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the-other-art-blog · 1 month

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I had been debating about posting this or not, but I'm going to because this fandom is getting on my nerves even worse than in the last 2 years.

And just to be clear before anyone accuses me of anything, I invite you to spend one minute on my blog. My favorite book is AOFAG. Even when I am highly HIGHLY critical of Benedict for being an absolute jerk for about 70% of the story, Sophie Beckett is the greatest character that Julia has ever written. She's everything that's good in the world 🥹 and her strength saves this story. Benedict has awesome moments and he apologizes in the end, which is rare in JQ's books, so, he has that on his favor + an incredible love confession that Luke T will absolutely nail (I still think JQ cannot write class-difference stories but whatever) Show!Ben is everything book!Sophie deserves and is going to make the adaptation so much better. I can't wait to see that.

I need Sophie in my life.

I've also written many stories about benophie and posted a lot of love for them for the past 2 years.

And you know what I have also seen in those 2 years? Benophie stans being vile, aggressive, rude, and simply put, absolute bitches. They claim to stan Sophie because of how kind she was despite her circumstances but when the news of s3 came out, they turned into full-time haters.

Now that the antipolin blog published something about the actors they like (they even lied about Claudia Jessie!), NOW they are cutting ties with that account and publishing what seems like "PR statements" (loved how a fan called this on tw) saying that the admin of that blog does not represent them. TOO LITTLE, TOO LATE. AND FALSE. Forgive me for not believing you but that blog repeated the same lies you were all saying.

A few months ago, an account on tw posted something like "I have never seen a Benophie being hateful or attacking Polin." Obviously, Polins began replying with ss of the anti blog and other crazy stans. And I didn't see any big account of Benophie come out and admit that that was wrong or cut ties with those problematic people.

For 2 years,

You called Nic an alcoholic and lazy when she posted about Champagne Fridays.

You called Luke Newton ugly every chance you got.

You cut him out of promotional photos and bts or you put something on his face, even when the photos were shared BY HIM. You use HIS photos where Luke T appeared to throw hate at him.

You made tasteless and aggressive comments about the actors and Polin for 2 years, and whenever someone called you out for that, you claimed it to be a joke and that we lacked humor. It even happened on Benophie week 2023 by the account that organizes it!

You claimed that Nic had access to the writers' room, force s3 to be hers, and purposely took SA's screen time and promo opportunities. Nic had to come out and ask all of you to stop sending hate. The unfairness of promo/screen time for Kanthony was not something Nic or Luke did, blame production for that.

You say her activism is performative cause it would kill you to admit that she's doing something good that other actors have ignored so far.

There was not one single post made by the Bton accounts or JQ that did not contain hate toward the actors/ship on the comments, even today that Benophie season is confirmed.

Even a few months ago, I published a few posts about s3. They were positive posts about Pen's makeover and how important it was for me, and this is the kind of messages I got:

Was it from a Benophie? I don't know, but it wouldn't surprise me. Also, this is the only one I ss, but I got at least 4 of them after this post (x).

Those very people who are crying right now that Benophies is being associated with the anti polin bitch were spreading the same rumors that she mentioned. And they never showed remorse!

Don't come now and say it's just ONE antipolin blog that spread all the hate. She's not talking to herself either, those anons are real because her posts have likes, so she definitely has an audience. I've met them. Unfortunately, every group chat or discord channel about Benophie is not a safe place for anyone who enjoys Polin.

And yes, I know there are equally disgusting people on the Polin fandom that I have also blocked cause they keep attacking Marina, they claim Pen is a saint when she made big mistakes, and they have also spread rumors and insulted fans and actors like Simone Ashley and Ruby Barker, not to mention the people who are obsessed with LukexNic and attack his gf. Like seriously people, you all need to be institutionalized. There is a big HUGE problem in that fandom too, but right now certain benophies are acting all innocent when I have been here also for 2 years witnessing their hate. No! I can't.

I also can't stand that most of them are loving Cressida because the patriarchy forced her to be an absolute bitch. But Pen is the antiChrist.

Some of them even justify Richard's neglect and abuse. "Richard couldn't leave Sophie with anyone else," "Richard truly loved Sophie." Seriously people.

I know most of them will ignore my post, block me even or come to my inbox to insult me. And I don't care. I haven't seen any other person admitting how hypocritical they are being.

If this offends you, I will assume you participated in the 2-year tantrum against Polin.

That's it. End of rant.

Sorry to be so negative but this really pissed me off. That statement! The nerve!!!! Ok ok, now I'm done.

Next, I will post much more positive, lovely Benophie stuff. These people are not going to ruin Benophie season for me.

#bridgerton #benophie #polin #how is it that the kindest character in the show somehow has this fans?#sophie would see right through you #so does Benedict #they both hated bullies

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kickingitwithkirk · 2 years

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Mascara and Masquerade

Summary: Jensen gets a new celebrity assistant who’s not what she appears to be

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Reader

Word Count: 3896

Warnings: cursing, family issues, age differences, deception/hiding the truth, some angst, sexual fantasy, male masturbation, sex toy, loss of a child

A/N: for @deanwanddamons #deanwandamons3Kfollowerschallenge

A/N II: story set season 13 and told POV of Jensen and Reader and if it seems kinda crazy, it’s the characters acting outta character due to past experiences

Prompts: Secret Dating, “Did you just tell that person I was gonna ask out that we’re dating?” Third Wheel-Protective Best Friend

Squares Filled: @anyfandomgoesbingo -Escort AU @spnkinkbingo -DDLG @j3bingo -”Did you just tell that person I was gonna ask out that we’re dating?” @spnmixedbingo -Amnesia @spnaubingo - Demigod AU

Vancouver

July 24th

~You~

“May I see your ID?”

I hand my driver's license and temp pass out the car window to the guard, checking it against their paperwork and handing it back telling me how to get to administration to acquire my permanent credentials.

Even though I come in an extra hour early, some mixup delays me and when I finally reach the lot I am greeted by a harassed gopher grumbling at how late I am.

Since they weren’t who I was working for, I didn’t bother to explain what happened and grab my work bag to follow as they gave me a quick tour before heading into the soundstage.

I’ve worked on several shows over the last four years but this was the first time a set had struck me dumb in amazement.

TV screens don't do justice to the attention to detail that had gone into the construction of The Bunker, briefly reminding me of classic movies where the builders meticulously created intricate woodwork and set designers used sumptuous material and antiques to create ambiance.

My escort showed me an innocuous corner to wait in until they were finished with the current scene and I watch amazed, as always, how actors can slip in/out of their characters.

After checking the playback and being satisfied the director called for the next scene's setup the gopher approached one of the actors and said something pointed toward me and they turned, eyes me then frowned.

Terrific start.

I squared my shoulders before walking over to introduce myself to the man whose life I’d been hired to, well, basically run. “I apologize for being delayed sir,” their eyebrows went up, “administration hadn’t received my visa credentials and took a while to sort out.”

“I’m not that formal so call me by my first name..”

“..it would be unprofessional Mr. Ackles.”

~Jensen~

It’d been a good day without Misha here distracting us, aka Jared, and looking like we’re getting done ahead of schedule when one of the gophers told me my new assistant had finally shown up, only three hours late, and when I see the person sent I’m disappointed, having requested a guy or older woman with industry experience.

Instead, they’ve sent some dowdy looking, just knows gonna be wet behind the ears twenty-something.

For a split second the way she walks reminds me of Jared, must have something to do with her height when she started apologizing.

Someone raised her with manners but I’m less than thrilled when she calls me sir, last thing I want is to be reminded that I’m edging forty, saying it’s unprofessional to call me by my first name.

“Where the hell did you come from..nineteen-fifty?”

“Texas actually.”

“Huh, don’t sound like it, where ‘bouts?”

She shrugged “just ‘bouts. I spent several years outta state for school, guess it eradicated my accent.”

Wasn’t sure what to make of the dodge but let it go, noticing some eavesdroppers, “it’s gonna be a bit till they’re done setting up so let’s head somewhere less noisy to finish this discussion.”

Grabbing a cart I drive us to my trailer and held the door like the gentleman my mama raised me gesturing for her to proceed, “thank you si..Mr. Ackles.”

Deciding I’d better stay clear-headed so I don’t say something stupid pull a couple of bottles of water and hand her one before settling in the recliner, “I’m sorry but you’re not gonna do..” I trailed off when she slightly squinted and her forehead wrinkled.

Huh, now she’s giving me Sam.

“Why not?”

“I asked for someone with experience, the last two were so young they couldn’t find their own asses let alone keep my shit in line.”

“I happen to know where my ass is and very experienced at keeping other people's shit in line.”

She fished around in this ridiculous oversized bag she’s been toting hands over a few printouts for me to read.

Y/N Y/L/N, graduated Magma Cum Ludi while working as Sterling K. Brown's celebrity assistant. Been hearing nothing but good things about his new show and interesting, even Milo gave her a recommendation.

“I’ll admit your credentials are impressive, obtaining a bachelor's degree while working the batshit crazy hours this industry runs on but I gotta ask, why’d you request a transfer? Sterling’s a good guy to work for.”

“I liked working for him but didn’t cotton to the LA bullshit. I thought about Georgia or New York, but neither suited me, Van has a more of the right vibe and people are nicer here.”

A straight shooter, I liked that.

“I must be a glutton for punishment,” point a stern finger at her, “you're on probation ‘cause I’ve been burned by people your age young lady, so if you fucking flake on me..”

“..you’ll kick my ass all the way back to Texas?”

“Damn straight,” someone knocks on the door yelling I’m needed back on set. “Come on, I’ll introduce you to Jared’s assistant, they can show you how to keep and coordinate our schedules. Now for some ground rules, you're gonna want to write these down.”

“I have an excellent memory.”

“Uh huh,” I mutter heading out the door and getting in the cart, “it's Jensen, my dad is sir. I expect you to be available at all times so if you’ve got something, let me know.”

I weave around an offloading truck, “be here by 6:30 and it's no secret I’m not a morning person so don’t try going over anything until I’ve had my coffee, black and strong and I’ll grab something from craft services.”

Parking near the set entrance we walk few steps and appraise her again in in the daylight. One things for sure, she’s as plain a Jobs ass behind those humongous spectacles, definitely no temptation there so I won’t have to worry about being in the shitter with HR.

“You’ve gotta get a different wardrobe,” she stopped with a questioning expression and I pointedly peer down frowning, “that outfit might be fine for some bumfuck lawyers office but here it’s long days so jeans, sneakers, or boots depending on the weather. When we’re doing public events wear a nice jacket. Entienda?”

Shifting that godawful bag held out her hand, “Sí, but I’m still gonna call you Mr. Ackles, otherwise it’d be impertinent. ¿Lo entiendes?”

I took her hand and we both got zapped, the kind you get when shuffling across carpeting then touching metal, and Y/N quirks a peculiar smile.

What the fuck about you keeps reminding me of Jared?

I quickly plastered a pleasant smile on, “one week only kid, should give us time to get comfortable with each other.”

We head inside as I shook out my hand, perplexed.

Gotta a feeling you're gonna be more than I’ve bargained for.

~You~

October 9th

Rogers Stadium

How the hell did I get roped into this? I don’t even like baseball!

I’ve done support for other charity events the show does but participate? Yet here I am, sitting in the dugout watching the casts practice session.

Truth be told, I’ve been watching my boss work up a sweat, I’m so not into the whole moist look on guys, on most it’s icky but what the fuuuck, does nothing look bad on Jensen?

He’s practically glistening under the stadium's lighting, even the damp bits of his hair are sexily sticky and feel a throbbing between my legs drop my head into my hands groan in frustration cause falling for my boss wasn’t part of the plan!

“Hey,” I peek and he’s close enough to see sweat gliding over his skin. “Yeah,” I squeak made his eyebrows shot up in surprise chucks a thumb at home plate, “your turn.”

“Oh, I uhh, I don’t,” bat swinging gestured. That’s not a total lie, my brothers taught me how to hit a ball.

Okay, it was a kid’s plastic set and I was four but still, it counts.

Jensen gives me annoyed Dean, “you’ve gotten off..”if you only knew how bad I need to, “..so get your butt out here young lady.” I obediently follow him off to the side and pick up a practice bat, “you know which end to grip?”

“I’m not Aunt Bea, thank you very much,” I groused making him laugh took my stance, “thought you said nobody likes a smartass.”

“Depends how nice the ass is,” he snarked, stepping behind me places a hand on my hip, “widen your stance.”

Shifting made my ass bump against his crotch, hello Mr. Chub, can’t resist wiggling my money against him, “like this?”

Jensens grip tightened and breath hitches before speaking in Dean’s roughened voice, “I’m gonna pitch a few so keep your eye on the balls.”

“Oh, I know how to keep my eye on your balls,” I innocently tease, then spot Jared not only watching us but overhearing flirty comeback tensed and pointedly throwing bitchface at me.

Foul ball

#SPNNOLA

October 29th

“Excuse us,” Jensen firmly gripped my bicep hauling me off the barstool marching us towards the back door.

Once we’re outside he slams it shut and shoving me against it leans in so close I can smell the bourbon he’s been enbidding, ”did you just tell that person I was gonna ask out that we’re dating?”

“I was saving you from you, you jerk,” and before I can continue his expression grows dark.

Fuuuck, if Jensen had channeled that into Demon Dean found myself almost acting like Pavlov's dog. Every time he drops into his dominant persona, its becoming harder to resist dropping into my little subspace and calling him daddy.

“Look, I get you're jonesing for some sushi but keeping your shit in line is my job so I’m now advising you not to fuck around with a swindel cat.”

“A What!”

“That person fucks people while secretly filming them then hands the vid to a shady distributor who’s gonna release it unless you cough up some cheddar,” Jensen’s mouth dropped open, “your welcome.”

I grabbed his wrist checking the time, “let’s head over to Daisy Duke's, I got a sudden craving for biscuits and sausage gravy with a side of greasy breakfast and pot of coffee for you, last days in five hours.”

~Jensen~

I shut the door leaning back against it grateful this weekend has come to a close.

Never in a million would’ve I imagined having my ass jam scammed let alone saved by my twenty-something assistant who persistently tails me when cruising bars on con weekends.

What a pathetic piece of sh..divorcé..I’ve become.

On the way to shower I caught my reflection in the mirror stare at the leaner, tired face reflected back. Logically, I knew it was from getting older and not having a lotta time to work out more than to maintain these days turned my back to it and strip.

Walking outta the bath naked vigorously towel-dry my short hair and grabbed a pair of boxer briefs spot a box lying on the bed that wasn’t there when I came in.

Opening its flaps find a Fleshlight Turbo Thrust Blowjob Masturbator nestled inside start devising pay back on the fucker pranking me, figuring it’s Jared or his new cohort Alex spot a handwritten note.

Wait, that’s my mousy, irritatingly persistent assistant Y/N’s handwriting, the person responsible for my balls being backed up from not getting any in weeks has wrote something I’d expect to find in penthouse forum.

Once again, I’m wondering if she’s taken her job of handling my shit a little too personally.

Fuck it.

I grab a couple of pillows to pad the headboard and grab the toy and lube outta the box squirt a generous amount in its opening and coat its outer lips start teasing my cockhead watch it swallow my shaft and, adjusting it tighter, start working it up and down.

Damn, does it feel good.

“Mmmm, that’s it, feels good but you can take more.. you look beautiful, mouth all stretched out taken daddy’s fat cock..suck harder..yeah, just like that..fuck little girl, you should see how my cocks bulging out your throat..oh shit gonna cum..fuuuck Y/N!”

