#it's good to anticipate problems! but I need to know what question you're asking and that you actually know what variables are

[voidartisan]

being an online TA really does keep you on your toes because somehow, every semester, without fail, students will independently and confidently invent new and exciting ways to misinterpret even the most basic written directions

[livinghalfway]

Younger Years Pt. 9

Masterlist

Summary: Damian gets temp de-aged to 6yrs old; cue him asking where his twin is. This is how everyone finds out about Danny's existence. Word Count: 2219

Robin was silent as he moved in sync with Batman and Orphan as they jumped from rooftop to rooftop. His chest simmered with anticipation the closer they got to tonight's targets. It had taken almost everyone to stop him from leaving the cave when the location had been confirmed. The only thing that truly stopped him in the end though was information, information on who took his brother just earlier today. 

The GIW or otherwise known as the Ghost Investigative Ward. The name alone normally would have been enough for him to write the group off as a joke. That was before Drake had shown them all the government official paperwork backing them up though. 

It was quickly determined that the organization must have set up somewhere around Crime Alley as the van wasn't seen again on the cameras. That is something that Robin would have loved to sic Red Hood on knowing that he would not take kindly to others causing problems in his backyard. 

Alas, Jason hasn't been talking to any of them for the past week or so after his argument with Bruce. Even going as far to get rid of all tracking devices connected to himself. Normally, the family would let him take his time away to cool off, but this situation is not something that they can simply wait for. 

It was decided that Nightwing would be the one to find and explain to Hood all that has happened over the past few hours. Meanwhile, Red Robin and Spoiler are out on their normal patrol routes as well as on active standby for back-up if this interrogation starts to go south. 

"ETA two minutes, are targets still in place?" Batman asks through the comms as the three of them slow to a stop on a nearby building; waiting for the all clear to approach. 

"Targets haven't moved, you're good to proceed at will." Oracle's voice is calm and even as she responds. "The lights are on, anticipate them being awake and aware." 

"Noted."

With that they all make their way closer to the entry point, and it isn't until they're standing on the balcony that they hear the target's voices coming from inside the hotel room. Batman gives a sign to stay quiet as they listen in.

"- not answering any of our calls, and now it's pitch black outside! It's been hours, Sam!" 

"Which is why we need to come up with a plan for what we're going to do tomorrow. Going out this late into Gotham is just asking for trouble." 

"Right, a plan." the voice is stressed, "We need to figure out what had Danny running out of the building first and foremost then. Something about that place had him on edge, from the moment we got there he was acting weird." 

"You don't think it has anything to do with Damian Wayne do you? I always assumed his adamant avoidance was a joke, but Danny said he would run if he saw him and he did just that."  

Hearing about how his brother was avoiding him was not getting any easier. 

"But why? Clone? Alt-self? That's not something that would scare Danny away this much." 

"…What about a twin?" the feminine voice sounds hesitant to even voice the thought. If only she knew how right she was. Which is exactly why they need to interrupt this conversation now before they can think about it any further. 

Batman seems to think the same thing as he knocks on the balcony door not a moment after. From inside the room all sounds quickly deafen for a few seconds before a quiet masculine voice asks, "Hello?"  

"You did not just say hello!" 

"I panicked ok!" 

His father knocks once more, and this time the door separating them is opened very slowly. In front of them now stands Samantha Manson with Tucker Foley standing not too far behind her. 

"Batman, Orphan, and Robin," she says slowly as she looks at them, "is there a reason you're here?"

"Let's discuss inside," his father says. 

"Can you answer my question first?" Sam asks, her voice full of judgement and determination now. 

Neither group does anything for a few seconds, and once it becomes clear that the girl wasn't going to give in Batman lets out a quiet sigh, "It's about your friend, Daniel Fenton." 

The two teens immediately snap their heads to look at one another at those words; eyes filled with shock.  Whatever silent conversation they seem to be having comes to an end with a nod from them both. Sam then moves aside, and opens the door to let them inside.

The first thing Robin does once inside is fully take in the appearance and body language of the two targets. While Sam put on a confident front it was obvious to tell how nervous she was right now. Tucker on the other hand wasn't trying to hide his own emotions right now. 

Looking at them it's hard to think that these are the people whom Danyal would call friends. That despite only knowing each other for four years probably knows more about his own brother than he does. 

"What about Danny?" Tucker quietly asks. "Do you know where he is?"

"A witness saw him getting grabbed and reported it. The vehicle had G.I.W. written on it, and the information we found on them seemed concerning. Do you know anything about them?" Batman calmly states.

The anger that rises from Sam is immediate, "The GIW! The GIW has Danny!" 

Robin was meant to be silent during this interrogation, but that doesn't stop him from speaking up anyways, "So you do know who they are, what do they want with your friend?"

Sam with anger still ringing turns away, and starts to pace across the room. Tucker meanwhile starts to fidget with his hands as he answers with a question of his own instead, "What- what do you know about the Anti-Ecto Acts?" 

"Explain them." Batman practically demands. 

"They basically say that all ecto-entities are non-sentient, and can therefore be captured and experimented on." 

At the same time Oracle's voice comes through the comms, "I'm looking at them now, B. I don't know how anything like this got passed, but this is going to need the Justice League stepping in to put a stop to it." 

"Hm, and what do they classify as being an ecto-entity?" 

"Well," Tucker looked towards Sam who was still fuming in the corner, "uh…" 

"Worried, scared, nervous, apprehensive, why?" Orphan says gently as she speaks to him. 

"Is there a reason you are hesitant to answer?" Robin questions as well. If there's more to this they will need to know now. 

Before Tucker can answer any of the questions thrown at him a loud thumping sound fills the room. That is when Sam storms back over to her friend's side, cradling the hand that she hit the wall with. "Maybe he doesn't want to because you're all asking questions as if you don't already know the answer to begin with!" 

Batman tilts his head before asking, “Why do you think we know?” 

“You’re Batman! You really want to look me in the eyes, and tell me you don’t know?” The Manson girl does have a point, Robin decides. The fact that Batman does in fact not know the full story for what is happening is astounding especially when it’s something causing trouble in Gotham. “As if you don’t agree with them!” 

“The fact that these acts came to be is a huge negligence on both my and the Justice League part. They were not something that was known to us as of today.” His father’s voice is soft, serious as he speaks. “What we need to know now though is how your friend, Daniel Fenton, comes into play. You said they are taking ecto-entities, what makes Daniel an ecto-entity?” 

Both look as if they still don’t believe what Batman is saying. While he can appreciate that his brother’s friends aren’t immediately spilling all his secrets it is annoying that he doesn’t have the answers he needs to help Danyal. What Robin knows though is that something must have happened for his brother to be an “ecto-entity”.

“Can- can we have a few minutes to discuss alone?” Tucker asks with a nervous smile on his face. All that tells him though is that these two clearly know something that they don’t want to accidentally reveal. 

