community the church brought him, and the church was closeby to where your mom worked as an elementary school teacher, so your parents were able to work together when there were community events that involved both the school and the church.

Though, being happy for your dad didn’t mean you also had to be happy when he invited you to the services.

Sometimes you’d attend special occasions like Easter and other holidays and church events wherein your dad prepared his own assortment of music and such for the choir to play, but only because you were there to support him and what he was passionate about — music and community and his family.

Such events were big deals at the church he volunteered at because it was well-known for its large community; the church itself was closely connected to a nearby convent where it had close ties to the nunnery there, as well as having one of if not the most ornate architecture all preserved within a historically-significant religious landmark.

But for the last few weeks, he hadn’t asked you to go with him because he was so busy with the new influx of students joining from the Catholic elementary school your mom worked at; they were all there singing on the weekends for their volunteer hours, but at the very least, your dad said they were still enthusiastic and friendly kids.

So on the morning of one of the very rare occasions in which you hadn’t had anything planned for the Sunday because you weren’t expecting him to invite you as he hadn’t for the last while, your dad invited you to the service.

You could’ve truly made up an excuse and flat-out lied about being busy, but it’d been a while since he asked and you knew he’d been working hard with the new students in his group, so you supposed it wasn’t so much trouble to accept his offer, even if you did groan it out in a superficial fit about having to get out of bed earlier.

It wasn’t that you not being religious had anything major to do with avoiding going to church, because you didn’t entirely mind when your religious parents brought you to the services for special occasions, but rather because you didn’t very much have the patience or sufficient concern for the readings and worship to attend the nearly-two-hour services.

That was truly your most pressing issue with attending the Sunday services with your dad, but today was different, with an unexpected experience to make you dread going even more than you did previously.

“Excuse me?” a timid, unfamiliar voice chirped from behind you.

You turned to see a young woman standing by the doorway of the back hall where the entrance to the choir balcony was.

Typically, you sat around there when your dad was conducting because you weren’t very involved in the church enough to sit at the pews nor were you part of the choir.

But from where you were sitting, you weren’t entirely uninvolved as you could still see and hear the services — it was the perfect spot.

“You aren’t allowed to sit here,” the young woman told you, running the pads of her two fingers along the edge of her sleeve.

Her dark brown hair was neatly pulled back into a conservative bun and she was wearing a black plain dress with a modest plain scoop neckline to show the buttons and collar of the crisply-ironed long-sleeved white blouse underneath that all of the church’s nuns wore, but the simplicity of her outfit and the uncovering of her hair meant to you that she was presently studying at the church to become a nun.

“I’m the choir dude’s daughter,” you said with a polite smile and looked away, expecting for your response to be all the elaboration she needed.

In a way that was subtle with the intention not to be offensive but in that very manner was offensive in itself because of how irritating her caution was, the woman cleared her throat.

“I-I know,” she pressed, “but this area isn’t open for seating. For anyone.”

When you didn’t answer for a moment as you stared at her, she quickly said, “I’m sorry. They told me to tell you.”

“I’ll find a spot in the pews,” you answered and collected your things.

From the corner of your eye, it seemed that she wanted to offer a seating alternative just to make up for what she was forced to tell you, but there wasn’t very much else she could offer.

That Thursday, you were back at the church to pick up an ironed uniform for your dad; it was for a special event set for the upcoming Sunday, and the church pressed it for him and everything.

It was a nice gesture.

They were nice people.

On Thursdays, there were only morning services and events for children in another spacious room where they could colour and play with the church’s team leaders and nuns.

But in the afternoon — which it now was — there wasn’t anything going on.

When you arrived, the church was still and warm with gentle sunlight shining through the stained glass windows and casting a myriad of colours against the pews.

You looked over your dad’s text again and walked through the directions he told you to take to get to the back halls of the church, just a few turns from the stairway that led up to the choir balcony.

The room where you were to pick up the uniform was as pretty as the rest of the church; it was a small prayer room with a pedestal and stained windows and red carpeting, but it was much cozier and probably hadn’t been used for prayer for the group size it was designed for in a little while.

You could see through the glass door the folded uniform for your dad on the windowsill behind the pedestal with a name tag placed on top of it ready for pick-up along with a few other clothes for some other church volunteers.

Upon entry, you closed the door quietly behind you and stepped into the room where you could now see a small table by the window and a familiar young woman sitting with a notebook, jotting a few things down from what looked like a leather-bound book.

“Can I just get my dad’s uniform from there, or do I need to sign it off or something?” you asked, announcing your presence.

She looked up from the notebook and at you then to the uniforms on the windowsill.

“Oh, you’re…” She paused and thought for a moment. “The choir conductor’s daughter?”

“Yeah.”

“I can sign it off for you,” she replied and smiled.

She stood from the table and walked around it to the uniforms, where a piece of paper was set beside the line of neatly-folded clothes.

You watched as she jotted down a few things onto the paper with a pen before carefully picking up the packaged uniform and turning to hand it to you.

“Thank you,” you answered.

“Of course. Have a good day,” she replied and bid you a goodbye before heading back to the table by the window.

You were on the way to leave the room, but you couldn’t, for some odd reason, take your eyes away from the way she lowered herself into her seat and resumed her notetaking.

She didn’t notice when you changed your direction and walked towards the table she was sitting at until you were perhaps just a metre away from her, when she then looked up from her notes and up at you.

“Did I give you the wrong uniform?” she asked, worried and now standing up from her chair.

“No,” you answered quickly and waved your hand.

She stayed standing, curious as to why you walked back.

“Hard at work?” you asked, pointing at her notebook.

Confused for a moment, perhaps by your curiosity in speaking with her, she looked over to her notebook and then back at you with a friendly smile, “Yes, a little. They gave me something to study from. I’m just taking notes.”

Carefully, you reached forward and spun her notebook around so you could read it.

Her curiosity seemed to spike when you leaned forward to read her notes, and she looked at you with a small smile.

“Um,” she started awkwardly. “I want to apologise for earlier this week. For making you move seats.”

“Oh, it’s fine,” you replied and looked up from her notes to smile at her reassuringly. “I know they just made you tell me because you’re new.”

The young woman seemed reassured, her shoulders even relaxing a bit when you said it.

“You’re still… What do you call it? Like, you’re studying to be a nun here? Not fully one yet?”

She shook her head.

“Yes, I’m in the study period before becoming a novitiate,” she answered.

Your fingers ran over her delicate handwriting, feeling the indentations of her pen against the paper.

“To worship and submit,” you read aloud from the notebook. “Fascinating.”

She caught onto your twinge of sarcasm but approached it with humour, laughing a little and conceding, “It is a bit medieval, but an important quality, I’d presume.”

Reflecting suddenly on how young the woman seemed much younger than the other nuns, you asked her, “How old are you?”

“Twenty-four.”

She was a bit older than you, but still quite young.

Her hair was down now, though still neatly brushed and free of frizz and tucked behind her ears. She was wearing a white long-sleeved shirt and an ankle-length black skirt patterned lightly with gardenias.

“How did you get into wanting to be a nun, anyhow?” you asked and moved your attention away from the notebook and towards her. “You don’t seem like the type.”

“I-I don’t?” she inquired, almost sounding nervous at the implication that she wasn’t training herself properly.

“I mean, pious and submissive — sure,” you said, referring to her notes, which made her seem a bit flustered, “but not like a nun.”

She questioned curiously, “More like…?”

After humming aloud in thought, you turned to her with your hip laying against the edge of the table and suggested, “Elementary school teacher. Vet. I don’t know, something like that.”

She was pretty — truly.

Cute, even.

“When I was younger, I wanted to be a vet,” she told you, smiling sweetly.

“Changed your mind?”

“Younger as in quite young, perhaps around ten,” she recalled. “My parents are both rather religious and ever since I turned fourteen it’s always been their intention to have me join a congregation.”

Interest piqued, you asked, “And your intention for yourself was…?”

“For myself?” she repeated as if taken by surprise.

You nodded once.

She paused for a moment to hum thoughtfully before saying, “I was happy to follow whichever path my parents intended for me.”

“You find passion in nunnery?” you asked. “Genuine question — not judging.”

“Of course,” she answered.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket and you quickly checked it to see that your dad had messaged asking if you were able to pick up his uniform.

“I’m sorry. I’ve been holding you back from something,” the woman apologised and stepped to the side to allow you to leave.

Sliding your phone back into your pocket and adjusting your dad’s uniform in your hand, you replied, “No, not at all. My dad’s just impatient. I should get going now though, since here’s a few errands I have to run before noon.”

She nodded in understanding.

“It was nice being able to talk with you,” she then said. “I haven’t been able to talk with very many people since I came here. It’s all just been about studying and the church.”

Before you left, you made sure to ask for her name, to which she replied telling you it was ‘Wanda.’

Cute name.

It’d been quite a while since you ever attended the services two weeks in a row. The last you did was during the last half of August the first year your dad started conducting the church choir, during which you had nothing else to do but wait for classes to start — so you went to the services.

This time, because the church was celebrating something special, your dad asked both you and your mother to attend the service because he’d been working on preparing a set of songs for the occasion.

Under the guise of being a supportive daughter, your parents didn’t second guess why you were so willing to attend the service this week, nor did they ask if there was a certain individual you were perhaps a bit excited to see again.

Truthfully, you couldn’t stop thinking of Wanda since you last saw her a few days ago. There was much to her you felt laid dormant and sleeping, awakened only just in the slightest during the conversation you had with her. She was kind and curious, but also painfully naive.

She was a few years older than you but knew far less about the truth of her own ambitions and strayed perhaps not even a foot’s distance away from behind her parents’ shadows.

Wanda was interesting, but intrigued you for far too long for her to be only that. Though you couldn’t very well figure out what it was about her that made her bounce around in your head like a pinball until an unassuming evening.

It was sincerely an unrelated act when you first started, travelling your hand down between your legs in the silence of the evening to relieve yourself of the pent-up stress from classes that’d come over you during the last few days.

Truly, it was completely unrelated to Wanda and anything and everything about her when you started, and even during, until you reached your peak of release and found your imagination flashing with curiosities about what she looked like under her garments, how she’d squeal if you spanked her ass and if she’d like it, or how she’d cry out in sheer pleasure if you forced her down and made her take her spankings regardless.

For a moment afterwards there was guilt, but every day onwards there was curiosity, wondering for hours about what you’d seen when you reached that point of pleasure during which Wanda was your only muse.

You’d like to tell yourself it was only that curiosity that guided your willingness to attend the service with your parents, but it was something else entirely too — something completely carnal.

For the first hour of the service, Wanda was still nowhere to be seen. Because of the church’s connections with its convent, the nuns had a large role in some of the day-to-day happenings, but mostly during important church events like what you were presently attending.

Wanda wasn’t a nun yet; she was yet to be even a novitiate as she had mentioned, and so perhaps she just didn’t get to attend events like these.

Though you personally found that counter-productive, you weren't one to complain about the convent’s decisions, but you did wish you got to see Wanda.

If she wasn’t one to be able to attend such events, when would you see her next?

After coming to the realisation that you probably just weren’t going to see her today or perhaps even for a little while, you excused yourself after having been present for nearly all of your dad’s song arrangements and with enough time to be able to be back from the washroom with well-enough time to catch the rest of his songs.

To your surprise, you saw the very woman who’d been on your mind for the last hour was sitting in the hall by the stairway that led up to the choir balcony. She was wearing the same outfit as she had been the first time you met her, with her hair done up in the same way too.

“Excuse me, but you aren’t allowed to sit here,” you teased, approaching from the right and walking into the hallway.

She quickly swiped at her eyes and began to apologise before she raised her head and saw it was you who had spoken to her, and you who now stood beside the bench she was sitting on.

Though she smiled and seemed relieved and happy to see you, you could tell that she’d just been crying — alone in this hallway away from the service and the nuns and sitting at the far end of the bench so as not to be seen by the people attending the mass.

Wanda stood, running her palms down the sides of her dress with a friendly smile while saying, “You’re here.”

“Yeah,” you answered distractedly as you focused on the slight redness of her eyes and the tip of her nose.

You then asked once you were sure she’d been crying, “Are you okay?”

Suddenly feeling self-conscious after realising it must've been obvious that she’d been crying, Wanda carefully wiped under her eyes again and even tried making herself seem less dishevelled by tucking her hair behind her ears before you took her hands away from her face and made her stop fidgeting with her appearance.

“Seriously, what’s wrong?” you pressed.

Dismissively as to not bring any more attention to herself, she told you, “It’s really nothing. It’s nothing to bother you with.”

“I wanna be bothered,” you answered lightheartedly. “Come on.”

Wanda smiled at your gaiety and you urged her to tell you what was wrong once more before she finally exhaled in surrender though she didn’t sit down before speaking, implying that in spite of the fact of giving in to you, she wasn’t very well planning on delving too deep into what had been bothering her.

“Earlier today, I had accidentally misplaced the leather book I’d been studying from — the one you saw me with a few days prior, if you can remember,” she said. “And I was scolded terribly for it. It was quite deserving as it was an important collection of notes and such, so I do not question from where my scolding had come, but it seems to me that all I’ve done since I started here is get myself in trouble with the other nuns.”

Here, you tried taking her hand and urging her to sit down, but she wouldn’t, and slipped her fingers out of your hold.

“They found the book in one of the small prayer rooms I’d been studying in, so at the very least it was not a mistake of ruining the integrity of the book by losing it completely, but rather the very principle of having been given something so important and misplacing it,” she continued.

Wanda swallowed and seemed to be contemplating whether to go into more detail, and you could tell that there was something else that had been bothering her that didn’t exactly have to do with misplacing the book.

Before she had the chance to make a decision, there was a passerby who came from the service in search of the restrooms, which interrupted Wanda’s train of thought as she and the man exchanged a brief hello.

“We can go somewhere else,” you offered, taking her hand and heading down the hallway with her. She didn’t take her hand away from you this time, but instead told you that she only needed time to be on her own and that she was fine now.

The only other place you knew was the prayer room you picked your dad’s uniform up in, and fortunately it was unlocked.

You ushered Wanda into the room and she smiled at you from behind and you led her forward to one of the front seats in front of the altar, regarding you with admiration for the effort you put into wanting to express your concern for her and make sure she felt heard.

The early morning beams of light shone through the stained glass like they had that afternoon you’d come here a few days prior, but the room was far less stuffy now, familiar and almost reminiscent of something nostalgic.

The feeling could easily be because of the fact that you’d been envisioning what you could remember from it nearly every hour since that past Thursday, with the room in the background of your mental portrait of Wanda.

She settled down in the seat beside you, feeling encouraged more so because she wanted now to be closer to you rather than solely to sit and talk about what had been bothering her.

But she could partake in the latter if that was what you asked of her — and it was.

“I know that I hardly know you, but I’ve been here for nearly a whole month and you are the person I feel closest to,” she confessed.

You felt flattered, though you knew telling you that she felt close to you wasn’t exactly the point of why she said that.

Wanda further reflected aloud, “I’m getting nowhere I’m supposed to, not finding the call to God like both my parents and the nuns told me about though I have even given it plenty of time. I studied English in college and yet can find not even a little interest in my religious readings.”

While she thought in silence for a moment, you didn’t interrupt her.

When she found the words to verbalise what she’d been meaning to say, she began with a question: “Do you remember when you asked what my own intentions were for myself? On Thursday?”

You nodded.

“It’s ridiculous, but I can’t even recall the last time I sincerely asked that to myself, but perhaps in shallower terms, such as wondering where I might be in a few years or what I might do with my time in the convent.

“But never what I wanted — never who I wanted to be.”

After a moment, when you were sure she wasn’t trying to find words to express herself nor contemplating whether to say something, you asked, “And do you know who you want to be?”

For a brief moment — half of one, really — Wanda looked thoughtful, and then she said and gestured to her clothing and the prayer room, “Not this.”

“So then, what?” you inquired further.

You teased, “A vet?”

Wanda giggled and sat back a bit in her seat. “Perhaps if I were ten,” she said.

Then more seriously, she added, “But now, I’m not very sure.”

“How did you come to realise what you were interested in?” Wanda asked. “For example, your studies. What are you studying?”

She was talking fast, obviously very invested in your conversation together and also rather curious about you.

You thought that was cute; you liked Wanda.

“I’m studying philosophy,” you told her to which she straightened and was eager to hear more about. “But with studies, it’s different, because you’re talking about more personal matters. Academics are far different from personal paths.”

Wanda seemed a bit disappointed because she was looking for a definite answer, but what you explained certainly made sense to her.

She pondered about something then instead asked, “So about personal matters, then. What about those?”

“What about them?”

“Give me a principle to follow,” she sought. “Something I might be able to apply here. Something as general as you’d like it to be, but applicable.”

Her steadily growing smile made it clear that though she was certainly looking for advice, she also thoroughly enjoyed exchanging quips with you and exploring more about you.

In a way, she was as eager to learn about you than how to help herself, if not more so.

You hummed thoughtfully and Wanda watched as you were deep in thought.

“A principle for you,” you said, “could easily be that it’s okay to be selfish, to think only of yourself when you’ve spent so long doing anything else.”

Wanda asked, slightly amused but far more curious, “You recommend hedonism?”

“To you?”

She nodded.

You replied, “Indubitably.”

If you hadn’t already been thinking of Wanda in painfully great amounts before that morning, then you certainly were afterwards.

The third week came around and by then Wanda was banging against every square inch of your skull like an intruder, necessitating the need to be seen and thought of every other minute in any way you could.

Perhaps the relationship you developed with her thus far was one of friendship and nothing more, yet her persistence that never strayed too far from your mind seemed to you that she had become reminiscent of something greater than a platonic figure.

In any case, you had to muster the ability to ask your dad in the most nonchalant manner you could if it were possible for you attend Sunday’s service.

You did it in a way that did not make it seem to him that you were about to become a familiar face in the church, but rather that someone had simply happened to ask you for help during the last service and wondered if you might be able to attend the next — which is quite literally what you told him.

It wasn’t a lie.

Not even when you said that it was a young woman who was studying to become a novitiate at the convent that was curious about the choir and the other volunteers and had asked you about it last week, because Wanda did truly ask about the choir and the other people who volunteered at the church once.

But that wasn’t at all the reason why you wanted to attend the service that Sunday.

“Y/N,” a voice called in a hushed tone when you passed the hallway leading up to the choir stairway where your dad had already walked up towards.

You slipped away from the people filing into the pews and quickly came to Wanda’s side.

“Don’t you have places to be aside from fraternising with the guests?” you teased as she took your wrist and led you towards the room you both seemed to like talking in the most.

“After last week’s ordeal with the book, I’ve been put on some kind of probation from participating in the services so I have more time to study independently,” she told you, not seeming particularly worried.

She added, “On Sundays, the convent is rather empty, so they wouldn’t notice that I’m off not studying. Though I could very well say I chose to study in one of the extra prayer rooms here.”

“And I’m sure they remember how much you love the prayer rooms here,” you said, wiggling your eyebrows at your reference to her having lost the book in one of them.

Wanda faked a laugh in the driest manner you’d ever heard and you nudged her arm to which she told you to stop joking around with her so she could tell you something important.

She closed the prayer room door and sat you down beside her.

From a small bag on the chair to her left, she pulled out a small dictionary.

Here, you were tempted to make fun of her and ask why she was carrying around a dictionary so tiny, but you recalled that she had wanted to ask you about something serious.

She flipped open to a page she had bookmarked.

“Hedonism,” she read aloud. “In philosophy, the belief that pleasure and the absence of pain is the most important principle in determining the morality of an action.”

Wanda looked up at you from the dictionary. “This is what you meant?” she asked.

You nodded.

Curiously, you inquired, “Do you agree with it?”

She looked back down to the page in which had written three definitions of hedonism, the third being the one defined by philosophy.

The first two you could not quite read upside down.

“I have never heard of it in such detail before the time you mentioned it last week,” she said, running her eyes over the words in contemplation, “but it’s interesting.”

“What would be your first endeavour to pleasure, if you had to make a guess?” you asked her.

Wanda ran over the words of the definition again with her eyes, perhaps still deep in thought about it or absently doing so while she contemplated an answer to your question.

“My first?” she repeated.

You looked down at the dictionary page now that she was holding it at a slightly different angle that oriented the letters better for you.

The first definition read, ‘Pursuit of pleasure.’

And the second — you had to tip your head to the side a bit to decipher it — read, ‘Sensual self-indulgence.’

During your deep concentration, Wanda had come to an answer to your question, and it wasn’t until she leaned forward and kissed your unsuspecting lips that you realised she had even stopped looking at the page.

It was the uttering of her muffled words against your lips that triggered something deep within you, perhaps equally as restrained as her own.

An unfinished sentence, but one on its own nonetheless.

‘I want…’ she had uttered, breathless and with one hand cupping your cheek and feeling with the pads of her fingers the softness of your skin.

With that, you hastily reached forward and grasped at her ass, lifting her from her seat and stripping her down so she was in nothing but her undergarments.

The paths of your nails streaked red against her pale skin while you devoured her every step of the way, your lips following every inch of skin that became exposed to you while your hands made quick work of unzipping her dress and unbuttoning her blouse.

She sighed when you kissed her breasts and squeezed your hands around her waist and hips, taking her selfishly and finally spreading her legs and sitting her down in your lap.

“Are you…” you began between breaths, pausing to figure out your wording and sitting back in your seat to look at her. “Have you had sex?”

Wanda giggled, finding your question amusing. “Of course I have,” she replied and took your hands and placed them on her hips again.

“Cocky,” you jested, hooking your thumb under the clasp of her bra and releasing it so it snapped against her back, causing her to arch her body into you with a soft gasp. “Thought you might’ve been abstinent or something.”

“I don’t mean to be cocky,” she said in a low voice. “But I am certainly not abstinent.”

“Should I be jealous?”

“Only if you choose to be.”

“I choose to be,” you said with conviction. “So for whom should I be jealous, then?”

“College students.”

You gasped superficially.

“You fuck college students? Exclusively?”

“No!” she laughed. “I mean I haven’t been very active since my time in college.”

“Haven’t had sex since college?”

She corrected, “I didn’t mean that either.”

“So what did you mean?”

“This conversation is like pulling teeth.”

“Why? You want me to fuck you hard against this floor right now, baby?” you asked. The very crudeness of your words, albeit teasing, made Wanda’s breath hitch, and so within that reaction you found her first tell. “No foreplay or anything?”

“This isn’t foreplay?”

“Hardly.”

“Then what is?” she asked though sounding slightly pouty about it.

“Oh, don’t tell me you’re all turned on and impatient from just that. Teasing gets you off?” you pressed. “Didn’t even have to be told how I wanna see your gorgeous ass bruise when I fuck your cunt from behind like you’re my sick little fucktoy whore?”

Her hips twitched.