Flight to Vancouver

Without Jared, who detoured home, to keep me distracted chattering on about whatever his nerd brain was into at the moment because mine won’t stop replaying that fucked up fantasy I had starring Y/N again found myself trying to sort out what the hell going on with these fucked up feelings I keep having about her.

Been a long time since I’ve met someone I’ve wanted an alternative relationship with impulsively pick up my phone.

>Hey, hadn’t👂from 🫵 miss the 🛩

<tickling my 😆 🦴smartass, on ✈️ with 🫵

>don’t 👀 🫵

<;in coach ☹️

>I’m 😑

<Ahh poor baby, stuck in🥇class while I’m smooshed like 🥫🍣 I’m 😫 ❄️

I chuckled at her sarcasm:

>need to 💬 about that 🔞🎁

<did you👍 or to much a gentleman to 💋&🗣

> 🦗🦗🦗

< 😆 knew it’d 💡your 🧨 did your🕹💥

>I find that❓inappropriate young lady😡

<I’m not sorry daddy😏

Switching off my phone glanced around before reaching down to adjust my chub and thunk my head against the seat back.

So not how I wanted that to go.

Three days till Thanksgiving

Jared bound into my trailer noticed my mood, “hey, what’s up?”

“My dog walker called,” the door opens and Y/N came in carrying some drycleaning gave Jared a tight smile.

For some unfathomable reason, she’s being more wary of him and he’s been acting weird since the charity baseball game last month.

Hell, maybe she has a crush on him and he knows so why does that thought give me acid burn?

“They've got a family emergency. Fuck, I didn’t wanna fly Icarus since he just had surgery but Mama insisted I be there, said all the families coming this year.”

“So what’s the excuse gonna be when the lady you're,” he does those finger quotes, “secretly dating doesn’t show again?” Y/N makes this weird face at his question.

“I’ll think of something.”

“I’ll take Icarus.” she offers and swear I can hear Jared’s gears grinding, “if you're worried about the cost, you’re welcome to fly with us, getcha as far as Austin.”

“Mr. Padalecki,” her response is polite feel the temp figuratively drop, “I appreciate the offer but no thanks,” he starts to speak again, “my showing up for anything has never gone over well with my siblings. I’ll drop by for him tomorrow,” curtly nodding to Jared she left.

“What the fuck did I do to make her fucking hate me!”

Jared can be a lot to handle and know it bothers him when someone doesn’t respond well to his hyper personality, unlike me, Mr. Keep Your Damn Distance.

“I don’t know man, you’ve seen the shit she gives me,” Jared snorted, “like you don’t deserve it. Y/N’s friendly with everyone else..even puts up with Misha!” Jared fake pouts, “I overheard her and Alex planning some Christmas-themed bar hop next break.”

I gave him a look and Jared bust out laughing then became somber, “wonder what happened with her family to feel like your not welcome. Fuck, don’t know if I could handle not being part of mine,” he remarked heading out and his words got me thinking too.

Y/N is not the most open person, like me in that aspect, but thinking back, she deflects on a lot on personal stuff and got the idea of who might know something and plan on covertly visiting them in a couple of weeks.

December 3

San Francisco, CA

Hyatt Regency SFO (Airport) Hotel

11:30 AM

Jared and I exited the stage and caught sight of JDM conversing with Y/N, laughing at some anecdote she’s saying before he’s called to the stage.

Passing by, Jeff places a hand on my shoulder, halting me, and leans in muttering, “doesn’t she remind you of Jared when we first started?”

He’s wearing his pay attention to what I’m not saying son, squeezing once joined Sam Smith onstage.

“Hey,” Y/N tapping her wrist and cocking her head towards the prep room for me to hurry up and I follow and start appraising her with my director's eye.

She’s fairly tall, but that’s not unusual for women nowadays, bland as hell hair color and could stand some different make-up, always wearing this unflattering lip rouge. Her wardrobe has some improvements but still, wonder if she’d let me take her shopping sometime.

Hmm, it’s entirely possible this look is so she’ll be taken seriously still being.. Fuck, I don’t even know how old she!

Her dark eyes start doing a weird, squinty blink, “your eyes bothering you?”

“Huh? Oh, guess it’s the A/C.”

“I have some drops in my bag you can use.”

“Thanks but I need the one for lens,” she abruptly stopped and did that downturn with her mouth.

“There’s a bottle in the front pocket,” pretending I didn’t hear that last bit, “help yourself,” and stroll out now knowing those glasses are fake.

~You~

December 18th

“What’d I do?”

I turned to see Alex mirroring my shocked expression after Jensen snaps, no, fucking blew his fucking lid storming outta the makeup trailer.

“I..I‘ve,” I stumbled over what to say because I’m not sure if he is aware of what happened four years ago. “It wasn't about you. Umm, I’m gonna head out and deal with the boss man.”

Alex looked contrite, “okay, ahh..could you tell him I wanna apologize.”

“You don’t need to, been around long enough to know he’ll come to you hat in hand. So, I’ll see you tomorrow night at the pub crawl.”

~~~

I quietly shut the trailer door and sit next to Jensen finally get to see the photo I was told he always carries.

It’s a candid taken by his dad of Danneel, his mom, and him just before they’d had put JJ to bed that night four years ago unaware it’d be the last time.

He hastily tucks it away and on impulse I reach for the hand resting on his jean-clad thigh and tangled our fingers together when his chartreuse eyes cut to me, narrowing.

I learned when he does that, it’s not for people to drop whatever he’s not liking, it’s Jensen’s about to fucking go off for real.

“I went to LA,” I quickly dropped my gaze, “I’m taking you home and we’re gonna have a long conversation. Do you understand me, young lady?”

“Yes sir.”

I’m totally screwed.

~Jensen~

I shut her apartment door and immediately issue orders, “you’re gonna wash all that shit off and you’d better not come out till you’re squeaky clean, do you understand me?”

Y/N’s eyes got big bit on her bottom lip and felt that sensation roll through me, “yes sir,” she whispered, “umm, it’s gonna take me a bit, make yourself at home. I don’t have much in the fridge but there’s a bottle in the cabinet over it,” and disappears through the bath door.

While she’s preoccupied I took the opportunity and have look around.

She lives in a very small furnished studio and don’t see one personal item sitting out, only a few Christmas cards on the dinette do something I’d normally never, ever do, and start going through drawers starting with the under bed storage found confirmation of what I’d observed and suspected about certain proclivities of hers.

Back to the kitchen I found the decent label bourbon grab it and pour two glasses then kick back on the sectionals chaise-end flipped through the channels finding an NFL game.

~~~

“What’s the score?”

“13 to..” my mouth dropped.

“I know,” downing the second glass of bourbon the alcohol roughed her voice, “I’m Jared minus the chest hair.”

I sat there amazed how the similarities outweighed their differences; minus the contouring makeup the shape of her face was Jared, even that tipped nose with random freckles instead of moles but her jawline was femininely softened and framed by much longer, cinnamony-chestnut hair.

Without the colored-contacts and hideous glasses I can see her fox-tilted eyes also have a unique color patterns.

“I can’t wrap my head around this contrast,” waving my hand over her visage, “you lied, deceive us all..for what, shits and giggles?”

“This isn’t something I just started doing, I’ve been disguising this,” pointing to her face, “for years.”

“Why?”

“You gonna rat me out?”

“Don’t dodge my question.”

“This was Chad’s idea..”

“What the hell possessed you to listen to Murray? Know what, scratch that, start at the beginning.”

“David Copperfield beginning?”

“Don’t be a smartass.”

“You said it depends how nice the ass is and you could bounce a nickel off mine.”

“Now is not the time for levity.”

“If you're worried about Jared’s reaction, don’t. The only thing my famous brothers gonna care about is how fast you can ship me the fuck outta here!” The vitriol in her voice shocked me, only once I’ve heard her like this was when I was three sheets to the wind and acting like a bastard.

“I’m trying to wrap my head around the comments you’ve said versus what I know. The Padalecki's are one of the closest families I’ve ever met and I can’t conceive how it’s even possible for them to have hidden you all these years.”

“It started when Jared signed on with his management agency, some nonsense about our age gap and public opinion.”

I remember opinions were more conservative back when we first started in the industry and public opinion is everything.

“How much of an age gap are we talking here?”

“Fourteen, you do the math.”

“Holy fucking shit! You're only twenty-one?!”

“Twenty-two, my birthdays was on Halloween. Look, I’ll make you a deal, let me stay on til the thirty-first so I can get a leg up finding another position and..”

“And?”

“You apologize to Alex before he apologizes to you, he doesn’t know about JJ and this time of year.”

“Fuck, you and Jared are alike in more ways than one,” I refilled the glasses, “I’ll make you a counter-deal. You know I’m spending part of Christmas break with my parents,” she nodded, “pretend to be my girlfriend and..”

“What the hell? What makes you think I’d ever agree to that?”

“We’d be doing each other a favor, you’ll keep them off my back and I won’t say anything. We know enough about each other to get away with and you’ve proved to be one helluva actor, can improvise on the spot and I..”

“Just can’t bear to let the best assistant you’ve ever had go?”

“If you’re wanna stick around, we’ll discuss a mutually beneficial off-the-clock relationship.”

“Why is my spidey sense tingling?”

“Maybe because I found some interesting items under that bed,” holding up one said items smirk, “wouldn't have taken you for a little.”

Y/N smirked back, “wouldn’t have taken you for a daddy.”

“You’ve been very, very naughty,” I unbuckled my belt and slipped it through the loops, “so daddy needs to reminded you what happens to bad girls.”

SPN TAGS: @donnaintx @lyarr24 @flamencodiva @b3autyfuldisast3rr @lassie-bird @nancymcl @spnbaby-67 @leigh70

Sam/Jared: @idreamofplaid

Dean/Jensen: @thoughts-and-funnies @stoneyggirl2 @akshi8278 @beabutterfly987 @smoothdogsgirl @siospins2

#deanwandamons3Kfollowerschallenge #jensen ackles #dean winchester #jared padalecki #sam winchester #supernatural #jensen ackles x reader

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justanotherpersonsuniverse · 1 year

Note

hey cap! just wanted to say: last week was CRAZY so i only just got around to rereading panthera (500 pages in babyy), however i have a couple of notes! and a photo.

these are now pantheras gloves to me sozzles.

onto the notes from the top of my head!

absolutely love how fucking stupid rose was about being in love with juleka. like she really just. didn't notice for so damn long.

i like how you foreshadow events! like i know they are coming because yknow. read this damn thing about 5 times now. but i notice new things each time damnit!

you would not believe how vivid that scene from guitar villain of panthera going so hard is for me, like that is genuinely one of the images that comes up for me when i think about this fic

once again. foreshadowing. i actually didn't notice the first few times that Lilas mum says "the city of love" and then teases her about a romantic relationship, and the way Lila reacts?? excellent. love noticing new details

i actually fucking love anarka so much frfr, you got her character down so nicely, like she's not 'important' but she is and it comes through (also i will always always lose it over you using scottish slang, sometimes you use it in such a strange way and i love it)

onto the questions!

ok so people joke about it in the asks but will we be seeing Rose with a miraculous? i think the dynamic between juleka and Rose as she is transformed would be absolutely hysterical, but also seeing Julekas thoughts on Rose being in danger would be fascinating. (along with knowign which miraculous she would be getting)

is Marinette ever going to figure out who Panthera is? and to extend that question; what are tikkis motivations for identities being kept so secret whereas plagg doesn't care as much? or is it simply to stay true to some of the show?

I've noticed that Juleka sometimes has bouts of confidence (eg. horrificator) and acts more 'like panthera' but i have been curious on whether she would start to be more talkative in general, not that she has / should be but i've just been curious about that since i first started reading if i'm honest with you. (i find that panthera is similar to masking and how i view that so Juleka would probably be increibdly socially exhausted if she did so) i also ask because it would be really funny to see her casually flirt with friends really smoothly without the cat ears

will we be seeing more of Rose noticing Juleka and Marinette havign some sort of bond? before she realised her feelings it was explicitly stated (i think in numerical? replacement for reflecta.) that she felt jelous over their interactions and i am interested to see if that would continue (though i may be forgetting details! i am only 500 pages into a 1700 roundabout document)

On a bit of a time crunch rn and may appear again so thats all for now!

notes on the two 'new' chapters coming soon!

YOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO HIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

Great to read your notes again! As for your questions...

We will eventually! In Season 4! She'll still be Pigella, because I love Pigella, but I'll be doing my best to keep it refreshing!

2. Eventually. I'll hold my tongue on saying whether she'll learn post canon or in the fic, I can't wait to show you all how my plans play out. As for Tikki- I'd like to imagine many of her ladybugs died because they let their identities leak. She's a bit traumatized.

3. 'Panthera' as an identity is very much Juleka's way of masking! I'm glad you picked up on that. At first i wrote it as a funny instinct but as I kept going the idea of Juleka literally taking that identity to mask well, yeah! It got depressing in Prince Shining but now that Juleka is more in tune with herself- I hope to play more around with the running gag of her being 'Panthera' when she's supposed to be 'Juleka.'

4. I apologize that it was a little plot thread that never got as explored as I had originally intended to so many years ago but!! Rose's thoughts on Marinette and Juleka's relationship will eventually make a return!

Happy reading!! Stay tuned for more!!

#panthera noire au #sneak a cat

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shzmluvrs · 4 months

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hi!! i came to request a fluffy/funny i think freddy freeman fic...

one where freddy has a gf who has crazy allergies year round. like sneezing and everything

coming from someone with terrible allergies to everything 💀

anyhoo- thanks in advance! ☆☆

Hiii, I (after months, I am so sorry💀) did your request and it's just been posted on my new account :D!!

It's called Season's Greetings (<< I'll attach a link to the title) so definitely go check it out and again, I apologize for the very long wait😭🙏🏽...

@theyluvlyss << new account

~ Star✨️

#shazam #dc comics #shazamfuryofthegods #shazam fury of the gods #shazam fotg #jack grazer #freddy freeman #fandom #fanfic #freddyfreemanshazam #freddyfreeman #freddyfreemanxreader #freddyfreemanimagine

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oh-well-shit · 2 years

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Sometimes I forget that you can just post stuff on tumblr that isn’t necessarily with the purpose to entertain or engage an audience, so I’m gonna vent a little bit. Feel free to scroll past.

I’m coming up on one year since I moved to my new city, and it’s crazy to think about how generally unhappy and stuck feeling I still am a year later. My year started with a terrifying SA, and then the slow but continuous abandonment of my oldest and dearest friends, and I just have not rebounded from that at all. I haven’t found my people. And I’m terrified that when given the opportunity to have new people, I won’t trust them.

My current roommates are really nice but they’re a bit younger than me, and guaranteed to leave sooner or later when they can afford a place on their own bc they are a couple. And I’d be so happy for them! But it’s just very exhausting living in a big city with no tribe, and then visiting home for the holidays and realizing you’ve lost the tribe you had there too. Being in my hometown the week of thanksgiving was almost physically painful because I realized that all my oldest friends were likely getting together without me. And that was 100% their choice, not mine. To maroon me on an island. And I’ll never understand what happened, or how it was justified.

It probably doesn’t help that I’m low on work right now, which is making me a bit stir crazy. Therapy has helped me with some coping mechanisms for when I’m REALLY spiraling, but that only helps when I don’t have a logical reason to be upset. Coming up on the anniversary of my assault, as well as the holiday season, while feeling alone, is absolutely devastating.

The extra sad part is that if those friends who left me came and said they’re sorry and they want me in their lives again, at this point I’d probably say yes. And even apologize for whatever I did to make them discard me.

What is it about me that’s so unloveable? Unlikeable? What is it about me that makes people want to leave?