At first it seems like Batman is going to decline the request, but Orphan speaks up before he can, “Yes, we will be waiting just outside.” Putting a hand on Batman's shoulder she gently turns him around, and gestures for both of them to exit the room. Unsurprisingly, he listens to her silent command.

 Once the balcony door is closed Robin immediately starts his tirade, “They know something, and they don’t plan to tell us; it’s suspicious. These two will need to be heavily monitored from this point forward.” 

“They're scared and don’t trust us. We all want to protect Danyal; give them a chance.” Orphan argues her point to him before her voice takes on a more gentle tone, “you’re jealous.” 

“I’m not!” he defends himself while feeling his face heat up, “I’m just concerned! I have absolutely no reason to-!”

“Robin.” 

“Batman!” Oracle says at the same time as his father, her voice urgent. 

“Oracle report.” 

“Nightwing checked in with me a few minutes ago about Red Hood, and it turns out he hasn’t been seen for two nights. The last night he was spotted was when he had a run in with Black mask’s gang. It was a rough fight for all parties included apparently. He’s checking out Hood’s apartment, and a few warehouses he’s been active in recently.” 

“Hm and he’s not just with the Outlaws?” 

“He’s never left the Alley unattended without some kind of notice before. Regardless of if he was avoiding everyone at the time.” 

“Let me know once Nightwing checks in again.” Batman grunts, “Anything of importance retaining to our situation at hand?”

“I’m searching the GIW’s database now for everything they’re specially hunting for so I’d keep any more questions based around Danyal then the GIW themselves.” 

“We’ll keep the rest of the interrogation brief then, and reconvene in the cave to discuss what you’ve found on the GIW.” 

Robin wanted to make it known that he wasn’t happy with this decision as he would have preferred they stay for as long as needed to get every piece of information the two know. He keeps quiet though knowing that his father would not change his mind. Batman may see a couple of nervous kids trying to be brave in front of him, but he knows that they have the key to every question he has about his brother. 

As if on cue though, a knock cuts through the air before it begins to slowly open to reveal Tucker, “We’re uh ready to continue now.” 

Silently they step inside once more, and before anyone else can say anything Robin is already speaking up, “Why did the GIW take your friend?”  

Batman gives him a disapproving look, but otherwise doesn’t say anything about his outburst. 

They watch as Tucker takes a calming breath, and with a reassuring nod from Sam he finally gives them the intel they’ve been asking for, “Danny’s parents are ecto scientists, he’s grown up with this type stuff in his house. A while ago though he was alone down in the lab when one of the experiments they had been working on suddenly went wild.” 

“After that Danny’s ‘ecto-levels’ were a lot higher, and because of that the GIW now considers him free game to take.” Sam finishes where Tucker left off. 

When they finish their tale Robin makes sure to take a glance towards Orphan to see what she thinks about what they’ve been told. That is when he sees her subtly make a couple hand signs. 

Lie. Half-truth. 

He really wants to push them on the subject, but Batman puts a hand on his shoulder, a silent command to keep quiet for the time being as he takes over, “And they tracked him to Gotham, or was that just a coincidence?” 

“Danny’s been having issues with the GIW for a while now. We found out that they were looking for someone here, and we decided to find them first; to give them a warning about what’s coming their way.” Sam responds. 

Truth. 

“Who? We can find them, and protect them. We’ll pass along anything you want them to know.” 

“We didn’t have a name, all that we know is that they’re a revenant, and that the sensors the GIW use have picked them up all around Crime Alley.” 

Truth. 

“Revenant?”

“It’s- it’s someone who has returned from death.” She explains to them. 

The room feels as if it’s suddenly much colder as they all take in the implications of what she said. There’s only one person they know that has returned from the dead, and frequents Crime Alley. Someone who is currently MIA, and doesn’t know that he is currently being hunted. 

As if it couldn’t get any worse, Oracle has an update for them, “Code: 15H4G-RH. Red Hood has been taken.” 

[thewinterdrafts]

Flesh and Metal | The White Wolf

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader (1st Person)

Word Count: 6,062

Summary: Bucky Barnes is everything you ever wanted—soft, thoughtful, devoted. He loves you with a quiet intensity that should make you feel like the luckiest person alive. But after so many months of being together, he still hasn’t touched you. Not like that. When you finally confront him, you realize the truth is so much deeper. He does want you. He just doesn’t know how to ask. And tonight, for the first time—he’s finally ready to give in.

Warnings: 18+ NSFW, Sub!Bucky (lots of begging you guys), Angst, Swearing, Dominance & submission dynamics, Self-doubt & insecurity, Trauma responses & PTSD, Fear of abandonment & rejection, BDSM themes (light control, praise, permission-based dynamics), Overstimulation & begging, Implied past abuse

A/N: hey guys! this is my first ever story here, and i've worked so hard on it, my brain might dissolve through my ears tonight. i hope you'll like it, happy reading 🤍

📍Masterlist

It has been four months. Four months and one day, to be exact, since Bucky Barnes became mine. I’ve never heard so many people congratulate me and warn me in the same breath, but I never cared. Not when he’s been so precious, so thoughtful, so achingly romantic. Not when he’s spent every single day making me feel like the luckiest girl in the world.

I love him more than life itself. And with him—life and death feel closer than they should.

So why does it feel like I’m still not enough?

Four months, and he hasn't touched me. Not once. Not like that. 

Every time I try, every time I lean in, every time I press just a little too close, he pulls away. Sometimes subtly, sometimes not. Sometimes it’s a hesitant step back, sometimes it’s a firm grip on my wrist, pushing me away just enough to make it clear.

I tried everything. Cute lingerie. Whispered invitations. I even got my hair done for our anniversary last night. Nothing helped, I couldn't shake his composed demeanor, no matter what I did.

Maybe, he doesn’t want me at all. Why would he?

The Bucky Barnes could have anyone. Someone like Natasha—gorgeous, cool, effortlessly magnetic. The kind of woman who could hold her own against a super soldier, the kind who wouldn’t hesitate. The kind who makes sense with him.

Me on the other hand? What was I thinking, believing I would be enough? Just a simple girl, coming from a boring family, with no interesting backstory, nothing to show, nothing to–

"Baby?" Bucky put his face an inch from mine, which immediately snapped me out of my spiralling thoughts. "You okay? Is your stomach upset?" He pointed to the remaining of mac and cheese he cooked. 

He grew to be extremely good at reading my expressions over the past few months. He usually doesn't need to ask; he just knows what's wrong, and eliminates the problem without a word. This time, though, he didn't know. How could he?

"No," I say flatly.

"Sure? Because–"

"I am fine," I snap, louder than anticipated. 

I immediately regret my tone when I see Bucky stiffen, the sound of his metal arm clenching into an unbreakable fist. He takes exactly three steps back from me; measured and calculated. His eyes terrified; I can almost see how he is searching for the possible threats or punishments he would receive, now that he senses the change in the mood. He's still as a sculpture, except for the arms; they are shaking from how strongly he is sqeezing his fist.

Oh, I fucked up.

"I'm sorry. It's just been a really hard week on me, I-"

"You're hurt." 