“Y/N…” she muttered, perhaps out of impatience or forewarning for how you were teasing her, either way you could not tell and weren’t very rushed in trying to figure it out.

You pulled her bra down and released one of her breasts, slapping it lightly with your fingers and causing her to gasp before pinching one of her sensitive pink buds.

There would be no indulging her past what you were willing to indulge; you were careful not to touch her more than what was intentional.

You bucked your hips up under the guise of adjusting your seating, grinding your stiff cock against the soaking panties which were now beginning to soak your pants.

Her cunt was sensitive beyond the thin fabric, causing the strap to rub her perfectly through her soft, swollen folds; you could practically hear how sticky she was without even looking.

“What is that?” she quickly asked, looking down between her thighs. She tried moving back to get a better look, but you quickly held onto her hip with your other hand and pulled her harshly back to her original position, making her throbbing clit rub directly onto your cock.

A strangled yelp was breathed past her lips.

“Don’t move unless I tell you to, you understand?” you told her.

She nodded.

“Everywhere else in this building, there is only one God, but here in this room, I am yours. You will listen to what I tell you and take what I give you, even if it hurts. You’ll be grateful that I make you hurt as much as you will when I give you pleasure.”

In spite of everything, Wanda repressed a tiny smile and said, “You’re scary when you’re authoritative with me.”

You laughed through your nose and replied, “I can get scarier.”

Her smile widened into a grin and Wanda’s hand came to the back of your neck when you leaned forward and kissed her, one arm circling around her waist and carefully slipping her off your lap as you stood from your seat.

“We’ll get caught,” she voiced concern against your lips.

“Then be the lookout.”

You made sure she didn’t trip on her way up to the podium, and soon you had her chest laid flat against the lectern and facing the front doors, the shadow of the large crucifix behind the both of you casted against the red carpet from the morning sun shining from behind the stained glass.

Wanda listened as you unzipped your pants and when she made an attempt to turn her head and look at what you were doing, you put your other hand against her upper back and pressed her back down, reducing her line of sight to your face and shoulder and nothing else.

Her clothed cunt was prodded at, the stiff tip of your strap finding her hole through her panties and nudging at it teasingly. She groaned impatiently and reached back to take hold of your hand, to grab onto anything and urge you forward.

In response, you spanked her harshly and made Wanda yelp out in surprise and wince.

“You dirty, impatient slut,” you spat.

She immediately whimpered, “I’m sorry, daddy.”

That satisfied something in you that you hadn’t even known you wanted, and you were more than happy to share in that satisfaction.

You hummed and tucked a finger under the waistband of Wanda’s panties, making her twitch impatiently while also doing her best to listen to her orders. Then you laid your hand flat against her lower back, rubbing her supportively and making a warm flush form across her face.

“You’re a good girl, aren’t you, Wanda?” you asked, looking up her bent-over half-naked body to the back of her head.

She nodded.

“Good girl,” she confirmed with a nod.

Gently, you squeezed her ass and danced your fingers up to the waistband of her panties that you finally pulled down, exposing her gorgeous, glistening cunt.

It took just as much resistance from you not to shove your cock right into her as much as it took Wanda to not thrust her hips back and grind her clit against your strap.

“Why don’t you tell me all you’ve been studying about the last little while?” you said, running a hand down her ass and sliding a thumb into her pussy, feeling heaps of pride with the way you slipped inside with no resistance.

She was incredibly wet and so, so warm.

Distracted by the way your thumb probed shallowly at her hole, giving her just enough pleasure to make her throb but just short of enough to satisfy her entirely, it took Wanda a few moments to regain her focus before she finally asked, “S-Studying? About what?”

“You’re a smart girl, Wanda,” you encouraged, slowly sliding your thumb out and grazing the pad of it lightly over her swollen slit and across the hood of her clit. “Methods on how to be a proper nun. For example, swear yourself to the Lord, abstain from sex, so on and so forth.”

Wanda swallowed and tried her best to focus with the way your thumb began spreading her cunt out, revealing to you the glistening folds of her pussy. She began stuttering and finally squeezed her eyes shut hard enough to be able to recall some of her studies.

“Um, there was…” she uttered and ran her fingers along the edge of the wooden lectern, “living in modesty; not showing off one’s body in any crude manner, not partaking in pleasures of the flesh.”

Three of your fingers began rubbing slow circles against Wanda’s hole, squelching against her dripping cunt and making her tremble and moan shakily.

“And what next?” you asked.

“I-I can’t… Can’t focus…” she told you helplessly.

Your thumb flicked at her clit and Wanda’s body jerked forward.

“One more,” you urged. “Come on. Give me one more good one and I’ll fuck you with my cock. You want that, don’t you?”

Intentionally, you began to focus on her clit now, having your index finger graze it as your middle and ring finger slowly began delving in and out of her sticky hole, purposefully making it even more difficult for Wanda to find the words for herself.

“I want… I want that,” she shuddered, hanging her head and squeezed her eyes shut again.

“So, then, give me one more.”

Wanda’s breathing deepened as she tried her hardest to focus.

With every intention to make it more difficult for her, you reached up with your other hand and pulled her bra down, allowing you access to knead her breast and feel her nipple harden against the palm of your hand.

She whimpered into her arm and bit down on her bottom lip.

You stepped forward and removed your fingers from her cunt to rub the length of your strap through her pussy, wet fingers taking hold of its base and running it through her swollen folds.

“A-Ah, Y/N, please…” she mewled, though neither of you were quite sure whether she was begging for you to stop and allow her to think thoroughly or for you to have mercy on her completely and just fuck her.

“One more,” you reiterated and aligned the tip of your cock with her entrance.

You placed both hands on her hips and began pulling her backwards, fucking her shallowly and watching her pussy take your cock with just as much anticipation as Wanda was struggling to withhold.

She hugged around you beautifully and it was truly only the tip; you couldn’t wait another moment to fuck her until she was begging for you to fuck her until it hurt.

“A-Another,” she finally trembled out, “is to be, by nature, a woman of submission, to worship your God and seek no amount of personal domination over–”

Fully satisfied with her answer and terribly impatient yourself, your fingernails dug into Wanda’s hips and you jerked her ass back against you, forcing her to take your entire cock in one swift movement.

She cried out and you wrapped a hand around her waist, running your nails down her side and feeling an inexplicable need to mark her, to cause her pain, to reduce her to a whimpering trembling, bruised mess so cock-drunk that all she’d feel for the next three days is the aftermath of being rough-fucked like a slut.

“Hit me, please, daddy,” she begged, wrapping her fingers around the edge of the lectern and arching her back.

So you did — repeatedly.

You spanked Wanda over and over, having the sound of your palm meeting her ass echo through the room and only reiterating to the both of you how she was much less of a nun or a student or any reflection of purity, but a braindead nympho whore good for nothing but getting her pussy fucked raw.

She was a loud fuck, crying out in whimpers and moans and other strings of partially-comprehensible words telling you how good your cock felt and how much she loved getting fucked by you.

The playing organs and belting choir playing during the service muffled Wanda out, but Jesus Christ, if any of them out there had been able to hear her getting fucked down the hallway, they might just think for a moment that it was the calling of an angel or at least something in some way divine.

But none of them would ever know what it looked like to fuck Wanda from behind, pulling her up with their hand around her neck so you had access to slap her face and spit into her mouth like you could, pinching her clit and fucking her through to her third orgasm.

How beautiful she looked, sweaty and a mess with her long brown hair fanned out and stuck in strands against her back, crying out in equal parts pain and pleasure and finding herself incredibly pleased by being used like a filthy object.

And you’d make sure no one else could get the chance to see the sight but you.

“I’m gonna come again, Y/N,” she cried, breasts pressed against the cold wood of the lectern and arms pressed against her back. “This is my last, please, I can’t take anymore.”

You let go of her wrists and wrapped an arm around her waist, lifting her from the lectern. She was arched at a slight angle so your arm could assist in continuing to fuck her, but she was now much closer, and she was now able to loll her head back against your shoulder.

“This is the closest thing a slut like you will ever get to heaven, angel,” you told her, kissing her temple. “Make your God proud and come on my cock, filthy bitch.”

Wanda reached back and held onto you for support while her eyes squeezed shut, her lips parting as a silent cry escaped her, her third and final orgasm coming over her without mercy.

You squeezed at her breast and leaned your head down and bit at her shoulder and up the back of her neck, getting in as many markings of your ownership as you could.

She sighed out and uttered your name, to which you ran your hands up her stomach, one hand moving up to her face and gently tilting her head over so you could kiss her lips.

Her knees buckled out and you carefully set her down on the floor before sitting down beside her. Wanda panted heavily into your chest, one hand on your knee and the other arm wrapped around your shoulder.

You had your arms around her waist, rubbing her back supportively and whispering in her ear words upon words of how beautiful she looked, how good she’d been for you, then soon confessing how much you’d been thinking of her over the last few weeks, how much of your mind she occupied and how much of your time you spent thinking of her.

Wanda liked hearing that last part most, but she particularly enjoyed when you told her how it felt to masturbate to her, to imagine her looking up at you and choking on your cock at your final point of release, and how really being with her was plenty more enjoyable and, quite frankly, more beautiful than you ever could’ve fantasised about on your own.

The both of you were on your knees, sweaty with the labour of sex and kneeling in each other’s arms at the foot of the towering crucifix, whispering and giggling to each other all the equally sweet and dirty confessions you could exchange before the service was over.

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff x reader #marvel #marvel fanfiction #marvel smut #elizabeth olsen #heliumknife

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covetyou · 6 months

Text

egg hunt

ao3 ⋆ main masterlist ⋆ series masterlist

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader rating: Explicit (18+ only!) warnings: oral sex (m! receiving), balls, questionable use of sex toys, semi-public blowjobs, eggs, Joel is a giant bunny, feelings, misunderstandings leading to angst. word count: 5.9k summary: Catching Joel dressed as a giant rabbit in your backyard wasn't on your bingo card for things to happen to you this year. But, what waits for you beneath the bunny suit, and in his basket, aren't the only surprises you'll have tonight.

A/N: truth be told I find eggs genuinely, criminally funny in every possible way, as well as disgusting, so happy Easter!

These egg things are hilarious, but also not nearly as fun as they seem, though if I'd had the genius idea to stick 'em on some balls I imagine I would've had a much better time tbh.

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You almost don't notice, too busy shoving your cup harshly against the ice dispenser before taking a long, deep, gulp of the cold liquid. But then you see it, and it's not the shock of cold to your esophagus that makes your eyes widen, spluttering icy water before sucking in a desperate breath.

No. It's the ghostly white figure rummaging around in your backyard on all fours.

You duck down just as it stands, holding on tightly to the counter edge with both hands, before crawling to the backdoor to check it's locked, keeping you safely inside away from whatever this thing was. But, just as you reach for the latch, the creature stands on two legs, stretching back with two thick arms on its waist.

The figure is broad, and tall, and... dressed in what appears to be a giant bunny onesie. Even with it's head covered in a white hood, bunny ears flapping as the creature bends and moves, you know what it is. Who it is. You'd recognize those shoulders just about anywhere, and no one else would pull something like this at 9pm on a Sunday.

It had been weeks since you last saw him, but you can't say that was a surprise - what you had wasn't exactly a regular thing, if it could be called a thing at all. That doesn't mean you hadn't been hoping for it, counting down the days to the next holiday in hopes you'd see him again - There was no denying your disappointment St. Patrick's day came and went with no sign of a leprechaun and a pot of gold. Now, he was finally here, dressed head to toe in a bunny suit, doing fuck knows what to your lawn.

"The fucker..."

Unlocking the door, you slink out into the night, sliding it closed behind you before creeping across the yard. This was new, getting to be the one to surprise him. He may have been in your yard, but with each soft step of your foot on the grass it looked like you were finally going to one up him.

But then he turns around, looking toward the house and seemingly straight through you for a moment...

Before his eyes focus on you in the dark, and everything in his hands goes tumbling to the ground as he practically leaps out of his bunny suit.

"Jesus fuckin' Christ."

"We've got to stop meeting like this," you say watching Joel's giant bunny ears flap in the air with his movement as he bends, reaching down to the grass to pick up the basket he dropped.

"You half scared the shit outta me, what're you doin' out here?" he grumbles as he rights himself.

"What are you doing out here? It's my yard. You Bunny Joel this time?" you joke, crossing your arms over your chest in a not-so-smooth attempt to cover yourself. Getting properly dressed had been the last thing on your mind when you stumbled down the stairs, legs still jelly and head still fuzzy from post-orgasm bliss. The only thought that registered was how damn thirsty you were as you tugged a worn, old shirt over your head and made your way to the kitchen. It wasn't cool enough to blame the temperature shift on your quickly puckering nipples, and you didn't feel like explaining where your panties were or why your thighs were simultaneously sticky and slippery. You're just grateful you put on anything at all, and at the very least it was long enough to cover your ass.

Joel smirks, your fruitless attempt at modesty not going unnoticed. "Ain't no regular bunny, darlin'. I'm the Easter Bunny."

"And the difference is...?"

"Eggs."

You laugh, folding yourself over a little as you giggle into the night. The whole get up really is ridiculous enough on its own, yet here you are discussing the nuances of being a giant bunny with a man more fond of playing dress up than anyone else you'd ever met.

"Eggs?"

You spot them as soon as the word leaves your mouth - four colorful eggs sat neatly in his basket, and another nestled into your flowerbed. Only, they don't look like normal eggs at all. Squinting in the dark, the yard lit only by shitty solar lights you'd bought online last summer, you can make out the neat patterns swirled all over them. This was not the handiwork of some enthusiastic child dying eggs for Easter - they looked professionally painted. Joel shakes the basket at you as you continue to squint at it, and you realise not a single one has cracked or broken, even after being dropped on the floor.

"What are they? Egg shaped bouncy balls?"

"Got some balls right here if you're really that interested," he jokes, looking obscene as he waggles his eyebrows at you beneath the hood of the bunny onesie. "Here, they're just these... things. My brother got 'em for me as a joke, it's a long story."

He passes you one of the eggs, the surface smooth and cool in your hand. There's writing on it that you can just about make out, but you still have no clue what you're holding as you turn it around in your palm.

Sensing your confusion, Joel offers a choice gesture, as he explains that they're for "Y'know."

It clicks. Well, sort of. You know for sure then that they're not something you could sneak away for some solo playtime, like with the plug he dutifully left on by your bedside so many weeks ago but maybe, like the contraptions Joel had strapped over his balls your last two encounters, you could enjoy them together.

"Wait, so... you're giving me a thing for anatomy I don't even have?"

"No it's not like that, I just thought - I, well, shit."

"I'm just fuckin' with you, Bunny Joel. Though giving me a gift that's really a gift for yourself is a bit of a dick move."

"Ain't a dick move if you like 'em, sweetheart. And it's Easter Bunny Joel," he corrects with a wink, smiling at you as he drops the basket on the ground to pull at his neck tie. The man looks good in pink, you think, as he fiddles with the floppy satin.

"Y'know, Easter Bunny Joel doesn't quite roll off the tongue."

"Don't it?"

"Nope," you say with a pop, pinching the material of Joel's Bunny onesie to feel the fabric between your finger tips as your roll the egg across the palm of your other hand. "Think you need a better name than that."

"Okay, I'll bite. What you got in mind?"

You're walking your fingers down his chest now, dancing them in a criss-cross pattern across the fastenings at the front of the suit until you reach his hip and slowly you drag the tips of your fingers closer to his crotch until you're cupping his bulge. You wouldn't say he's entirely flaccid, there's certainly something there, but the length of him still feels pliable beneath your hand as you stroke over the front of his costume.

"I was thinking... Flopsy," you say with a squeeze of your palm against his cock, biting back a laugh when you hear him hiss a breath of night air through his teeth.

"Real funny."

"What? If you're committed to the bit, I can be too," and before he can protest you slip the fingers of your free hand between the fastenings on the front of his suit. You can feel his skin underneath, hot and sticky, trapped beneath the synthetic fabric of the bunny costume. At the very least, he's topless under there, and eager to find out more, you quickly yank at the front, grinning devilishly at Joel as the fabric pops open slightly.

"You really wanna be gettin' into this out here?"

"You scared, Flopsy?" you say, with another squeeze to his now much harder cock. "That side is up for sale, and Janet is out of town until Tuesday. No one's seeing anything. Unless you're scared someone might hear something... but I guess you'll just have to keep quiet."

"F- you're gonna be the death of me, darlin'," he mutters, pulling at his pink tie so it hangs loosely around his neck, giving him better movement to look down at your hand where it strokes his cock over the soft plush of the rabbit costume.

You tug again at the suit and with a rapid pop pop pop, the remaining fastenings hiding his chest from you pull open, revealing him to you and... he's a mess. From the neck down he's covered in streaks of paint, multicolored blooms splattered across him, dusting his ribs like a rainbow of bruises.

"Kid had some powder paint stuff - y'know that festival of color thing? Well, kid had some left after a party with a friend from school... had a little fight in the yard earlier before I dropped her back with her mom for the week," he explains quickly, rubbing a hand nervously against his chest and smearing the splattered rainbow there. You make a mental note, adding has a kid to the very short list of confirmed facts you know about Joel. It's not exactly a surprise revelation, all things considered - the costumes had to come from somewhere, and most grown men don't just have fairy wings and toy bows and arrows lying around.

"Well, Flopsy, you make a mighty fine canvas, but I think I might need a hand with this."

The egg you'd been turning in your hand is deposited back into his grasp just as you tug him forward giving him a peck on the chin and you look expectantly up at him. Joel knows he shouldn't pull you toward him and kiss you out here, he thinks he knows that the expectant look is nothing to do with kissing him and everything to do with the egg in his hand, but he does anyway. Slotting his mouth against yours, he pulls you into his chest, the sweat of his skin transfering blotches of paint from his chest to your old shirt. But you don't care, holding yourself tighter to him, pushing your fingers underneath his hood to card them through his hair. Joel groans into your mouth when your fingertips rub at his scalp. You're in half a mind to call him such a good bunny but the air, and the thought, is knocked out of you the next second when he presses a hand against your ass, pulling you further into him so he can grind his hardened length against your lower belly.

It's been far too long since someone held you against them like this, and far too long since Joel had had someone like you in his arms. As he kisses and kisses you, you're starting to feel more and more insane, and maybe you are - maybe accepting this man into your home with such regularity is the mark of insanity, some kind of as-of-yet undiscovered syndrome that's going to be named after you.

Eventually, you muster the strength to pull away, slapping a hand gently to his chest and nodding down to the egg gripped in his fist. You're eager to see it in action, even if you still can't quite picture what it is.

"C'mon, open it for me. Gotta properly thank the Easter Bunny for bringing me Easter eggs."

Joel slips the wrapper of the egg, something you never could've figured out on your own without decent lighting to guide your way, and presses a thumb into the side of it, popping the top off the egg in one smooth movement.

Before he can hand it to you, you slip down to your knees, bare shins resting against the cool, damp grass. It's a beautiful clear night, no trace of the moon in sight just yet, but the glimmer of stars sparkling relentlessly overhead regardless. You hadn't noticed how hot you'd gotten, but being around Joel always seemed to do this to you. Your cheeks felt hot, your heart beat faster, and your head felt slightly dizzy - the result of it emptying itself of all thoughts except the ones that made you make questionable decisions it seemed. Of course, this time the heat wasn't just from proximity, but from that damned fabric of his costume, the synthetic fibers making you feel sweaty as you held onto him. The grass beneath you is a welcome relief against your warm skin, sending the fine hairs on your body prickling at the sensation.

"This how you say thank you to everyone? On your knees?"

"It's how I say thank you to giant bunnies, Joel," you quip back, pressing a kiss to the softness of his belly. You litter a string of kisses down the trail of hair until you reach the boundary of the bunny suit. Whether he's commando or you have another layer to get through, you don't yet know, but you waste no time finding out. With the hook of your finger and a final swift pull, the last fastenings burst open, revealing Joel's heavy length straining against the front of his boxers. Where his tip tents the fabric, a darker patch blooms, turning the gray practically black with precum.

In your dreams, and there had been many of them, it didn't go like this. Dream you rarely went three rounds with themselves before Joel popped up to come fuck her brains out. Dream you was clever. And, as good as your solo session this evening was, you can't help but have a little regret for ruining yourself before the surprise main event. It was like eating a big meal right before someone suggested getting pizza. You could (and damn well would) eat pizza, but you couldn't enjoy it the same way. Pizza or Joel, you were going to savor it as best you could.

"Such a tease, Flopsy," you murmur as you kiss across his covered cock, nuzzling your face into it and watching in glee as his hand grips the opened egg that little bit tighter. Your fingers are pulling again, this time tugging down at his waistband. Joel is in half a mind to rid the egg of its shell and use the damn thing as a stress ball. It had been too long since last time, and since he last came two fucking days ago, to be seeing you on your knees for him in that flimsy t-shirt. It felt like a gift from the heavens and divine retribution wrapped up in one you shaped package.

As you pull his cock from the confines of his boxers, feeling the deep pulse of the blood in his veins as you wrap your fingers around him, you can't believe your luck at getting to see it in the flesh again. As brilliantly as your mind can concoct the image of it, the reality of it is so much better than any fantasy. Before you let yourself get lost in it, you reach for Joel's hand, grabbing the egg back from him and watching the top fall to the ground and roll across your lawn.

"It stretches. Goes over and you just - uh - stroke with it I guess."

The inside is far from what you expected. You almost find it gross, the translucent white interior far squishier than you expected that it'd be bordering on slimey if it was wet too. Joel laughs down at you, seeing your face as you try to work out what the fuck you're holding, pulling it free from the rest of the shell and seeing a hole stuffed with a plastic tube. You can see what he means now, and you let a soft oh fall from your lips as you tug the tube filled with a sachet of lube from the middle of the toy. You feel inside, running your fingers over soft ridges, and you can only imagine how nice it must feel sliding wetly up and down a cock and, not for the first time in your life, you wish you could experience it yourself. But, the next best thing is right in front of you, and that'll have to do.

"These feel good?" you ask, his eyes turning glassy as you examine the inside of the stroker while your hand still tugs slowly up and down his cock.

Joel sighs deeply, nodding down at you, the obscene bunny ears still flopping on his head with each movement. "S'good. Nothin' like the real deal but, yeah. Feel nice."

Gripping Joel's cock in your fist, you begin to stroke gently up and down, sliding his foreskin back and forth until he's steely hard beneath your palm. The solar lights are starting to dim, their charge from the day already running out, but you can still see the dusky red tip, and the blue of the vein that runs down his shaft. You squish the toy in your other hand, the temptation to taste too strong to just leave all the fun to the squishy silicone. So, you press a delicate kiss right to the tip.

"Oh fuck," Joel hisses.

"Missed it," you confess on your knees with another kiss.

"Yeah? Well, s'all yours." Mine.

"Really? Your bunny wife not going to chase me out of my own yard?"