People always say to put yourself out there, join a club, go out by yourself, but I’ve been burned by all of the above. I wanna go out tonight and not just sit in my bed feeling sorry for myself, but I don’t know if it’s more depressing to do that or to go out alone and have no fun and come home with my tail between my legs. Which is also what happened on Halloweekend this year.

I can’t help but feel that everyone I know who isn’t my literal family is just waiting for an excuse, an out, to not have to deal with me anymore. And I can’t even say it’s irrational bc it literally happened with 4 of my most meaningful friendships within the span of a month, earlier this year.

I’m not asking for pity, although I’m feeling quite a bit of self pity. But I would love some assurance that it will get better. That I will find people who care for me, and I won’t feel like this someday. That people in my life will come to surprise me, in a good way. That I won’t have to feel so afraid.

#me #rant #mental health #loneliness #young adulthood

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mouseship · 2 years

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I know for a fact Jerry gives AMAZING hugs. like??? and he definitely smells good too. this is a fact because i know everything about him (real!)

#i just need to experience a hug from him IMMEDIATELY (keels over and dies)#he prob smells like fuckin pine trees or something. yea definitely.#apologies i am going crazy waiting for the new season to come out #rambling #r: jerry🍎

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h4arts · 2 years

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saturday rush, poly!lumax -synopsis: you help max get ready and show up late to the sinclair house, causing a slight panic -notes: mention of byler, post season 4

it had been a year since vecna had been defeated and it had lifted a huge weight off everyone's shoulders. since then, max had fully recovered despite her blindness, but she had gotten much better in the sense of getting used to how things were now.

today specifically, lucas decided the three of you should hang out at his house for the day, but even if there weren't alternate dimensions to be worried about, you three were not organized. at all.

at 8:00 am, you had gone to max's house to drive you both to your boyfriend's house, but max's mother had left for work in a rush and forgot to set the alarm for max. parking your car outside the still work-in-progress trailer park, you make your way to the door, unlocking it with the spare key you had been given.

"max, it's me, are you ready?"

"we're supposed to go now?" max's voice echoes from across the trailer in her room. quickly making your way over, you walk into the room to see max barely dressed with the braid you put her hair in yesterday falling out.

"it's okay, finish getting dressed, i'll call lucas, then do your hair." you suggest, hoping to ease the red-heads nerves.

"wait, where's my blue shirt?" max's question halts you from leaving. you turn your gaze back to the room and see her pick up a shirt from the foot of her bed.

"you just picked it up, princess."

"don't call me that!" max groans, turning away to hide the pink dusting her cheeks as you laugh softly before making your way to the phone in the living room. you dial the sinclair's number and at the last ring, you're met with erica's voice rather than lucas.

"hi erica, is lucas there?"

"no. he ran out of the house screaming something after spilling half his breakfast on me." erica responds, annoyed tone to her voice.

"what was he screaming?" you knew there was probably nothing to worry about and that really did seem like something lucas would do, but after everything you had seen, worry couldn't help but seep through your skin.

"something about forgetting a candle? i don't know, i didn't hear much over mom yelling at him to come back." your shoulders relax at the answer before you ask erica to tell lucas you and max would be a little late.

"what's wrong?" max questions, leaning in the doorway of her room, now fully dressed besides her hair.

"erica said lucas ran out of the house screaming about a candle. so I guess we won't be too late, huh?" you both laugh as you help max onto the floor in front of the couch so you can brush through her hair.

"there's always something going on, isn't there. even after everything." max mumbles, barely loud enough for you to hear.

"at least this time it's about hair and a candle." you joke, lightly tugging a strand of max's hair, earning a yelp and playful slap to the shin. after finishing max's braid, the two of you go outside to your car to finally make your way to the sinclair's.

when anyone that lucas was expecting showed up, he would always wait on the porch by the door, so nothing was new when he stood up from his spot while you parked your car. what was different though was the relieved look on his face as he ran up to you and max, bringing you both into an oxygen reducing hug.

"hey, what's going on?" max frowns, wiggling her way out of the hug.

"what's going on? i called both your houses like crazy and no one answered!" lucas shouts, apologizing at the slight flinch it got from max.

"well, it's kind of hard to answer the phone in a car." you answer, frowning at why he was so worried. "i told erica to tell you that we'd be a little late."

"yeah, like an hour ago!"

"like twenty minutes ago. we had to drive all the way from the other end of town." max scoffs a laugh at lucas' dramatics.

"oh." he pauses his movement as a strong look of concentration crosses his features. "oh! i read the clock wrong." max bursts out laughing and you can't help but follow. "hey, in my defense, i had just ran to the store and back in like, record time!"

"well, that settles it. call mike and will, we won most disorganized date!" max waves her hands in false excitement drawing even more laughs from the three of you. "but, what was that about screaming for a candle?"

"a candle?" lucas scrunches his face in confusion, racking his brain for something he said about a candle.

"yeah, erica said you ran out the door screaming that you'd forgotten a candle." you clarify, watching as realization suddenly dawns upon the boy.

"oh! that's why i went to the store, i know you guys like sixteen candles so i bought the soundtrack."

"are you guys coming inside or what! i can't eat until you do and i'm hungry!" erica yells, swinging the front door open.

"guess we should go."

#lumax x reader #lucas sinclair #max mayfield #lucas sinclair x reader #max mayfeild x reader #stranger things #stranger things x reader #a writes for lucas s.#a writes for max m.

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vespersposts · 2 years

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Sleepless

Hi lovelies 💝,

August means something to those who have an obsession crush like mine.

💙Let's all celebrate that nice Daiki's birthday together, hoping that sooner or later he will decide to move next door to me, or in my house directly. This story is self indulgent as hell, but when it comes down to him, even your serious author loses the plot. The story is pretty long so I decided to double split it, i think it'd be easy for the two-time reading.

📝 small side note: suffering from insomnia myself, I am well aware that the representation I have given is only useful for the purposes of the narrative, I hope it does not offend other nocturnal animals .

Happy birthday D! 💘

📮Comments, criticism, sharing and like are so appreciated!📮

Follow the #knbhousewarming or #housewarmingbyvesper to find all the entries, or just ask for a tag I’d be glad to add you.

Who’s gonna be next? ( 💜: He's HUGE!). If you prefer a different Knb boy, let me know!

Love always,

💋PS: If any of you amazing authors would like to contribute with original work to this series, that would be a dream for me. Please send me the link and tag me so I won’t miss any stories, and use the #knbhousewarming , as the platform sometimes gets crazy.

💣PPS: I apologize in advance for any grammatical and/or spelling mistakes, English is not my first language (bear with me!).

➿Genre: fluff, slice of life, one shot.

🏡 Housewarming Masterlist🏡

New York, Brooklyn Heights

Sunday, 03.15 A.M (ET)

A starry June night.

It hadn't happened to you for so long that you'd almost forgotten about it. You had started to lose bits and pieces of yourself sneakily, little by little, during a busy work period where sleeping hours were the last thing on your mind. A mountain of photos to edit, which the editor of the glossy fashion magazine you worked for had adored, promoting you to art director just to piss your predecessor. You had accepted, not so much because you were dying to find new trouble, but so that you could afford that house, in which you had dreamed of living since childhood.

It wasn't even like the other times: you were functioning. You worked too well, you worked twice as hard, you had twice as many ideas, but unfortunately you also thought twice as much. Perhaps you had not noticed it, but it stood there and had waited for the worst possible moment to make itself known.

The only unimportant detail, this time around your insomnia seemed not to want to go away.

One week, and if you hadn't slept at least five hours in three days you would have had to swallow the holy pills.

That's why, at that ungodly hour, you had slipped on leggings and trainers, zipped up your jacket over your sports bra, tied your hair in a high ponytail and, trotting down the building's stairs, were about to do the only thing that had worked in the past: tire yourself to death.

Off season for him mainly meant enjoying life.

That's why from October to April he called Cleveland home, but then the rest of the year he loved to spend it in Japan or in that flat that had been recommended to him, only a few weeks earlier, by an ex teammate. A city that looked like a district of elegant brownstone cottages, with a lovely tree-lined promenade along the East River, the same one along which the girl from flat 13 was probably headed.

"Going for a run in the darkest hours, how stupid! The night was for having fun, chatting, making love and eventually sleeping ” he had thought as he held the door and enjoyed your brief ritual exchange of 'Good morning / thank you / please be careful/ sleep tight'.

He had never ventured to ask anything , not even the reason for your strange habit of spending every night that God sent on earth awake and alone in the big flat in front of his own, going out onto the terrace to gaze at the dark night. He perceived you as a shadow against the window light, a shadow that stretched and sometimes danced to music that he couldn't hear, a shadow that returned to the night when you turned off the flat lights, and that came back from the night when your silhouette was dimly lit by the light of a faint candle. The very fact that he knew nothing about you, that he understood nothing about you, intrigued him. You were a nocturnal, wild and elusive animal and he was the only one who understood your rare nature. In his mind you were an assumption, a fascinating thought that he could not help but think about. A challenge, an exciting balancing act. Yet you had a boyfriend, so he was told by the lovely old woman who lived next door, whom you called 'Granny' , and for whom you gladly ran small errands. "An ordinary guy" the former opera singer had revealed to him, when she had subjected him to her personal entrance examination into the social life of the building. He had wasted so much time thinking about what kind of person might have attracted your attention that, ironically, for the first time in a long time it was he who was left alone for the night.

The sky changes, and you see the lights go on in other houses, the curtains open, and the day of people who know how to sleep can begin. You ask your pod for some music and turn on your computer, but your eyes see only one thing. You read his name in the inbox and open the email, only to realize how loathsome he can still be.

"I'll pick Grandma up at 11 a.m. Tight schedule. Make sure she has everything she needs and not just useless evening clothes."

"Go and die " you type back, adding a smiley emoticon as in your best tradition. It's always like that with Elliott anyway. Scion of a banking cult, slick student at your own private school, brilliant manager of the main branch of the institution founded by an ancient great-great-grandfather. You grew up elbow to elbow, he the only one able to tolerate your less than aristocratic origins, and you the only one able to handle his awful temper. A partnership cemented by the unconditional love you both had for that now elderly lady with a very tarnished memory, for whom you were both genuinely her beloved daughter's children.

You finish your tea, open the curtains and windows, so that the fresh dawn air enters the whole flat, hoping that it will wash away even that last shapeless thought. It's probably a side effect of sleep deprivation, your brain's way of getting the endorphins you deny it, but it's ridiculous that he makes you feel like a young girl on her first crush. You look towards his balcony, the window slightly open, the lights off, and you know he is sleeping, since you met him three hours ago. He was alone, but that boy was handling traffic in his house comparable to an airport terminal.

You smile at that innocent naughtiness of yours, which is only the result of the awareness that the relationship between you will remain formal. Grandma liked him, so it was common for her to invite him for tea or some fancy excuse. She would entartain him with anecdotes, or her fantasies, or a mixture of the two, and you would find him standing in front of you, tall and alluring every day; and every day you would notice a detail that shatters your determination not to pay attention to him. If only there was a freaking summer league, or if only he had gone back to Japan for his holiday, you would have had some respite from that constant assault on your senses. As it was meant to be, that day too could not pass without you finding him before your eyes for the umpteenth time, his charcoal shirt that couldn't look better on those perfect shoulders, his light trousers wrapped his toned legs, his enticing eyes following you around the room, now that you asked grandma permission to review her holiday suitcase. His loud laughter and his hands, those big, long hands of his, that had touched yours to deliver a glass of water, perhaps lingering longer than necessary, but more prosaically pandering to your anxiety, now that with the departure of the hostess, your chances to meet him would drop.

When Elliott arrives, the situation becomes surreal.

"You should go to lunch together" suggests your childhood friend, after spending the first half hour of his visit telling Grandma the epic story of the Japanese basketball champion, who is conquering the NBA, gloating like a teen in front of a k-pop idol.

"You know I go to Poppa's for lunch on Sundays" you cut it short, hoping to silence him, but the banker who looks like a Vogue model, is having none of it.

"In that Bed-Stuy dump?" he snorts, looking at Daiki as if the latter might know something about the toponymy of the quarters.

"Elliott, I was born there, I'd appreciate it if you didn't call it a sewer" you take him back, under the embarrassed gaze of your host.

"It sucks even if you were born there! Besides, what the fuck are you doing at Poppa's, if you don't even like meat! You're not a fucking rat anymore!" fights that big son of a gun. You fold your arms across your chest and are about to send him to hell, but he grabs you close for a hug, and you give in.

"Do you really want to take Aomine to a place like that, sis ?" he asks you , just to provoke you again, as if he expects a thank you for setting you up on a date. You look at him, half-close your eyes, about to give your answer when his voice shushes you both.

"Im so in for it. I'd like to see something different. You're gonna buy me lunch in return, deal? " his voice was so deep and warm. You'd like to make an excuse and leave him in that room, but the only thing you make him leave at home, as a precaution, is his watch.

"I hope you're not the fussy type" your voice comes to him out of the blue, shortly after you've taken a seat in a filthy underground car.

"No, I wouldn't say that " he replies, noticing how the landscape changes rapidly: from the open space of your nice district you move on to large buildings all leaning against each other, shops with broken or worn out signs, dirty streets and people with empty eyes.

"You're probably thinking Elliott was right, but ..." you carry on, as if suddenly embarrassed.

"Not at all. I was actually wondering why you moved, if you love your old block so much " he asks, turning his eyes from the window to your own.

"Because Bed-Stuy had nothing to offer me, apart from Poppa's cooking " you sigh " Since I had good grades, they admitted me to Elliott's school, but you can imagine what it was like. I was "rat" for everyone except him. Actually, when I took this train from school and went back home, all I thought about was how much I wanted to leave, how much I wanted to live in the beautiful Brooklyn Heights too, where the houses had lots of rooms and a balcony, where there were people like Grandma and not drug dealers and criminals. I'm not in love with this area, but I owe a lot to it, that's why I go back there every Sunday " you admit, giving him a glance, and he feels you so close and fragile that he would hug you tight, but he knows that would be inappropriate, to say the least.

You get off the metro, and after a short walk you find yourself in front of a row of buildings all alike, dense like the cells of a beehive, closed around a sort of common space that probably should have been a recreational area equipped with facilities, but now only looks decadent, sad and rusty. He saw groups of children playing haphazardly and cheerfully, kids with loud music watching you quizzically, elderly people raising their hands to wave at you, bullies making offers that fall on deaf ears, until you find yourself in a narrow, dark alley, right behind what must once have been a basketball court. Yet the entrance to the diner was on the main face of the building, as the arrow of the sign suggests.

"Come, don't be afraid, looks bad but it's safe" you mock him gently, your hand reaching for his one, your fingers interlacing with his to reassure him, but the effect his body sends back is a wave of overwhelming desire that makes his blood boil in his ears and leaves him unable to articulate words. He runs the palm of his hand along your forearm, over your skin, so soft and smooth. You look at him, open your lips to tell something, but he has already lost the ability to understand. Skinship, attraction, risk, a lethal mixture is pumped through his veins at an unsustainable pace. He is about to close his fingers around your elbow to pull you to him and take you, locking you against that cold brick wall, when a male voice roars your name and divides you.

Poppa is a giant with a contagious good temper and arrogant, hearty cooking, who immediately sets you up at the best table in the place, in the small green space at the end of the dark alley, just behind his kitchen. Your burger looks alive, judging by the amount of toppings and cheese it leaks, which is why you are teased by both of them, who over the years must have honed an exact technique for holding bread, meat and toppings together.