It's not a question, it's a fact.

"I'm not hurt–"

"I hurt you."

It's not a fact, it's a crime. At least that's how he says it.

I look down to the tiled floor where I can still spot the signs of Bucky's cooking. I cannot look at him. I would need to lie to his face and that is one thing I was never able to do. Not after what he's been through. 

I notice a small movement from him as he takes another step; farther. Way farther away from me. I take a deep breath and force myself to look at him, wishing I didn't as the sight instantly breaks my heart; his eyes are filled with tears, and he's so confused. Scared. Terrified of what is coming. He's gripping onto the side of his shirt, like he always does when he feels unsafe. A lump forms in my throat as I try to open my mouth to speak. I've ruined him. 

"I– uh." The sound I made was barely a whisper, but it made him visibly flinch. "Do you... Do you not... want me?"

Bucky's terrified gaze turns into utter confusion in a matter of seconds. He blinks – for the first time in maybe minutes – as he's struggling to understand my question. I collect all my leftover courage and hope to keep talking. 

"You push me away," I say, trying to be as soft as possible. "We've been together for months, but never... together."

I feel so stupid for not being able to just straight out say it. I'm hoping he somehow understands what I mean, but judging by his scrunched eyebrows, I'm gonna have to be more specific.

 I let out a big sigh and close my eyes to make the embarrassment less painful. "Bucky, we never had sex." 

As soon as the words leave my mouth, his face drops. I lose him again somewhere very far away from me, and he keeps looking at me like I am about to destroy him completely. 

"If you don't want me, that's okay," I assure him, ignoring the bitter taste in my mouth. "I know I'm not the prettiest girl, and you've probably seen better—"

"No!" he snaps, so I lift my head up. He looks horrified, like I've just said something unspeakable. I wait for him to continue, but instead, he keeps staring at me, as if his eyes could tell everything he is unable to.

"No?" I echo. "Then why do you run every time I try to touch you like that?"

He breaks the eye contact by strictly looking at the kitchen counter right in front of him; or at anything that is not me. From all the months I've spent in his presence, I recognize this look too well. He's ashamed. 

"Bucky..."

Silence. He grips the fabric of his shirt, twisting it in his hands. A nervous tick, but to him, a grounding mechanism. He's really trying not to lose himself.

"I—, I don't—," he stutters. "I don't know how."

"What?" I blink. “Bucky, you’ve—” I hesitate. “You’ve been with other women before.”

His head jerks up with a flicker of panic and frustration.

 “That’s not—that’s different.”

“Different how?”

Bucky is refusing to look at me, so I stand up from my seat to make way towards him. He takes a sharp breath when I'm within his reach, but doesn't move. That's a good sign. 

"Look at me, baby," I ask, softly. His eyes snap up instantly, and I see it all there. The fear, the desperation, the battlefield in his head. "Tell me what's wrong."

He tries to do so; he opens his mouth, swallows, exhales, shakes his head, tries again, but he fails, no matter how hard he tries.

"Do you want me?" I ask bluntly.

He nods, still staring at the marble countertop. Okay.

"Are you scared to ask for what you want?"

Another nod. 

"Do you trust me?"

This one is instant.

"Yes."

"Then tell me."

He lets out a shaky breath before he swallows. He turns his head to me, face flustered, his chest moving up and down as he tries to regulate himself.

"Please, can you—," his voice dies before he can finish. He clearly is struggling, like he doesn't know how to want things and the fact breaks a small part of my heart permanently.

"Go on, Bucky. What do you need?" I encourage him.

"I—," he stutters, and then shakes his head hard, like the words are physically hurting him inside his head.

 His body, however, tells the truth on behalf of him. The way his hands tremble and his chest heaves with each exhale, the way his metal fingers twitch against his thigh—he is fighting himself.

I let the silence stretch, waiting, watching the way his face twists with frustration, with hesitation. With want.

“Baby,” I say softly.

His eyes cracks open, blue burning with something raw, something pleading. He sucks in a breath, and for a moment, I think he finally gives in, but then he shakes his head again, hard, turning his face away.

I click my tongue, grabbing his chin, forcing him to meet my gaze. “You want something. I can see it. I can feel it.”

His chest rises sharply, lips parting, but still, he doesn't speak. I lean in, lips brushing against the shell of his ear. 

“Do you need me to guide you?”

His entire body jerks, a sharp inhale ripping from his throat. His fingers are clenching into fists, the tremor rolling through his shoulders like a quake. But he still doesn't answer me.

My grip tightens slightly, my voice dropping to a whisper. “Bucky, if you don’t tell me what you need, I can’t give it to you.”

He exhales shakily, a frustrated, broken sound. His brows knit together, his hands lifting before falling back to his thighs, his whole frame trembling.

“Please,” he whispers.

My heart clenches. “Yes?”

His head dropped forward, breath ragged. “Please… please tell me what to do.”

Oh. 

Oh, fuck.

I smile, slow and knowing, letting the moment stretch, letting him feel the weight of what he's just asked for.

“I’ll show you.” I say, and I find my voice firm. Commanding.

His breath stutters, his entire body tensing, every muscle coiled tight with restraint, with hesitation. He’s fighting it, clinging to the instinct to resist—until I lean in, my mouth brushing over the shell of his ear.

 “If you'll be a good boy for me.”

The sound he makes—soft, broken, fucking relieved—rips through me like a shockwave. My core tightens, ignites, burns, a volcano threatening to erupt at the sheer power of it. 

Bucky Barnes is submissive. For me. 

"Follow me," I say, and as if I freed him from an invisible curse, he makes his way after me.

All at once, every doubt I ever had—about myself, about us—disintegrates. How did I not see this before? How could I have been so blind? He doesn’t need distance. He doesn’t need time. He just needs me. Me in control. Me guiding him. Me telling him exactly what to do.

And fuck, if that isn’t the most intoxicating realization of all, I don't know what is.

I may not be the most experienced woman alive, but that doesn’t matter right now. What matters is that he needs me to be present. He needs me to take this. Own this. There’s no room for doubt, no room to shy away, when he trusts me to take care of him.

I release him just to check his expression, searching for even the slightest hint of hesitation, but to my surprise, I find none. Not a single trace. His eyes track my every movement, locked onto me like a soldier awaiting an order.

And it shouldn't turn me on the way it does.

"Do you want me right now?" My voice is steady, even as I close the space between us, just by one step. 

His gaze sweeps over me, dragging from my lips, to my throat, to my body before he gives a sharp, assured nod.

 "Then take off my dress." 

He moves instantly, without hesitation—like he’s been waiting for this since the moment he met me. His fingers find the hem of my dress; his touch cautious, reverent, like he’s afraid I might pull away at any second. Like he can’t quite believe this is happening.

The contrast of his warm, flesh hand on one thigh, and his ice-cold vibranium fingers on the other, sends a shiver tearing down my spine. Slowly, deliberately, he lifts the fabric over my head, the brush of his knuckles against my skin leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

Once I’m bare before him, he takes a small step back—just to look. His lips part slightly, his breathing uneven, chest rising and falling faster, deeper. His eyes—piercing, devastating—roam every inch of me, burning me from the inside out.