"Know damn well I ain't got a wife, I ain't the cheatin' kind, darlin', don't you worry."

And that admission alone sends your aching cunt throbbing between your legs, wishing even more desperately now that you weren't completely wrecked and oversensitive from your ill-timed playtime upstairs.

"Good," is all you say before taking his head in your mouth with a swirl of your tongue, a satisfied moan vibrating against his tip as you taste him properly for the first time in 4 months. "I've been thinking about doing this."

"Yeah? Been thinking about sucking my cock?"

"Mhm."

"Shit."

A simple continuous swirl of your tongue and small bob of your head was apparently enough to have him gripping his hands into tight fists, clearly fighting some internal demons to keep himself from coming so soon. Your mind absolutely fizzes with it, that this man wants you, likes what you do to him so much that you can have such an affect on him. And when you suck lightly, his head tips back so far the hood slides back off his head. All you can see is the underside of his jaw from where you look up from your knees, and when looks back down at you with heavy eyes, he looks the most normal you've ever seen him. He's not Santa, nor Cupid, and the costume that had rendered him Bunny Joel just a second ago instead drapes around him like nothing more than a soft, white coat.

"Thought about you tasting you," you mutter between mouthing at his cock, slicking his entire length with your saliva. "Having you come in my mouth. On my face."

Joel groans again, much louder this time and you can't help but laugh, mouth pressed to his balls, at his feeble attempt at silence. You press the tip of your finger, egg still clutched in your fist, to his dribbling slit, and drag a tooth grazing kiss across his sensitive ball skin as you silence him with a whisper.

"Shh, Flopsy. You don't want us to get caught."

"Fuckin' Flopsy, I should -"

But you don't hear what he should do, because you engulf his tip with your mouth once again and Joel finds himself speechless as you immediately slide your lips further down his slicked length with ease. You work him in your mouth, sucking him as you move up and down. He can't stop moaning, he doesn't even try. He should, he thinks. You deserve better than getting caught in your backyard doing something like this, but all he can think about each time you move your tongue just like that is how fucking good your mouth feels.

He feels like he's going to come. Your hand is massaging gently over his balls, your mouth working his cock to a near frenzy, and he is absolutely, one hundred percent sure he's going to come. You know he's almost there. If the groaning wasn't enough, the tightening in his balls and the twitching of his cock were a clear sign he was about to blow.

Then you stop.

Just like that, your mouth is gone. Your hands too. And he's having to force himself to look down at you where you stare in awe at the stroker in your hands, glistening with lube you'd poured into it as he bit his lip and fought off coming, untouched, into the breeze.

You want to use it on him, to listen to him groan as you stroke him with the soft silicone, and watch his every move as you work him over the edge. And his cock, as if calling to you like some kind of siren of the sea, beckons you in, accepting an offering of one last kiss before you raise the stroker.

"It's so stretchy," you gasp, as you slide the toy over the tip of Joel's cock. You can pull it almost all the way down the length of him. You make a few experimental twists and jerks, before settling into a slow rhythm, teasing him just as you'd teased yourself and dragged out your own orgasm upstairs.

It's interesting. Slipperier than your own hand, easier than your own mouth, but not quite the same as either. You can't feel him like this, and you certainly can't taste him.

"Do you like it?" you ask, and Joel doesn't quite know what to answer. He does like it - he likes having your hands on him any way he can get it, but he can't feel you in the same way like this. And it's definitely not as good as your mouth, or any other hole of yours he's fucked.

There's just enough light to see his face give a noncommittal twitch and you're peeling the toy off of him, sucking his tip back into your mouth quickly, moaning as the taste of him hits your tongue.

"Good, because I prefer it like this too."

"Fuck, yeah."

Now though, you have a lubed up, saggy egg in your hand and nowhere to put it. Until an absolutely inspired idea hits you square in the face and you're grinning with Joel's cock in your mouth.

He barely sees the fiendish look in your eye, just notices as you pull off him again, and he could scream. Then, something smooth and cold coats his balls. Your fingers are cradling him delicately, thumb and forefinger stretching open the toy until with a gentle wiggle, his balls are encased in the squishy silicone. And holy fuck, is it like nothing he's ever felt.

"Don't think that's how you use it, darlin'. But, shit, it's good," he gasps as you gently massage his balls through the toy. It's like having a soft cool mouth encasing his entire ballsack, while your actual mouth kisses delicately all over his cock. "C'mon now, stop your teasin', gotta come in the pretty fuckin' mouth."

He's back in your mouth before he even finishes his sentence, your mouth sounding wet an obscene as you work him up and up and up all over again. You draw him in deeper, his cock meeting the back of your throat, over and over, his hand coming to cup your face and delicately wipe away a tear from your watering eyes. Fuck, you're wishing more than ever that you could just jump on him, that your cunt wasn't wrecked, or that it didn't matter, that you could go infinite rounds and still want to be touched again and again. But that wasn't you. You had a limit and, even though you'd reached it, the want in you didn't go away and neither did the slick feeling between your legs or the deep throb of your pulse beating away in your clit.

Joel's fingers grip tighter on the side of your face, a soft thrust of his hips meeting every movement of your head. Catching his eye almost kills you then and there with his cock wedged at the back of your throat. He looks as wrecked as you feel, dark eyes shining down like black holes from space now that the light from your solar lamps has all but fucked off. The paint and rabbit ears almost fade away into the background as you hold yourself down on his cock, making yourself whine around him. You're starting to think if you sucked his cock for long enough you could make yourself come totally untouched, but you don't want to think about it. You can't.

He takes over then. Each slip of your lips down his cock met with a gentle hold, until you both do it all over again. It's easier to hold for longer each time, almost feeling deeper with each slide of his cock across your tongue, the taste of his precum making you salivate as much as having your mouth filled and occupied is.

Then, he presses you down, holding your head as you moan and whine and try desperately to swallow around him, to take more of him as he only seems to get harder.

"Not so Flopsy now, huh?" he asks, releasing you and pushing your head down on his cock once more.

He's fucking into your mouth now, small shallow thrusts hitting the back of your throat, your hand working the toy slickly across his balls as he moans more desperately than you've ever heard him moan before. Despite your teasing and edging, he's the one holding back now, the feel of your mouth on his cock, your nails scratching at his belly, and that damned toy sliding across his balls far too much for him to want to let go of any time soon.

But fuck is he close, and if he's not careful he's going to ruin it for himself by holding back and exploding without warning. He's waited too long for that to happen.

"I'm gonna -"

"Mhm!" you groan around his dick, nodding as much as you can with it in your mouth. You steady your hand against his waist, taking over all movement as he stills the slow gyration of his hips, bobbing your head faster as you suck him down. The swirl and flick of your tongue is positively relentless, and everything feels so wet and warm and fucking perfect that he knows he's a goner.

"Hn-uhhhhh, fuck. Ah, fuck, don't stop, don't stop, fuck, ugh!"

He bursts, salty in your mouth, filling your throat as you swallow around him, massaging and gripping his heavy balls as they twitch in your palm through the thick silicone.

You're only a bit of a mess when you pull off of him. Your lips are swollen and tingly, your hand slippery with lube, but you are totally, utterly content. The slick feeling between your legs is still there, so is the throb, but you're as satisfied as you could possibly be.

Pulling yourself to your feet is another story. Your legs have gone a bit numb from sitting on your knees for so long, and you stumble as you fight to right yourself, Joel catching you just before you tumble into the flowerbed. You laugh in his arms, his mouth pressed to yours as he swallows the sound, consumes it, wills it to make home in his body so he never forgets it.

Joel's fingers work their way under your thin shirt. He'd been looking between your face and your nipples the entire time you were on your knees for him, and he suspects you're entirely naked under there. When his fingers meet your sticky thighs, he thinks he's hit the jackpot, and is ready to return the favor through the haze of his own orgasm, when you stop him.

"I, uh... sorted myself out not too long ago. A few times."

"Damn, if I'd known I woulda come right up and helped you out myself. Thought you were sleepin', house was dark. Jus' playing with this sweet thing all along, huh?"

If he had known, he would have known how much you thought about him as you fucked yourself on your fingers. He would have known how you used the plug he left on your bedside table more than any of the others, crying his name out into the lonely expanse of your bedroom as you came quicker, and harder, than you had any right to. If he had known, he'd know how well and truly fucked you were over a man you still knew practically nothing about.

Of course, you knew some physical things. You knew what he looked like naked, how broad he was, and how sweaty he got when he fucked you. You knew what he sounded like groaning into your mouth or laughing at a silly quip you'd thrown at him. You knew what he tasted like, and what you tasted like off of his tongue. But that was where your knowledge of him ended. You didn't know what he did for work, or if he even liked his job. You didn't know his favorite food or color. You didn't know what he sang in the car. You didn't know where he lived or what he drove - you didn't even know his full name, and you knew exactly why.

You were scared. Terrified, actually. Terrified to really get to know him, to break that blissful illusion of the tall, dark stranger who rocked your world on a seasonal basis, only to find you didn't like him at all. Or worse - that he didn't like you.

So, when you walk him through your house, egg disposed of and hands washed, listening to the soft snap of his suit being closed up around his bare body, you desperately try to ignore the longing ache in your chest, stopping any request for him to stay, to take you out for coffee in the morning before it stupidly tumbles out of your mouth. That's not what this is.

Instead, you wordlessly reach for your keys, smiling sweetly to him as if you hadn't just been waging war against yourself inside your head.

"What're you doing," he says, pointing to the keys held in your hand. "Goin' somewhere, or comin' home with me?"

"No, smart ass, this is a key, it locks doors. Just gonna lock up after you leave."

Joel's smile drops from his face. And you don't know why, but it has alarm bells immediately blaring in your head.

"What?" you ask nervously, eyes darting around his face as if you're trying to read his mind as he takes a slow step toward you, a frown slowly pulling his brow down as he pieces some mystery together.

"The door locks when it closes, then you the take the key and lock it again after?"

"... Maybe? Yes?"

"Wait. And you're tellin' me you do that every night."

"Yes, I lock my door every night Joel, what's wrong with that." Obviously your lock was no match for his lock picking skills, but you didn't consider that Joel perhaps didn't know how locks worked at all.

"What's wrong with that is you're unlocking your door every night and leaving it unlocked all night."

Your blood turns cold. You don't know why. You could just not believe him, or test for yourself, but something about his reaction, and his seemingly easy ability to get into your house, tells you that what he says is exactly right. It's your turn for your smile to drop, and you can feel it slip off your face just as your heart starts rapidly hopping in your chest.

"Oh. I - I thought..."

"It ain't that kind of lock, sweetheart. You never checked it after lockin' it?"

"No. No I - My last place, the lock, I had to - oh my god." There's dread now. A sickening cocktail of feelings swirling through your body, turning you red hot and cold over and over as you think of all the things that could've happened, how lucky you were they didn't, after all this time. Damn near a year, and you hadn't figured out how to properly work your own fucking door.

"How d'you think I been gettin' in? Didn't exactly climb down the chimney or fly in through the window the last two times. Maybe shouldn'ta done it that first time, but your tree was driving me mad, seein' it bare like that every time I drove past. You weren't in and the door was open, was only gonna be quick and then..."

You're not listening. Your heart has just stopped like it's been hurtled into a brick wall at 100mph. "Wait, you drive past my house?"

"Where else am I gonna fuckin' drive?!"

A thousand million volts straight to your chest, and your heart is beating again, racing, your voice raising with it, brandishing the pointy end of your key at him like it could save you now. "Have you been stalking me?"

"What? No! I live down the fuckin' street, I drive by to get to my house, I thought you knew that."

"Down the street?"

"Yes. I'm hardly gonna come from outta town just to fix your lights and your sink and fuck off again. I was just... bein' neighborly, I guess."

"You've been in my house fixing my shit without me here?"

It's just revelation after revelation. You can't believe it. You can't believe yourself for one, but you can't believe him either. Only you can. You very much believe him, and you hate that you do and you hate that, deep down, you know he's right and you're exactly the kind of idiot he's undoubtedly thinking you are.

"You ain't fuckin' noticed?! You had a light out in here, your kitchen faucet was drippin', your railin' in your hall closet was bust... you didn't notice anythin'? Are you even fuckin' in that pretty head o' yours?"

Suddenly you're feeling very stupid. The door is one thing, the minor home repairs another, but you'd been under the impression you were both on the same page this entire time. That it was some silly game you played, two strangers who had next to no clue about each other. All this time he knew who you were, but you were too fucking preoccupied and distracted and stupid to see that he was right there.

The heat in your checks crackles in your ears, misting over your eyes and making your entire body feel fuzzy. That fight or flight you'd been wondering about for the last few months has suddenly decided to make an appearance, settling on both as you fight back tears with a quivering lip.

"Get out." It's silent fury, building white hot as the seconds tick by with him standing, staring at you like you're the one dressed as a giant rabbit and not him.

"What? Darlin', c'mon, it's okay -"

"Get. Out." You wrench the door open, pushing him and his stupid fucking bunny costume out, shoving the basket of eggs into his arms once he crosses the doorway.

"Bye." You slam the door, the stupid fucking self locking door, and slide down it, head in your hands. You have never felt so fucking stupid.

next part

taglist: @jupiter-soups @wannab-urs @bean-is-reading @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @youandmeand5bucks-blog @bbyanarchist @vickywallace @kamcrazy123 @valkyreally @ashhlsstuff @a-literal-goblin @ariundercovers @iluvurfather @stevie75 @toxicanonymity @thesevi0lentdelights @sp00kymulderr

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #pedro pascal characters #coveted fics #big bawl jawl #never forget the balls #fic: dress up joel

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guster-animations · 4 months

Text

The Japanese Version of Deltarune

about a week ago i decided to translate japanese deltarune because i was curious and bored. i found a lot of stuff that i haven’t heard anyone talk about before!

i only translated chapter 2 because i got to the cliffs and remembered that watching/playing chapter 1 over and over again is really boring to me. might do it when/if i finish writing the post.

uhhh a few warnings. i’m not fluent in japanese whatsoever (i’m like n4 level? i think?), and i might not explain this very well to people who don’t know anything about the language. if you’re confused about anything i say, just ask and i’ll explain it in better detail.

i got all of the gameplay from tsuwahasu’s playthroughs of chapter 2 (pacifist and weird route), so all of the screenshots will be from his vods. i picked his vod to watch somewhat randomly so i was very surprised when he not only got all the easter eggs/secrets on a blind playthrough besides the egg room, but also beat spamton neo in one try, god damn

also i’m not the first person to look at the jp version of deltarune. please look at these posts/videos if you want to see stuff that’s already known in better detail:

skellfamily (light/dark world writing, characters’ pronouns and speech patterns) | suzyundertale (ch2 character names, some jokes) suzyundertale again (the gonermaker sequence) | duxarcana and halfbreadchaos (character in the code) | kazarinn (comments from the translators)

reblogs highly appreciated—this took a ton of time!!!

NOW.

LET US BEGIN.

first things first. the gonermaker sequence is one of the most well-known differences in the japanese language among lore fanatics like myself.

in japanese, the first character speaking to you (gaster/Geoff) speaks in kanji (normal) and katakana instead of hiragana (not normal, incredibly strange sounding). the character who hijacks the gonermaker at the end speaks differently, with kanji and hiragana (normal). as suzyundertale mentions in their post, the patterns are extremely similar to a certain fallen child from the end of the undertale genocide route.

another well-known lore Thing in the japanese version is that the hidden “scrapped” lines (AKA the person trapped in the code) use very feminine and childlike speaking mannerisms. this makes it very likely that the person is dess holiday

i’m not going to be going over much personal pronoun stuff, because other people have already covered most of that, though i haven’t seen one thing mentioned by anyone else:

seam uses the pronoun “atashi” (あたし), which is normally a very girly pronoun but in this case it’s meant to make them seem old and wise, since it was a more common pronoun in olden times. their other mannerisms are gender neutral and not feminine, but their name is localized to “nui” (ヌイ)— the word for “seam” in japanese, as well as an actual feminine given name.

does the use of “atashi” combined with having a fem name confirm that they are female? i’m 95% sure the answer is no. do those two things lead native japanese speakers to believe that they are female? i have no idea.

light and dark world

skellfamily mentioned all of this in the post i linked, but i have something small to add

undertale uses mainly hiragana in its text for the japanese version, with some small exceptions for when the fourth wall is broken. this is referencing earthbound, which also did this. this carries over to the light world of deltarune, but kanji is used liberally in the dark world. this is explained by toby fox wanting the light world to make the player think deltarune would be like undertale.

that’s all

small jokes and stuff in the localization

the “librarby” misspelling joke carries over, with it being named “toshonka” (the japanese word for library is “toshokan”).

the AGREE2ALL puzzle was changed to say “YEEES20!!”. this can be read as “yes ni maru” (with the number 2 being read as “ni” in jp and “maru” being the word for a circle), meaning “yes to all” just like in english!

the “apple” keyboard puzzle still says “apple” though ralsei mentions that apple means “ringo” (the japanese word for apple) if you talk to him for a hint.

funnily enough, this joke was kept as is! (“kris, type as i say. f…” “…un!”)

the tasque’s battle lines in english are binary codes, with “me” being 0 and “ow” being 1. this is similar in jp. “nyan” is the equivalent of “meow” in that language, so “ny”=0 and “an”=1. cute!

the “bosom” joke is about the same, if anyone was curious

“breasts / annihilation”

“b…breast?”

“it means tity”

probably my favorite joke in the entire japanese version: in english, before the berdly fight on the roller coaster, he incorrectly refers to lightners as “Light Nerds” . in japanese this is changed to make him use ateji (a combination of kanji that doesn’t mean anything but sounds like an already existing word with their combined readings), calling the lightners 雷斗奈悪 (raitonaa, phonetically similar to the transliteration raitonā which the translation uses). it has the exact same effect (of berdly trying to sound smart but actually being very incorrect), but it’s localized in an outstanding way

“you are filled with the power of not knowing what sugarplums are” is changed to “you are filled with the power of not knowing what christmas pudding is”.

when berdly incorrectly calls susie “susan”, she says “who’s susan?” instead of “my name isn’t susan”. japanese people likely don’t know that “susie” is usually short for “susan”, so it makes sense for her to be even more confused in this version.

the spelling contest in berdly’s flashback is still an english spelling contest, with berdly specifying that it’s english.

instead of saying “susie… a real dragon blazers reference?!” when susie references dragon blazers 2, berdly says, “susie… you’re… a serious dragon blazers player…?!”

on that topic, dragon blazers is instead called dragon blader in japanese. was it called that the whole time? am i misremembering? i legitimately don’t know

the ice-e keysmash puzzle is changed so that you can type it out in japanese as すふぎおろてにぺけなも. it still does not mean anything.

right after susie referenced godzilla with the susiezilla line on the ferris wheel, she references ANOTHER tokusatsu. i think. here (while about to fall on ralsei) she says “ore, sanjou!!!!” (i arrive!), which is a famous catchphrase from kamen rider den-o. i’m like 85% sure it was an intentional reference. den-o is one of my favorite rider shows so this is amazing to me

and lastly. the name of minecrap is changed to マインクシャット (mainkushatto), which seems to be a play on some word plus “minecraft” like in english. i’m not sure what the wordplay is. i’ll get back to you on this

lore-y important stuff

about dess

in japanese, the december typing puzzle still spells out “december” in english.

noelle refers to dess as “onee-chan” (older sis)— it’s common for japanese people to refer to their older siblings like this, and it would be extremely weird if noelle called her “dess”. she could have called her “dess-neechan” or some variation of that, but i highly doubt that the name “dess” is being obscured, especially because “dess” transliterated would sound extremely close, if not alike to “desu” as well as the transliteration of “death”.

the knight

(i took the screenshot and forgot to turn auto captions off, sorry)

this line from a swatchling says something like “it captures the moment where the ‘knight’ creates a ‘fountain’ themself, with their own hands”, but the word for “themself” (みずから/mizukara) is written in hiragana, and “mizukara” could also technically be read as “from water”. was this a deliberate water-darkness parallel? i have no idea.

speaking of water!

the roaring knight is referred to as “咆哮の騎士” (houkou no kishi), the knight of the roaring. the word for the roaring itself, 咆哮, means roar or scream. which eliminates the alternate meaning of roaring (also being possibly defined as the sound of rushing water), but that probably doesn’t solidify “roaring” as solely meaning that. there are a lot of terms in undertale that had multiple meanings, but had to be changed to have only one in the japanese localization. “roaring” might be similar to those instances.

angel

spamton calls noelle an angel just like in english, referring to her as “angel-chan”. if there’s somehow anyone out there that didn’t think that line was important, i am here to prove you wrong!!!

more interesting:

this is the line where noelle says that if this was a dream, she would grow wings and fly away— but in this version, she says “big angel wings” specifically. very interesting!

the two (2) other notable changes in weird route

the infamous “you whispered noelle’s name…” line is slightly different. slightly.

the “kris called for help” lines still say that kris is the one doing it, but this one does not say the subject at all. this is normal for japanese, regardless, it’s still very interesting that it doesn’t say “you”. it is still differentiated from the “kris” lines, but not specifically referring to you (the player).

the other difference is so minor that i’m not even sure what it is or if it’s different from the english version.

translation

EVEN IF YOU [Shout] AT THE [Receiver]

YOUR [Voice] WILL EVENTUALLY WITHER

YOUR [Voice]

THEIR [Voice]

AND YOU WILL realize you’re alone.

i do not know who “THEY” is that spamton’s referring to. the term he uses is gender-neutral and singular. is he talking about the player? idfk probably not

miscellaneous spamton-related stuff

spamton’s speech patterns are entirely different in the japanese translation, but they get the same message across. they include:

switching between formal and informal language

using weird mixtures of hiragana, katakana, english letters and kanji

using katakana re (レ) instead of hiragana shi (し)

cutting off words

random spacing

and occasionally using “die” and “death” as homophones for “dai” and “desu”

it’s so wacky and unnerving and strange, i love it :D

other spamton lore bits:

mike’s name is the same (マイク maiku). i somehow forgot to translate the mike-related dialogue. i will get back to you all if there’s anything of note.

the word for “garbage noise” is 雑音, with about the same meaning. unsurprisingly, the same word (the exact same phrase, in fact) is used for both the addison’s line and the gaster phone call line.

the last thing (i think)

in the roaring cutscene, the japanese word for “chaos” is said (in the “all will be plunged into chaos” line), but then says the transliterated version of the word (カオス) in parentheses. tsuwahasu noted that it’s “keyword-like” in the playthrough i watched. is this important? i have no idea

i’m sure there are things that i missed here, so (again) if you want to know about something, don’t be afraid to ask!! the jp version of deltarune should be looked at a lot more—not just for the lesser-known lore tidbits, but also for the cool stuff that was changed to fit the language. it’s a really cool localization!