"It's not a guy who looks like him, Pops" you explain, making the man's eyes widen "I brought you the real deal!" you smile, taking a long sip of water. Now the man's attention shifts to you, because "He knew he had seen you somewhere before".

"That's me Sir. Aomine Daiki, the one who plays in Cleveland" you reply and see the man's eyes light up with joy. "Man! We are all crazy about you, you're a genius!" the man shouts, calling out to all his kitchen staff, so that they too can shake hands and take pictures with the man who scored an average of 22 points per game in the last championship. It starts a party, which soon involves the whole block and in which he seems completely at ease, so much so, that he willingly accepts to shoot a few rounds with a group of boys from the local team, raising the already torrid temperature considerably, when he takes off his shirt and asks you to keep it, completely unaware of the emotional tsunami that watching him play causes. If Daiki in grandma's kitchen is attractive, in his element he is the most sensual and exciting man walking on earth. The way he moves, his absolute mastery of his body, those bright eyes full of agonism and above all his smile so radiant and seductive, which he never fails to turn on you after every point scored.

"Awesome!" shouts the girl sit next to you on the bench.

To you it's not awe, it's crave.

That dangerous feeling does not leave you even when you return to the metro, when you shower in your flat only to knock on his door shortly afterwards, having agreed to have dinner with him, bewildered as you were by lust.

You find him exactly as you left, absorbed in a phone call with someone he likes as he laughs, but that's all you can understand as he speaks a fascinating but unfamiliar language to you, which makes his voice sound even deeper.

"Excuse me, bestfriends catchup" he smiles, as you reach to take two glasses from his hands, asking if he can get you water instead of the caffeinated drink he opens for himself.

"I can't sleep lately, so I'm trying to ... " you stop, because there is no need for him to know that embarrassing fact about you. He glances at you fondly, as if he really cares about your story.

"Yeah I mean, it's a period where I should also call someone special to relax" you cut in short, taking a sip of water.

“You can call him, I'm sure he'd love to be your hero! ” he suggests.

"Him who, though? Elliott?" you ask, as you follow him moving away from you to retrieve a set of flyers from the fridge.

"Your boyfriend" he says, leaning back against the kitchen counter.

"I don't have a boyfriend " you answer with undue urgency, figuring out shortly afterwards the genesis of that misunderstanding, as Grandma had muddled up Elliott's boyfriend as yours.

"Time to get one, if you don't want the situation to worsen! " he says, approaching you, taking advantage of your discomfort to mess up your hair, and leave the flyers in your hands, with the options from which you will have to choose your dinner. Then he finally goes to take a shower, smiling at you blushing at his soft tease.

A normal routine.

"For a couple " adds your brain, which has evidently lost all its best cells, and can't think of anything else. You sit on the chubby rough linen sofa in the big white living room, look at the dark marble of the fireplace, the high neoclassical walls, the windows with their thin curtains, close your eyes and lean your head , trying to avoid the storytelling of that absurd fantasy. Yet, all the naughty things you two could be busy doing on every surface of that huge house, are the only thoughts swirling around in your head. That sharp desire takes all your energy away, surely making you look pathetic in his eyes, actually used to see models, and not a vapid chick like you. You rub your face and take a deep breath, feeling a sudden saddness that makes your body heavy.

He quickly ran a towel through his hair, pulled on a white T-shirt, fastened his dark trousers and inhaled, because after that day, it had been a terrible idea to ask you to stay for dinner. He wasn't ready, and now what he had felt after your last conversation was haunting him, reverberating endlessly in his mind. He wanted to take care of you, he wanted to be him and no one else the mainstay of your life, and that was upsetting, because that was not the way he was. He was careless, free, unattached. Yet he would not have tolerated you perceiving him that way. He wanted to be infallible in your eyes. He wanted to be the one, unrepeatable, incomparable, irreplaceable.

And then he wanted to have you. He wanted to have you so badly.

He smiled because on the large sofa in the living room you looked so tiny, all curled up on one of the large linen cushions, one bare foot on the edge of the furniture, your small hand beside your sleeping face, your soft breathing , your hair spread over your shoulders left bare by the pretty blue dress you were wearing.

Too damn cute.

He dimmed the lights in the room until they went out, leaving only the pale reading light on, retrieved a blanket, but stopped shortly after because a sudden flick of your eyelids caught his attention.

"Dai-ki," you tell him with a sigh, probably still in dreamland, as you can't keep your eyes open. You smile as he approaches and slowly strokes your head, running his fingers through your hair and over the nape of your neck, sitting on the rug at the foot of the sofa so he can see you.

" I'm here" he says gently to your sleeping self, resuming his slow, sweet caress.

"Speak to me, tell me something in your language, anything " you call him out in a smooth voice, so innocent but with a hint of need that immediately roused all his senses

"Daisuki na, oyasumi nasai. Yoku nemureru to iine." (*) he indulges you idly, more to himself, thinking that you may have already caught up on your sleep, so beautiful and cuddly that those words come out naturally, as if he is breathing.

"Your voice is so sultry , it gives me chills " you murmur, blinking a little, your soft lips curving upwards.

"Chills?" he asks back, amused.

"Anything about you is so damn attractive, do you have any idea how tiring it is to resist ? " you admit, laughing quietly at your own boldness, turning towards him, so close you can feel his scent. He smiles at you, bringing your forehead into contact with his. You open your eyes and you feel your body slightly shiver , when he demands your undivided attention, pressing his thumb against your lower lip as he whispers those words.

"Then don't"

He closes the distance between you, working his way over you, locking his eyes in yours, making you sigh. His lips join yours with a light touch, that immediately deepens. He smiles against your lips, his tongue plays with yours, his voice claims you with a sensual moan to which you immediately surrend, as you do not want him to miss anything about you. You smile just to catch your breath, and kiss him back wholeheartedly. His eyes close ever so slightly after yours, allowing him to lose himself completely in your warmth.

It hadn't happened to you for so long that you had almost forgotten. You had forgotten what it was like to wake up in the house of someone who smiled at you, while you were having breakfast on the terrace of his flat, who stole your food, teasing you because you had fallen asleep like a stone on his sofa. A funny, handsome man with a childlike soul who, only a few days earlier , you had hoped would spend the off season light years away from you, but who now, leaning next to you on the railing of his flat, already seemed too far away.

(*): Hopefully it's the correct form for "Goodnight, my love. I hope you sleep well"

#knbhousewarming #housewarmingbyvesper #kuroko no basket #knb #aomine daiki #knb x reader #the basketball which kuroko plays #aomine x reader #aomine x you #aomine fluff #knbsliceoflife #knboneshot #knb oneshot

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mintmatcha · 4 years

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ukai keishin - grumpy

amy!!!! ty so much for the request- i really admire your writing and i hope you like this!!!]

Summary: just a snapshot of your relationship with keishin

Contains: NFSW, 18+, no reader pronouns, reader has a vagina, new relationship/established relationship, soft smut, slight mention of relationship issues.

ukai x reader

word count: 4k

cross posted: ao3

The woody vine digs into the pad of your thumb as you pluck another pepper. The repetition has dug a noticeable indentation into the skin, one that makes you wince every time you harvest a vegetable. In the low light of pre-dawn, sun still tucked behind the mountains, you can't see the bruising on your fingers, but you can feel how it pulses. Popping the digit into your mouth, the warmth of your tongue is automatically soothing, so much so that you can ignore the soft taste of soil on your skin.

“I told you to bring gloves.” Keishin chides, barely looking up at you. He’s squatted a couple feet away, elbows resting on his thighs as he works. The rubber boots, with his oversized overalls crammed into the top, squeak every time he shifts. Pick, squeak, pick, squeak. You open your mouth to tease him, but the way his eyes meet yours, steeled and firm, tell you he’s not in the mood. Cinching his teeth around the worn leather, he pulls his hand from the glove and leaves it dangling from his mouth, lips curled to avoid touching the dust directly. Even in his goofy attire, there’s something about his focus- the downward cast of his eyes, the hint of his canine over the leather, the steadiness of his hands- that makes your heart flutter. Wordlessly, he takes the glove out of his mouth and tosses it your way. You catch it with a fumble.

“Are you sure?” you ask as you pull it on. The tips of the glove gap above your fingertips, bending outward as you clench your fist. “What about you?”

He shrugs and returns to work. Even in the darkness you can see his scowl. “I guess I’m not as delicate as you.”

You didn’t blame him. He doesn’t mean to be this… grumpy. This was the worst time of year for Keishin; harvest season overlapped with volleyball preliminaries. The late nights he had been pulling with the team after work on top of these early mornings at his family’s farm had to be draining. It was no wonder that date nights had become nearly nonexistent. It didn’t help that your work schedule often led to you working on the weekends, meaning that between the two of you there were no free days. Sleepovers are far and few between; both of you still live at home and, despite the fact you are both well into your twenties, your parents weren’t too keen on your sleeping next to someone while unwed. No free days, no free nights.

Again, you didn’t blame him. It wasn’t like he was trying to avoid you, three jobs was a lot for anyone. It was hard to ignore your concern for his well-being, but he was always quick to dismiss your worries. ‘I’m an adult.’ he always insisted. ‘I can balance myself.’

Was it selfish to miss him? Was it selfish to wish there was an extra hour in his day for you?

“You didn’t have to come.” Ukai says, matter-of-fact. “You should be sleeping right now.”

“I want to be here.” you insist. It’s almost a lie. Do you really want to be here, squatting in the dirt, picking vegetables at 5:30am? Of course not, but you wanted to be here for him. With him.

The metal thermos at your feet wobbles as you adjust, the deep squat you’ve been sitting in starting to ache deep in your thighs. Dropping forward onto your knees, the gravel of the path digging into your kneecaps, you wrap your hands around the metal, pressing it against your chest to feel the ambient warmth. The blonde doesn’t turn from his work, but he does tilt his head towards you, a small sign of his attention.

“You gonna hold it or drink it?’

You huff before taking a delicate sip, trying to avoid burning your lips. “I’m savoring it, ‘Shin.”

“ ‘Savoring it.’ ” he repeats. The grit of sleep still clings to his voice. He sounds weathered, tired. “Are you gonna let me ‘savor’ some of that?”

“Maybe.” you take another sip before placing the cup back down, this time closer to him, a silent invitation. It’s like trying to feed a stray cat, luring him in with the promise of something tasty. “If you’re good.”

A long moment passes and he doesn’t move, he just studies you. There may have been a flicker of a smile, a hint of a good mood hiding underneath the surface, but it's gone before you can process it.

“You know.” he says, “I don’t know how you do it.” he continues working with bare hands and, even without protection, he works so much faster than you. You can tell he’s been doing this for years; every twist of his wrist seems practiced. It’s something you try and emulate each time you’re here with him, but it only slows you down more.

“Do what?”

Keishin finally stops. He chews his cheek for a moment, eyes flickering across your features. He opens his mouth, then shuts it with a sigh as he weakly gestures to the thermos at your feet. “The coffee. How do you make the coffee?”

You can’t help but sigh as you fall back onto your seat. You cross your legs as you grab the thermos, taking a deep pull. Again, you savor it with a hum and Keishin snorts at your antics. He picks from the row of plants once more before standing. Hands on the back of his pelvis, he stretches slowly, popping his back with the same care an old man would. It reminds you of his grandfather, but you keep that remark to yourself.

“ ‘Shin, you make yourself coffee every day- probably the same way I do.” you say as he plops himself next to you. The cup is already waiting for him when he reaches for it.

“But yours is always better.” he doesn’t say it with the sweetness of a compliment- he says it like a fact. It shouldn’t make you smile this wide, but it does. He blows over the lid of the mug, watching the steam twist into the air for a moment before taking a drink. It was your coffee, but you had made it for him- just a splash of cream, a crazy amount of sugar: just the way he likes it. The crinkle at the corner of his eye as drinks tells you that he notices.

“Are you savoring it?” you ask. He just closes his eyes and sighs.

"I guess I am."

Even without looking, his pinky finds yours, looping together gently. It's the gloveless hand, finding yours. Bare skin against bare skin, warmth against warm. Your body prickles with warmth as he squeezes; something about him pulling you closer, even if it’s just a finger’s width closer, makes your heart jump. It’s funny how the smallest gesture makes you melt. Keishin didn’t always have a lot to give you; your relationship was a collection of these small moments together, settled between his jobs and yours, but it was enough.

Every moment together is restorative.

“Cinnamon.” you press a kiss into his shoulder as you snag your cup back. He peeks at you through one open eye, “I put cinnamon in the coffee.”

Keishin leans into you, resting his head against your shoulder. He nuzzles into your sleeve, drawing in a deep breath, before pulling away to sit up straight again. Reaching back into the row of plants before you, he plucks one carefully before dropping it into the bucket. “Nah, that’s not it.”

You blink. “Uh, yeah. It is.”

“Nah. It’s because it’s made with love.” he smirks.

You pretend to think for a moment. "Actually, I didn't make this cup with love- so you're wrong."

He rolls his head back to watch you. "Oh yeah?"

"I made it with hate."

"Really." he tilts his body, chest pressed against your shoulder.

"You didn’t taste my loathing?" you tease.

The tip of his nose grazes your ear, nudging you softly. His breath warms the side of your face, lips just a moment from your skin. He’s patient, waiting for you to come to him. You try and resist for just a moment, but he nudges you with a huff.

You can’t help but crumble.

There’s a hint of a chuckle as you finally turn to meet his lips. The kiss is off center, connecting at the corner of your mouth. You try to pull back to correct it when a leathered hand grips on to your jaw and he holds your face steady, squishing your lips with sheer force. Ukai doesn’t hesitate to deepen the kiss, his tongue swiping your lower lip before dipping into your mouth. He tastes like coffee and cinnamon, sweet and bitter. With every movement, he savors you, pulling you deeper and deeper until the both of you are twisted into each other's embrace.

When he pulls away, it’s too soon. It’s not until he’s panting against you that you realize your own lungs are burning for air, almost as if your hunger for him had outweighed your need to breathe.

He hums thoughtfully. “I dunno, tastes like love to me.”

You roll your eyes, trying to bite back your smirk as you lean in for another kiss. “God, you’re the worst, Shin.”

This time, he doesn’t connect. Instead, he pulls away, mouth downturned once again as he stares back into the sea of green. It’s an unfocused stare, focused more on his thoughts than his surroundings.

“Yeah, I kinda am, aren’t I?”

“Hey, what-” you struggle with what to say. “Don’t be like that.”

“I mean, it’s true.” he shrugs. “This is our first date in, what? 3 weeks? And we’re working on my fucking grandpa’s-”

Your elbow cracks against the soft of his ribs, a bit harder than necessary. He wheezes slightly as you knock the air out of him. “Negativity be gone.”

He whines a bit too dramatically. “Oh my god, what’s wrong with you? Did you learn that from Sugawara? I’m never letting you watch a game ever again.”

It’s hard to hold back your smirk. “I mean- it worked! I’m not going to let you ruin the moment with your nega-!”

“Shut up for a second!” he says and this time he’s the one throwing an elbow. “I’m trying to apologize for being a shitty boyfriend!”

“You shut up!” you mirror him, but he’s ready this time. His response is quick, catching your arms against his. You two continue, poking back and forth roughly, laughter bubbling up. “You don’t need to apologize for being busy!”

“Well, I’m going to.” he grabs the edge of your shirt, leaning into you once again. “Come here and accept it.”

The gravel shifts under your feet as you scramble to stand, pulling out of his grasp. He watches you in confusion as you back away, but his look quickly transforms into something playfully predatory. The shift is wordless, but both of you understand the game that’s about to unfold.

“Come. Here.”

“No way.”