And then, he moves.

He throws the dress across the room without looking, never once taking his eyes off of me. His entire body is vibrating, like he’s barely holding himself together, barely restraining the need thrumming beneath his skin.

The sight of him is stealing every breath I have left.

“Can I take your shirt off?” I break the silence, my own voice softer now.

“Please,” he begs.

I waste no time. I step in, close enough for his ragged breath to ghost over my skin, and strip him bare. It’s a summer night, so he’s only wearing a thin, black V-neck, already clinging to the sweat on his chest–or at least, he was. With one fluid motion, I pull it over his head and let it drop to the floor.

I take a moment, just a few seconds, to admire him.

His body is all strength, broad shoulders and sculpted muscle carved by battle and time. Scars litter his skin, testaments to wars fought and survived, and yet, under the soft glow of the moonlight, he looks like something untouchable. Ethereal. Unreal.

I swallow hard, licking my lips as my gaze travels downward, over his defined abs, the way they tense under my attention, down to the dark trail of hair that disappears beneath the waistband of his boxers. I feel it then—the heat pooling low, the unbearable pulse between my thighs. And he’s just standing there, watching me, eyes so dark they’re nearly black.

I’m already so wet for him, it’s almost embarrassing.

"Undress me," I whisper. 

His breath catches, eyes flash with hunger, the way they always do when he wants but won’t take. But this time, he moves.

With careful fingers, he reaches behind me for the clasp of my bra, hesitant yet desperate. This is as far as we’ve ever gone. Four months of waiting, of skirting the edge, of Bucky refusing to let himself see me without clothes. Back then, I thought it was because he didn’t want me, because I wasn’t enough.

But now? Now I know the truth. He wouldn’t have known what to do. He was afraid to ruin this. Afraid to ruin me.

I snap out of my thoughts as I feel the cold air of the AC dance on my bare torso. My nipples instantly harden as a result, and Bucky notices it just as quickly. His lips are apart, and he's staring at them like an animal on his prey. The way he wants me fills me with every ounce of confidence I’ve ever needed.

"You can touch them," I whisper, not sure he even heard me, but then he takes two steps towards, putting his flesh hand on my waist.

I gasp, the breath catching in my throat as his warm, steady touch trails up my skin. His movements are slow—painfully, torturously slow—like he’s memorizing me with his hands, drinking me in through touch alone. He reaches my left breast and he cups it, his thumb immediately finding my hard nipple. His breath shudders, sharp and heavy, his chest rising with a strained inhale as he circles my achingly hard peak with his thumb, teasing, testing, learning me.

I struggle to hold in my moan, my teeth sinking into my lip as he pinches it, sending a sharp jolt of pleasure straight between my legs. And fuck, he’s watching. His vibranium arm remains stiff at his side, fingers curled into a tight, trembling fist, his jaw slightly slack, his lips parted as he watches himself touch me.

He’s fascinated. Hypnotized. Like this is the first time he’s ever allowed himself to truly want something.

"Both hands, please." My voice is barely a whisper, barely a sound, just a needy, broken plea. His head snaps up, and for the first time in what feels like forever, his eyes meet mine.

His metal hand, still clenched in restraint, relaxes. With slow, careful hesitation, he brings it up, inch by inch, his fingertips skimming my ribs before finally—finally—he touches me. A shiver rips through me, my body instinctively arching into the icy contrast of metal against my heated skin. I don’t pull away; if anything, I lean into him, chasing the sensation, craving more.

"You're being so good for me," I praise, my voice low.

Bucky fucking breaks.

His entire body stutters, trembles; his breath hitching, his knees nearly buckling beneath him as a wrecked, desperate whimper falls from his lips.

Fuck. That has to be the sexiest sound in the world.

“Can I—” His voice cracks, his fingers flexing against my skin. “Can I please kiss you?”

He is pleading, over and over, his voice shaky, utterly undone.

“Please, I need it. Please.”

His words shoot straight to my core, the need in his voice a direct pulse between my legs. I want him so much, I might sublime from the heat he ignites inside me.

I don’t hesitate. I grab his arm, pulling him against me, forcing his bare chest to crash into mine. He melts against me, his body burning, muscles taut, already trembling with restraint. And then, I kiss him. Or maybe he kisses me. Either way, the moment our lips meet, Bucky loses himself.

He kisses me like he’s starving, like he’s drowning and I’m his only air. His mouth is hungry, relentless, desperate, lips crashing into mine as he’s trying to devour me whole.

And fuck, his hands.

They roam everywhere, one gripping the small of my back, the other skimming just beneath my panties, teasing, taunting me, and just when I think it couldn't get any better, his metal hand clamps around my ass, gripping tight, keeping me steady. Feeling the cool vibranium pressing into my heated skin, I moan straight into his mouth, my body shuddering in his hold.

“Put me on the bed. Now.”

The words leave me in a command, and Bucky moves before I can even take another breath. With one arm, just one, he lifts me with ease, like I weigh nothing to him. He lays me down, gentle but firm, already moving to cover me with his body—but I stop him.

“Not yet.”

I shake my head, and he immediately halts, his breathing labored, controlled. He looks wrecked, like he's using every bit of self control to keep himself away from me. Still kneeling between my legs, still so fucking obedient, and yet—his eyes. His fucking eyes, they’re eating me alive.

“Take it off,” I order, nodding toward his jeans.

Bucky keeps his eyes locked on mine, hands trailing down, slow and deliberate as he reaches for the button of his jeans. With a quick flick of his fingers, they’re undone. His piercing gaze never leaves me, his eyes dragging over every inch of my body, devouring, worshipping.

I don't have much time before he stands up and slowly pushes his jeans down. I gasp when I see the thin, black material of his boxers that do nothing to hide him. The thick, heavy outline of him, pressing against the fabric, takes my breath away.

I’ve never seen him like this before. Not even close. I’ve felt him—hard, pressing against me on nights where he’d let himself have just a little. But then he would stop and shut it down. I couldn't understand why, not until now, and I don't have one second to think about it, because he pushes his boxers down. His cock is finally bared to me in full, and Jesus fucking Christ.

He is huge. How is that gonna fit?

“Please,” I hear a small plea towards him, and I shot my eyes back to his face. 

His breath is wild, erratic, chest heaving like he can’t get enough air, like he’s on the edge of breaking. His flesh hand is poised, ready to touch himself, to relieve even an ounce of the pressure, but he doesn't. Not without my word. I bite my lip, reveling in the power of it, in the way his entire body trembles under restraint.

“Take this off, too,” I instruct, gesturing to the lace panties that I’d bought months ago—back when I thought he’d see them then.  Back when I thought we’d be here so much sooner. 

But I don’t have a single complaint left in my body, because when Bucky finally moves—he rips them off. The thin fabric tears from me in one sharp pull, and for a split second, I wonder if he just ripped them in half.