#deltarune #utdr #deltarune chapter 2 #japanese #op #spamton #snowgrave #noelle holiday #kamen rider den-o #(<- i promise there’s a reason for tagging this)#translation

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sivyera · 9 months

Note

Dating or jealousy hc's for Bunnymund from Rise of the guardians? I love that movie.

sure!

DATING HEADCANONS WITH BUNNYMUND FROM RISE OF THE GUARDIANS

༺☆༻

Bunnymund is a big tease and a huge flirt, so he will constantly be smirking at you, looking up and down and then tease you when you blush on his compliments

he'd always stay behind you or next to you. just in case, you never know when danger will show up

i believe he doesn't really like PDA but he will hold your hand in front of others, maybe a small kiss on the cheek

but when are you alone he'll turn into a huge cuddle bunny. he'll hug you tight so he can protect you and then he'll stroke your hair because it brings him comfort (somehow)

he gets easily jealous when you talk to other men, when it's Jack the one you talk to he'll go feral

i mean he and Jack have some... history, not that he doesn't like him but Jack stills in some way annoy him so

he'd be really happy if you help him with Easter, like painting some eggs and help him organize it

after Easter Holiday he'll probably get really tired so you two will lay down in the bed for the next few days to take a long relaxing break

when you scratch him behind his ear, he'll be over the moon! i mean it, he really REALLY loves it.

he'd let you crave something into the wood of his boomerang if you promise him that it will be something nice

he'll make you your own boomerang and teach you how to throw it, if you'd like otherwise he says that he's strong enough to protect the both of you

North will tease and "provoke" Bunnymund a lot. when North once caught him staring at you for like a few more extra minutes and he laugh and tease Bunnymund the whole week

so from now on Bunnymund is trying not to stare or do anything "extra" romantic around others but he always fails because you are just so beautiful that he cannot help himself but stare

when he means something really seriously like when he says "i love you" to you or when he's making you a promise, he'll always put his forehead on yours (it's like a pinky promise just different)

i believe he has a horrible sweet tooth so if you can bake, you two will make a lot of mess because he'll stand behind you, tasting every ingredient like sugar or chocolate, then the dough and then the finished baked pie

also when he's jealous his ears will go back, like really low down almost on his back and his fur will go spiky

but that happens only with someone really dangerous like Pitch and sometimes when Jack provokes long enough

sometimes he will also stamp his foot when he's jealous to signalize you that he doesn't like the person and when you leave he'll frown at the person and somehow growl at them

the only way how to calm him down is when you kiss his nose or stroke the inside of his ears because his nose and ears are extremely sensitive so when you kiss his nose he will be surprised and it will take him few seconds to process what just happened, same with his ears, if you gently stroke them he'll relax into it

sometimes he gets a bit overprotective and overjealous so you have to have a bit more patience with him, it's not that he doesn't trust you but he's afraid that someone can use to against him like Pitch or that someone will make you uncomfortable

he loves you a lot so he's trying his best

#sivyera #x reader #fluff #sivyera's masterlist #sivyera update #sivyera masterlist #sivyera request #rise of the guardians #rise of the guardians x reader #rise of the guardians bunnymnd x reader #bunnymund x reader #rotg bunnymund #rotg x reader #rotg bunnymund x reader #dating bunnymund from rotg #dating bunnymund #jealous bunnymund x reader

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miguelhugger2099 · 6 months

Note

Hiii, I’m in love with your writing it’s a comfort for me atp. Could you please do grumpy reader where she doesn’t talk to others a lot. That makes Miguel look like an extrovert (even though we both know that’s not true 😭). Happy Easter 🐣 and or any holiday you celebrate.

Two Peas in a Pod

c.....comfort,,,,, sad hamster meme the highest honor i could ever get omg thank you i really liked this ask because its basically me haha my friend actually told me ive gotten better at being more welcoming and "nice" and another friend would tell me that i could never mask my uncomfortableness if someone was bothering me LMFAO but as alwayyssssss i can rewrite this request for u if ur not satisfied :) Art: nellwhre17 on instagram

Spider-People were supposed to be funny and outgoing. It was in their canon to have some resemblance to the original quippy and humorous Spider-Man. If not outgoing then at least a little endearing and sweet.

So the Spider Society is a little thrown off when you’re introduced to the team by Miguel. Both of your arms are crossed, your face blank and looking over other Spiders with neutrality.

“Here’s our new recruit. She’ll be working more with Margo and Lyla. Think of her as one of your superiors like myself or Jess or Peter B.” Miguel tilts his head at all the other Spiders. “That’s all. Dismissed.”

He turns to face back to his console, returning to work on new files Lyla had presented to him. Some Spiders stay to chat with you. They don’t notice the slight discomfort and annoyance in your face.

“Hey! My name is Peter M! I think we might be the same age!” One says, his mask squinting to look like he’s smiling.

“Have you gone on a mission yet? What Earth are you from?”

“Has Miguel explained The Canon to you yet? It’s a little overwhelming, I know.”

The commotion irks you a bit, the Spiders coming into your personal space so you shuffle away and your brows instinctively scrunch together. “No, I’m fine.” You mutter curtly. The others finally see the change in your demeanor and they awkwardly step back.

Miguel turns over to see the few Spiders around and barks at them to stop. “She’s still new to all this so don’t go around pestering her.”

They smile wearily up at him then at you, whose face is still contorted a bit in a way that looks like you’re obviously still being bothered.

They get the message and wave goodbye to you but not without feeling a chill down their spine at how cold you were. Maybe you were just shy. Everything is and always will be overwhelming around here with different variants of yourself. So, they believed in time you’d come around like the others.

You, in fact, did not come around. After weeks, months even, you still came in and left without a word. Get in and get out. You rarely engaged in conversation and if you were in a group, you’d keep to yourself. If someone tried to include you, you’d just say a few blunt words that didn’t move the conversation at all so there'd be an awkward standstill before moving on.

No matter what, no one knew anything else about you besides your name, you were a Spider-Woman and the name of your Earth.

Even the esteemed group of young SpiderLings couldn’t even get you to open up. Jess and Gwen had just come back from a mission, wanting to eat at the cafeteria before heading home. They had found seats beside Hobie and Pav who were just catching up together.

Pav had mentioned trying to talk to you once but his bright personality pushed you further and further away from him, your responses to his questions becoming more and more short and quick.

“I’ve never met such a complicated individual.” He pouts, crossing his arms on the table.

“Don’ bother me none. I don’ like someone tryin’ to bug me either.” Hobie scratches the back of his neck.

“Would’ve thought they opened up by now.” Gwen brushed her hair out her face. “It’s like pulling teeth with her.”

“She just seems kinda grumpy sometimes…” Pav sighs resting his head in his arms. “Even more than Miguel which feels wrong.”

“Yeah, at least Miguel snaps at you but she…kinda just sits there.” Gwen leans back with a weak smile. “Not really sure how to make conversation when she’s so quiet.”

“She just doesn’t feel like talking, guys. Go easy on her.” Jess rubs her temples.

Their conversation is cut short when Miguel walks through the cafeteria, documents in hand and with you in tow. Speak of the Devil.

“Jess, Gwen, I misremembered about giving you the reports of your last mission together. I also have the analysis for the next one on Earth—199B.” Miguel hands the reports to Jessica and she immediately skims through it. Gwen looks over her shoulder and gives you a smile.

“Hey, how’s it going?” She asks.

You respond with a shrug and a nod. “Good.”

Gwen’s smile wavers, laughing nervously as the awkward silence. She expected some sort of greeting back.

Miguel answers for you. “She’s been with me the whole day since Peter’s been busy at home.” Gwen looks to Miguel.

“And how about you, boss? Doin’—uh—doin’ good?”

Miguel sighs, crossing his arms. “Better now that Margo fixed what Hobie broke in the console room.”

Hobie tsks. “Did not. You’re jus’ blamin’ me ‘cause I’m the scapegoat around ‘ere. Tha’ it?”

Miguel pulls up camera footage from his Gizmo, of Hobie pulling apart different motherboards and CPUs from the server and tucking them away in his pocket. “Is this not you?!”

Hobie squints at the footage and shrugs. “AI has truly come a long way, mate. Bettah check tha’ out.”

Gwen, Pav and Jessica laugh at the scene, giggling at the sheer anger on Miguel’s face and Hobies indifference. You watch with a soft smile up at Miguel but nothing else.

Miguel feels your hand on his forearm and he looks down at you. You nod your head to the side, signaling it’s time to go. He looks at the time on his watch and collects himself.

“We’re gonna head out. Don’t bother us unless there’s an emergency and be alert for any sudden messages should I need to contact any of you for anomalies.” He turns and gives a small wave before leaving, you trailing behind him.

You don’t say much other than looking behind to give them a small nod and following beside Miguel.

The group watches as Miguel talks to you, relating information and talking your ear off about missions and the to-do for the day. You listen quietly, eyes held on his and nodding along.

They glance at each other and think they would’ve never seen a person more closed off than Miguel in their lifetime. Even less where it looks like he’s more talkative compared to you. What an odd pair. “I think she has opened up. Maybe just not with us.” Jess leans back with a smile.

#nonie requests ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚#requests ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel x reader #miguel spiderverse #miguel ohara #miguel spiderman #spiderman 2099 #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara #atsv miguel #miguel x you #miguel x y/n #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 x you

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randombush3 · 6 months

Text

THE SECOND PART

(to get back to the main post)

carry on reading!!!

[...]

Bali is hot. Or at least, by your English standards, it is.

The children enjoy the villa at the Ritz, less so the yoga you partake in when your best friends find out that it can mend broken hearts, and there are big TVs in the living rooms that the World Cup matches are broadcasted on.

Your fingers remain bare, but no one knows about the ring in your suitcase anyway, so no one questions the absence of jewellery that used to adorn your hands. Or, at least, no one whose opinion you actually care about.

Nico and Elena are happy to play and play and play, barely granting you their attention when you disrupt their endless hours in the pool or exploring the beautiful grounds of the hotel with the 24-hour childcare service. You had been reluctant to accept the help, but Gio was fine with her own daughter being stolen away, and they both called you ‘uptight and preoccupied, a sad, faded picture of how fun you used to be’ until you gave in.

You let Alexia wonder about how her children are, attributing her lack of phone calls to her focus on chasing World Cup glory, blissfully ignorant to the fact that your friends have been micro-managing your interactions ever since they agreed they aren’t sure about letting you forgive the blonde just yet. That is not to say she doesn’t ever speak to them – Nico was gifted an iPad for Easter (a shoddy, shoddy excuse of an occasion to be given it, but you barely batted an eye as he tore open the packaging and thanked Auntie Anya profusely). He sort of understands how to FaceTime Alexia. They often happen when he is with what Alexia calls ‘the can’t-mother-too-busy-doing-drugs nanny’.

You are lounging on the sunbeds, sweat pooling on your navel, music playing softly through the speaker Elena had begged you to bring. Though Moana pales in comparison to the days you’d attend concerts that weren’t your own, you are quite content to relax and zone out the lively songs and stare up at the brilliant, blue sky.

Today is a bit different. You are two weeks into your holiday, with one remaining, and, today is the day you are finally going to open Alexia’s gift.

You worked out what it was the moment she had given it, but, since you know that curiosity kills the cat, you have stopped yourself from opening it, not sure if you will cope with seeing a ring. What would this ring even be? A ‘sorry I fucked my best friend’?

Elena hasn’t been included in the children’s entertainment plans for the morning; they have gone for a visit to a coral reef, accompanied by their babysitter and Anya (who you are beginning to think is enjoying their activities more than they are). Despite being relatively advanced for her age, some things fall short, such as her attention span. It doesn’t help that the sleeping issues Alexia had noticed are leaking into her time spent with you, too.

“Mama,” comes a small whine, followed by a sniffle. Elena has been trying her best to copy you, lying underneath a towel for shade. You had hoped she’d finally fallen asleep, seeing as that didn’t happen last night. With her evidently still awake, you sit up, reaching out to run your hand through her damp hair, not quite dry from when she had enough energy to splash around in the pool.

“Mama, tired.”

“I’m not surprised. That’s what happens if you don’t sleep.”

“Mama.” The petulance is a little glimpse into her teenage years, but then she begins to cry and your imagination falters at the sound.

Elena, as far as toddlers go, is not the most emotional. She is generally well-behaved, if a little unresponsive at times, but she is quiet and introverted and happy to follow the leader, whoever that may be. She is a complete contrast to her brother, who basks in the attention he demands from those around him, loud about what he loves and hates, yearning to make friends with everything he sees. Elena, Elisabet Segura has told you, is just like Alexia, when she was that age. Controlled, reserved. (And your parents were quick to draw the similarities between you and your son.)

Just like her mother, Elena is drawn to you. Just like his mother, Nico is drawn to Alexia. Opposites attract.

It’s hard to ignore if you notice it.

So, when Elena begins to cry, you are alarmed to see, in her eyes, the same fear that clouds hazel irises you know far too well. The tears glide down her cheeks in inherited patterns, and you try not to panic at how much she looks like Alexia – even if they do not share the same DNA.

Part of you, the same part that suffered from postpartum depression and dulled your motherly instincts, wants nothing more than to run away from the crying toddler, horrified at the sight as you spiral and begin to imagine Alexia in her place, just as distraught as your daughter seems to be. And it’s weird and unsettling and you are so confused because Elena hasn’t cried like this since you told Alexia to leave. She continues, and even that night starts to seem minor in comparison to her meltdown right now.

Elena does not sob, she does not scream, she does not shout and go bright red in the face earnestly. A developmental tantrum, sure, but never, ever like this.

You have never seen this before, and you are at a loss for how to respond. Naturally, you draw her into your arms, holding her close and rocking her gently as she continues to wail.

“Oh, my darling,” you stagger out, trying to forget your desire to join her, to break down with her. “Mama’s here, Lela. It’s okay.” The words feel inadequate and do nothing to soothe her, though your hands stroke her back as if to rub the comfort in, to absorb her anguish and bleed it out. You would do it, if you could. You’d take all of her pain away in an instant.

In your mind, a whirlwind of thoughts swells up and disgorges bubbling, burning ideas into the pit of your stomach, none of them quite fitting as an explanation for her distress. Is she hurt? Is she missing Alexia? Or is it something deeper, something you’d overlooked?

You can be selfish, you know that. Perhaps you have been too focused on getting over the destruction of your family that you have forgotten said family in the process?

Perhaps this has happened before! You were touring for a while.

As you hold her, helplessness washes over you, as though the pool you are right next to has grown thrice the size and is trying to drown you both. You wish Alexia were here all of a sudden. Alexia, gifted at soothing crying children and being a mother and managing a career and parenthood in a way that you have never quite managed.

Alexia, who gave into your request for children and ended up besting you at it.

Alexia, whom you still love and miss and hope, sometimes, will wake up beside you even if you know that it is wrong and pathetic and… God, do you really lack such self-respect that you’d take her back? Are you this useless that the crying child in your arms should be passed off to someone else because you can’t cope and you never will and you still smoke because you’re stressed and the last time you took drugs was far too recent to be called a good mother and Elena cries and cries and cries and…

You take a deep breath.

“It’s okay,” you repeat, hating that you are lying to her. It’s not okay! None of it is okay. “Mama’s here, Lela, Mama’s here. You’re safe.”

Your voice trembles, and she hears the weakness of your tone, unconvinced and uncomforted, failed by the woman who is supposed to guide her through all of her storms as steady as the sun’s movement each passing hour. Elena’s cries continue unabated, her small frame wracked with sobs as she clings to you, squeezing your skin tightly in a way that tells you that you are not enough.

You, alone, are not enough for her.

You can’t do this.

With your arms holding her securely in place, you dip down slightly, grasping your phone from the tote bag it’s shaded in. It has been warmed by the sun anyway, but the heat of the screen as you press it to your ear is nothing in comparison to the burning in your chest, the fire her cries have ignited in a way that destroys everything in you.

She continues to scream into your body as the dial tone buzzes and beeps three times, picked up on the fourth as if she has been counting the rings.

“Dime,” Alexia’s gruff voice huffs out, unimpressed that you have called her after refusing for the past month, seemingly always busy. Anya and Gio had given her excuses; you were busy talking to Leah, you were in a meeting, you didn’t want to speak to her. “Now is not a good time.”

You only manage to breath out her name before she understands that something is seriously wrong.

“Alexia, it’s Elena… she’s… she’s crying, she hasn’t stopped. Alexia, I-I don’t know what to do,” you admit, voice breaking. You know she will be able to hear the sobs coming from the toddler, her voice mighty and fierce despite how small she seems. “She hasn’t slept at all, and it just… happened. I can’t calm her down.”

“Is she hurt?”

“No, no,” you stutter, words tumbling out in a rush, “I don’t think so.”

“What do you mean ‘hasn’t slept’? Not even a nap?”

You shake your head, panicked. At Alexia’s lack of response, you remember that she is not here with you. You swallow your own sobs. “She’s been sharing a room with Nico and everything’s been fine, except, last night, she wouldn’t sleep. It was like she was terrified of it. She begged me to let her sleep with me, so I brought her into my bed and, I don’t know, it didn’t help. I tried to tire her out, read to her, sang to her, told her off, comforted her, but she wouldn’t and so I drifted off and she didn’t and we were relaxing today – it’s just us, today – and she started crying half an hour ago and hasn’t stopped.”

As if on cue, Elena’s sobs grow louder, piercing through the phone line in a way that makes both you and Alexia feel sick. But Alexia has heard these before, and has kept them from you for a very good reason.

“She’s exhausted,” Alexia decides calmly. “She’ll cry herself to sleep.”

“She doesn’t want to sleep!” you snap, frustrated.

“She’s scared you are going to leave her. She usually… she usually cries for you, when she’s with me. I guess not seeing me has flipped it.”

“Usually?”

You pale.

“Usually, Alexia?”

You hear a sigh. “Do you want me to talk to her?” she asks, ignoring your horrified question. “Rub her back and keep touching her, so that she knows you’re there. I’ll… I’ll see if I can get her to calm down a bit so that you can – you need a breather, don’t you?”

“My daughter is crying as though the world is about to end.”

“Well, for her, it feels like it is. Put me on speaker.”

You obey her instruction, reclining on the lounger so that Elena is now curled on top of you, wetting your chest with her tears. You place the phone near her head, both hands trying desperately to remind her that she is not alone.

“Lela, petita, no estàs sola. Estoy aquí, y Mama también. Mai et deixarem.”

Elena sniffles, surprised by the sound of Alexia’s voice.

“That’s it, darling,” you encourage as the sobs are quickly replaced by resigned whimpering. Alexia continues to talk, hardly understandable as you let yourself succumb to your own emotions, your tears running down the sides of your face, hands still drawing circles on your daughter’s back. “That’s it,” you whisper.

Alexia hangs up when she hears both of you breathing deeply, slowly, softly; fast asleep.

…

She wipes the sweat from her brow, more exhausted from this than the gym session she had stepped out of.

“What was that about?” Codi asks her curiously, taken in the blush in her captain’s cheeks, the slight dent in her lips from where she has bitten them. “Rather inappropriate to pick up a booty call when we’re this close,” she pinches her fingers together, “to the semis, no?”

“Elena won’t sleep with her either,” Alexia says, if not because she needs to tell someone then because she relishes in the embarrassment that clouds Laia’s face as she hurries to take her comment back.

“I thought you’d overcome it,” Laia replies sadly. “She was sleeping the whole night in her own bed, wasn’t she? That was only two months ago.”

“She can’t deal with it, Codi.” Her sigh is a little more heartbroken than what is fitting for such a communal area, but Alexia does not care that her hunched shoulders have caught Irene’s attention, the defender well-acquainted with the signs of family issues. “She can’t deal with the back-and-forth. She is only three.”

“It has been a year,” comforts her friend. “Maybe she needs more time to adjust.”

“Laia, you did not hear her. She cried like she was going to die, and I felt like I was going to die with her. You know how Y/n is with… You remember what it was like when Nico was a baby, when he wouldn’t stop crying. We were lucky that Elena didn’t have that, or that the doctors were more vigilant or whatever, but… I was keeping this from her for a reason.”

Alexia doesn’t want to guilt you back to her. There is the slightest possibility that, if you were to know just how much Elena has been struggling while away from you, you would suffer through your heartbreak and pretend everything was fine, just to make her happy. Just to make their lives easier.

But Alexia knows. Alexia knows you wake up every day and relive it again and again. She sees the repulsion in your eyes when you look at her – she saw it through the wine and the pleasure.

She knows you smoke, she knows the rumours about the parties you go to are mostly true. She knows that the album is about her, and that the success didn’t taste sweet because it exploited your heartbreak.

She knows that you don’t feel anything towards Leah Williamson, that you’re only trying to get her attention or fill her place.

Alexia knows all of this, because you are a part of her. She knows how you feel like she knows where her right hand is, and, the worst part about that, is that she knows it is all entirely her fault.

“Irene, where is Mateo?! Alexia needs her little person hugs!” shouts Laia, sympathy hidden by her teasing tone, which Alexia is very grateful for. “Get the nen, and get him now!”

…

The unopened ring box travels with you to Australia.

Spain’s failure to lose has led them to the World Cup Final, and while you are going to support your own country, Elena and Nico are dressed in ALEXIA jerseys, yellow and red stripes painted onto their chubby cheeks.

You had found out, after the Elena incident, that your friends had been lying to Alexia for your peace of mind, or so they claimed.

You don’t know how to tell Alexia that you called Leah before you left for Bali and told her that you couldn’t be with her. Or that Gio and Anya had been meddling, going as far as to calculatedly gift Nico an iPad in preparation for a summer of trying to save you from a broken heart.

So… you send her a heads-up that you’ll be attending the final, wish her luck (but not too much, for the sake of the Lionesses), and ensure the children are down for naps so that they have energy to party late into the night regardless of the outcome.

As a desperate, short-term solution while separate from Alexia, you had your manager seek out the best paediatrician in Bali and get a reasonable prescription for melatonin, just so that Elena can sleep. You plan to let Alexia focus on her tournament and bring up the issue when preseason starts, aware that drugging the child to sleep is definitely not the best option.

With another hour of sleep in their systems, you have time to re-pack your suitcases, ready to leave the next day.

And you are reminded of your unopened gift.

Alexia had said to open it when you were home, but you reason that home is with your children, and home, due to your career, is often also in the hotel suites in foreign countries.

You root through the piles of neatly-folded clothes, searching for the box you had buried at the bottom. Its velvet edges are soft under the wrapping paper and the box is sitting in the palm of your hand, naked now, before you realise what you are doing.

The lid flicks open, and you prepare yourself to see something shiny, some insanely expensive diamond that certainly won’t fix all that she has done.

But you brace for nothing, for inside the box lies only a slip of paper.

A boarding pass from London Stansted to Barcelona-El Prat Airport, decorated in aged, black ink.