You turn on your heel and run. Keishin’s quick, grunting with effort as he throws himself forward. The sound of his shoes, squeaking against the rock, is faster than you anticipate and you have to force your legs to pump quicker. The cool morning air burns your throat as you barrel down the row, the dew covered leaves brushing against your arms and leaving wet stripes. Something about the simple act of moving dissolves all your tension, all your worries.

You turn your head to check in on your pursuer. Keishin is behind you, running with just as much force as you, but he’s grinning ear to ear with breathless laugh. It’s not his usual mischievous grin, but a soft one. A relaxed one. His baseball cap is halfway off of his head, caught by the wind, but he doesn’t reach to save it. He’s too busy reaching for you.

Everything is quiet except the two of you, laughing breathlessly as you chase each other like children. The sun has just started to crest the mountains, illuminating the sky with a blur of pastels. The pink of the sky reflects in his hair, catching in the glint of his eye as his gaze meets yours, and something in your brain tells you that you’ll remember this exact moment for the rest of your life. You want the moment to freeze, to stay in this childish bliss forever-

-but, of course, it doesn’t.

The rubber toe of Keishin’s boot catches a rock, sending him tumbling forward into a slow fall. He stumbles, catching himself for a moment before falling onto his knees, then his face. With a wince, he rolls on to his back, arms and legs spread eagle in defeat. Oversized pants, chunky boots, a stupid baseball cap: he looked more like an exhausted toddler than an adult. You slow to a jog, trying to pretend his fall wasn’t absolutely hilarious, but your stomach is clenching with the repressed laughter. Backtracking, you join his crumbled form.

“You okay?” you’re panting much harder than you should be. God, shouldn’t the smoker be less athletic?

“No, I think I’m really hurt.”

“Where? Your knees?” you drop to your knees immediately and reach for him, taking his hands in yours. The palm of his non gloved hand is scraped, but there’s no sign of blood.

“My ego.” he groans, “I think I bruised it.”

You let out something that isn’t quite a sigh or a groan. “You jerk.” you lean down and place a kiss on the bridge of his nose, right over where it crinkles when he smiles. “You had me worried for a second.”

He cranes forward to press his lips against yours, but only going as far as to brush his lips against yours. Every movement of your lips is a ghost against his, each breath more present than the feeling of skin. Each kiss is just a tease, barely a taste, and it makes you feel hungry. His hand circles your waist before drawing a line up your spine and your hunger deepens, burning deep into your core.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been around lately.” he says against your skin, hand guiding you closer to him. You lay down next to him, resting your head on his bicep. It should feel silly, to be laying in the dirt, in the middle of the field, but there’s something so natural about being with him that makes you forget about your surroundings. There’s something natural and unadulterated about being quiet with each other.

“It won’t be like this forever, I promise.” he’s the first to break the silence. “One day, we’ll see each other every day. Just- be patient with me.”

You kiss his shoulder. “You’re worth the wait.” you place another one a few inches upwards. “I miss you, but you’ll always be worth the wait.”

Ukai rolls, throwing a knee over your hips to loom over you. His bangs tickle your forehead as he kisses you. It’s short. “I miss you.”

He places another peck on your lips. “Every day.”

Another kiss catches you off guard. “Every night.”

Another one. This one is long enough for you to kiss back. “Constantly. I miss you constantly.”

You hook a leg over his ass, fingers starting to fiddle with the buttons holding his overalls up. “Prove it.”

He hesitates. Tilting his head up, he holds his breath as he scans the row, searching for any signs of movement in the distance. Until now, you had forgotten that other people even exist. The air is still, only the distant sound of crows cutting through the silence. His muscles relax against you after a moment, gaze returning to study your features.

“I missed you.” he leans in and breathes into the shell of your ear before sinking his canines into the lobe. The sharpness sends you keening in surprise, pressing yourself farther into him. He takes the opportunity to tuck his arm under the arch of your back, using the angle to hold your hips against his, his forming bulge pressed right against your core. Your hands are still twiddling with the clasp on his overalls, your proximity to him making the simple task much harder than it should be. Every one of his movements is pulling you into him, like he can’t get you close enough to be satisfied. He sucks on the soft on your neck finishing the hickey off with a bite.

“Why’d you wear these stupid, ugly pants?” you huff as you finally free a button. Ukai breaks away from your neck to laugh before tracing his tongue across the bruise. The warmth surprises you and you can’t stop the whine that escapes you.

“Fuck off.” his free hand easily unclinches your pants before shoving them down. The denim digs into the plush of your thighs as he struggles to place himself between your legs. The ground is cold and coarse against your bare skin, but you can’t focus on anything other than the heat of his breath trailing down your neck.

“Fuck- I missed you.” he repeats as you finally unclasp his overalls and slide them down. They hang off his hips, just low enough for his erection to hang over the fabric, his dooling cockhead resting against your stomach. Firmly, he taps his cock against you with a soft thwack, watching the translucent strings of precum connecting you stretch and break. It dribbles on the hem of your shirt and you want to admonish him for it, but when your eyes meet, his blown out pupils take your words away. The way he watches you, eyes hazed over with lust, is borderline feral. All you can do is kick down a pant leg, freeing your leg and allowing it to fall farther open for him.

Keishin slides further down you, greedily dragging the spongy head of his cock through your folds, gathering your slick. Each pass across your clit makes you twitch, thighs squeezing around his hips. With a wolfish grin, he splits your cunt with his free hand and whistles at the sight.

“I missed this pretty little pussy.” he pressed forward unceremoniously and the head of his cock squeezes into you with a pop. The stretch aches, but something deeper in you is burning for more. “Fuck, look how wet you are… “

He’s quick to bottom out, slamming his hips into yours as if he can’t hold back any longer. His eyes are struggling to stay open as he rolls his hips against you faster, struggling to continue watching your poor pussy struggle to take him. The weeks without him have left you desperate, hips uncontrollably bucking against his. The rhythm is off, your bodies struggling to keep up with each other and just ending up slamming against each other unevenly. It’s wild, it leaves you breathless but your approaching high is so painfully close, neither of you can slow down to gather yourselves.

“You’re so good, fuck, so tight…” his head lolls forward, eyes fluttering closed, “You… so good… so hot… fuck, I missed you.”

Your hands wander up the front of his shirt, nails scraping against his chest. “Ple-ase, Keishin.” you beg, too breathless to say anything else. The sound of your voice makes him crumple over with a whine, fingers digging painfully hard into the fat of your hips as he struggles to pull you impossibly close. His cock twitches, spilling pulse after pulse of hot cum deep inside you.

“Shit. Shit, shit, shit.” he murmurs, hips dragging out of you slowly. The movement makes you feel sloppy, the mixture of his cum and yours spilling down the crack of your ass. The sheer lewdness of it makes your core clench with desire, but the fading heat in your core makes you feel borderline nauseous.

As you begin to untangle yourself, trying to hide your disappointment, he pulls you back in.

“Don’t.” he whispers into your chest. “I’m not- I’m not done with you.”

Ukai’s headband has slipped backwards, barely hanging on to the back of his head. The mess of blonde, half of it plastered to his forehead, tickles your cheek as he kisses your cheek. The edge of desperation is gone, replaced with something gentler, as he rolls back into you. Every bit of friction has been replaced with the slick, warmness of his cum.

“I wanna wake up next to you every day.” Something about cumming has made him sappy. His hand dips low to circle your clit, tracing those practiced patterns you love so much. This time, instead of a fast, dangerous rise, the heat inside you pours slowly, like magma flowing through your core.

“I’m going to buy you a big ol’ house.” he mumbles into your chest, looking up at you through his eyelashes. “And a pretty little ring. And -oh fuck you feel so good- and, and you’re never gonna miss me again.”

God, the term making love is corny, so impossibly cringey, but as he whispers those promises into your skin, you understand it. It’s more about the need to feel closer, the need to hold and be held. It’s three weeks of emotions that neither of you can vocalize.

Fuck, you feel so full. Physically, emotionally. Every caress is tender, delicate and appreciative. Your thumbs trace over his crow’s feet and for the umpteeth time this morning, you savor the moment.

“I wanna be with you forever.”

Everything feels in focus- the friction of his jeans against your knees, the fabric clinging to your stomach, prickled with sweat, the ministrations of your lover’s lips against your skin as he whispers sweet nothings into you- but everything fades as you cum. Your orgasm hits slowly; you don’t even know you’re there until your legs are kicking out uncontrollably. Fingers tangled in the cotton of his shirt, you keen one last time. In the blur, you’re faintly aware of him joining you, his words dissolving into whines.

It takes a heartbeat for everything to still again. Keishin tilts his head up, studying you for a moment before speaking.

“‘M so tired.” he essentially collapses on you, knocking the air out of your lungs. The lay he goes immediately slack in your arms would have been cute if whte weight of his body wasn’t pressing our bare skin into the gravel under you. “I’m gonna nap.”

After quickly ruffling his hair, you press him up, gentling encouraging him to get off. “Come on, sleepyhead, your grandpa’s gonna start looking for us if we’re gone for too long.”

Keishin grimaces, propping himself up onto his elbows as he withdraws from you. The air against the mess on your thighs makes you shiver. “Please don’t mention the old man while I’m still inside you.”

He falls back into his heels and leaves you laying there. Before adjusting himself, he takes your bare leg by the ankle and tries to slip your pant leg back on. The hem gets caught on your heel and he fumbles.

“I can dress myself, Shin, you don’t have to.” you sigh, even as you adjust to make it easier. Denim sticks to your wet skin and he continues to work, completely ignoring your protest. As you lift your hips, letting him slide it past your waist. “Did you mean it?”

He hums a question, buttoning your pants.

“You really wanna spend the rest of your days with me?”

Ukai looks up at you. “Well. Yeah, of course.” he smiles, “Who else is gonna put cinnamon in my coffee?”

#haikyu #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu x reader #fluff #smut #ukai #ukai keishin #ukai x reader #keishin x reader #ukai keishin x reader #mint's musings

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kenmei · 4 years

Text

-ˏˋ EVERYTHING BUT! ˊˎ-

♡ gn!reader x boyfriend!sakusa kiyoomi

cw: angst to fluff, hurt/comfort, slice of life, a pinch? of toxic behaviour, kinda suggestive somewhere in the middle, timeskip!au, established relationship!au

synopsis: in the times where home doesn’t feel like how it should, somewhere along the blurred lines of forgiven and guilty, “i’m home” gains back its familiarity

wc: 1900+

notes from mei!

happy bday to omi omi!!

it’s routine.

“i’m home.”

words that are familiar leave his lips; an expected response lingers in the air—it’s routine. the problem is, he’s only met with silence and an unusually cold apartment complex.

there are leftovers on the island; down the hallway leading to yours and his shared room, the lights are off. kiyoomi sighs, shrugging off his coat and not bothering to keep the sound of his dangling keys to a minimum.

and for the fifth time that week, he eats dinner alone.

the next morning proceeds as usual. quiet good mornings, a kiss to the cheek that feels robotic. he makes the food and you make the coffee; working in tandem as the news fills the silence between you both.

“i’m going out today.” you say, spoon clanking against the mugs as you’re pouring in the creamer. “hairi’s birthday.” you add.

he doesn’t turn to face you. “okay.”

you both eat in silence, not bothering to make small talk because the last time you tried, it ended up in a fight that brings you to your situation right now.

the night after, you both “made up,” but after a day and a half passed, he snapped at you more harshly than usual, giving you the silent treatment and coming home extra late just to get on your nerves.

tired of being a verbal punching bag, you reverted back into the person you promised you wouldn’t be again, because you wanted to be better—because you trusted in him enough that he wouldn’t make you feel that kind of pain again.

but now you’re here.

the words scratch at your throat as you open the front door. it’s dark, but you hear the shower running.

you’re not sure why you suddenly feel so anxious, but then again, you dreaded the entire uber ride “home.”

because as much as you love kiyoomi, he’s dragged you to hell and back for the past week and a half. as much as you’re willing to put up with his bullshit because you know he’s just like that, you’re not sure if this relationship is even worth it anymore.

it’s because you know his bad sides, good sides, everything-in-between-sides, you can’t find it in you to say something other than a half-assed sorry because you don’t want to drag things out.

you don’t want to lose him because he’s still your kiyoomi.

he’s the boy who shared his umbrella with you in high school, the boy who threw his jacket on your head because you never listened to him when he said it’s cold out, wear a jacket.

the man who makes you play with his hair; the one who likes to be babied from time to time. don’t leave, he used to say, arms trapping you to his chest as you both wasted an hour in each other’s embrace.

in every season, all your favourite memories involve him.

and you’re being honest when you say you don’t want anything else—anyone else, but him. he’s a part of you now, and after him, you never thought of life without him.

but as you sit on the couch, head hung low, you think, perhaps, life would be better.

you fell in love rather young, at seventeen where love was like sunshine and rainbows. seventeen, where you didn’t know any other romantic kind of love besides him.

but now you’re twenty-three, where love feels more or less of a shitty scripted tv show. twenty-three, where you know there are many different kinds of love besides romantic.

“what are you doing?”

like you’ve been programmed, you stand. “sorry. i was waiting for you to finish.”

you brisk by him, blindly picking some clothes to use for pyjamas.

and he lets you, waiting for you to finish.

as you’re settling into bed, his lips find yours in a teeth-clashing, empty manner. naturally, you return, unaware of the void in your eyes as you humour him.

hands find their way underneath your shirt and you tense up.

he pulls away. “what’s wrong with you?”

“what do you mean?” you reply, pushing him off you. “...i’m kissing you back? why are you complaining?”

“you’re so bland lately.” he scowls, “you never say anything besides sorry! it’s like i’m dating a fucking statue!”

with the remnants of liquid courage swishing in your bloodstream, you snap, “what the fuck am i supposed to say besides sorry?!” you say, keeping a level-tone as you look at him in disbelief, anger bubbling in your veins. “you’re always mad at me and i’ve done nothing! you keep taking your bad days out on me!”

“that’s because you never do anything right!”

your mouth falls open in bewilderment. getting out of bed, you grab your phone. “fuck you.” you spit, “go find someone else. i’m not dealing with you anymore.”

a shout of your name, the sound of something falling to the floor.

the click of the front door doesn’t let you hear anything else.

kiyoomi<3: please come home

kiyoomi<3: where are you?

kiyoomi<3: talk to me baby please

“no.” you scoff, powering off your phone. you throw it to the other end of your hotel bed, grabbing your laptop.

two days.

(you wish it wasn’t like this).

glancing at the time, you think now would be a good time to go back to the apartment. he’s at practice and you need to start getting your shit out of his place.

your phone beeps a few more times and you wonder why he’s texting so much when he’s at practice. but then again, desperateness isn’t something to take lightly.

and you want to laugh at him, because now, when you’ve left, he’s texting you nonstop, leaving you a shit ton of voicemails you don’t even bother listening to.

your chest hurts, you’re sure everyone and their mother’s can tell you’re literally lifeless as you drag yourself to your car.

the drive is quiet and full of an empty head. you might’ve accidently ran one or two red lights, but you can’t find it in you to care.

jiggling your keys, you swing the door open, expecting to be met with emptiness.

but he’s there, on the couch with his head hung low, phone in his hands.

it looks like he’s pleading to the phone. you take note of his disheveled appearance and apartment. his head shoots up when he hears keys jingle, eyes widening before his eyes gloss over when he takes in your somewhat put together appearance.

you move to close the door, to leave him in there, but his voice stops you from shutting the door all the way.