His eyes drag over me, drinking in every inch of bare skin, mapping the places he’s never let himself truly look at before. I feel just how wet I am, now that there’s nothing to soak up the slick. I can feel it all pooling between my thighs, proof of just how badly I want him.

A flicker of  shyness grips me—how did I get this lucky? How did I end up with him, undone and starving, in front of me? But I don’t let myself hide; instead, I sit up slowly, deliberately, my movements calculated, letting myself kneel on the soft mattress.

I look up at him, like I could devour him with a single breath. The six-foot-tall ex-assassin is towering over me, radiating pure heat, his entire body coiled tight like a predator barely holding back.

And then, soft as a prayer, I say, “I want you.”

As if I’ve broken a curse, Bucky snaps. His fingers clamp around my throat, his mouth slamming into mine, the sheer force of it knocking me back onto the bed. He pins me down, all of his weight pressing into me, heavy, suffocating, absolutely fucking perfect. The way he kisses me makes me crazy; he's hungry, possessive, and so filthy, I can only moan as a response.

His cock, thick and heavy, sliding between my soaking slit, his length gliding right over my clit with each slow, torturous grind.

“Fuck—” I moan straight into his mouth, my hips instinctively tilting up, chasing every ounce of friction he gives me.

I lose every bit of control I had left. Overcome with greed, I grab at him, pull at him, take as much as I can. My fingers tangle in his long hair, keeping him locked to me, refusing to let him break the kiss for even a second. 

I let my other hand wander; I trace the sharp lines of his back, trailing lower, until my palm finds his ass. I squeeze, hard, forcing him to rock against me even harder, dragging his cock rougher, deeper through my slick folds. My breathing is a wreck, my body moving instinctively, clinging to him, needing more, more, more.

I want him. All over me. Inside me. Taking me apart.

“Can I—” His voice shatters, breathless. He pulls back just enough to meet my gaze, his eyes wrecked with need.

“Can I please put it in?”

And fuck, he looks at me like a puppy, wide-eyed, begging.

“Please, I’ll make you feel so good,” he purrs against my neck, teeth grazing my skin, lips pressing open-mouthed kisses.

“God, yes,” I groan.

Bucky grabs himself, his fingers shaking with need as he positions his cock right at my entrance. He could thrust in immediately, take what we both want without hesitation, but he doesn’t. Instead, he pauses; his eyes flick back up to mine, searching, waiting, needing something more.

And I know exactly what he wants.

“Be a good boy and fuck me, Bucky.”

I'm way past hesitation or shame. All I want is him taking over me, claiming me, pressing me into himself. The words shatter something inside him; his mouth parts, his pupils blown wide, and then—without ever breaking eye contact—he slides inside.

A broken moan leaves my lips as my spine arches, my body opening for him, stretching around him, and fuck, he fills me.

Completely. Entirely. Devastatingly.

I’ve been aching for this moment for months. I’ve fantasized about him taking me, and now he’s finally inside me. A deep pressure builds low in my belly, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes as he pushes deeper and deeper, until I feel the blunt tip of his cock press against my cervix.

He’s so fucking hard. I can feel him throbbing inside me, feel the pulse of his cock against my walls, and it drives me insane. I wait for him to finally move, but after a few seconds of stillness, I open my eyes.

Bucky is watching me so carefully, his eyes flicking over my face, searching for even the slightest sign of discomfort. His arms shake violently, his knuckles white from gripping the sheets beside my head. He’s breathing fast, erratic, his small, shaky breaths cold against my ear. And he’s moving too slowly, like he’s terrified of losing control.

“Relax, baby. You can let go.”

I lift my hand, gently stroking his beautiful face, my voice barely a whisper. His eyes soften, then immediately darken.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he rasps, his voice hoarse, ruined.

“You can’t,” I assure him. “I can take it. I want to take it.”

The sound that escapes him—a helpless whimper, like he’s been waiting his entire life to hear those words. His body trembles, his control hanging by a thread, his cock twitching inside me at the sheer relief of it.

He might be above me, but he is completely at my mercy.

“You’re doing so good,” I murmur, just inches from his lips, my breath fanning over his skin. “Don’t stop.”

The second I say it, he melts.

Raw, desperate need unleashes from him so suddenly, it knocks the breath from my lungs. I wheeze in surprise, barely able to keep up before he grabs the bedframe above my head with his vibranium arm and picks up the pace—hard. The deep, wrecked moan that rips from his throat sets me on fire; a wildfire raging low and uncontrollable, consuming every last of my coherent thoughts. All I know is him—the way he moves, the way he fills me, the way every precise thrust hits where I need him most.

I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him impossibly closer, and he collapses into me, his mouth claiming mine in a sloppy, desperate kiss. His thrusts are relentless, shaking the entire goddamn bed, and I have to grip his vibranium arm for dear life just to keep myself in place.

Somewhere in his haze, even now, he thinks to protect me—his flesh hand cradling the top of my head, shielding me from the bedframe. My chest tightens at the gesture, and I let my lips trail down his sweat-slicked neck in silent gratitude, my teeth grazing over his skin.

Something inside me snaps as I feel his salty skin on my tounge. My nails rake down his back, digging into the hard muscle, desperate to leave my mark. My teeth sink into his shoulder, biting, scratching, taking him. We’re sliding against each other, slick with sweat, the heat of the summer night making everything feel even filthier, more raw, more real.

And Bucky is falling apart.

He’s moaning, breaking, unraveling against me, the sounds deep and ragged, each one rougher than the last. If I didn’t know better—if I didn’t know how utterly overwhelmed with pleasure he is—I’d think he was in pure agony from the helpless little cries slipping from his lips.

“Tell me I’m good for you,” he whispers, almost afraid to ask, his lips brushing against the shell of my ear.

Oh. My. Fucking. God.

“You’re such a good boy for me, Bucky.” 

The words fall from my lips like a promise, and fuck, the sharp, broken gasp he lets out shreds me to pieces. It’s high and desperate, so fucking needy, and it goes straight to my core.

He kisses me, hard and possessive.

“I’ve been waiting…” His voice is unraveling, barely understandable.

”… for so fucking long.”

Then suddenly—

Thrust.

“And you—”

Thrust.

“Feel—”

Thrust.

“So—”

Thrust.

“Good.”

His voice rasps in pure, guttural pleasure. I’m nothing but a puddle beneath him, completely ruined, and somehow, he’s not finished.

His rhythm snaps, his thrusts turning harder, rougher, deeper, more possessive.

“Mine,” he snarls, his voice low, primal. He slams into me, hard, forcing me to take it.

“Mine, you understand?”

I can’t speak. Can’t think. There’s no rational thought left, no words, just pure, consuming pleasure. So instead, I match his pace, my hips rolling up to meet every devastating thrust. The way his words set me on fire, I let the flames consume me. My orgasm builds dangerously fast, and I’m hanging by a fucking thread, barely holding on under the brutal precision of his movements.

“Bucky—God—”

His name falls from my lips like a prayer, breathless and desperate.