Scrawled on top of the flight details is something much more valuable than the entrance into First Class the paper allows.

Eleven digits.

Your old phone number.

You remember this.

It was the night you first kissed Alexia, or, rather, she kissed you. You’d been at some FC Barcelona event, and you’d gone outside because you had realised it might not have been acceptable for Alexia to hit on you in front of all those people, no matter how much she had wanted to.

You’d smoked to get her attention, to get her to tell you off. To start a conversation. And you had loved her from the minute she kissed you, so tentative, so unsure.

The boarding pass is sentimental, and you are amazed at the condition it is in, or even the fact that she still has it.

You drop the box, plucking the paper from the slit it had been situated in, unfolding it, examining it with tears in your eyes.

You turn it over in your palm, re-acquainting yourself with your memories from that evening.

And you notice fresh, blue ink written on the back of the boarding pass.

It’s Alexia’s handwriting, this time, though neater than usual, having clearly taken care to form her letters correctly.

Can we start again? it says.

There is a drawing of three stick women, short dresses, high ponytails, too. One is circled, an arrow leaping out of the wobbly shape. That one is labelled with your name, and, underneath, ‘esta es mi favorita y me casaré con ella algún día’.

Marta once told you, at the expense of her club captain, that that had been Alexia’s only comment about you back when they were all obsessed with your break-out girl group and could never talk about anything else.

Twenty-nine-year-old Alexia Putellas knows that her mistakes have lost her many battles, but twenty-nine-year-old Alexia Putellas also knows that her love will win her the war. Because there you are, and nothing is worth fighting for more than you.

(to get back to the main post)

#fc barcelona #woso imagines #barca femeni #leah williamson x reader #woso x reader #woso #randombush3 #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas

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outlanderskin · 6 months

Note

Lauren Lyle doesn't have crazy shippers trashing her and her boyfriend, hiring private investigators to prove she and he aren't actually together or creating fiction about her and her co-star Cesar. Plus, not every celebrity is into promoting and sharing their private lives on line with million of strangers. And in spite of all the garbage shippers thrown Cait's way for 10 years, she's managed to be with Tony, who she married and had a child with. By the end of 2024 OL will be just a memory. She will finally leave it behind and rarely see Sam who will continue on the same path making B movies and shilling his booze to whatever is left of OL mommies.

First of all: we are coming from an Easter holiday, I don't know if you celebrate it in a religious sense, but we usually leave these holidays lighter and happier, so why so much bitterness? Second: why are you hurting yourself by reading shippers' blogs, where you will find opinions contrary to yours, which will make you angry and cause you suffering? Now to answer: no one can take away from Lauren and Cesar the merit of having been light and open from the beginning. And this has always been easy for them because they have nothing to hide. Nobody ships them, because from the beginning the friendship between them is something that can be seen, in fact. From the beginning they post photos together with their respective partners, from the beginning they don't create mysteries when they meet. Everything we see from the two (and from anyone who has social media) is what they want to show us and Cesar and Lauren have shown us all these years how spontaneous they are. They just act like normal friends who have nothing to hide. About Stalkers you forgot to mention the fans who travel (and even move) to Glasgow to try to meet and get a glimpse of C's home life (unsuccessfully). He also forgot to mention the fan who went to an awards show and screamed T's name as if he were a celebrity, making him practically run away from the venue in mortification. Well, these people are not shippers, you don't have to complain about them here on my blog. And about celebrities and social media: anyone who really doesn't want people/fans to know anything about their life acts like Tobias Menzies. You don't know what his garden looks like, his dishes, his sheets, the walls of his house, his relatives, where he was possibly last week, not even the last female friendship he made, simply because he doesn't post anything of this and doesn't even talk about it in interviews. Posting about personal life and then complaining about privacy is contradictory to say the least. And lastly: based on your bitterness and the fact that you try to read things that hurt you: have you ever thought about going to therapy? I know you'll take this as an insult, but I'm serious. Sometimes destructive behaviors are in small nuances of our lives and we don't realize it.

161 notes · View notes

sissylittlefeather · 1 month

Text

Puppet on a String: A Rusty Wells Story

A/N: Girl Happy is one of my favorite Elvis movies and Rusty is one of my favorite characters. I had to write him a fic! I've been kicking around this idea for a long time. Hopefully you all like it!

Special shout outs to @ccab and @atleastpleasetelephone for listening to me bitch and moan and helping me when I got stuck over and over and over again with this one!

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI, cussing, kissing, fingering, oral sex (m & f receiving), p in v penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, also teasing, light edging, and a fistfight, so mentions of a bloody nose

Word count: ~5.5k

Here's some Rusty to get you in the mood:

When Rusty promised your father to go to Fort Lauderdale to supervise you, he had no idea what he was in for. He'd seen a picture of you and you looked rather nerdy, so he wasn't worried about it taking up too much of his time. Then, when he saw you in Florida, looking just as dorky as your photograph, he breathed a sigh of relief and gave himself permission to play shows, pursue other girls, and leave you to your books.

The girls had brought you along not as a friend, but as their tutor for the week since exams were not long after the Easter holiday. You were excited for the opportunity to go to the beach and didn't realize what it would mean to be there with them. They were perfectly content to leave you alone in the room every night as they went out and had fun with all the boys that chased them around during the day while you went unnoticed.

On the third night of the 10-day holiday, Rusty gets an angry call from your father.

"She said she hasn't had any fun at all! That she just sits in her room all the time!"

"Sir, I-I thought you wanted her to be safe?" Rusty answers nervously.

"I do! But I also want her happy! She was in tears! When I call her tomorrow, she better be in a much better mood or I guarantee you won't be."

"Y-yes sir. She will be."

******

The next day, Rusty sets out to find you and try to make sure you have at least a little fun. This is too important to trust one of his friends to get it done. However, he can't remember which room you're staying in. Eventually, he asks one of the girls he knows you came with and she looks at him like he's grown horns.

"You want y/n? You?!"

"Yeah... I just... what room is she in?"

"She's in room 220. Either reading or crying. That's all she ever does." The girls look at each other and snicker. Rusty takes note of how they talk about you. It seems a little rude, since you're there to help them.

"Thanks." He walks away toward your room. Before he knocks on the door, he presses his ear to it and hears what sounds like sniffling. He peeks through the window and sees you sitting on one of the beds, tears running down your cheeks. Some part of him softens and he's overwhelmed with a need to hold you in his arms. He shakes his head and tries to focus on the task at hand, knocking softly on the door. It takes another few minutes and two more knocks from him for you to finally open the door. You've wiped your face, but he can still tell your nose is a little red.

"Hi. I'm Rusty Wells. Me and my combo play down at the Sandbar Club every night. I wondered if you might like to come with me to the beach?" He says it quickly, smiling and trying to lay on the charm.

"Me? Why? Are you making fun of me?" You look up at him curiously. "Did the girls put you up to this?"

"No! I-I just... come to the beach with me. Or we can go sailing? Or rent a motorcycle? Whatever you want, honey."

"Why?" You narrow your eyes suspiciously.

"Can't a guy ask a pretty girl to go to the beach without getting a million questions?"

"Ha! A pretty girl? Now I know you're up to something. No thanks. I don't want to end up as the butt of anyone's jokes." You go to close the door and he stops it with his hand.

"Look, listen. I need to take you out. So will ya just...? Okay?"

"You need to?"

"Yes. I'm here because I work for your dad and he sent me to make sure you're safe and happy-"

"My father did what!?"

"He just cares about you and wants you to have a good time, okay? I told him I'd make sure you do. So will ya please just come with me to the beach or somethin'?" You look him up and down skeptically. When you think about it, it's kind of sweet that your dad cares enough to make sure you're safe and happy. And this Rusty character doesn't seem too bad. He's really cute and a part of you wishes he actually just wanted to hang out with you. Maybe you can spend an afternoon with him and satisfy your dad. You can declare the trip a failure and go home tomorrow. Then at least Rusty can say he tried and not get in trouble with your father.

"Okay, then. But not the beach. Let's go sailing. I've always wanted to go sailing." Rusty smiles, relieved that you finally agreed.

"You got it, honey. Let's go." You go back into your room, smooth your hair, and put some fresh powder on your nose. Then, you grab your purse and head out the door to go sailing with Rusty.

******

Much to his surprise, Rusty genuinely enjoys your company. You're funny in a way he's never experienced with a girl and he finds himself laughing more often than he expected. He's also surprised by how attractive you are with your little glasses and clothes that look like they could've belonged to your mother. Your smile is sweet and your eyes sparkle when you get excited. It's unexpected, but he actually really likes you. He only intended to spend a few hours with you, but before he knows it the sun is setting and it's time for him to get ready for that night's show. Then he says something that shocks even him.

"Come to our show tonight."

"Oh, no, I couldn't possibly. I'm sure you want to take a real date." He realizes that you don't think of yourself as a real date and he kicks himself for telling you about working for your father.

"No, really. I do this song called 'Wolf Call', I'll come get you out of the crowd-"

"Rusty, it's okay. You don't have to do that. I had a great day with you. I promise I'll tell my dad I had fun. You're off the hook for today." His smile falls a little and he nods. You'll never take him seriously now.

"Well, alright then. What will you do tonight?"

"Oh, probably just read. It's fine. Thank you for a wonderful day."

"Yeah, you're welcome." You take your purse from him and go into your room, shutting the door before he can say anything else. He stands outside your room and is startled when he realizes he's wishing he could've kissed you goodnight.

******

The next day, he knocks on your door and offers to take you out like he did yesterday. You know he's going to have to report back to your father, so you agree to go with him once more. He tells himself he's only doing it as part of his job, but in reality he just wanted to see you. At the end of it, he tries again to get you to come to his show, but you decline and settle in to read for the night.

This pattern continues for the next few days. Rusty knocks on your door in the morning and you spend the day together. In the evening, he tries to convince you to come to the show and you decline.

It's not that you don't want a date for the evening. You'd love to go out with a boy who is actually interested in you, but you never get attention from anyone other than Rusty and you know that's just because he doesn't want to upset your father. Maybe he can be helpful, though. He is a guy, so he should know what you need to do to be noticed. You start to work up the courage to ask for his help.

By Thursday, Rusty decides he's going to insist on you joining him for the evening. He enjoys your company so much during the day that he actually finds himself missing you at night. He knocks on your door determined to get you to believe that he really likes you.

"Hey, honey, I need to talk to you."

"Good. I need to talk to you too." His heart skips at the possibility that you might want more from him. You grab his hand and pull him into your room and he can hardly breathe.

"I need-"

"Please come-"

You start talking at the same time and both stop. He gestures for you to keep going, so you do.

"I need you to help me. I want a date tonight, but there's no way I'll get one looking like this."

"Oh... I-I think you look just fine... in fact-"

"No, Rusty, you don't have to be nice. It's okay. I know you don't want to actually go out with me." His heart sinks.

"But, I-"

"Please help me. Help me know what guys like so I can find a date." He swallows his disappointment and nods.

"Alright, then. What are you thinkin'?" You take your glasses off and toss them on the desk and he sighs. He thinks they're cute.

"There. Now what?" He swallows the desire to say that nothing about you needs to change.

"You need clothes that'll show off your figure. Something tight or short or both." You go to your roommate's suitcase and throw it open.

"She said I could borrow anything. What do we like?" He reluctantly walks to the suitcase and pulls out some garments.

"Try this." He hands you some short shorts and a cropped tank top and swallows deeply, trying to imagine what you might look like. He's never seen you in anything that shows your body, even on the beach you wear an oversized coverup, so he's not even sure what to expect. You smile and head into the bathroom with the clothes. He sits on the side of the bed and fidgets with his fingers in anticipation. When you finally open the bathroom door and step out, he has to actively remind himself to close his mouth.

"Well? What do you think?" You spin in a slow circle and his heart skips. You have a beautiful body and all of a sudden he can't stop imagining you with no clothes at all, pressed against him and whimpering. He clears his throat and adjusts himself quickly while you're facing away. "That bad, huh?"

You turn back to face him and assume it must be terrible since he hasn't said anything. Your eyebrows are raised and a lump begins to form in your throat. You're not sure why you want him to like the way you look so badly. Spending so much time with him has you confused and wishing it wasn't all because of your father.

"You look..." He can't even finish the sentence. Instead, he wants to just wrap you in his arms and show you what he thinks, but that's not what you want.

"Ridiculous, huh?"

"No! Not ridiculous at all. I-"

"If you didn't know me, would you think I looked good?"

"Yeah. I think you look amazing. That's... wow..." You roll your eyes. He really is so very sweet.

"You don't have to lay it on that thick. It's okay."

"No, I'm serious." He stands up and walks over to you, looking down at you. All of a sudden there's an energy in the air and it feels like he might kiss you. Just as you close your eyes to let him, the door of your room swings open.

"Oh, wow! Y/n, you look incredible!" Rusty jumps back and your roommate walks to you. She's tired of the way the other girls have treated you this whole time. After sharing a room with you she's realized you're more than the bookish nerd everyone sees when they look at you. "I'm going to do your hair and makeup. Then you're coming out to the beach with us today. It's time you had a little fun too."

You look over at Rusty, who is trying desperately to hide his disappointment that you won't be spending the day with him.

"Rusty? Do you mind if I go with the girls and try to pick up a real date?" That hits him like a slap in the face and he shakes his head silently.

"No, that's fine, go with the girls. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Maybe! If I find a date then you don't have to worry about me anymore." His heart sinks even further. Then you run to him and kiss his cheek and he feels like he can't breathe. "Thank you, Rusty. You're really very sweet."

He nods and then turns and walks from the room. Rather than heading to the beach, he lays on his bed looking at the ceiling and wishing he hadn't told you about your father.

******

He doesn't see you all day and there's a growing feeling of emptiness in the pit of his stomach that he can't explain. Even flirting with the other pretty girls feels flat. At the show, he tries to play enthusiastically, but he just wants you to be there.

You eventually do appear and his eyes light up. But his hopes are quickly dashed by the group of boys that surrounds you, all fighting for your attention. With your hair and makeup done and a cute little dress on for the evening, you're positively stunning and the guys are excited that there's a new girl to pursue. They fall all over themselves trying to impress you. At first, you weren't sure what to do, but you've adjusted to the attention pretty well by the time you make it to the show. You look around demurely at each guy and respond flirtatiously, giggling and sipping your drink.

Rusty watches this scene and a burning feeling of envy rises inside him. He noticed you first. And all these other guys just want you because of the way you look now. There's more to you than that and he seems to be the only one that cares. He swallows the lump in his throat and tries to keep singing, but the bubble of rage inside him just keeps growing.

You sit at the table with the guys surrounding you, desperately trying to figure out which one you like best. None of them really stand out, though. In fact, the only one you really want to talk to is Rusty. You look up at him on stage and he looks so good in his red shirt and black pants. If only he would actually like you. There was that moment in your room where you thought he might kiss you. Still, he probably was just caught off guard by the way you look in these clothes. For some reason you want him to like you for who you really are and not just how you look. You're brought back to reality by one of the guys putting his hand on your knee.

"Didja hear what I said, baby? My father owns a company in Detroit."

"Mmm." You nod genially and try to refocus on the men that are all trying to talk to you at once. It makes you uncomfortable that this one in particular is touching you, but you figure that's just part of the game. You turn to another guy and smile, trying to listen to whatever he's saying. But when you do, the one slides his hand further up your thigh and squeezes gently. You jump a little and turn back to him with your eyes wide.

Your discomfort does not go unnoticed. Rusty is keenly aware of the way this guy is touching you. He watches you closely to gauge your reaction. If it seems like you like it, he'll have to find a way to let it go, but if you don't...

"Please move your hand." Your voice shakes as you say it, but you try to be firm.

"Aww, baby, come on. You mean like this?" He slides his hand even further up your thigh, so that his fingertips are under the hem of your skirt. You gasp and try to wiggle away, but he presses his hand up even further.

Before you can say anything else though, Rusty is there. He drags the handsy guy up by his collar and punches him hard in the face.

"Rusty!!" The other guys jump into the fight and in a flash it's four against one as Rusty tries to fight them all. He holds his own fairly well, but after a few seconds, he's overpowered and knocked to the ground with a bloody nose. You rush to his side and the other guys all exclaim and try to get your attention. Ignoring them all, you pull Rusty up off the ground and manage to get him to his feet.

"I'm sorry, honey, I didn't mean to ruin your date.” He pauses and looks around. “Dates?"

"Nonsense. Let's just get you cleaned up." He smiles down at you gently as he leans on you. He can walk just fine, but he's taking advantage of the opportunity to have his arm around you. Something about it just feels right.

When the two of you get back to your room, you open the door and get him inside to sit on the couch. His knuckles are banged up and his nose is bleeding pretty good all over the front of his shirt. You quickly grab a towel and stuff it under his nose and then find a first aid kit to clean out the cuts on his hand. It takes a minute, but you eventually get him squared away and then collapse onto the couch next to him. He pulls the towel away from his nose and looks over at you.

"I think the bleeding has stopped."

"Good! What on earth were you thinking?!" He looks at you sheepishly.

"I was thinking you didn't like being touched like that and I wasn't going to just stand there and let it happen." You melt and look up at him.

"Thank you." He smiles softly and then looks down at his hands in his lap.

"I'm sorry I messed up your night, though. I know you were trying to-"

"It's okay, Rusty. I'd rather be here with you anyway." He looks up at you quickly.

"Y-you would?"

"Yeah. Because I can do this." You walk over to the desk and grab your glasses, putting them on your face. "That's so much better. I can see. I couldn't even tell if those guys were cute!"

He chuckles as you sit back down on the couch next to him. You sigh and look down at the floor.

"Sorry; I know that kind of ruins the illusion." He tries to catch your eye and eventually does.

"No. Don't apologize. I like you better like this."

"Wait, really?" There's a moment of silence as his eyes flick between yours. Then, he whispers.

"This is how you looked when I fell for you." He looks up at you through his eyelashes and your heart flutters.

"Oh, Rusty." His eyes drop down as he prepares for the disappointment. You put a finger under his chin and make him look up at you again. "I'm falling for you too."

He blinks as his heart pounds and he tries to process what he's just heard.

"You're-?" But you interrupt his sentence by leaning in and pressing your lips to his. He winces a little with the pressure against his tender nose and you pull back abruptly.

"Oh! I'm sorry! I wasn't thinking..." He shakes his head quickly.

"No, it's okay. Do it again. Please." You smile and lean in again, kissing him as softly as you can. You hover above his lips and whisper.

"We should get you out of that bloody shirt." He nods and lets you unbutton it and push it off of his shoulders, dropping it on the floor next to the couch. Your fingers go directly to the patch of hair on his chest and he shivers a little. He covers your hand with his and then pulls your fingers to his lips and kisses them gently. Without another thought, you crawl into his lap to straddle his hips, your skirt riding up so that you can press yourself against him. When you feel how hard he is, a soft moan escapes your lips.

"Is this just because of the way I look now?" He puts his hand on the side of your face and looks into your eyes sincerely.

"Honey, I've wanted you for days. You're just so stubborn; I couldn't get you to believe me that I meant it." You breathe out a laugh.

"I am kind of a pain in the ass, aren't I?"

"The most beautiful pain in the ass I've ever seen." He runs his thumb over your cheek affectionately.

"Rusty, I..." You roll your hips forward against him and whimper. "I want to do this... I do... I just don't know how..."

"Is this your first time?" He raises his eyebrows.

"No, not that. It's just never been very pleasant and... I want to enjoy it... with you..." He relaxes and softens.

"Oh, honey. I promise I'll make it nice. If that's what you want." You nod almost frantically.

"I do. Please." He smiles and kisses you gently. His hands run up under your skirt and he looks to you for permission to take your dress off. You nod and he slides it up and over your head. He goes back to kissing your chest, pressing his lips to the soft skin of your breasts as he removes your bra and lets that hit the floor too. You run your hands in the back of his hair and he moans quietly. After a few more seconds, he stands up from the couch, keeping you wrapped around him, kissing you over and over until he makes it to the bedroom. You whimper softly as he lays you on the bed, moving his lips down your neck to your collarbone.

"Honey, I wanna taste you. Would you like that?"

"I-I-I don't know. I think so?" A small feeling of fear rises in your chest as you grapple with not knowing what to expect. He picks up on your nervousness and gently moves your hair out of your face, stroking your cheek softly.

"Okay, baby, you just relax, okay? I'm not gonna hurt ya." You nod, breathing deeply, and he continues kissing down your body, grazing his lips over your stomach to your thighs. Your back arches involuntarily as you feel his lips on your legs and he pushes them apart to settle in between them. "I'm gonna make you feel so good, baby."

"Yes, Rusty..." You whimper as he slides your panties down your legs. Some part of you feels like you should be embarrassed to be this exposed, but for the first time you aren't. Something about Rusty makes you feel at ease.

"You're so pretty, honey. I'm gonna put my mouth on ya now. You just let me know if you want me to stop."

With that, he presses his tongue to your center and you moan loudly. Nothing has ever felt this good before. He moves his tongue over and around your sensitive bud and electricity gathers in your hips. Another moan escapes you as he licks and sucks your clit feverishly. More electricity builds and he moves on you with more speed and intention.

"Oh God... Rusty..." You're not sure what is about to happen, but it's like you're on the edge of something as he slides one of his long fingers up into you and tickles a specific place inside you. He feels your pussy tighten and moans softly.

"Let go, baby... you're so close."

"Close to wh- OH!" You whine loudly as your orgasm crashes into you, washing over you in tantalizing waves of intense pleasure. He licks and finger-fucks you through it and you pulse and writhe and grab at the sheets. Finally, you start to come down and he backs off of you, lips glistening.

"What was that!?" You ask enthusiastically. He smiles and chuckles a little.

"Baby, I thought you said this wasn't your first time?"

"Yeah, but that's never happened before. No one's ever... I mean... not with their mouth..." He kisses the inside of your thigh affectionately and then moves back up to lay next to you, rolling over and holding your face in his hand.

"Honey, I don't know what kind of... boys... you've been with before, but a real man should always make you feel this good. I will always make sure you feel this good."

You look up at him and resist the urge to blurt out that you love him. Instead, you pull him into a kiss and he moves his hand down to your hip, pressing his body against yours. He rolls his hips forward so that his erection grinds against your thigh and you gasp.

"Rusty..."

"I'm sorry, honey. I-I-I-"

"It's okay. I wanna make you feel good too." You run your hand down his chest and stomach, following the trail of hair under the front of his pants and take his cock in your hand. The mild shock that he's not wearing underwear fades quickly when you notice that he whimpers and bites his bottom lip as you touch him.

"You really don't hafta-"

"Shhh... let me take care of you." He whimpers again and his hips buck into your hand as you stroke him, moving his foreskin back and forth. "Take your pants off."