“wait!”

it’s desperate and broken, you mentally smack yourself in the head for opening the door again. he relaxes a bit when he sees you again, mouth opening before it shuts abruptly.

he doesn’t know what to say.

and before he can get his head to work right, you turn left and go down the hallway, shoes on and all.

he follows, silently, watching in pain as you grab your duffle bag and start stuffing clothes in it.

he follows, chest pinching and palms sweating as you move around the room, shoving whatever you can into your bag.

you don’t even know why he’s here. he never misses practice.

“please.”

your back is facing him as the words, quiet and heavy, leave his lips. you choose to ignore him, rummaging through your bedside drawer in case there’s anything you might need.

a call of your name.

“stop.” you mutter, scratching your eyebrow in irritation. “we’re not doing this again.”

your lip trembles, you take a deep breath to try and stop the tears from falling.

it hurts to see him like this. your chest aches when you see the bags under his eyes and the tear stains on his cheeks. “we’re not doing this again.” you repeat, an attempt to solidify yourself, but instead, you’re sobbing quietly into your bedside drawer, a polaroid of you and him staring back at you.

“i can’t do this.” you cry, recalling his hurtful words.

frantically wiping your tears, you reach into the desk to flip the picture backward.

“i’m sorry, y/n.” he says, voice wavering.

it’s only been two days, but he feels like he’s been through a century. he thought he’d be fine, that you’d come back.

but after having his texts being left on delivered and his calls going straight to voicemail, the buildup of everything and the reality of everything punched him in the gut.

a home that was once full of love. a home that was once so easy to come home to.

it’s scary how fast everything went tumbling down.

and kiyoomi’s more than aware of how selfish he is. coming home to everything being in it’s exact place isn’t all that odd, he just loathes coming home to everything being in it’s exact place, but you’re not there.

your candle you love so much stares at him. pictures hung of you and him mock him.

everything in this apartment, it was there. everything but you.

and it drove him crazy.

you, the only one he’s ever felt so strongly for. you, the one who makes home feel like home.

but as he stares at your back, tears of his own getting caught in his lashes, he hates that he makes this “home” of yours and his, feel unfamiliar.

and kiyoomi isn’t good, he knows he isn’t. he’s selfish and he likes things done his way because he likes things done right.

but he doesn’t know how to make this right. he loves you so much, but all he can do now is watch as you suffer.

he knows his problem, he knows his shortcomings, his faults—kiyoomi’s had too much time to be fucked up by it all. but the only thing he doesn’t know how to do right, is to fix the problems before his eyes.

a second passes and he finds his body moving before he can think.

he pulls you into his chest, uncaring of your fists pounding against his chest. he holds you tighter because this could be the last time.

and kiyoomi wishes he could do it all over—to go back in time and be the person he promised himself he’d be for you, his supposed forever.

“i’m sorry.” he whispers into your hair. “i know you’re tired, but please let me apologize to you, i don’t want you to walk out that door thinking the things i’ve said to you are true. they aren’t, i swear.”

his arms tighten around you when you stop fighting against his embrace. “all those things i’ve said and done that hurt you, i didn’t mean.”

“i know that, kiyoomi.” you cry, “but i can’t do this anymore.”

“don’t say that.” he pleads, “please, y/n, let me try again.”

and you’re crying because it’s so raw and real. his voice is so gentle and his embrace feels so soothing.

this is all you want. to be in his arms and be held together by him.

he gets his response when your arms circle around his middle, when you bury your face into him and grant his wishes of letting him fix the mess he made of you and him.

“thank you.” he whispers, a choked sob breaking free and he pulls your impossibly closer.

it’s half-past two and everything is where it’s meant to be.

(i'm home).

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xmalfoyweasleyx · 3 years

Text

I hate that girl - F.W

Summary: Fred doesn’t really know how to cope. He hates y/n and everyone loves her. But is the feeling truly hate, or something else?

Warnings: Mean Fred, eating, semi-smut it's just oral: male receiving, a little hair pulling and stuff like that :)

A/N: Maybe I'm going to write a PART 2, with the rest of the smut? Idk? What do you guys think? x

Words: 2,1k

It was summer, finally, my favourite season. I sat at the table with my family at the Burrow, enjoying my moms dinner.

“So, y/n is coming tomorrow mom, you remember?” Ron asked while trying to put a big piece of meat in his mouth.

“Of course I remember dear!” Molly smiled.

“Pfffttt ohno” I sighed, making the whole dinner table glare at me.

“Don’t be mean Fred, I really don’t know what’s wrong with you” Ginny said angrily.

What was wrong with me? That girl was wrong.

I hated how my whole family fell for her trap. Like she’s so innocent. They all believed her act. But I knew the truth, I hated the girl. She wasn’t sweet and shy and helpful. I just knew it. She couldn’t be. I didn’t believe it.

I never liked the girl. She visits us every year, being very good friends with... yea, almost every person here.

She was a liar, I saw it in her eyes. The girl was always like: “Molly can I help with the dishes” or “Hey George, I looooveee the new joke product” with her silly sweet voice.

No I didn’t fall for that. She didn’t even say those things to me any more, I've already scared her away. Well, great. That’s great.

“I really don’t understand why you hate her that much Freddie” George sighed when we were back in our bedroom.

"Well and I don't understand why you like her that much Georgie, are you in love with her or something?" I accused him.

"It seems like you are the one in love with her, silly brother" he answered laughing.

What the hell??

"WHAT? For God's sake! Why would you even think that?!" I screamed defensively. George only laughed.

"I give up" he smiled. Leaving me extremely irritated.

Me in love with y/n, like I said, I hate that girl.

I almost threw up seeing the girl acting like that.

We were all welcoming her in the living room. She hugged Ginny, then my mum and Ron and... you know how it goes.

Then she hugged George giving him a kiss on the cheek. Urgh disgusting. It was my turn. It was clear she didn't really know what to do. It was pretty awkward.

"Fred" she nodded staring at me full of doubt. She gave me a sad look and I almost fell for it.

I knew my sister was looking at me with eyes full of anger without even looking her way. I couldn't take it any more and just left without saying a word.

"I'm sorry about him" I heard George saying to her. "It's okay" she answered softly.

It was quiet at the burrow, everyone was already asleep. I've always been the only person in this house that stays up this late.

I was getting tired so I decided to get ready for bed. Even George had ignored me all evening, I don't get it, why are they this mad? I mean, okay, I wasn't very nice to y/n. But I can do what I want and I can dislike who I want, what do they have to do with it?

So I opened the bathroom door and before I could process what happened, my face was already bright red. Y/n was changing, her, apparently pretty, chest was bare in front of me.

The first thing I did was slap my hand to my face, trying to close my eyes and hide the redness. What the actual fuck, did I just see the girl naked?

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE THIS LATE" I screamed.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I should've locked the door, I'm sorry" she answered embarrassed.

Okay how could I ever get this image out of my fucking head?! Yes, she did have an impressive body, and...but... BUT NO FRED, NO.

"Stop apologizing all the time, for god's sake, it makes me crazy" I hissed angrily.

She didn't really answer and she ran past me, I didn't even see the look on her face. Maybe that was a good thing, because I knew I may have been a bit too mean this time...

"Fuck Fred, keep going" y/n moaned, she looked like a mess and her perfect boobs bounced up and down when she rode me. It was the hottest and the best thing I've ever felt. Moans and grunts left my mouth. "Fuck I'm cumming baby" I grunted.

Suddenly a loud knock on my bedroom door woke me up. Y/n wasn't there any more.

Shit, was this a dream, an actual sex dream? About her?

"FRED WAKE UP IT'S ALREADY 1 PM, WE'RE GOING TO SWIM!" I heard my little sister scream at the door.

I freaked out immediately. I could never face y/n again after this, why did it happen? Why is my brain like this? And then I had a little problem down there too, I had an obvious boner.

"I'm coming Gin wait a minute" I answered nervously.

An hour later, I finally reached the lake that was a mile away from the burrow. The others were already there.

Great, swimming.

The dream was still spinning around in my head. I was so confused and like it couldn't get any worse, they decided to swim. Why today?

This was the worst moment ever to see y/n in her bikini. I saw her from a distance. God she looked hot. Her perfect boobs in the red bikini top, and damn it, that ass...

Bloody hell, STOP IT FRED, I just got rid of my boner, I don't need it to come back again.

"There you are Freddie, finally!" George smiled when he saw me. Damn it.

Y/n looked up too, still smiling at me even though all the mean things I said or did to her. Her hair was in a perfect bun and I could see her red bikini better now. I never really realized how sexy and good she looks until now, until the moment I walked in on her changing this night. Or maybe that was the problem, maybe I always knew, but shut it out?

But what if this was her trap again? The trap everyone fell for except me. I couldn't allow myself to fall for it, I promised myself!

I walked up to them and tried to get out of my confusing thoughts. "I'm sorry I didn't realize I slept for so long" I answered trying to sound okay.

"Guess it's because you were still up pretty late" y/n joked. Her pretty smile appeared and out of nowhere my legs were weak, like jelly.

"Fuck y/n SHUT UP, SHUT THE HELL UP" I snapped out of nowhere. My face went red and the others looked at me in shock.

It was quiet, y/n gaped at me, speechless.

"I.. I-" I tried to apologize when I saw y/n her hurt eyes, but nothing came out. My heart broke when a tear fell down her cheek. Maybe I was wrong about her.

I was the bad person in this story, not her.

She ran away and I heard her sobbing behind me.

It wasn't a trap, she never acted like she was an innocent sweet girl, she really was an innocent sweet girl. It wasn't her trap, it was my own trap, a trap I made up in my own head.

I heard sobs coming from her room. I stood behind the door. I promised my siblings I would apologize, because it was true, maybe I was wrong about her.

I opened the door slowly.

"Fred, please go away, you don't have to act like you're sorry because I'm crying. I know you hate me." she sobbed when she saw me.

“N-no, I, I don’t know what’s wrong with me” I stuttered.

She looked confused. Her red eyes really broke my heart. It was my fault.

I sat next to her on the floor and put my hand on her leg. She seemed shocked.

“Why do you hate me?” she whispered.

I sighed. Not really knowing what to answer.

“I don’t hate you, I just had the wrong idea about you y/n, I’m stupid.” I answered.

It was weird, she was still in her bikini and this was so not the right moment, but I felt that bulge in my swimming trunks appear again. I guess it’s because of the dream that was still so damn clear in my head. And of course, the fact that my hand was stroking down her bare leg.

Before I could cover it up, her eyes were already on it. Fuck.

We both didn’t utter a word. It was silent.

“You have a problem down there” she whispered, breaking the silence.

I gulped, trying to not get red.

“Is that why you hate me? You just want to fuck me?” she grinned extremely bold.

I wasn’t really used to being this speechless. But she was right. So, so right. So I just nodded.

Suddenly she was on my lap. My breath hitched in my throat. Her, so perfect, boobs now pressed to my bare chest.

“You make me crazy, I can’t even explain how crazy y/n” I finally said.

Her hands were now stroking my hair. Shit. My tummy tingled. Was George right, am I in love with her?

“So you just decide to be mean Freddie? Ignore me? Hurt me? Why?” she squeaked, searching for a rightful explanation.

“I... I’m sorry, I don’t know what I feel. I’m so confused but I know I was wrong about you now. I’m sorry for hurting you.” I apologized.

“It’s okay Freddie, I understand, we have enough time to find out how we feel” she promised me while lightly stroking my cheek with her small fingers.

A wave of electricity went from my feet to my head. So is this what being in love feels like? I wasn’t sure, maybe it was something else. I’ve never experienced this before. But one thing was sure: my pants got too tight now.

And that’s when I felt her move slowly. She moved the (oh so thin) fabric of her red bikini against my clothed cock. I could feel everything that was underneath and a shock of pleasure went through my whole body.

She kept grinding down on me, a soft whimper left her mouth and a grunt left mine.

I slammed my lips on hers. They moved perfectly in synchrony. They were soft and sweet. It was perfect.

I’ve kissed before, a lot. But this. This was different. The passion was overwhelming.

Her tongue explored my mouth while I helped her hips grind up and down.

She stopped the kiss and her beautiful y/e/c eyes locked with mine. In an instant, she was already on her knees in front of me, pulling down my swimming trunks.

"Can I?" she asked politely. I nodded eagerly.

She kissed my tip gently making me gasp a little. Her beautiful, soft hands stroked down my thigh.

"I'm pretty sure you're finally gonna stop hating me after this" she promised.

"You already succeeded princess" I praised, making her eyes go wider because of the nickname.

She started to kitten lick my tip slowly and my hands were already in her hair, making a ponytail with my hand.

She took my whole cock in her mouth, all at once. A grunt escaped my lips when I felt my tip hit the back of her throat.

"God y/n where did you learn this" I moaned huskily.

A smirk appeared when she started to bob up and down. I tried to control myself but I couldn't resist from pulling on her hair a little, guiding her head up and down. It was clearly something she liked because a moan left her mouth. The oh so sexy sound and vibrations made me grunt loudly. "Fuck baby" I moaned

I tried to hold it in but my hips started to pound a little into her mouth, making her gag on my cock.

"I'm gonna cum" I stuttered. One second later her mouth was already gone. I whined with a frown.

"Now already Freddie?" she smirked.

"Please don't stop, your mouth is amazing y/n" I asked trying to not sound too desperate.

She didn't answer but put her lips back, taking my cock in her mouth again. Now she started to suck fast and harder, making me go completely crazy.

She was so beautiful and so so so sexy. I couldn't hold in any longer. My head fell back and my eyes scrunched shut, a loud moan slipped from my lips when I came. I've never felt this amazing before. It was perfect. Y/n stuck her tongue out, showing me she swallowed all of my cum.

"Good girl" I praised huskily.

"Did it feel good?" she asked. She looked a little insecure now.

I grabbed her hips and placed her on my lap again.

"So good, I think I might be in love with you, and not just because of this moment, but for so many reasons y/n" I admitted.

"You.. you do?" she whispered getting red and shy. But the little smile on her lips said enough

_____

#fred weasly x reader #harry potter #fred and george #fred weasley #weasley twins #fred weasley smut #harry potter smut #george weasley #x reader #smut

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humankoalaa · 3 years

Text

BATWOMAN SEASON FINALE!

*SPOILERS AHEAD*

before i get into the season finale of the best show on television with the best cast on television let’s establish something… wildmoore is the standard.

i hate flashbacks in finales 😫 HATE.

one thing about mary… she gon wear her leather pants and in the words of mrs. ryan wilder-moore (leave me alone im just practicing) looking fine as hell 🥵

alice… sweetie… there’s just so much to unpack here and it’s been 3 seconds 🥴 does arkham just not have guards? are those jumper cables? PAIN. this scene is pain.

all this crying right… how alice got more water coming out of her mouth than her eyes?

yeah definitely not jumper cables 😂

FIRST OF ALL.. sophie… who tf is batwoman because i only see cousin luke and a girlfriend present.

okay where is batwoman because ion like a girlfriends plan and she’s pacing. its giving very much not a chance 😫

mary… never apologize for being late. that is so unbecoming of you when you look that damn good.

look how she distracted me from her shit. alternatively give who to what? …

“mary…we know you feel a certain… whatever for her” 😂😂 i wanna be buried with this on my tombstone. remove mary and change feel to felt. that’s all i ask.

ryan: “… the buzzer created marquis” .. mary: “… the joker created marquis and if we’re splitting hairs he created alice too ” ….. huh? .. is it not essentiallly same thing mary?

mary… not even the devil is on your side so please 😒 and this is not what they meant when they told you to use your voice.

nobody:

mary: “.. i need to save alice’s life” …

y’all and the bat team: “WHAT ABOUT CATHERINE MARY?! “

me: “mary don’t even like these people”

catherine failed at faking a death and attempted murder, only to be murdered by alice her murderee and jacob is incarcerated. … alexa, play “i will always love you”. .. mary… .. dolly parton would like a word.

i can’t take marquis serious 🤣 the colored tips kill me cause they look like extensions 😫

ryan… he ain’t gon do shit.

under my umbrella ella ella ellla ay ay ay

is dana the only news reporter in gotham? … cause if she needs a break … sophie moore would like an application. SORRY.

and how the hold up open already…

heeeyyyy auntie. oooo she in pants y’all 👀 lemme find out auntie bout to be out in them trenches with the team.

you supposed to knock jada. who raised you?