“I’m—”

Judging by his increased pace, he knows exactly what I'm trying to say. He lifts himself, just enough to look me in the eyes, and I’m trying so hard not to let my eyes roll back, not to completely lose myself in him.

“Please.”

His voice shatters, breaking apart in my ear, pleading.

“Please cum on my cock. Please, baby, please—”

This is all I need to spiral. The coil inside me snaps violently, my entire body arching, shattering as a scream tears from my throat. I crash into pleasure, drowning in it, my walls clenching tight around him, milking him, pulling him deeper.

“Oh, fuck—” Bucky’s voice breaks, his hips stuttering, his rhythm completely unraveling as he feels me fall apart around him.

“That’s it—fuck—that’s my girl.”

His praise sends a violent aftershock through me, my body trembling, shaking, completely spent. I gasp for air, trying to regulate myself after the most devastating orgasm of my life, but I don't stand a chance. Bucky's not finished, not yet.

“I—I can’t—”

Bucky’s voice isn’t even human anymore. It’s a shattered, breathless little whimper, choked between desperate gasps, his body trembling like he’s about to break. His hips falter, his cock twitching so agressively inside me I swear I can feel it in my throat.

But he won’t let go. Not yet.

Not without permission.

“Please—”

The word falls apart in his throat, barely even understandable.

“Please, baby, please—please let me cum, I need it, I need you, I can’t hold it, I can’t—”

He’s whining, his breath is gone, his voice is gone, his body is gone; he is completely, utterly mine.

“Release it, baby.” My fingers tighten in his hair, dragging him deeper inside me. “Be a good boy and give it to me.”

And that’s it; he doesn’t just fall apart—he disintegrates.

His hips slam forward, burying himself so fucking deep inside me, holding us together, his muscles locking up, convulsing. And if this wasn't enough, he whimpers.

“Ohhh—fuck, fuck, fuck—”

His cock twitches and throbs uncontrollably, and I feel everything. The first violent, overwhelming pulse. The hot, thick flood of him spilling deep inside me. His hips keep jerking, his muscles keep locking up, his whimpers keep breaking apart into desperate, breathless sobs.

“Baby, baby—please, please, oh my God, I—I can’t—”

His hands claw at my waist, face burrowed into my neck, his breath a gasping mess. His voice cracks, completely breaking apart, and then a single, desperate sob escapes from him.

He cries. Bucky Barnes cries when he cums.

His body shakes uncontrollably, his hips rocking forward on their own, like he’s trying to push it even deeper, like he’s chasing something he’ll never be able to reach.

“Baby, baby—please hold me, please—fuck, I love you, I love you so much—”

His voice is cracking, completely gone, and I gasp as I feel another orgasm building inside me. Another slow, rolling wave, ignited by his moans, his desperate little whimpers, the way he’s still trembling inside me.

“Bucky—oh, fuck—”

The second he realizes what’s happening, it destroys him all over again.

“Baby, you’re gonna— Fuck, fuck, fuck—please, baby, please—”

His hips snap forward as a last burst of desperate energy, his hands gripping my waist so tightly I feel the bruises forming.

“Oh, baby—please, please cum on my cock again, I wanna feel it—please, baby, please, please—”

The filth of it, the raw need in his voice immedately shatters me. I scream his name, my body convulsing around him, my walls tightening, pulsing, taking him deeper, squeezing him so hard he sobs.

“Oh—oh fuck, baby, I’m still cumming—”

His cock throbs again, another weak, helpless little spill, and he whimpers so high and wrecked he sounds like he’s dying.

“I can’t stop—baby, I can’t stop, I can’t stop—”

His breath is gone, tears spilling onto my skin, his voice a trembling, begging mess, pleading for the final release. Not a moment later, he collapses.

His body slumps into mine; arms useless, his breathing erratic and broken. His tears still fall, his entire body shivering, overstimulated, still whimpering, still sobbing.

He’s still inside me, throbbing. Utterly gone from this world.

His hands stay locked firmly around me, fingers clutching, shaking, gripping, like he’ll die if I let go. And on top of that, he just won't stop crying. Soft, helpless little sobs hide into my skin, as he's holding onto me for dear life.

“Baby,” he whispers, his voice so broken and small.

“Baby, please don’t let go—please don’t go.”

My heart shatters to a million pieces in a matter of seconds. It becomes evidently clear that he's not here right now. He’s somewhere else, somewhere dark, somewhere cold, somewhere where he had nothing and no one. I feel it in the way he clings to me and his hands shake as they grip my waist. The way his face tucks into my throat, burrowing, searching, nuzzling like he’s trying to disappear into me; like he’s afraid this isn’t real.

"Shhh, Bucky,” I murmur, kissing his damp temple. “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

Even though I wanted my words to soothe him, he breaks even more instead. His breath catches on a sob, his entire body curling into me, fingers fisting in the sheets, in my hair, in anything he can hold onto. 

“You’re so good to me,” he gasps, his voice shaking. “So perfect, so soft, I—fuck, I don’t deserve this—”

His lips quiver against my skin, hands tightening around me, pulling me closer. The realization that he’s not just crying from overstimulation, hits me like a brick. He’s crying because he’s never felt this before.

Never felt this safe. Never felt this loved. Never felt this cherished, taken care of. 

“Bucky,” I whisper, cupping his tear-streaked face, making him look at me.

His blue eyes are glassy and vulnerable, still wet with tears. God, he looks so much younger like this. Like a little boy, back in the ‘40s, nineteen years old, held too many responsibilities, never got held in return.

I immediately want to fix every bad thing that's ever happened to him.

“You deserve all of this, my sweet boy,” I whisper, pressing my lips to his forehead. “You deserve every single second of love. You deserve to be taken care of.”

He lets out a tiny little sob that slits my heart in half, like a butcher knife.

“But I—” His voice cracks, his fingers digging into my waist. “I don’t—I don’t know how to do this. I don’t—”

His breath hitches, his chest rising, falling too fast. I know him enough to realize he’s panicking, his brain is fighting him, pushing against the comfort, trying to tell him he doesn’t deserve this.

I also know how to shut it down. I pull him into me, wrap my arms so tightly around him that he has no choice but to believe that this is real. I'm real.

“It’s okay, baby,” I say gently, stroking his hair, feeling his body relax against mine. “You don’t have to know how. Just let me love you.”

He immediately eases into me, his breath slowing, his shaking finally dying down. He doesn't know, but he's holding my own broken pieces together too, since I've never felt a love so consuming before. 

“If I fall asleep,” he whispers, as if he is about to say something unthinkable, “will you be here when I wake up?”

My dear God. 

"Of course, Bucky. I'll be right here, always," I promise, my voice firm, not leaving any space for doubts in his broken mind.

He buries his face into my neck as an answer, and with that, Bucky Barnes is fast asleep in my arms.

[wonybi]

Akaashi Keiji || Love in Destruction

I did not proofread this oops, might be a little ooc but I just love Akaashi so so so so much I can't

Slight Angst!! Fluff!!