He quickly and obediently removes his slacks, trembling slightly in anticipation. You press hot kisses to his chest, moving down his stomach to just below his bellybutton. He looks down at you, eyes dark with desire, and runs his hand in your hair as you take the base of his dick in your hand and lick directly across the head.

"Oh, fuck, baby..." You smile at his reaction and then pull him fully into your mouth. This part you know how to do and you can't wait to see him come undone with your efforts. You lick up the bottom of his shaft and then open your throat and press your nose into the soft patch of hair around his cock. He holds a handful of your hair and does everything in his power not to thrust into your mouth as you bounce up and down on him. The skill with which you suck him off surprises and impresses him and he moans and grips the sheets with his other hand. You keep working him with your mouth, your hands on his hips to keep him still.

"Oh, baby..." He shudders as you pull him deep in your throat again. "'M gonna cum soon."

You back off of him and sit up, stroking him teasingly slowly with your hand.

"Not until I say so, you're not." You smile down at him devilishly and he groans.

"Oh, you little minx. You gonna get feisty on me?" You giggle and lick your lips sensually as you move your hand a little faster.

"You want me to stop teasing you?"

"No. Fuck no." His hips buck again as he begs for enough friction to reach the orgasm that is so close he can feel it in the base of his dick.

"Okay, how about this then?" You move to straddle his hips and then rub the tip of his cock along your entrance, where it slides over your slit easily with the wetness gathered there. He whimpers and holds your hips with both hands. You sink on him just a bit, pushing the tip of him inside you.

"Oh God, honey, please." The sight of him whimpering and begging turns you on so much more than you ever dreamed it would. You've never taken control like this before, and certainly haven't ever had the confidence to tease anyone, but Rusty is so sweet and giving that he brings out a side of you that you didn't even know is there. He also seems to be enjoying it just as much as you are. His cock is rock hard and he sweats and pants with his eyes rolled back and his bottom lip pulled between his teeth. He's beautiful like this, all flushed and needy.

You slide more of him inside you and he gasps. Your pussy is deliciously tight around him, the little sounds that fall from your lips driving him even more crazy. He's overwhelmed with the thought that he'd like to feel you like this forever and a shiver runs through him as he bites his tongue to keep from whispering that he loves you.

Finally, you push him into you fully and moan with the sensation of being filled so completely. His dick is perfect to hit all the right places inside you. Lifting your hips, you drop back down onto him and he groans loudly.

"Baby, I'm so close."

"Mmm not yet. Can you make me cum again? Without your mouth?" You're not sure what's come over you, asking for it like this, but it's like the words are out of your control. Luckily, he doesn't seem to mind. In fact, it appears to be just the opposite. He smiles and licks his thumb, moving down to your center and rubbing circles on your clit.

"Like this?"

"Oh, God, yes..." You hiss as the feeling of his thumb on you combines with his cock pushed up inside you. "Fuck..."

He laughs a little at your cussing. He's drunk on you, drunk on your pussy, drunk on the way you make him feel, drunk on the need to be with you like this for the rest of his life. His orgasm is so close he feels like he might explode if he doesn't move soon. He pulls his hips back a little and thrusts up into you and you gasp.

"Not until... I cum..." He whimpers and moves his thumb with more urgency. Your pussy tightens around his dick and he almost screams with the need to climax.

"Y/n... please..."

"So... close..." He feels your walls begin to pulse around him and you throw your head back and cry out his name as the release finally washes over you, energy thrumming through your body from head to toe. "Now!"

You don't have to tell him twice. He grabs your hips and lifts you just enough to pound you from underneath. His rhythm is erratic and frantic and it only takes a few seconds for him to slam into you one last time, cussing and moaning as his cock throbs inside you, shooting you full of his warmth. Eventually, his whole body relaxes and you collapse on his chest, both of you spent and breathing heavily.

"Goddamn, baby."

"Yeah. Wow." He slides his softening dick out of you and settles you beside him with your head on his chest. "Rusty, that was..."

"More pleasant? I hope?"

"That was fucking incredible."

"Two orgasms and you turn totally wild on me."

"I'm sorry. It's true. I just never knew it could be like this."

"Well, you're not wrong, honey. And I'm not complainin’. It was incredible for me too." You look up at him from his chest and he leans down and presses his lips against yours. After a few more minutes of laying there together, you go to get up and reach for the phone. He looks at you puzzled.

"Baby, what're you doing?"

"Gotta tell my dad about this." He laughs and wrestles the phone out of your hands as you giggle and he puts it back where it belongs.

"Although, I probably do need to talk to him." He says it quietly and you raise an eyebrow.

"Why?"

"I need his permission."

"Rusty..." He looks at you for a second and decides he can't hold back any longer.

"I love you, y/n. I'm in love with you. I think I finally found what I've been looking for on all these Easter vacations. I-I-I'd like to marry ya, if you'll have me?"

"Rusty, we just met." His face drops.

"Is that a no?"

"No! It's a not yet." He looks away and nods. You grab his chin and make him look at you again. "But it's also an I love you too."

"It is?"

"Of course it is." He smiles and pulls you into a deep kiss. When he backs away, he presses his forehead into yours.

"Baby, I'm yours. You just let me know when you're ready. Until then, you can have me any way you want me."

And that's exactly what you do.

******

The End

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Taglist:

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#elvis presley #elvis #elvis movie characters #rusty wells #girl happy #elvis x reader #elvis fanfic #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis presley fic #elvis smut #elvis fanfiction #elvis fic #elvis presley x reader

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bloatedandalone04 · 9 months

Text

Santa, Baby

➪the one where you and hayden celebrate christmas.

Warnings: fluff, fluff, rushed writing

Word Count: 1.5k

Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡ | Merry Christmas!

The sun was barely up as Hayden slowly opened his eyes and stared at the closed curtains for a few seconds. He adjusted to the dim light that filled the room before turning over and pulling your body closer to his chest.

It was as if his body knew what day it is as when he closed his eyes, sleep never came to him. And, after nearly six years together, Hayden is more than aware of the fact that Christmas is your favorite holiday.

Sure, you decorated the house for Halloween and even for Easter, but he had never seen so many red and green things in his entire life before he met you. You went all out every December and kept the decorations up well into the new year as well, claiming to not be ready to take them down every single time he asked if he could start putting them away.

While he was wide awake now, you were still sleeping peacefully in his arms, your head not resting on your pillow but instead on his bicep. You were only wearing one of his old tees and bright red underwear that had HO HO HO written in cursive on the back, and Hayden would’ve found that hot if he didn’t already find it undeniably cute and so you.

He was wearing nothing on top and black briefs he had slipped on the prior night after spending most of Christmas Eve wrapped around you in the sheets once the guests had cleared out. You had thrown your third Christmas party since being with him last night and you were both a bit tipsy when you took his hand in yours and pulled him with you in the direction of your shared room.

Hayden was a bit scared to leave this room and see how much of a mess yours and his friends left for the two of you to clean up. He was even more scared to listen to the Christmas playlist you had been playing on repeat for the past four weeks while you and he cleaned up the mess.

You sleep for a little while longer, with Hayden staying with you the whole time until your eyes slowly open. Then you were jumping up and standing above him, your feet placed on either side of his waist as you grinned down at him. “Baby!” You excitedly say. “It’s Christmas! Hayden, it’s Christmas!”

Hayden is powerless to stop the smile from forming on his lips as he grips the backs of your knees and pulls you down so you are straddling his waist. “I know, baby,” he murmurs, sitting up and placing his hands on your hips. “I’m surprised I was awake before you were.”

You playfully roll your eyes and grab onto his shoulders. “How long have you been up?”

He shrugs, “Half an hour or so,”

“Hayden!” You gasp and lightly smack his shoulder before massaging that same place. “Why didn’t you wake me up?”

“Because we had a late night last night and you were pretty tired by the time I was done with you,” he answered and you blush almost immediately. “And you looked so cute. Quiet, but cute.”

You roll your eyes again. “Haha, you’re funny. Come on, we need to clean up before I give you your Christmas present,”

When you go to get off him, Hayden tightens his hold on your waist. “Before all of that, can you give me a kiss first? I’ve been holding off on kissing you since I woke up,”

You blush a bit more as you lean down and kiss him deeply, your hands sliding up and tangling in his hair. His grip on you tightens and guides your body forward, but before he could grind up against you and keep you in bed for the rest of the morning, you pull away with a teasing smirk. “There will be more of that later, if you can keep your hands to yourself long enough to help me clean up the house,”

Hayden laughs and lets you go, staying in bed and watching as you bend over to grab the matching plaid pajama pants you bought earlier this month. “What, that wasn’t my gift?”

You stand up straight and toss the bigger size at him. “Nope,” you answer as the pants hit his face then fall onto his lap.

He picks them up as you put yours on, “Can I get a hint?”

You walk back over to him and press a quick kiss to his lips. “Nope,”

Then you were pretty much sprinting out of the room and he was left to tug on the loose-fitting pants and follow after you.

It was nearing eleven in the morning when you and Hayden finally finished cleaning up all the dishes and making the rest of your house look presentable, even though it was just you and him today.

Hayden falls onto the couch and extends his arms out to you, gesturing for you to lay down with him. When you just shake your head with a small grin, he sits up a bit, “What? That was a lot of work, baby, come lay with me,”

You shake your head again and walk backwards towards the guest room door. “I can’t,”

He sits up completely at that as he watches you turn and place your hand on the doorknob. “Why not?”

“Because,” you trail off. “It’s time for your present.”

Before Hayden could further question your strange behavior, you open the door and a small Golden Retriever with a red bow wrapped loosely around its neck comes wandering out. “You didn’t,” he said and his voice must have caught the attention of the puppy as it began making its way over to him. “Baby, you didn’t.”

“I did,” you say as you follow after the puppy and sit next to your boyfriend while it sits at his feet. “You kept talking about how much you wanted a dog, and I grew up with Goldens so I know how sweet they are. I hope you love him.”

“Him? He’s a boy?” Hayden asked as he picked up the puppy. When you nodded he leaned over and pressed kiss after kiss to your cheek. “I love him, baby, he’s the best gift ever.”

You grin and reach over, scratching under the puppy’s chin. “I already picked out a name, I hope you don’t mind,”

Hayden shook his head, “What is his name?”

“Obi,” you answer and Hayden laughs loudly, petting Obi’s head after startling him with the sound. “I thought, since Ewan did me a favor and kept him at his house for a few days so I could surprise you, I’d name him after his character.”

Hayden keeps one hand on Obi and uses his other one to guide you into a kiss by gently gripping the back of your neck. “I love you,” he mumbles before kissing you again.

He pulls away and looks back at Obi, adjusting his bow. “Merry Christmas, Hayden. Are you surprised?”

“Very,” he replied, his heart nearly melting when Obi settled on his lap. “How did you even get him in the guestroom? When?”

You shrug with a smile, “Ewan came with him last night. He put him in there while you were still getting ready. I hid your shirt so he could come in quickly while you were looking for it,”

Hayden looks over at you with a surprised laugh. “You’re sneaky,” he ruffles the top of Obi’s head again. “This makes my gift look bad.”

Nuzzling against his side, you smile at the two of them. “Nothing you give me will ever be bad,” you assure him.

“Better get it out of the way,” he said, setting Obi onto your lap before getting up. He disappears into your room for a few seconds and you distract yourself by petting the new addition to the family. “Okay, here it is.”

Hayden enters the living room again, and you are far too distracted to realize that he is now kneeling in front of you.

“Baby,” he calls out to you and you hum, looking up at him. Your smile faded a bit when you took in his position, and your fingers tangled in Obi’s hair as your gaze narrowed on the small open box he held in his hand. Inside it was the prettiest ring you had ever seen. “I love you. I have for six years now, and I will for the rest of my life. You mean more to me than anyone else in the world, and I promise that I will continue to make you happy for the rest of our lives. Will you-”

“Yes,” you cut him off, gently pushing Obi onto the cushion in order to throw yourself at Hayden.

He caught you, moving to sit on the ground as you climbed onto his lap. “I didn’t even get to ask you-” “Yes,” you say again, kissing him multiple times, reiterating in between each one, “Yes, yes, yes. This is the best Christmas gift ever, baby, yes.”

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thewertsearch · 5 months

Text

Let's kick things off with a mega-giga ask compilation!

I've spent the last couple of days working through the backlog, and I've been able to answer some quite old asks that were spoilers at the time they were sent.

@kintatsu asked: So, I was rereading your blog, and got to the post where you determine that John's 13th birthday was a Monday, and complain on his behalf that he couldn't really relax due to having the whole schoolweek ahead of him. Well, I checked, and the previous day was the first Sunday after the first full moon after the equinox, i.e. Easter Sunday. So it might have been a holiday week.

John entered the Medium shortly after Easter Sunday, and he did so by biting into an apple. Forget about the god tiers – his most powerful transformation is clearly Catholic Beast Mode.

Anonymous asked: The thing about knowing your Aspect, I think, is that it's the Aspect you most GET. I GET Space and Light, I understand them completely, they are suffused in my bones and my blood, they are writ large upon my brain and every base in my DNA. What aspect do you just GET?

To be honest, I don’t think I know enough about any Aspect to ‘get’ it.

If I had to choose, then I'd probably feel the most natural affinity for Life and/or Doom – and if was forced to pick one, I’d say I'm very slightly more drawn to Life, just based on vibes.

@mhafanlol2000 asked: I think the horrorterror’s plan (or the closest thing we can comprehend) is CHAOS-by which I mean LIFE. Skaia is order. If it can want, then it wants its players to follow the script it has written-the Alpha. It wants propagation, the snake to eat it’s own tail, blah blah blah. That is order. That is perfect servitude. That is NOT life. The gods, meanwhile, want chaos. It wants its servants to live. It does not tell people to do anything. It simply gives them the facts, and says “here is what you should do. You can not, you can do whatever the hell.” It wants romance, conflict, CHAOS. that is life.

And if this theory is accurate to the canon Life aspect, then I feel justified in my affinity for it. It falls fairly closely in line with my own philosophy.

@necrowyrm asked: When searching your blog I always type "thew" before Tumblr autocompletes your URL. That has become who you are to me.. Thew, Glorious Liveblogger, navigating the treacherous seas of Homestuck

Sally ‘Thew’ Ertsearch, reporting in. 🫡

Anonymous asked: there's actually another arthurian joke to do with dave's land/quest. have another look at the disc platform that bro stabbed. how would you describe the shape of that turntable?

Ayy, Dave's a Knight of the Round Turntable! Honestly, that'd be a pretty great name for his theme song.

@caliquill asked: kanaya vs rose would be absolutely hilarious but. kanaya IS the original "I Can Fix Her" girl for a reason.

Anonymous asked: the only real requirement for a name suggestion to be picked was that the firstname was 4 letters. but by really cool coincidence strider and lalonde are 7 letters, and egbert and harley are 6, and if you add those together its 4/13! similarly, both the trolls names were required to be 6 letters (i think hussie mixed and matched them actually, some of the firstnames were suggested as surnames and vice versa) so theres a similar case to be made for 6/12. but just doubling the same number i think holds less water than adding together two different numbers

Number symbolism is just very flexible in general. All Hussie really had to do was introduce a few 'important' numbers, and the fandom could start finding them everywhere!

Anonymous asked: This may be the wrong place to ask, but have you deleted your post of analyzing the Let the Squiddles Sleep song? I can't seem to find it anywhere.

Here it is. Hopefully you're able to see it now!

Anonymous asked: Will the Mega-Ask-Compilation and Liveblog Recap also happen? ~LOSS (19/2/23)

The former is currently taking place. The latter was planned, but after skimming my blog for a bit, I realized I didn't have as much to say about it as I thought I did. Plus, it's been ages, so I'm really excited to look at some new pages. We can leave the old ones for later - I'll probably do some sort of blog retrospective eventually.

Anonymous asked: i figure the trolls' battlefield went through a full set of dnd dice/platonic solids, plus maybe some other notable johnson solids like a truncated icosahedron (aka a soccer ball or buckminsterfullerene), before becoming a sphere. maybe the outer ring went through stages like simple torus, mobius strip, borromean rings or other fun knots, before becoming a mobius net. (not really sure what a mobius net is, mathematically, but that's apparently what the thing around the final form of the kid's battlefield is called.) or maybe something weird happens with that many prototypings, and the battlefield turns into a tesseract or a klein bottle or a menger sponge or a mandelbulb.

If you so much as look at the Battlefield created by the Gigasession, your brain will leak out of your ears.

@manorinthewoods asked: <3Dave, >3>John, >3oJade, <>Rose (by process of elimination) ~LOSS (5/6/23)

I don’t think either of the girls have worn a playing card symbol. The leaf on Jade’s Wardrobifier does kind of look like a spade, but John’s already got that quadrant on lockdown.

Anonymous asked: Reading stuff about skaia on this blog reminded me of madoka, and made me consider that skaia might be like kyube and the other incubators and sburb is skaias way of keeping the unerverse from decaying

Reading this ask makes me realize that Rose is a near-perfect mark for Kyubey.

There’s only one way to save your session, Seer. Form a contract with me, and become a magical girl.

Anonymous asked: man. i dont know what i expected to happen when you found it. but for The Baby Is You to be liveblogged in less than 20 words during a post was not the way i expected it to go

I know it’s not technically part of Homestuck canon, but it really feels like Homestuck canon to me - at least to the same degree as Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff, and I liveblogged that.

Anonymous asked: begging (lightheartedly) for you to add posts like LOLCAT and "this guy's an orb" to one of the liveblog tags. they're pretty funny, and it's nice to see off-the-cuff reactions like that, haha. imo it'd be a shame for new readers to miss those kind of posts

Done! I sometimes forget to tag posts like that, because I usually just fire them off and forget about ‘em.

@captorations asked: “Give me a set of rules, and I'll analyze the hell out them, every time.” hello fellow doom player. hope you like the color green

Based on ~ATH’s association with curses, as well as Sollux’s programming hobby, I think there’s a decent chance that Doom relates to coding in some way.

Coding is all about rules, so perhaps Doom, is, in fact, the aspect of rules and logic. I'm not sure why such an aspect would be named 'doom', but it's been obvious for a while that these aspect names aren't always literal.

Anonymous asked: I’d just like to clarify some terminology because it seems relevant, but Aradia isn’t a red blood, she’s a rust blood

[The blood colors all have canon names: Aradia = rust blood Tavros = bronze blood Sollux = gold blood Nepeta = olive blood Kanaya = jade blood Terezi = teal blood Vriska = blue blood (I like cerulean better tho) Equius = indigo blood Gamzee = purple blood Eridan = violet blood Feferi = fuchsia blood and Karkat has no official blood name, but people usually call him mutant blood or candy-red blood - C ]

Oh, there are official names for each color? That’s going to be helpful to disambiguate each blood caste, especially when we really start digging into troll culture and biology.

Anonymous asked: I do believe the top-left ship on the wall - no, Karkat doesn't have red eyes. […] It's probably Vrisrezi, yes, but it could also be Vriskat.

Yeah, I’m still not sure who this ship is supposed to represent.

They have Terezi’s eyes, but the hair and symbol look like Karkat’s. Plus, Nepeta hates this ship, which would make sense if it’s between her crush and someone other than her.

Honestly, my best guess is that it was meant to be Karkat, and the red eyes were just a mistake on Hussie’s part.

Anonymous asked: something I never thought about… is the blue blood sourced from equius or did he get a stock.

Aradia has real blue indigo blood in her veins, and it almost certainly belongs to Equius himself. He could have got it from a donor, but I personally doubt there was anyone else he could ask. Equius feels like he'd be an outsider, even to other indigo-bloods.

Anonymous asked: vriska would be a good strider

Vriska Serket raised by Bro Strider would be the most terrifying character imaginable. I don't even want to contemplate what that upbringing would do to her.

Anonymous asked: Any piece of lore hussie writes needs to contend with the fact that hussie is resolutely committed to the bit. Hence all the words on how different trolls are being entirely blasted aside by 'and then they're just grey humans anyway lmao'

That's the price of admission into Homestuck, for better or for worse. Hussie quite clearly enjoys screwing with us, and we have to take everything we see in the comic with a huge pinch of salt.

Anonymous asked: I'll disagree a bit on the phrasing that Eridan forces Feferi to <> him because firstly she doesn't even seem convinced that he would commit genocide and secondly she dropped him super easily once the lusus-feeding is no longer necessary. While understandable, that doesn't suggest to me someone who is obliged by Eridan's aggression to pacify him. I think she has much more agency in this relationship (or lack thereof I suppose) than that.

Feferi definitely had her doubts – but she must have believed that Eridan was dangerous to a certain degree, because that’s the basis of a moirallegiance.

Forced might not be the right word, but she certainly felt some amount of obligation to pacify him. She sure wasn’t in that relationship for the good of her health.

Anonymous asked: So, Vriska has a conversation with Karkat, where he says she seems to have blackrom feelings for Tavros, but that he doesn't think Tavros can even feel blackrom properly. Then she has another conversation with Tavros in which she antagonizes him, and he notices, but just kind of ignores it and doesn't respond emotionally. Then we see her make a huge dramatic redrom gesture and kiss him. She vacillated because he wasn't into her… incel behavior.

Yup. I’ve always held that Tavros never wanted anything to do with Vriska. He doesn't want to love or hate her - what he really wants is to live in a world where she doesn't exist.

Vriska’s refusal to accept this basic fact is one of the main reasons she’s decided to make his life a living hell.

Anonymous asked: I headcanon that troll blood is analog, but the empire culls non-digital colors because they make the troll race seem like a joke or something. Lol

If there were minor variations in blood color, the Empire probably wouldn’t want to acknowledge it, since the stratification of blood classes forms the basis of their society.

We haven’t seen any trolls besides our twelve (apart from Troll Will Smith) so we can’t compare the blood of two members of the same caste - but we can speculate. Human blood color is known to vary depending on its oxygenation level, and I imagine troll blood would reflect its current chemical composition in the same way.

Anonymous asked: Vriska must be seething while Karkat introduces the concept of quadrants to the reader. Imagine this basic and important facet of troll life, and you're just getting schoolfed it. (This message was sent on 20/10/22.)

This was a fun bit of weirdness from early Hivebent, wasn’t it? In retrospect, it's kind of hilarious that Karkat decided to infodump to Vriska about the obscure, niche topic of… dating.

@sanctferum asked: According to his formspring, Hussie's self-insert's classpect is Waste of Space. He also briefly considers Huss of Lips. This is obviously not meant to be taken seriously but. since you asked @absinthe-and-alabaster asked: i believe hussie said somewhere that FedoraFreak's classpect was "Gent of Piss" Anonymous asked: (not sure if this is technically a spoiler but) hussie has jokingly said that fedorafreak's class is a gent.

If Dad Egbert was a Player, then the Gent class would be forced into canonical existence, as the only class that could possibly define him.