“told you she doesn’t knock” 🤣🤣 exactly.

one thing about cousin luke… he don’t like nobody. the fucking blinking as jada impersonates his dad im crying 😂

it’s all of them staring at jada like … ….

🤣 i cannot stand them. this is seriously what batwoman is working with and somehow she’s still alive.

this mf said ryan went to run an errand 😂🤦🏾‍♀️

ok now it makes sense 😂

i just never know what alice is talking about.

the joker is such a weird chaotic villian. who just wants to kill a bunch of people and like the pettiest part of this shit is if you don’t die you’re just gonna look like shit forever 😂🤦🏾‍♀️

“not to throw shade on my own sex appeal here” 🤣🤣 why is she like this.

wait…. she gave alice the buzzer?

jada … first of alll i KNOW you not talking about trust.

“i need my mom” 😭

WAYMENT not jada growing up right in front of my acai bowl 😭 they grow up so fast.

“martini o’clock”… cute.

hamilfox banter 🥲 we love best friends.

luke please 🤣🤦🏾‍♀️ she’s trying 😭

it’s sis eating pizza on the hood of her car for me. acid rain in the forecast she don’t even know it. bless.

“lord help me” 🤣🤣 tell me your team is useless without telling me.

sophie talking bombs. 10/10. more of that please.

ryan and sophie bickering is my religion and here i am to worship.

“im not losing you ryan.. you don’t get to play the crazy card with me…. im not losing you” 😭 iktfr say it with your chest sophie.

“nobody’s ever said that to me before” 🥲 trust me… we can tell 😂

just in case yalll forgot, wildmoore is the standard. the bar, pass go, collect 200 dollars, advance to free parking. money mi a preeeee iykyk 😬

here go this great value joker ruining the moment.

okay batwoman time to turn this shit around 😫 GET UP. also cousin luke… any moment now. aaannnyyyyy moment.

i swear to g-d she better not fall for this.

unbelievable 😂

ryan.. HURRYYYYYY 😫 alexa, play madonna 4 minutes.

marquis was gon have to be on his own because absolutely not. what street rat or weasel can save your ass 😫 apologize.

lawd don’t put my good sis through no more shit please 🥴 the lip thing 😭 it’s sophie not being afraid of anything until ryan leaves the room for me. ALEXA, play jason derulo marry me 😫 ugh. greatest love story ever told. argue with that lamp.

“you think im gonna die before you buy me dinner” .. same ryan, same.

🥺 luke. not the AI.

this poppycock joker like sit down 😫

batwoman… now i know you don’t kill. i know this. but you gon learn today. you got a girlfriend, a bat team, a mother, and a whole lot of shit to do. so … let. go.

“you really willing to ditch the bitch?” 🤣🤦🏾‍♀️ i love their dynamic so much.

“if anyone can survive hard alice… it’s you” 😭😭😭😭😭😭

still properly confused about this buzzer situation.

“to be clear… we still aren’t friends” 😂

SOPHIE HURRY 😭😭😭😭 this is too much 😫

“call me batwing” 🥲❤️

ryda is my ship name for ryan and jada because ride or die okay that’s what happened and what a time to be alive 😭

y’all…. she got the girl, her best friends and her family. ryan wilder-moore, you deserve the world 😭

alice better come back eventually 🥺

they just meant they were gonnna disturb my peace with brunette alice.

girlfriends 😭 we really watched two black women fall in love y’all 😫 on the CW at that 🥲 i love it here. ion care too much about the political side of things but their story is just so personal to me for so many reason. to alll my sistas .. . finally🥲

I know they don’t have dana out in the middle of chernobyl reporting. throw the whole job away.

well shit .. never mind… rip.

ALSO, should that network cancel batwoman, we all understand the assignment right? because hbomax, netflix, hulu, radioshack and the lord himself will be hearing from my lawyers.

see y’all in season 4!

#wildmoore #batwoman #sophie moore #sophie x ryan #ryan x sophie #javecia leslie #meagan tandy

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danielxricciardo · 3 years

Note

Hi there! I don’t know if you got my ask before😭 but I did sent one about Daniel being jealous type? Like Max is Reader’s ex and got bit too touchy and familiar to the reader at party, and like Daniel and Max got into a fight and where other drivers need to break them up. Angst story please! I wanna see Daniel super jealous and protective over his gf.🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻

I am so sorry for not writing the last request!!! I had an extremely busy period and there will be a few more crazy weeks! At first I tried to write in order but I didn't have much inspiration so I started writing randomly! So sorry again!

Summary: You are Daniel's girlfriend and he is jealous on Max, your ex.

Warnings: angst, a little swearing

Word count: 1.7k

Jealousy is an insane feeling... It comes out when you are very affectionately attached to someone or that even the thought of its possession with someone else creates a rage in your heart.

It can be constructive or destructive depending on how you presume to take it.

For him, in any way, it feels like his heart is in a constant state of dropping, his legs get shaky, he feels a twisting in his stomach and all he wants to do is snap at people. It's a horrible feeling that he feels a lot.

Jealousy can come from the fear of losing one or more of the following: power, love, sex, and possessions. Jealousy is a powerful emotion. It exists for a reason, to protect ourselves, but can cause havoc if left unchecked.

A jealous man who feels insecure in himself believes he’s not good enough to keep another person attracted to him over time. He fears that someone better than him is going to make his loved one reconsider their relationship.

Daniel never showed you that he was jealous. Although you were Max's ex-girlfriend, Max should be the one upset and jealous of the two, right? Because after you two broke up, friendly, of course, you soon got together with his best friend.

"Hey, love!" Daniel called to you from the bathroom. "I know you won't let me see the dress, although it is bullshit to me because we're going to a gala, not to our wedding, but can you at least tell me what color it will be? I need to choose a tie."

"Red." you answer from the bedroom, focused not to ruin your nail polish. "And it's not bullshit. I want to surprise you."

"For all I care, you can come dressed in a sack of potatoes and I will still think you are the most beautiful woman in the world."

"Mmm I smell bullshit!" you joke.

The FIA Prize Giving Ceremony is an annual event promoted by Fédération Internationale de l'Automobile which honors the achievements of all drivers over the past season.

Although you are not new to this sport, going to Grand Prix as the girlfriend of a driver for more than 5 years, you have never been present at a gala. Of course, you were invited every year, only something always happened and you couldn't go. This year, however, you wanted to be present, especially since Daniel was going to receive the Action of the Year award.

Daniel left before you, he and the boys rented a limousine with which they would get there, and you and the other girls would arrive, also with a limousine. You're not the type to refuse a limousine, especially since you've never been in one, but Daniel and the other boys had to leave their personal cars at the gala because the limousine won't leave you at home, you'll each go to your homes with your own cars.

You were wearing a beautiful backless, tight-fitting red dress, having almost like a silk texture to it, perfectly shaped to fit your figure, strapless, having a corset that makes your breasts bigger than they really were.

When Daniel saw you, you were sure he forgot to breathe for a few seconds. His already large eyes seemed to protrude from his pupils. Your heart had started beating faster, and you had butterflies in your stomach. Even though you had been together for more than three years, you still felt like you were looking at him for the first time.

"You're splendid," he tells you when he helps you out of the limousine. He kisses your hand and you see the dozens of paparazzi flashes towards you.

"You don't look bad either," you answer and enter the building.

Inside were hundreds of people talking to each other and looking like they were having fun. Daniel leads you to your table where you two were seated with Max, Charles, Esteban, and Sebastian with their girlfriends.

"What do you want to drink?" Daniel asks you as he takes off his jacket and leaves it on the back of the chair.

"A glass of white wine."

Daniel kissed you on the cheek and went to get you your drinks. You look around to try to recognize someone and notice that Max is coming towards you.

"Hey, Y/N! Wow, you're so beautiful!" he says and takes your hand to spin you to see you well. "Daniel is a lucky man."

You giggle.

"I saw Kelly, she's gorgeous too! And you're a lucky man because you have her."

He laughs and takes a sip of his drink.

"Yes, you're right. She looks great," he says and looks after her.

Kelly was talking with two women you didn't recognize. It was as if she felt the two of you looking at her, she turned her head towards you and waved.

"Daniel will receive an award, right? Good for him."

"Yes!" you say joyful. "I'm so proud of him."

Max leans over and lightly touches your cheek. You look at him with wide eyes, not understanding what was happening.

"You had a fallen eyelash," he says. "Make a wish."

Before you even thought about a wish to make, you heard glasses breaking, then you saw Max thrown to the floor by someone. Not just someone. Daniel.

Your head was buzzing and you couldn't hear what Daniel was shouting. But you could hear the sound of his fists and the screams of several people who immediately came to separate them.

"What the fuck? Daniel!" Max said as soon as he was lifted from under Daniel.

Kelly immediately ran to him and took his face in her hands, looking for the wounds. He was going to have some pretty big bruises.

"She's my girlfriend!"

Your eyes widened and you immediately looked at Max, who mimicked your movements. What the hell was Daniel talking about?

"Yeah, and Kelly is my girlfriend too. Are we still getting to know each other or are you going to tell me what the fuck happened to you, dickhead?"

"And your girlfriend, Kelly, does she agree with this intimacy between you and Y/N? And don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about. I saw you earlier, you almost kissed!"

"Do you hear what you're saying, jerk? She had a fallen eyelash! Get your head out of your ass and realize that no one is trying to steal your girlfriend. Neither I nor anyone else."

You snort and everyone turns to you. Your face had taken on the color of the dress: red. You were angry. You were shaking and you wanted to beat Daniel, but you were at a formal event; although that didn't stop Daniel from punching Max a few times. You take a step towards Daniel and slap him across the face, hard enough to sting.

"In the car. Now!" You command Daniel and head for the exit, all the people who had gathered around you now getting out of your way.

In the car, none of you had said anything. You didn't know if you had to start saying something or you should wait for him. You had so much to say, but how did you get started? You had so many curses prepared for him, but in what order did you tell them? You wanted to die of shame because of the little stunt Daniel did inside.

You snort, probably for the hundredth time in just a few minutes, and get out of the car.

"Where are you going?" Daniel shouted after me.

He's joking? Because it seems so to you. How dare he ask you where you're going, considering that since you got back in the car he hasn't said a damn thing. He even acted as if your presence bothered him. It's like he doesn't care about you.

You wanted to leave. Go home.

It's just a small problem. The building where the gala took place was in a part of town where you had never been before. You didn't know the way back to the house, you didn't have any money with you to get an Uber and you didn't want to enter the building you just left, ashamed, to ask someone to take you home.

Even though you didn't know where you were, you got out of the car and head for the gate you entered by car.

"Y/N!"

You snort angrily and hurry up. You try to keep calm and not run away, although you are sure that you could not run considering that you are wearing huge heels. You don't realize when he got behind you but now he grabs your hand and stops you. You try to jerk, but he only tightens his grip around your wrist. You face him, giving him the angriest look you're capable of, but he doesn't even deserve it.

"Let me go, please."

You frown. Daniel doesn't say anything and doesn't move, as if he were a stone sheepfold. He is tense and slightly agitated. Finally, he withdraws his hand, then passes it through his curly hair, then puts it in the pocket of his cloth pants.

"I am sorry," he says softly and you can barely hear what he said. "I was jealous."

"Jealousy? Why?"

He shrugs.

"I have no idea."

"You do not trust me?" you ask, feeling like you're about to cry.

He nods frantically.

"It's not like that at all... My jealousy does not come from a lack of trust. It comes with the insecurity when I thought that someone may take my place or was trying to take my place."

"But Max and I are in the past, you are my future..." you say and bite your lip. "You had to talk to me, not pull that little stunt inside. Do you realize what the papers will say tomorrow?"

"Do you think you can forgive me?"

"You need to apologize to Max. I won't have the whole face bruised tomorrow."

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imnotwolverine · 4 years

Text

Wolfie’s Fic Recs | Dad!Fics

DAD!FICS - Henry and his characters with kids, wanting kids, making kids. That’s it. That’s this list.

Author’s note: My sincere apologies for how crazy long this list has gotten 😂 It’s like the whole fandom is agreeing on one thing: this man needs a baby ASAP. Also, thank you dear @littlefreya for your ever wonderful suggestions!

With Henry

Single dad Henry is trying to figure out a hair tutorial to please his 4-year old, and it’s the most adorable thing ever. With Flowers In Her Hair by @wanna-do-bad-things

Single dad Henry kinda hittin’ on da nanny? Picture Perfect by @fun-with-jane is a short fic series that’ll get you kinda hot, and kinda bothered (the slow burn..ARGH)

Getting you pregnant is, apparently, a very VERY exact science including honey-wine-&-cookies.. baby. Freyja Dag by @geek-eat-repeat

And don’t forget about timing! THE TIMING! Let’s Make One Of Our Own is the sweaty hot smut you might just crave (am I the only one ovulating right now?), fic by @littlefreya.

Sometimes it’s also just a situation of super sperm, followed by an “oopsie baby”. And when two bullheaded fuckbuddies-to-be-parents are involved, things can get pretty ..engaging: The Rules Of Engagement by @ladyreapermc (multi-chapter).

Or perhaps it’s a situation of Henry and his untameable Hunger, by @littlefreya (yes, it’s breeeeding smut my lassies -- again, forgive me for I am thirsty)

Pregnancy ain’t always sunshine and rainbows. There’s also a lot of change and self-doubt. But that’s nothing some coconut oil and love can’t fix, in Two Months by @littlefreya

There’s a lotttt of first times with having children, which in turn will probably give quite a few heart Flutters for poor protective dad Henry. By @littlefreya

And he’s not just protective, he’s also pretty observant. This Cute Little Drabble makes you wonder when you last bought tampons... by @toomanystoriessolittletime

Newborns? They can be a little fussy. But again, daddy bear is here to fix it! Everything I Ever Wanted by @fuckoffbard

With the brood expanding, it’s getting a little difficult to garner the ever-craved attention of momma bear in This Is War by @cruelfvkingsummer

And when mom isn’t home? Well..the question arises what happened to all the cookies.. Daddy’s day by @angrythingstarlight

Okay, one more by @angrythingstarlight because I couldn’t choose: Baby Talk

And Henry’ll learn soon enough that changing your facial hair should go with a disclaimer. Especially when toddlers are involved. Daddy Who? by @viking-raider

And facial hair also reminds me of this fic; Domestic Life by @writernerd23 (-> “Your face is scratchy, Daddy.” <- CUTE)

The Accidental Family by me. A domestic sad-fluffy short series about memory loss -- After a motorcycle accident, Henry suddenly finds himself living the life he always dreamed of. There’s only one small hitch; he can’t remember how he got here.

And to carry on with the more sad fluff-stuff. How would Henry deal with the less rosy parts of trying to have children - like miscarriage? Negative is a beautiful fic that got me balling my eyes out and you should definitely read it if you’re in the need for some sad, sad fluff. By @oddduckthatgirl

Perhaps things didn’t quite go as planned - whatever the plan was. This sad-to-fluff fic brings you on the rollercoaster of extremely sad to fuzzy warm and happy. Better Off by @toomanystoriessolittletime

More tear-jerkers? 😭Falling Again by @deathonyourtongue follows struggling AU dad!Henry as bills keep piling and the loss of his wife haunts his every waking moment.