Akaashi Keiji was fed up to say the least. He has had enough and is so close to losing it, which is much to his dismay as he prides himself in his patience and ability to analyse a situation. You however made it ever so hard for him.

See, Akaashi was not a dumb man, he knew you liked him and he knows for sure he is desperately in love with you too. He's done everything right, makes sure to take you out on dates when you're free or need a break, he made sure to be there for you and help you with anything you needed, he planned the dates, picked you up and made sure to drive you home every single time, would leave sticky notes on your textbooks with reminders and compliments. He notices and remembers every little detail about you, your favorite movies, songs, colours, the type of material you look for when shopping for clothes, the brand of stationary you use, how you don't like certain foods cause the aftertaste lingers a bit too long for your liking. 

He knows you like he's known you all his life. He's done all these things for something who he isn't even dating, but he's more than happy to because he loves you. He knows you love him back. Which now poses the question, why won't you date him? You have feelings for him, he has feelings for you, it just makes sense. So why won't you let him fully in? Why are you pushing him away?

This is what he's going to find out today. Akaashi is waiting outside your lecture hall at this very moment, fiddling with his fingers and anxiously counting down the minutes until you leave. His head snaps to the door as he sees people leave. Then he sees you, and unfortunately for him you see him too. What Akaashi didn't anticipate was you bolting out the halls. 

Trying to outrun Akaashi was a stupid idea though, as a former high school athlete he would easily catch up, and he did. Both of you were panting as you made it to the other side of the campus, catching your breath.

"I thought you said you were unathletic," Akaashi said, with a breath between each word.

You stayed silent until a bottle of water came within your view. You mumbled a thank you before drinking from it. 

Akaashi just silently stared as you chugged the water down. 

"Please don't run away again" He said, his voice soft, vulnerable, afraid that if he said the wrong thing you'd actually run away again.

"Can I ask? Did I do something wrong? Do you just not like me? If you don't I can leave y/n. Just let me understand you…" he said, each word coming out more desperate than the other. 

"I don't know… it's stupid, it's a long story. I don't want to take up your time anymore than I already do"

"For you I'd give all the time I have in the world, and not a single second of it would be a waste."

You sigh and look away. "You're too good for me"

"I'm not" Akaashi deadpans "But even then, you deserve good, more than that. What's the problem"

"My ex… when we started dating was the nicest man ever. But eventually we fought a lot, I tried to accomodate what he wanted and changed for him if it meant I could keep him. He left anyway, and I was a mess" 

Akaashi didn't know where this was going, but listened anyway.

"But that wasn't enough, somehow turned all my friends against me. My closest friends viewed me as a nuisance, I had no one to turn to for comfort because they all thought I did something wrong. I had no one. When I thought everything was fine, when I rebuilt those friendships he came back, and I let him yet it somehow became worse than the previous. I lost two years of my life, giving and trying for a man who only wanted me when it was convenient for him.  He told me I had no self respect, I was a chore, that no one wanted to be close to me because that's where the problems began"

Akaashi didn't even notice how hard his fists were clenched, how his fingernails were pressed so hard against his skin that it would surely leave a mark. But he noticed how yours were.

"Then I noticed it didn't start from just him, yes he ruined my life but it wasn't just him. Those friendships I rebuilt, I don't even talk to any of them now, because if I don't reach out they don't either. I apologized countless times for things that aren't even wrong and I never heard an apology from anyone in my life. Not from my friends I grew up with, not from the girl I moved to this city with." 

Your rant came to an abrupt stop as tears started rolling down your face. You used the sleeves of your sweater to quickly wipe them away, head down, not wanting to look Akaashi in the eyes. 

"I try so hard for everyone in my life. I try to play this picture perfect role but it's never enough Keiji.. and I'm so tired. Everyone just sees the worst in me and I don't know what to do about that"

"Do you believe what they say about you?" Akaashi asked, not fully knowing what to say.

You shook your head

 "I'm different from before…" you said, your breath steadying. "My point is… you're nice Keiji, really nice to me. You do everything perfectly and you just are. I don't want to get in the way of whatever you want to do with your life"

"That's not it" 

You lift your gaze, snapping out of whatever slump you were in, your confused eyes met serious blue ones.

"That's not it… that's not the reason" Akaashi stated. "Some people may not think you're smart, hardworking or kind, but I know you see that in yourself. You just confirmed that when I asked if you believed what they said. I've seen you work, you get stuff done, you make sure to take care of yourself and you do make time for important people in your life. How could you possibly get in my way, in fact I want you there with me— "

"I don't think I can love without destruction" you blurted out, cutting Akaashi off.

"What?"

"I don't think I can love without destruction" you repeat. "You're so good to me Keiji, and overall such a nice person… I'm scared that I'm like cursed or something.. that I won't ever be able to love or experience a love that doesn't destroy me. Cause that's what life has been proving to me so far."

A silence enveloped the two of you, despite the birds chirping in the air, the cars and bikes passing down the busy road not too far from you guys, the sound of students rushing out the building on the other side, all the both of you heard was silence.

"There will be destruction" 

"What?"

"There will most definitely be destruction, if you let me," Akaashi repeated. "Let me destroy that ideal for you, and I know just my word's can't prove that. I am more than willing to chase you towards the ends of the earth, destroying everything and everyone who will get in our– get in your way. Let me destroy your fears, your bad ideals, all those negative thoughts you have of yourself."

You just stood there, speechless as you stared at him.

"Destruction doesn't always need to be a bad thing… And I can show you that…" Akaashi said softly, his hands finding yours, his thumbs rubbing the back of your hands. "There will most definitely be destruction, but only, only if you let me"

[mongoosingisme]

H'okay, trying this again on the big internet (formatting is hard on a phone)

Responding to this LOVELY 2-part ask from a couple days ago, specifically part 2.

It's a direct continuation of Pepper Problems, so you'll prolly want to read that first (but I mean you do you).

I expect to tie two more requests into this series, so if you're waiting on me I SEE YOU I HEAR YOU I LOVE YOU SO SO SO MUCH YOUR TIME IS COMING.

Okay. Housekeeping over.

Title: (Insert clever title here - the draft is called "Shane Longing Two")

Pairing: Shane x fem!farmer

Word Count: 2929

Rating: Explicit - 18+ Only, if you would be so kind

Fic and tags under the cut!

Tags: Fantasized oral sex, actual honest to goodness oral sex, longing, pining, yearning, etc etc etc, also some boob touching

The farmer was a problem.

Shane had given up trying to solve it. There was no solving with her. Only enduring.

He knew how to endure.

She’d gotten comfortable with him over the months. Sliding onto the stool next to his a few times a week. Telling him about her day, whether he asked her about it or not. Trading jokes with Emily. A wave and a cheerful greeting to anyone who passed by.

Still a ray of fucking sunshine, even as the days grew short and dark and the holidays approached.

Shane hated this time of year.