Anonymous asked: If Vriska's control does require the victim to on some level want to do the thing, then Sollux's insistence that you do not under any circumstance eat the mind honey could be something he developed in response to that incident. So that if she ever controls him again, she won't be able to make him eat it.

Wow, I never considered that. That’s a very good (and tragic) take, and I think I'm at least locking it in as a headcanon.

Anonymous asked: the official extended zodiac actually has… 288 signs, if im doing my math right? and also probably hadn't yet been conceptualized when that page was posted (the earliest known evidence comes from 2015). i don't know if any thought was put into the number or if it was just pulled from their ass, but there was a running gag in hussie's q&as where he repeatedly threatened us with a 10,000 page intermission focused on 48 squiddles, each representing a sign from the alternian zodiac Anonymous asked: I believe the troll zodiac is one of the few things in HS lore that was truly retconned, there’s actually 288 signs.

Move over, 48 Squiddles. I want to hear about the 288-player clusterfuck that actually gave rise to Alternia!

@manorinthewoods asked: wheee, you got to the first god tiering! this probably opens up a load of new things to say, so, first off: do you think you need to have a full echeladder to god tier? vriska implied so.

She never outright stated that it was required, but I still think it probably is. You generally need to max out your class levels before you can prestige.

@morganwick asked: Believe it or not, you're still in the "Homestuck could have updated RIGHT NOW" phase of the comic's release schedule. The break after the Equius-Aradia kiss aside, the hiati you've heard horror stories about didn't start becoming a thing until the end of Act 5.

[this was around page 3000. still true at this page though - C]

Hussie’s sheer productivity at this stage continues to astound. Could you imagine having that much creative energy?

Maybe Hussie just drinks twenty coffees a day.

Anonymous asked: as someone who is Normal about aradia it's an absolute delight to see someone dig into her character. she's so fascinating to me. (also, fun fact, a while ago tumblr voted her the coolest character in all of homestuck. so there's that)

Aradia’s awesome, and I still don’t think her death is going to stick.

Her ghost was perfectly capable of existing without a body, so there's no reason she can’t survive her new body's destruction.

Anonymous asked: feferi hasn't just woken up, she won't be stuck asleep until 3 hours and 14 minutes into the future! timestamps, yo

Consider this the first mark on my otherwise impeccable record.

Anonymous asked: does cat have a troll/kidsona? itd be interesting to see a full 4 player session in art

[No kidsona, yes trollsona, but even a picture of her would spoil stuff from Act 6 😆 - C]

What she said. It’ll be a while until we can meet KATYAA SCRENR.

@mhafanlol2000 asked: Hey! You can just call me Fan. In all honesty I’m just some guy who likes your liveblog. He/him. I’m gonna list some fan aspects, and I want to see what you think they’d represent, and what abilities they’d give Law Dreams Might Shape Flow

Ooh, more fan aspects! These were a lot of fun to puzzle out the last time.

Law would be the aspect of command, instruction and agreement. An example power would be giving someone a simple rule they're compelled to follow, such as 'don't turn around'.

Dreams would be the aspect of ideas, motivation and symbolism. An example power would be the ability to detect people's idle thoughts - the things they're not even aware they're thinking about.

Might would be the aspect of growth, conflict and evolution. An example power would be the ability to temporarily enhance someone's Aspect abilities, at the cost of making those abilities harder to control.

Shape would be the aspect of form, encapsulation and topology. Shapeshifting is the most obvious application of this aspect, but it's appropriate.

Flow would be the aspect of persistence, momentum and continuity. An example power would be the ability to 'continue' something that has recently stopped. For example, if your PC ran out of power, they'd be able to keep it running for a while. The longer it had been previously running, the longer they could keep it running.

@martinkhall asked: I think Bro might have been raised entirely by shonen anime and My Little Pony Friendship is Magical (the version that existed only in the heads of the worst examples of Bronys). And puppets. Puppets were definitely involved in raising Bro. Anonymous asked: "He has no known relationship with any of the other parents, but was definitely getting foreknowledge of Sburb from somewhere. I’m not even sure I want to know what sort of childhood produces Bro Strider." well. i mean. he grew up with Lil Cal didn't he? the clearly haunted puppet from the sburban dreamscape of derse? it was what he dropped to earth with. i feel like that might explain at least a small part of, like, whatever he had going on.

That’s true. I don’t trust that puppet one bit, and we don’t know what it was up to before the start of the session.

I still suspect that the thing’s still just as alive as it was on Derse, and is just choosing to play dead.

Anonymous asked: I imagine you might've already been told this, but when checking out your FAQ I noticed you described PS/PQ/FS as "not exactly canon" and that you're less interested in liveblogging them because one of your favorite parts is watching all the story come together -- without spoiling anything, I find it pertinent to mention that Pesterquest & Friendsim definitely contribute to the wider "canon" even though dubiously canon themselves. Definitely "part of the story" so to speak.

Yeah, we’ll have to see what comes of this. The problem is that I’m still fuzzy on what ‘dubiously canon’ actually means.

Hopefully that will become more clear as I’m actually liveblogging these tie-in materials – which I am planning on doing. Only time will tell how in-depth the liveblog will actually be, though.

@manorinthewoods asked: In my Sundered opinion, Bec Noir is the best character design in Homestuck. I can't think of any other interesting designs at the moment, other than some which don't beat him and are spoilers anyway (like LE's). Which design do you find most interesting, out of the ones you have? ~LOSS (22/9/23)

I definitely agree that BecJack has one of the best designs in the comic. Plus, Scratch is so weirdly intimidating for a cueball-head.

Anonymous asked: My favorite part of PKWU is just how pointy Gamzee's chin is. It's so… Defined.

iT’s ToO lAtE, ErIdAn! I’vE AlReAdY DePicTeD MySeLf As ThE ChAd, AnD yOu As ThE SoYjAk >:o)

Anonymous asked: i need you to know ag canonically ripped off the sleeves on all of her shirts just to show off the robot arm

I believe it. I don't even need a source; this is just so true to Vriska's character that it's obviously correct.

@bladekindeyewear asked: If you and your ask screener decide that literary/external-media hero title examples without any details or explanation are alright to pass on unless they're too obviously revealing -- and those in and of themselves are usually in heavy dispute by classpect theorists -- I've long been of the opinion that Monkey D. Luffy and Peter Pan are the best possible literary examples of a Page of Breath.

All Pages of Breath must be associated with pirates. No exceptions.

Anonymous asked: unfun fact: the reason rose and jade dont have a lot of pesterlogs with eachother is just because their text colours were kinda eyestrainy together. thats it thats literally the whole reason!! god damn

Hussie: "I don't write Rose/Jade conversations because they’re hard to read."

Also Hussie:

Anonymous asked: you have officially passed my second favourite flash in literally all of homestuck. it's all so well hinted at beforehand but it still comes to punch you in the gut nonetheless Anonymous asked: My favourite thing in this flash is how the name of the flash isn't John: Rise Up, it's JOHN. RISE UP. it's WV sending a plead to John to not die. My second favourite thing is the way the music remixes Doctor (The theme for LoWaS). Anonymous asked: [S] JOHN. RISE UP. is one of my favorite flashes in all of Homestuck. Savior of the Waking World is some of Toby's best work What are your thoughts on our first taste of god tier? @violetsquare111 asked: So glad you liked Savior of the Waking World! One of my favorites in the comic for sure. It takes a lot of ideas from another of Toby's songs, Penumbra Phantasm, a song that… never actually got finished or officially released. There's still various renditions of it though, and the HS collection links a couple of em. (Some people have speculated that Penumbra Phantasm itself was never supposed to be a Homestuck song, and might end up being used in Deltarune, which would be cool as hell) Anonymous asked: It's crazy to think that just about 12 hours ago John was wearing silly disguises to fool his dad and now he's dying to become a god.

God time!

I do think it was the most emotional flash we’ve had, on the strength of the music alone. Savior of the Waking World goes hard as all hell.

Honestly, when WV started calling John a hero, and telling him to rise, it did start to give me some mild chills. Like, yeah – we know John’s a hero, but it feels extra special when it’s coming from someone who’s normally so irreverent.

@elkian asked: Welcome back, hope you're feeling better! I am losing it a bit over you IMMEDIATELY understanding how this coin flip sitch works, something about the narrative and reasoning doesn't match my brain so I've reread it multiple times with total understanding out of grasp and watching you dissect it halfway into the page is truly wild (delighted). Also feel like I understand it a lil better with your analysis.

Thank you! This message was actually sent the last time I returned from a pause, so apologies that I’m one hiatus late in answering it.

@royalvorpal asked: I just reread your entire blog in anticipation. Anonymous asked: This is such a good liveblog, I'm rereading it again and you are really letting me relive the pleasant parts of my middle school years. Reading this blog makes me feel like I'm back on the school bus talking to my friend about the newest update. Thank you for doing this 💛 Anonymous asked: That return page didn't have any sound, so misleading! (I jest, nice to see you're back.) ~DJ @manorinthewoods asked: Hahahah, we are BACK! Lovely, I've missed this liveblog. Most in-depth Homestuck liveblog I'm aware of, looking forward to the restart! ~LOSS (29/3/24) @popcornsalty asked: So excited to see you back!!! :D @chaosorchestrator asked: welcome back! It's good to hear that you're planning on getting back into it! I hope things have been going ok for you in the meantime! @necrowyrm asked: HAPPY 4/13 (OR AS THE ENLIGHTENED KNOW IT: 13/4) AND WELCOME BACK!!!!!!!!!!!

Thank you for your votes of confidence, and happy 13/4 to you all!

@rippledphysique asked: Just found this blog and devoured it in a few days. I am selfishly wishing you the best in health and life so that it may return one day… @elkian asked: Hey Sally! Just wanted to wish you well on the recovery, the plague is no joke and I hope you've been able to enjoy some kind improvement. And that 2024 will be kinder, as well. Anonymous asked: wishing you the best in your interim, hopefully you can get a better position where you're not prone to burning out! Anonymous asked: Hope you're doing ok!! I miss seeing your cool liveblog on my dash @kittycatttmattt asked: Poor girl… Got killed by the schedule

Thanks for all the well-wishes, as well. Really, it wasn’t the schedule that was the issue – I just had a lot going on in the background last year. That’s all over now, though!

Anonymous asked: yeah, Homestuck's back babeyyyyy - the site was crashing because of traffic and everything @calamitascalliope asked: You coming back from your break resurrected Homestuck's corpse hggfffdd Anonymous asked: i think this actually is the first time homestuck has updated since you started liveblogging lol - homestuck 2 has been inactive assumed abandoned since december 25th 2020. also happy slightly belated blogiversary btw - you've been delighting us with your journey for two years now! @heliotropopause asked: New Homestuck upd8 just dropped. Apparently. Anonymous asked: what are the odds that you start liveblogging again the same exact day that postcanon comes back from the dead? Anonymous asked: crazy news. so literally just today, october 8th 2023, hussie has officially given complete free license to the newly formed "homestuck independent creative union" (HICU) to create content and monetize it with the homestuck brand however they see fit, with zero creative or financial control from any corporations or even hussie themself, though hussie has said they're available for consultation whenever the HICU wants their input. the HICU seems to be made up of people the community largely has respect for, and the person heading all of this up is James Roach, who is one of the most widely respected individual who has been inolved in homestuck "post canon" (ie. after homestuck itself ended). nobody was expecting any of this, it's completely bonkers. hopes are looking pretty high for homestuck compared to where they were merely a day ago.

Throwback to the day I personally resurrected Homestuck.

Has anything come of this since, actually? I haven’t heard anything about this new comic – although I do scroll in the opposite direction any time I see a reference to Homestuck, so I guess it makes sense that I wouldn’t.

@corporalotherbear asked: What’s your favorite Pokémon?

Contrarian, that I am, I’ll instinctively gravitate to Missingno., if only for the nostalgia factor. Gen 1 glitches were my first real experience with pulling back the curtain of a game’s code, and taking a look at what lies beneath.

My favourite official Pokémon are Porygon-Z, Shedinja, Reuniclus and Metagross!

@heliotropopause asked: Breath/Light is an interesting one, because the ‘Mixolydian’ implies a musical theme, and I thought Time was the musical Aspect. Maybe it’s not that simple. They've all got a musical reference in the name- they are called fraymotifs, after all. Anonymous asked: The Fraymotifs are all musical references actually. E.g. Breath/Time is "Ivories in the Fire", the ivories in question being John's piano keys. A fraymotif is a battle theme. Anonymous asked: ivories in the fire is a musical theme, especifically a Rap term used by Snoop Dogg. So yeah it's connected to Dave Anonymous asked: re: fraymotifs: you pointed out "mixolydian", but that's not the only musical term there. feather "cadence", pneumatic "progression", even fray "motif" itself! hell, the building where you buy these things has an emblem with a crossed sword and music note! so i think this might be less a situation of "need to rethink time aspects association with music" and more "fraymotifs have a musical association also" Anonymous asked: if you look a bit closer at those names, (including the one "fraymotif",) you may realize that "mixolydian" isn't the only musical term referenced…. @galaxa-13 asked: You say the breath/Light Fraymotif implies a musical theme, but they all do! Fraymotif is a portmanteau of "fray" (to fight) and "leitmotif" (repeated musical phrase). Each Fraymotif name implies a musical theme.

Dang it. Yup, they’re all pretty obvious references to music.

I wrote that post the day I was trying to wrangle our family PC into running the Homestuck Collection without lag, so I was a little distracted at the time. Please direct all complaints to Windows XP.

#asks #full liveblog #act 5.2 #this is just the first part of the comp. I have enough asks for another one. maybe another two. we'll see

98 notes · View notes

feelmyskinonyourskin · 1 year

Text

Pink Roses [Fake Dating Trope]

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Trope de Sept Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Fake Dating situation 1. Two characters pretend to date for some purpose such as social gain, only for real feelings to get involved at some point "Bucky asked you to pretend to be his girlfriend to keep his elderly sister happy. You’re just platonic friends/coworkers, what could possibly go wrong?"

Warnings: Lil’ bit of angst into a happy ending. Reader uses fem pronouns and is referred to as ‘girlfriend’. No use of y/n. Friends to lovers. Reader spends Christmas and Easter with Bucky but doesn’t necessarily celebrate them herself, but they are mentioned.

WC: 7,000 baby!!!! Kicking off the Trope De Sept event strong!

*I never give permission for my fics, manips, or any other original creation I post on this site to be copied, posted elsewhere, translated, or fed into any AI program. The only platform I currently post anything on is Tumblr. Thanks!*

“Thank you for the flowers by the way, they are beautiful.” Rebecca sighed, playing with the pink petals of the roses in front of her

“Of course Rebecca,” you responded. “Bucky picked them.”

“Oh my, he has good taste. He gets you flowers right?”

“Oh…” her question caught you off guard.

Bucky had merely introduced you by name when you arrived with him to visit his sister for Christmas. You assumed he had warned her he was bringing a coworker, but she seemed to not have gotten the memo and thought your relationship with her brother was something else.

“All the time, Becca. Mom raised me right.” he said, giving you a playful wink as he did

It was a lie, but Rebecca didn’t catch on.

“See I knew my brother was a gentleman. Oh he is so lucky to have you in his life.”

You shot Bucky a curious look and he merely shrugged in response.

The reason you were there with him at all began a few days before, right before Christmas.

“Hey Bucky, just heading out. See you in the New Year!” you said, tying your scarf tightly around your neck, ready to leave the Avengers compound for the two week break from work.

“Hey yeah! Have a good winter break! You got any big plans?” he asked

“No. Keeping it quiet this year.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah I just…I got so sick of my family asking me the same thing and all my cousins flaunting engagement rings, and wedding plans, and ultrasounds, that I just don’t even bother going home for holidays anymore.”

“Oh yeah, I get it. You should meet my sister. I’m going to see her on Christmas and all she does is worry about me. She’s convinced I’m unhappy because I’m single. She literally tries to set me up with every new nurse they hire at her nursing home and I just know most of the Christmas dinner conversation is going to be asking me when I’m going to find someone nice to settle down with.”

“Oh gosh that sounds fun.” you said with a chuckle

“Hey if you don’t have any big Christmas plans, would you want to come with me? My sister loves company and we can even get takeout afterwards. You know, just so you don’t have to spend Christmas alone?”

“Bucky, that’s very sweet of you. I’d love to. Your sister sounds amazing. I can't wait to meet her.”

“Great. Yeah Rebecca’s a fun time. She’s 98 and still smart as a whip. You’ll love her!”

“Okay sounds like a plan.”

The Crown Heights Senior Living Center knew how to throw a Christmas party, with Rebecca Barnes leading the charge on the caroling group and Bucky helping her coordinate the gift exchange.

You couldn’t remember the last time you’d had such a fun time, with a group of octogenarians no less.

“Wow Rebecca! How did Bucky keep a pet racoon in the attic for a whole week without your mother noticing?”

“Well that old Brownstone we lived in was solid. They don’t build them like that anymore. The walls were so thick it took her a while to figure out where the scratching noises were coming from.”

“Yeah well she also got suspicious when I swiped an extra serving of her meatloaf and ran upstairs with it right after dinner.” Bucky chimed in

“Speaking of, Becs they’ll be serving your dinner soon and we’re getting hungry too.” Bucky said, standing and giving his sister a kiss on the forehead

“Darling, it was lovely to meet you.” Rebecca said to you, then turned to her brother “James, please bring your girlfriend around more often, she’s a treat.”

You and Bucky smiled at her and departed the room, making your way down the tinsel decorated hall.

“Awe, she thinks I’m your girlfriend!” you teasingly commented, playfully smacking his arm

“Yeah well, literally every time I visit, she’s trying to set me up with a new nurse they’ve hired and she’s always asking me when I’m going to find someone nice to settle down with.”

“I think it’s sweet.”

“Now when I come back to visit next week, she’s gonna ask about you and I’m gonna have to break her heart and tell her I’m still alone and destitute. I…” Bucky trailed off

“What?”

“It’s a dumb idea.”

“What is?”

“What if we… look this might be crazy but. Would you want to, you know, pretend to be my girlfriend? Just come with me to the nursing home every once in a while on like holidays and things? Just to keep my sister happy. I mean she’s 98 years old, there’s not a lot left going on in her life and I’ve literally never seen her more excited.”

“Okay. This is either going to go really well or really poorly. Either way I wanna see it. So yeah. Let’s do it.”

You saw Bucky at work nearly everyday in the New Year, exchanging pleasantries and making small talk like all coworkers do. At the beginning of February, he brought up his sister again, mentioning that she asked about you and asking if you’d like to join him to visit her again on Valentine's Day. You agreed.

Bucky gave your front door three knocks and you swung it open to greet him, still fiddling with the clasp on your necklace as you got ready.

“Hey, I’ll be ready in a few.” you said as he entered your apartment, stopping in your tracks as you noticed the bouquet he held in his metal arm.

Pink roses, just like the one’s he’d brought Rebecca at Christmas.

“Oh these are for you.” he said, noticing your gaze traveling to them

“For me? But…”

“Don’t worry I have another bouquet for Becca.” he said, pulling an identical bouquet from behind his back “But at Christmas I told her I got you flowers all the time, so I figured I actually should, you know, not be a liar.”

“Not be a… Bucky, we are quite literally about to go see her and lie to her a bunch! You know, about us.” you gestured between the two of you

Bucky laughed and shook his head.

“Fair, but why lie about one more thing? And besides, I think I owe you more than just a thank you for doing all this.”

“Fair.” you said, mimicking his tone and taking the bouquet from him

As you filled a glass vase in the sink and placed the roses in it, Bucky stepped behind you, grabbing the necklace from where you had placed it on the counter and wordlessly fastened it around your neck.

A chill ran down your spine as his fingers fiddled with the clasp, finally connecting it with the hook and pressing his palm against the back of your neck to lay it flat.

“Now I know you aren’t just spending such a romantic holiday just visiting an old lady. What are your plans? James, how are you romancing your lady today?”

You and Bucky looked at each other nervously. You hadn’t really discussed backstory or any other thing she might want to know about your relationship.

“I’ll tell you later Rebecca, don’t want to ruin any surprises!” Bucky finally spoke up, and you made a point to reach for his right hand, intertwining your fingers with his like any couple might and put on an excited look on your face for the non-existent Valentines plans. His palm was warm as he rubbed his thumb in delicate circles around your hand.

“Oh good! Well don’t let me keep you kids too long!” she exclaimed, shooing you out the door of her room

“Okay we really need to discuss more backstory and stuff before we come here. She’s asking too many questions.” he commented as you walked down the hall

“Bucky, maybe this is a bad idea. Your sister is so sweet and I feel bad lying to her like this.”

“Hey, look, she's happy because she thinks I’m happy. We can call this off if you want, but I really think it’d break her heart if I tell her we broke up. Please, just a few more visits? Just so she doesn’t think I’m totally alone.”

“But you are.”

Bucky shot you a look that you’d only ever seen when Sam got on his nerves.

You gnawed at your bottom lip and gave it some thought, Bucky’s blue eyes staring you down. “Okay. But we need to come up with more of a back story. Let’s go grab a cup of coffee and set some ground rules?”

“It’s a date.”

Your eyes went wide at the word date.

“Sorry. It’s a ‘platonic coworkers pretending to date’ not-date.” he said with a grin

“Fine, but you’re buying.”

“It’s Valentine's Day, it'd be absolutely ungentlemanly of me to not.”

The coffee shop around the corner was decorated for the occasion, with heart-shaped foil garland cascading from the ceiling and a cupid chalk drawing taking up a large portion of the menu board.

The barista topped your hot chocolate’s whipped cream with red and pink sprinkles and Bucky chuckled at the foam heart she drew into the top of his latte.

Every other table seemed to be occupied by couples, all looking gooey-eyed at each other and whispering sweet nothings across the small marble tables.

You were so busy taking in all the displays of love that Bucky had to clear his throat to get your attention, arms stretched out behind you reaching for your coat.

“Oh gosh sorry.” you said, shrugging out of it as he placed it on the hook on the wall and then pulled the wooden chair out for you to sit.

“Shit, your sister is right, you are a good boyfriend.” you said

Bucky rolled his eyes with a smirk and took his seat across from you.

“Okay.” you said, placing your palms on the table in front of you “ground rules.”

“Right, if you want to add a third to the bedroom, it has to be Sam. We made a pact a while back, it’s a long story but sorry it’s the only way...”

“Bucky!”

“Shit doll, sorry! I was kidding! I mean kind of, Sam and I did sort of agree…”

“Bucky!” you cut him off “Look if you don’t want to take this seriously, then fine I can just go and call it here. This is for you and your sister after all.”

“No, dammit I’m sorry, you’re right. Okay, go ahead.” Bucky replied

“Well we need to establish a backstory. And know a little more about each other so it doesn’t seem suspicious.”

“Okay. You go first. Ask anything you want to know about me.”

“Okay um. What’s your favorite color?”