Back to the fun stuff - *chants* Rugby dad! Rugby dad! I couldn’t pick just one from the extensive list of rugby dad Henry fics by @hlkwrites and @achaoticaugust - let’s be honest; this should be a genre on its own, so here’s a few:

Henry Cavill, The Rugby Dad Part 2 (smut, daddy kink) I laughed perhaps a tad too loud at the drunk make-out session on the front lawn - here’s some short sexy rugby dad Henry drabbles.

A Rugby Dad’s Guide To Injury Time (smut) I just love smut when it slow, sensual and JUST a tiny bit awkward because you’re on the couch and someone’s leg is in a cast 😜

A Rugby Dad’s Guide To The Off Season (smut) And after the hard toil of keeping a family up and running, it might just be time for a hot (tub) little break

With Sy

A few short, golden moments in becoming first-time parents with Sy - including skin-to-skin daddy cuddles - what else do you want? Evermore by @hauntedelation is a fluffy fic that gets me all kinds of fuzzy inside.

Talking “short” golden moments..this one includes one short reader, a coffee mug and one teasing oaf-of-a-bear Syverson. (smut) Of Short Girls And High Shelves by my fellow Lisa, also known as @killjoy-assbutt-1112 (hi girl!)

Cankles, have never been so hot a subject to talk about as they are in this lovely fic by @crimsonrae: Cigarettes and Morning Breath

And before you know it, you have a whole brood. Will that stop Sy? Meh..probably not. Fourth Time’s The Charm by @cruelfvkingsummer

And once he HAS a daughter? Woof! Dad Syverson is probably just a LITTLE bit too overprotective. But that’s nothing a daughter-dad weekend can’t fix. Daddy Syverson by @connieisland

Imagine this: one big chunky Captain Syverson and one tiny, tiny babygirl cradled in his arms. Are you melting yet? Siobhán is just the cutest little fic, by @littlefreya

We really want Sy to get a daughter huh? And that’ll be particularly funny when daughter sweet becomes old enough for Prom Night -- we’ll be back with overprotective daddy Sy who is ever stubborn, but also ever sweet. By @littlefreya

Onto the holidays: Santa brings back home a 5-year old’s one true wish in Santa Letter Wish by @lovelycavills

And sometimes? You wish the babe would wait JUST a few days before getting born. Christmas, Baby by @its--fandom--darling

Now. To finish off the Sy vibes; are you perhaps in the need of one heck of a good series? Willow Run is one of the first series I read here on Tumblr and it is SO GOOD. I won’t blab and just let you read ❤️ you won’t regret it. By @deathonyourtongue

With Geralt

Geralt, Destiny, one stubborn girl and the Law of Surprise - it’s a recipe for great adventures and funny grumpy dad!Geralt moments. This wonderful multichap fic A Soldier’s Daughter is written by @viking-raider

I know it’s canonically impossible for a Witcher to get anyone pregnant (due to the Trial of the Grasses). But you know..if ..and when..and maybe..then: A Gentle Soul by @killjoy-assbutt-1112

With Marshall

Some mild roleplaying, rough smutiness and unexpected news make this love-making sesh a wild-wild ride. Heart Of Darkness by @littlefreya

Sleepless is a wonderful multichap fic with Marshall x single!mom reader. @feralrunaway gives you awkward barbecue chat and protective Marshall being ever protective. There’s no masterlist, so here’s (I think) all the chapters: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6

Can you imagine big hunky chunk Marshall being worried when you get all teared up with emotion? Baby Blues gives you allll the cute caring dad!Marshall you need. By @the-soot-sprite

With August

A child born out of love and chaos, is all August craves when he comes back home. Mother Of Murder by @littlefreya (smut)

Bad guys, accidental babies and *BOOM* suddenly it’s not just you who calls August “daddy” ((pun intended here, please don’t hate me 😂)) Surprise, surprise.. by @maya-the-cute-ass-bee

And once such that surprise happens, August knows one thing for sure: he’d burn the whole world to a crisp if anything was to happen to you and his unborn child. In this Imagine by @littlefreya

With Napoleon

Sobs, cries and accidentally getting pregnant by spies ((the puns are getting worse, I swear I’ll show myself out in a bit)). On a serious note though: this multi-chapter is an angsty rollercoaster with a tinge of fluff by @coloraturadiva - A Mistake

With Sherlock

Dad!Sherlock fics are surprisingly hard to find, but here’s one: Promises by @zodiyack is a bit of a modern interpretation of a Victorian household, and it sure as hell is delightful!

WEW! That was a LONG list - wonderful work dear fic writers! And, as ever; if you have any good recommendations that fit in this list, please add in the comments or reblog! ❤️

( Fan art by me 😊)

#henry cavill fanfiction #fic recommendations #rpf #dad!henry #dad!syverson #dad!sy #dad!geralt #dad!marshall #dad!august #dad!napoleon #dad!sherlock #wolfie's fic recs

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whoacanada · 4 years

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Zimbits - Bartender!Jack + NHL!Bitty AU

Prompt: Retired NHL player Jack Zimmermann takes ownership of a sports bar in Pittsburgh and accidentally falls for the Penguins’ (closeted) new left winger.

A/N - just the start, I’d like to get around to more of this; the basic idea was an It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia AU, but I couldn’t manage to make everyone that terrible so Jack owns and operates a gay sports bar and starts crushing on one of his patrons.

“Can’t believe you’ve owned this place since ’89.” Jack coughs, waving the dust away from his face. “Did you ever come back after we moved home?”

It’d be disingenuous to say Jack had been expecting anything other than cigars and whiskey when his father had invited him on a trip down to Pittsburgh to see Mario and glad-hand some Penguins sponsors. In fact, he’d kind of been looking forward to sulking and getting shit-faced, not limping around a condemned building dodging roaches and rats.

“It was an investment opportunity. That was the trend back then, famous athletes buying up restaurants and clubs — I had big plans for this building. Then your mother got pregnant and I realized I didn’t really give two shits about running a nightclub.”

“Realized you were pretty lazy, huh?”

As Bob laughs, Jack picks at the peeling, lacquered bartop, trying not to imagine how many decades of grime he’s just collecting under his nail, the situation made even more disgusting in such close proximity to the glittering gold championship ring his father had insisted he wear to their lunch meeting with the Penguins front-office suits. Jack flicks the gunk away as Bob levels him with a weighty look, hands braced in the air as if outlining a play and not offering a tour of a cobweb-filled dive.

“Here’s my thought,” Bob says. “The bar. It’s yours.”

Jack leans against the counter, taking some weight off his braced leg, and asks, “What’s mine?”

“This place,” Bob gestures around the room. “The whole building. It’s just sitting here, empty, the bar, the liquor license, there’s apartments and office space upstairs, we’d just need to do some renovations and —“

Jack can’t help himself. He barks a laugh and says, “I’m not moving to Pittsburgh.”

“How many times have you and I talked about opening a sports bar? I’d wanted to get this place fixed up so it’d be ready when you retired, but since the final — you could make it a gay bar, even, if you wanted!” Bob says quickly, offering another awkward olive branch. “A gay sports bar. I wouldn’t care.”

“A gay sports bar. In Pittsburgh,” Jack echoes, reaching for a chirp to defend himself, but he closes him mouth as he realizes a sports bar run by a Zimmermann might not be a terrible investment idea. “The building needs a ton of work,” Jack settles. “I just saw a rat.”

“That was a mouse,” Bob dismisses, not bothering to look at the rat still clearly in view. “Nothing that can’t be fixed. Got a dollar?”

Jack pats his pockets, finds a spare looney and hands it over. Bob doesn’t hesitate, pulling an envelope out of his back pocket to exchange for the coin.

“Congratulations. You are now the proud owner of,” Bob looks around helplessly. “I actually don’t know what they call this place now. A Bar?”

“I’m sure we’ll figure something out.” Jack swallows against the tightness in his throat, holding the deed carefully in his hands. “Thanks, Dad.”

Bob brings Jack in for a loose hug and they both ignore the soft squeaking coming from the backroom.

Five Years Later

There’s a man examining the announcement board in the vestibule, and Jack knows that posture: the forward hip cant, thick thighs, a small but definite bubble butt — guy’s a hockey player, and he has been for some time.

“Hey. Hi.”

Blondie spins around at Jack’s address. Not quite startled, but something close enough that Jack feels a twinge of guilt. “You interested in playing in our beer league? You look like you might know your way around a rink.”

The man quickly looks at his chest, as if expecting to find something displayed, but relaxes immediately. Jack fights a grin, he was once old hat at wandering into public spaces decked out in identifiable team merch.

“Bitty.” The man squares up to offer his hand; his accent is warm and distinctly southern, not at all what Jack was expecting. “You can call me Bitty.”

“Oh, with a nickname like that, you have to play, now, no excuses,” Jack gives Bitty’s arm a firm shake, surprised at how complementary his grip is; not just an overcompensating bro who’s walked into the wrong club.

“If only I had the time,” Bitty placates wryly. “Is this place new?”

“Been here a few years, but not long. How about you? Are you ‘new’? In town, I mean.”

“Moved for work,” Bitty’s smile is timid, eyes darting around the room looking for other patrons, up at the memorabilia and the various pennants. “First year. Slowly learning the area.”

Jack doesn’t miss the way Bitty’s eyes linger on the Pride flag draped from the second floor railing, but Bitty doesn’t mention it, and Jack isn’t in the business of prying.

“Let me be the first to welcome you to The Bar.”

“I saw that outside, do you not have a name?”

“We weren’t creative. The owner didn’t realize he was filling in the wrong line on the business license so we are literally called ‘The Bar’.”

“That’s actually pretty solid,” Bitty laughs, the sound lifting Jack’s mood easily. “I’ll have to make sure I come back and patron your establishment at a reasonable hour.”

“What you aren’t interested at getting sloshed before noon?”

Bitty laughs, and Jack is enough of an adult to recognize he’s got a tiny bit of a crush.

______

True to form, Bitty slowly becomes a feature of Jack’s early afternoons. The first few weeks, he does little more than quietly purchase a single domestic beer before tucking himself away in a corner booth, hunched over his phone, ball cap pulled low for discretion. Jack gives him space, and aside from a few curious regulars, Bitty is little more than another closeted young man seeking quiet sanctuary.

That is, until, hockey kicks up and Mario hooks Jack up with season tickets beside the bench. It’d taken time for Jack to get comfortable with being in an arena again, especially without the ability to step onto the ice himself, but he’s acclimated and learned to appreciate his new lot in life. He can be happy for his success and mourn the end of his career with equal measure.

(Doesn’t hurt he still gets asked for autographs on the regular.)

Bittle, the new forward traded out of Columbus, spins to whip the puck between Lundqvist’s thighs and the score is 3-2 with a minute left in the third. Jack stands to cheer with the crowd as Bittle’s pulled into a celly with his line mates, and the new angle gives Jack a good look at the man’s sunny face, complete with a familiar, bright smile and missing canine. Jack’s heart leaps into his throat when he realizes Bittle is ‘Bitty’, and Jack can’t help but cheer louder.

________

After the game, Jack does his homework. Pulls up stats pages and articles on Eric Bittle. Looking to link the quiet hottie from his bar with the energetic man he saw tonight on the ice. If Jack wasn’t in love before, he absolutely is after watching highlights from Bittle’s time in Columbus.

The next time Jack finds Bitty slipping into the bar, probably between practice and a good nap, Jack makes his move; filling a pint glass, wedging an orange slice on the rim, and adjusting his shirt before striding to the corner booth as easily as one can with a titanium femur.

“On the house,” Jack says, setting down the glass gently. “Choice goal, Tuesday. Great bounce.”

Bitty’s grateful smile falters, turning into something guarded.

“What goal?” Bitty asks, voice steady, and Jack’s immediately alerted to his misstep. Jack casts a careful eye around the room and doesn’t find anyone watching, kicking himself for not thinking this through. He’s used to playing this game with guys who aren’t quite comfortable, who might be visiting with the wrong people, but he hasn’t had to do the closeted-pro-athlete dance in a while.

“You know, I must have been mistaken.”

“Happens all the time. Very sweet of you, though.” Bitty apologizes and pushes away the beer, but Jack waves him off. It’s the least Jack can do for calling the guy out.

“I should have known,” Jack tries to recover. “You’ve still got all your chiclets. But, between you and me, Bittle’s a spitfire, eh? Crazy soft hands. I’d like to meet him someday.”

Jack whistles low, rapping his knuckles on the table before turning back to the bar, moving slowly enough he catches the way Bitty’s cheeks flare pink at the compliment.

About thirty minutes later, Jack, half focused on counting down the till, nearly misses Bitty’s exit. He looks up to offer a parting wave, and Bitty returns the gesture, flashing a shy, incomplete smile; one canine missing on the left side.

________

“Anything new to report? Sales look good, think you might be able to take some time off and visit your poor parents?”

Jack slides open a window to let some air into his bedroom, not for the first time wishing he’d taken the chance to tear out a wall and convert a corner of the top floor into a balcony. There’s still time — his father never seems to wary of giving Jack renovation loans — but Jack loves his condo and hates the idea of relocating again, even temporarily.

“New distillery opened, cut a deal on some local gin. We’re working on drink specials, if you have any ideas for names I’m open,” Jack eases onto the windowsill and looks down at the line of people waiting to get into the bar. “And I met someone. Think he might be a hockey player.”

“No shit? Beer-league?”

“NHL.” Jack corrects, an edge of caution in his tone he knows his father won’t misinterpret. “Started coming around a few months ago, gave me a fake name. Went to a game last week, scored right in front of me.”

“Well, you going to tell me who or am I going to have to guess?”

“He’s keeping to himself,” Jack holds the curtain steady to catch sight of a particularly flashy person in a glittering teal gown, texting Holster to snag a photo for the bar’s Instagram. “Don’t go hunting.”

“Well, if he needs any help you let me know.”

“What could you do?”

“I don’t know. Talk to . . . someone. I guess.”

“I’ll keep that under advisement.” Jack placates, smiling at the saucy photo Ransom texts back immediately of Holster lifting their favorite Drag Race runner-up above his head like something out of Dirty Dancing.

“So.”

“Mmm?”

“Does this mean you’ve got a little boyfriend, again?”

Jack leans out over the railing and tries to see if the universe has blessed him with a sighting of his favorite new Left Winger. Sadly, it’s Saturday evening and the Penguins are in Dallas, so no Eric tonight.

“Working on it.” Jack offers, rapping his knuckles lightly against the window sill and trying not to think about the way Bittle’s face lights up when he sees that Jack is working. “Think I might really have a shot at something.”

“Well, you know what Wayne always says.”

“I do,” Jack breathes, pressing his forehead against the cool glass, taking in his one-of-a-kind view of the city. “I’ll let you know how it goes. Once he gets back.”

“ — You know, I’ve got the game on right now. I bet you $1000 I can tell who you’ve got the hots for. You have a specific type — ”

“Papa.”

“Okay, I won’t.”

“Thank you.”

“But it’s the kid we just got from the Blue Jackets, isn’t it. Bittle? You always like the fast ones — ”

“Goodnight, Papa.”

#bar au #jack zimmermann #NHL!Bitty #zimbits #Zimmermann #retired Jack #zimbits fic #look I wrote a thing #it's only been forever #my fic #my stuff #omgcp #check please

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