“Really? You think what’s gonna make us not believable is whether or not you know my favorite color?” he looked at you in disbelief

“I don’t know! What else do couples know about each other?”

“Not sure. I haven’t dated regularly since 1943. It’s blue, by the way. What’s yours?” He responded

“Purple. Is that your usual coffee order?”

“In the winter, yes. In summer, I go for iced coffee.”

“Okay. Um. I guess it might be more important to have some facts about us. As a couple.”

“Right. Like what?”

“Well like where was our first kiss? Or our first date?” you asked

“In Central Park under the Cherry Blossoms. I’m romantic like that.”

“Bucky you told her we just started dating in the fall…”

“Fine, in Central Park under the orange leaves.”

“Who said I love you first?”

“You, obviously” he replied

That made you roll your eyes “Why is it obviously me?”

“Do I seem like the kind of guy to be open with his feelings?”

“No, you're the quietest on the team. It took four months of me working with the Avengers for you to return my good morning greeting everyday with even a nod of acknowledgement.”

Bucky raised his eyebrows as if to say “see I’m right”

“Fine. What’s the most romantic thing you've ever done for me?”

“Decorated your Christmas tree while you were at work.”

“I didn’t have a Christmas tree.”

“Well since all of this is pretend, let’s pretend you did.”

“Fine. While we’re on the subject, what did we get each other for the holidays?”

“I got you that necklace.” he nodded in your direction to the string of delicate pearls he helped you put on earlier. In reality, it’d been a gift you got yourself for your most recent birthday, but you were fine with the alternate story.

“Fine. I guess I got you a Frank Sinatra album for your record player.”

“How’d you know I have a record player?”

“Lucky guess.”

“Is it because I’m old?”

“I mean, yeah maybe…”

He sat back in his chair, looking thoroughly unamused.

“Since I know she’s going to ask next time you see her, what did you do to woo me on Valentine’s Day?” you asked

“Took you to a coffee shop and got you pink roses.” he gestured at the cafe around you, a proud smile on his face

“You know what, it’s actually the best Valentine’s Day I’ve ever had.” you said with a grin

“See, I am good at this boyfriend thing. What else should we know?”

“What side of the bed do you sleep on?” you asked

“Trick question, neither. I sleep on the floor because of my nightmares.”

“Bucky thats…” you trailed off

“Hey, it's something my girlfriend would know.” Bucky said so casually, as if he had not opened up to you and revealed something incredibly sad and personal about himself.

“Right. Um… what else do you and Rebecca talk about? That way you can think of things to weave into conversation about us that make us seem real.”

“Honestly, we talk a lot about our childhood. She helps me remember a lot of things I’ve forgot thanks to the, ya know” he pointed to his head

You nodded in understanding.

“Anyway, like last week she told me a story I’d totally forgotten about the time Steve and I snuck into the movies and when we got caught, we pretended we didn’t speak English to avoid getting in trouble.”

You listened as Bucky shared more stories about his life in the 30s and 40s, eventually laughing so much and talking so long, the cafe employees had to ask you to leave so they could close up for the evening.

He rode the subway with you to your stop and even walked you to your door as if he were really your Valentine’s date. You felt much better about seeing Rebecca again, confident now that you and Bucky could convincably appear as a real couple after today.

By the time Easter rolled around, you’d established a solid back story and even hung out with Bucky a few times outside of your work relationship to get to know each other better. You always loved every visit with his sister and hanging out with him felt easy.

You were, however, very nervous when Mother’s Day came. You’d finally be meeting Rebecca’s children and grandchildren, all of whom loved their Uncle Bucky, but loved Rebecca even more.

“You seem nervous.” Bucky commented

You had been silent but fidgety the whole subway ride from your apartment to the nursing home. Bucky, of course, picked you up at your front door every time you met, even though it was out of his way from his place to the nursing home.

“I am.” you replied

“Why? Becs loves you. She’s excited to see you again.”

“Yes but I’m meeting everyone else and it’s making me anxious.”

“Why?”

“Because they love you and your sister a lot. I want them to like me”

“I like you so they'll like you.”

“Bucky, you’re only pretending to like me! I love your sister, but it feels a lot easier to trick one old lady than to trick a bunch of people at once into believing we’re real!”

“Okay. First, I do like you. I promise, that part is not pretend.” You know he just meant it platonically, but it still made you blush.

“Secondly,” he continued “Rebecca is the sharpest person I know, so if she’s convinced, then they will be too.”

“I’m still worried they’re gonna find out and kill me.”

“Hey” he reassured “They won’t find out and they won’t kill you and even if they try, like they’re gonna get past me.” he wiggled his metal fingers in your face.

“She hasn’t said anything right? Like she isn’t getting suspicious?”

“Doll, take a chill pill. Even if she figures it out, it’s on me not you. I’m her brother, remember?”

“I know but Bucky she’s been so sweet and nice to me and I adore her and I don’t want to let her down!”

“You won’t, now just relax.”

Rebecca’s son, Scott, had prepared a fabulous meal and as you all sat around a table in the community room of the nursing home eating, her daughter Kim gave a beautiful speech about how Rebecca taught her to be a great mom and how loved she was by the family.

Tears sprung to your eyes at just how loved and revered this woman was and how lucky you felt to know her, even if it was under the false pretense of being her brother’s girlfriend.

Bucky noticed you getting emotional and placed an arm around your back, absentmindedly rubbing circles with his hand in comfort as Kim continued to speak. You shot him a look of thanks and winked at him as you saw tears welling behind his eyes as well.

After dinner had been cleared and dessert had been served, you were locked in a pleasant conversation with Bucky’s grandniece Jenny.

“I don’t know, maybe I should change my major…”

“Well, you’re young. Lots of people take years to figure it out.” you replied

“Uh oh.” she exclaimed, pointing toward the door “Looks like you’ve got some competition.”

Bucky was standing in the hall, deep in conversation with one of the nurses, who was throwing her head back in fits of laughter at whatever he was saying to her, and playfully touching his arm.

“Well, you know Bucky, he’s just… friendly.” you shrugged it off, trying to not let the interaction bother you

Jenny gave you a quizzical look, knowing that was a bold-faced lie and Bucky was the most surly and quiet person either of you had ever met. Except around you and Rebecca, of course.

“So tell me more about your thesis,” you said, directing the conversation back and hoping to distract yourself from whatever it was Bucky was doing

The subway ride back to your apartment was mostly silent, which wasn’t abnormal for him, except all you could think about was the way that nurse was with him, and more importantly, how he was with her. The way his eyes crinkled when he smiled at her, how he had leaned into her touch everytime she placed a hand on his arm, how they had talked nearly the whole afternoon.

“So David told me he and Shelby are expecting.” Bucky said, finally breaking the silence

“David and …? Oh yeah, Scott’s oldest.” you said, still mentally trying to keep all of Bucky’s nieces, nephews, and their kids straight in your mind, having just met all of them in one go today.

“Yeah. Which means Rebecca is going to be a great-grandmother.” he continued

“Oh my gosh that’s right! That’s so great! Did they tell her?”

“Yeah. She was pretty excited. Then of course, she asked me when you and I are going to start…” he said

“Oh yeah? What did you say to her?”

“Told her we’d get to it eventually. That we were still enjoying being young and in love.”

“Bucky, you’re 106…”

A smile formed across his face and he shook his head.

“You know what I meant!”

“Well we’ll never fictitiously get around to it if you for-real flirt with nurses.” you snidely commented

“Ohhh not my pretend girlfriend pretending to be jealous!” he joked back

“I’m not jealous, Bucky, I’m just trying to keep up appearances. But I don’t blame you, she was cute.”

“Yeah she was.”

“Okay serious question, what if one of us gets into a real relationship?” you asked

“Why are you planning to?”

“No, I mean I wouldn’t complain, but I don’t exactly have any great prospects right now.”

“I don’t either.”

“Um, that nurse was absolutely a prospect.” you argued back

“Doll, will you drop it with the nurse already?”

“No. Look, if you want to be for-real happy and quit lying to your sister, I think you should ask the nurse out. This has been fun, but don’t let us pretending to date hold you back from an actual relationship.”

Bucky sighed and hung his head.

“Okay. When I visit Rebecca this week, I will ask the nurse out. Just to get you off my back about it.” he conceded

“Well just be sure to add in the fact that you have prospects lined up when you tell your sister we broke up, just to soften the blow.” you joked

“Wow, you make it sound like I have women out the door, just waiting in line for me.” Bucky joked

You could if you wanted, you’re a fucking catch, is what you wanted to say, but instead just chose to lightly chuckle at Bucky’s joke.

“I think I will wait and see if the nurse says yes and if she does, see how the date goes before breaking it to my sister. And if it goes bad, at least I still have you.”

“Wow, make a girl feel more special to be your backup plan, why don’t you?” you joked

“You know what I mean! Wait, you will still keep this up for me if the nurse says no right?”

You sighed.

“Yes. I’ve actually really been having fun spending time with your sister.”

And you, you wanted to add, but again, didn't.

“But I do want you to be happy, so I will sacrifice hanging out with the coolest 98 year old I’ve ever met if it means you get a for-real girlfriend and stop being a grumpy, lonely old man.”

“Thanks doll, you’re the best.”

Things at work got hectic that week and you didn’t see Bucky until midway through the next week.

You were sitting at your computer, combing some case files when Bucky snuck up behind you.

“So things got complicated…”

“Jesus, Bucky, don’t scare me like that!” you said, practically jumping out of your seat when he spoke

“Sorry!”

“Wait, complicated how?”

“Well I asked the nurse out. And she said yes. And apparently it was the hot topic in the nursing home all weekend. And my sister asked why I was two-timing you. So I had to tell her we broke up.”

Your heart sank at the thought of not hanging out with Bucky and Rebecca anymore.

“Okay. Well, we knew that might have to happen. And the nurse?”

“Her name is Maddie, by the way. And we went out last night.”

“And?”

“It went well. She was nice and it was fun and we’re going to go out again this weekend.”

“Bucky, that’s great. I’m really happy for you.” you replied, trying to truly mean it and push your own feelings towards the situation aside.

But your mind just raced with worry about how well it actually went. Did he mean it went well like it was an agreeable evening and they talked a few hours and went their separate ways? Or did he mean it went well like she got to find out if his lips were as soft as they actually look? It went well like they hooked up and had steamy sex and she got to feel how his toned muscles felt under her hands while he brought her to ecstasy the way you’d always imagined and … no. You needed to stop. It was a bad idea to think about him that way. Especially since he now belonged to someone else, and never really belonged to you in the first place.

“Doll, I really can’t thank you enough.” Bucky spoke and broke you out of your spiraling thoughts “Rebecca had so much fun with you and you know… I think pretending to date you might have actually given me the confidence to ask Maddie out. Don’t know if I thought I could be a good real boyfriend without being a good fake one first.”

You laughed and shook your head.

“Well I’m happy to have helped. And by the way, yeah you were a phenomenal fake boyfriend. Better than most of the real ones I’ve had.”

You tried not to let the tears come to your eyes that you could feel brimming to the surface. You were just sad to say goodbye to Rebecca, that’s all. She was so special and spending time with her was a gift. It helped that Bucky was also so charming and funny, but it was absolutely just about Rebecca. Afterall, you’d still get to see Bucky at work. You wouldn’t really talk as in-depth as when you were with his sister and hanging out in service of keeping up the lie, but it would be fine.

However, much to your disappointment, it seemed like after that conversation, Bucky avoided you like you two had actually been a couple and actually broken up. He wouldn’t look you in the eye during mission briefings, wouldn’t say more than two words to you and they were always related to work, and if he ever found himself alone in a room with you, he quickly found an excuse to leave.

It had been about two months since you had “broken up” and you had given up hope of even having any sort of friendship with Bucky. But the truth was, you missed him. You missed making fun of him when he made a reference so outdated, historians wouldn’t even get it. You missed the way his smile rose more on his right side when you’d crack a joke. You missed when he’d sing along to one of Rebecca’s records and try to dance with both you and her at the same time, inevitably spinning you into each other and ending in the three of you in a fit of giggles.

You tried not to think of it though, threw yourself into work and tried to forget. But you couldn’t. Everything reminded you of him.

And you tried not to think about how much you missed him as you watched him walk onto the ramp of a quinjet, prepping to take off for a ten day mission to take down a Hydra base in Latvia.

Six days later, you were in your apartment, making your evening cup of tea when your phone rang.

You picked it up and put it down three times before finally processing that it was Bucky’s name popping up on the screen. With the time zone difference, it had to at least be three in the morning where he was.

“Bucky?” you finally answered “Is everything okay?”

“No. Doll, it’s not.”

“What happened? Are you okay? Is Sam okay? Did something go wrong?” you panicked, knowing of all the hundreds of people the Avengers employed, you were not the person to call if something went wrong with the mission.

“No, it’s Rebecca. She um…” Bucky sounded on the verge of crying and your heart broke in an instant “Kim called and Rebecca is in the hospital. I didn’t get all the details, but it’s not good.”

“Bucky, I’m so sorry.”

“Listen, I know I’ve already asked so much of you, but can you please… Can I ask you to go for me? Go see her? Sam and I are trying to wrap up as quick as we can, but I just can’t bear the thought of not being there with her and she loved you so much and I know you being there would really mean a lot to both of us.”

You had never heard Bucky ramble like that before. His voice was shaky and unsure and it broke your heart.

“Okay. Of course I can go.” you replied without hesitation. You loved Rebecca too, of course you wanted to be with her.

“Thank you. So much. Really. I’ll text you the room number and the hospital. I’ll let Kim and Scott know you’re coming too.”

“Okay.”

“And um… I just wanted to say I’m sorry. For how it’s been lately.”

“Bucky, It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not. But um, we can talk more when I get back.”

“Okay. I’ll go see her now, just text me.”

You were pulling on your shoes already when Bucky’s text came through. You were out the door and to the hospital in less than twenty minutes.

Kim greeted you with a big hug when you arrived.

“Oh, she’ll be so excited to see you!” Kim said, leading you down the hall of the hospital towards Rebecca’s room “You know, she still talks about you all the time even though you two broke up a while ago.”

You tried to bite back a smile, not wanting to feel happy in such a grim situation. But knowing at least Rebecca missed your presence and made sure Bucky didn’t forget you lightened your mood just a little.

Any hint of a grin was knocked off your face as soon as you stepped in the room. Rebecca was looking quite different from when you last saw her. Usually so healthy and spry for her age, she looked frail in the thin hospital gown, laying limply in the bed in the middle of the sterile room. Her gray curls were not in their usual coiff, but unkempt and wild. Her eyes looked sallow and dull. But her beautiful smile still came through when she saw you walk into the room.

“Oh my dear!” she reached out a shaky hand toward you. “It is so good to see you!”

Her hand wrapped around yours and she patted it a few times.

“How have you been? Oh, I’ve missed you! You know I was just saying to James the other day, it was a shame he let such a gem like you go.”

“Rebecca, that’s very kind, but how are you? Are you resting? Are you feeling better?”

“Oh, don’t worry about me. I was fine, but the nurses at the home, they called an ambulance and made me come here!”

“Mom, you passed out and your heartbeat was at 22 bpms!” Kim interjected

Rebecca waved her hand, then turned back to you.

“Where is James? Did you come with him?” she asked

“No. He’s away on a mission, but he’ll be here as soon as he can. He asked me to come see you until he could get here.”

“Oh that’s so kind of you. You know, he really loved you. I could see it every time he looked at you and every time I’d ask about you he’d talk and talk. I told him to hold on to you, but, well my brother never wants to listen to me!”

“Mom!” Kim interrupted again and you couldn’t help but chuckle. Even in this state, Rebecca’s personality was still shining through.

You caught up a little more, filling Rebecca and Kim in on your life since you last saw them.

Finally, Rebecca’s eyes kept closing mid-sentence and you and Kim left her to get more rest.

As you and Kim walked down the hall of the hospital together, she filled you in more on Rebecca’s health and explained that Scott and Jenny were also taking shifts visiting, currently hanging out in the waiting room down the hall.

“Sweetie, it’s getting late, let me give you some money so you can get a cab home.”

“No, Kim, I’ll stay here with you guys tonight.”

“You don’t have to…”

“Please? Just until Bucky calls again. Maybe by morning we’ll have a better idea of when he’ll be back.”

Kim nodded and gave your arm a light squeeze in thanks.

The waiting room was small and featured dated furniture and peeling wallpaper set under the glow of harsh fluorescent lights. Scott was asleep, curled in an uncomfortable position in a chair in the corner. Jenny flashed you a tired smile as you entered. You sat on one of the worn couches and laid your head back, attempting to drift off into sleep.

The night was rather restless, dozing in and out, but never really getting pulled into sleep fully. Between the buzz of hospital employees rushing about, the cramped sleeping arrangement, and the worry chewing in the pit of your stomach about both Rebecca and Bucky, it was far too difficult to get solid rest.

Would Rebecca be okay? How would Bucky act towards you when he got back? Would things go back to being friendly between you as a thanks for being there for his family or would he simply continue to ignore you and act as though this also didn’t happen?

You must have finally gotten to sleep, because you were pulled out of slumber by a metal hand squeezing yours and a soft calling of your name by a familiar voice.

Your eyes shot open to find Bucky, crouched down in front of you, face meeting yours as he gently woke you. Despite the exhaustion painted on his face, he was a radiant light in the otherwise dim environment.

“Bucky!” you sat upright and pulled him into a tight hug

“Hey Doll.” he said, squeezing you so tightly you thought you’d burst like a can of Pillsbury Crescent Rolls.

“How did the mission go? When did you get back? Have you been in to see your sister yet?” you asked

Bucky shook his head.

“We can talk about the mission later. Thank you so much for being here.”

“How is Rebecca?” you asked

“I… um. I don’t know. I just got here and came to see you guys first.” he nodded toward the sleeping forms around you.

“You should go see her. Hopefully she got plenty of rest over night.”

Bucky shook his head some more.

“I don’t know if I can… she’s the last thing I have of my old life. I don’t know if I can bear to see her like that.”

“Bucky, she needs you. She wants to see you, she asked where you were last night.”

Bucky sighed, wetness welling in his worn blue eyes.

“I’ll go with you.” you volunteered

“Doll, you’ve already done so much. I can’t ask another thing of you.”

“Please, Bucky, I want to be there for you. And for her.”

He nodded and took your hand in his flesh one, helping you off the couch and not letting go as you walked down the hall together towards Rebecca's room.

She was sitting upright in bed and her face lit up at the sight of you and her brother, nearly spilling the applesauce the nurses brought her for breakfast into her lap.

Bucky finally let go of your hand, giving his sister a hug much more gentle than the one he gave you.

“Oh James, you know you didn’t have to rush away from work just to come see me!”

“Becca, yes I did!” he smiled

“Well, your girlfriend had things covered here.” she gestured towards you

“Oh, Becs no, we’re not back together.” Bucky explained

“Oh? But why not?” Rebecca asked

“It's not important right now. What’s important right now is getting you healthy.”

Rebecca smiled and shook her head.

“James, it is important right now. I’ve lived a lot of years and I’ve learned the most important thing in life is holding the ones you love close to you. I learned that when my big brother ‘died’ at war. I learned that when my children grew up too fast and moved away. I learned that with every grandchild born and held in my arms. And I learned that when you came back into my life after so many years.”

“Rebecca…” Bucky spoke, but she held up her hand to cut him off.

“I don’t know why you two broke up or what happened. But what I do know is how much the two of you clearly love each other. Look, James, I’m old. I know I don’t have much time left. But you, you have a life to live still and running away from the good things is not what your baby sister wants for you.”

“Rebecca, this is a conversation for her and I and another time.” Bucky argued

“You know for being my older brother, you sure aren’t wiser than me.”

“Wow, even sick in the hospital, still trying the younger sibling thing.” Bucky joked back

A knock at the door took the three of you from the conversation as a cheery nurse stepped inside the room.

“I’m so sorry to interrupt, but I need to run a few tests the doctor ordered. It’ll only take a little while.” he explained.

Bucky sighed and gave his sister a kiss on her temple, then gestured for you to step out with him.

Once in the hall he finally broke down completely, the stress of the past few days catching up to him.

You cradled his head in your arms as he sobbed, knowing the longer the two of you stayed like this, the longer you could put off having a conversation.

“Can we go for a walk?” he asked, finally calm enough to stand and wipe the tears from his eyes

You nodded and took his hand again, leading him out to the front of the hospital into the sunshine.

A few open benches along the sidewalk provided a place for the two of you to sit. Still, it took a few minutes for Bucky to finally speak up.

“I’m sorry I let it get like this between us.” Bucky mumbled, barely loud enough for you to hear.

“Bucky, please. We don’t have to do this right now. You should be worrying about your sister, not me.”

“No, Doll, Rebecca’s right.”

“Yeah?”

“About everything.” he nodded his head “About life. About us. But don’t tell her I said that, or she’ll never let me live it down.”

You giggled.

“I wanted it to be real. Not at first, but after a while. When she tells you a story about us as kids and you smile at me the way you do. Or when your eyes light up when I make up a lie about the latest romantic thing I did. I wanted it all to be real. And I still do.”

“I wanted it to be real too.” you confessed “But if you wanted that, then why did you not just ask me out for real instead of Maddie?”

“Because, like Rebecca said, I was running away from the good things. I was scared that after everything I’ve been through, no one would stick around knowing all of that about me. But then you did, and it scared the hell out of me. And I wasn’t sure if I was reading it all wrong. Asked Maddie out as an excuse to push you away. I thought maybe avoiding you would make me get over it, but it didn’t, it just made me miss you.”

“And Maddie?”

“We went on a few dates and it was fun, but of course, I kept her at a distance. Didn’t want to let her in like I did with you. So she broke it off with me after a while.”

You chuckled and shook your head.

“You know, the leaves in Central Park aren’t quite orange yet, but it’s still a nice time of year for a first date there.”

“Yeah. It is. For real this time?”

“For real this time.” you agreed “But let’s worry about getting Rebecca healthy first.”

“I bet if we go up and tell her we’re back together, she’ll run out of that room and steal a cab just to make sure we make it to Central Park today.” he joked

You softly pressed your lips against his, feeling him melt into your kiss as the tension between the two of you these last few months finally evaporated.

When you finally pulled apart, you realized now you were the one crying, relieved that things between the two of you worked out.

Rebecca was released from the hospital a few days later, new medication bringing her health back into balance and making her as vivacious as ever. She was even well enough to join you and Bucky in Central Park for your 8th date, though she didn’t know that, as you and Bucky decided it was best not to tell her about the lie even now. And of course, when Bucky and Rebecca stepped out of the cab on 5th Avenue, he held two bouquets of pink roses in his hands.

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #sebastian stan #bucky barnes x reader #winter soldier #fatws #mcu #marvel fic #bucky x fem reader #trope de sept #trope #fake dating

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