There was the practical (gifts: what do you even get for a six year old? Or your aunt, who’d been looking at you like she once looked at an injured donkey, a look of frustration and pain and anticipated grief?)

There was the existential (another year with no changes, just the spiral of existence crushing in closer, same and same and same yet somehow heavier and heavier and heavier)

There was the farmer, showing off a dress that Emily had made for her.

She stood and twirled. “What do you think?” 

She was talking to the writer. The one she talked to Emily about. Mr. “He’s really handsome, isn’t he? With the hair and all? But he’s focused on his writing right now and I’m not looking for anything so we’re just gonna keep it as friends.”

“A vision!” The writer was leaping up, spinning her around. A dervish of velvet and curves gently hugged, toes barely seeming to touch the floor.

If she asked what Shane thought about her dress he’d say nothing. Because what he thought is that he wanted to know what she was wearing underneath, and if what he could uncover would feel as soft on his tongue as the fabric he’d crush and tear to get there.

See? A problem. A big fucking problem that wasn’t getting any better.

“I don’t want to go.” She was sitting down next to him, the lightness gone from her voice. Always so much quieter when he was near her. 

“So don’t.” Not much more to say than that.

She sighed. “Yeah, but it’s the holidays and it’s family, y’know?”

Shane didn’t know, but he absolutely was not opening that can of worms, no fucking thank you.

He made a noncommittal sound.

“Oh! I just remembered!” She tapped the back of her hand against his shoulder. She was always touching him like that, all casual and off-hand. Every time it felt like a shock going through him. Kept his mind from clouding, from drifting. 

He loved it and he hated it. 

“I was gonna ask - could you look in on the chickens for me while I’m gone? Just once or twice? They should be all set up with food and stuff, I just hate to think of the heater going out or something.”

“What do I get out of it?” His question was for show. He’d do whatever she needed in a heartbeat.

She didn’t need to know that, though.

“The satisfaction of a job well done?” She gave him her best “I am sunshine incarnate” smile.

Shane gave her a look of disgust. 

It made her laugh.

He liked it when that happened.

He wanted it to happen more.

It was a problem.

“Check in on the house too and I’ll pick up your tab for a couple nights. I don’t trust the boiler - wanna make sure it keeps pumping while I’m gone.”

“Yeah, alright.” He did his best not to sound eager. Like the idea of poking around her house a bit wasn’t appealing. Like he wasn’t actually the creep he knew he was.

“Thank you.” She sounded relieved, gave him one of those real smiles. 

Shane didn’t respond. He just took a drink.

“Your dress!” Emily had caught sight of the farmer, was hurrying over to see her. 

“My dress! It’s perfect! Thank you!” She was standing again, spinning, light and joyful, the skirt flaring out in a way that let Shane catch a glimpse of thigh.

The farmer always wore pants.

She was less of a problem in pants.

“You look incredible! Shane! Doesn’t she look amazing?”

Fucking Emily. She knew exactly what she was doing. 

What was he supposed to say? That the dress was sparking a new obsession? That he was fixated on how loose the skirt was, how easy it would be to ruck up, how anything she was wearing underneath would be nothing, nothing to rip and tear and pull aside? That the velvet could fall around his head, muffling the sounds she’d make, just a little, as he ran his mouth and his tongue and his lips and his fingers over the part of her that had to be the most warm, the most her?

Was that what he was supposed to say?

The farmer gave him that fake grin again. The sunshine one. The one that made her eyes sparkle. 

It was an out, he realized.

“Seen better,” he said, and took a drink.

“Ugh!” The farmer put her hands over her heart as though wounded. 

“See, he was raised in a barn,” Emily said. “Literally right next to a horse’s ass. Really rubbed off on him.”

“You rubbed off on a horse’s ass?” 

Shane shot the farmer a sideways look. She was smirking. Fucking cutie.

“It was a magical time,” Shane droned. 

Emily rolled her eyes. “You two deserve each other.”

“Not sure if that’s an insult or a compliment.” The farmer settled back down.

“Insult,” Shane and Emily said together.

“Well, fuck you too, then!” the farmer said cheerfully, and drained her drink.

———————

Shane had been drinking more these days.

It wasn’t a problem.

Everything else was the problem.

The sound Marnie would make when he retched in the morning.

The way work made his shoulder ache.

The way his boss looked at him like he wasn’t quite a full person.

The way Jas would wake up crying some nights, gasping, sobbing, reaching out and clutching and there was no calming her, and it was easier to just let Marnie take care of it, to soothe her like she used to soothe him, to put a pillow over his head and drown in uselessness, to wonder if she really would be worse off without him.

The farmer.

So it was established. The drinking wasn’t the issue. 

He was going to skip it that night anyway. Head straight for the farmer’s house after work, check on the chickens, go and inside and… fuck, what was it he was supposed to do?

But it was cold out, and work had been long with all of the holiday merchandise going out, so he’d stopped by the saloon for a drink or six.

It was still cold when he left. Colder, really, snow coming down all hard, like pellets, and he’d forgotten his gloves that day. He wasn’t moving all that fast. The road kept jutting up to make him stumble. It took a while to get to the farm. 

He was shivering as he finally ducked into the coop. All was well, the chickens warm and cozy. The heater was running. It felt nice on his chilled cheeks. The coop smelled good, all fresh shavings and warm, healthy hens. He thought about picking one up, letting its heat soak into his hands, but they were sleeping and he didn’t want to disturb them.

The farmer’s door was locked. The key was under the mat like she said, and the house felt warm when he stepped inside. He turned on a lamp by the door.

He’d never been in her house.

It was messier than he expected. Tools strewn on the kitchen counter. A pile of books and mail on an armchair. Clumps of fur in the corners (did she have a pet?). Laundry piled on the back of the couch.

He drifted over.

His hands were a problem. 

They were picking up a shirt from the pile of laundry, bringing it to his face. It smelled worn, a faint scent of soap covered by something earthier. He breathed in deep.

His cock twitched.

The room was spinning, just a little.

It wasn’t a problem.

He wondered what else he could find in her laundry pile.

His cock was getting harder.

It was okay. He had infinite space for shame.

He lifted the next garment (leggings, by the look of them) when he heard a rhythmic banging. Boots knocking off snow on the front porch. He dropped the pants, kept his body turned towards the couch as the door opened.

“Fuck!” It was the farmer. He turned part way to look at her. She was covered in snow, velvet dress peeking out from a puffy coat, holding a hand over her heart. “You scared the shit out of me!”

“Sorry, sorry,” Shane mumbled.

His cock was a problem.

She was a problem.

“Shit, you’re here. I tried to text you, but Yoba forbid I get any fucking service when we’re going through the desert.” She was shaking out her coat, hanging it up. “The thing got cancelled due to the storm, and of course no one tells me until I show up at the fucking venue, and if they think I’m going to hang around after all that they have another fucking thing coming.” 

Shane took a deep breath. Tried to will himself to relax.

His stomach was churning, fear and beer and embarrassment and want.

The room felt a little fuzzy around the edges.

“So I’m back, and it is fucking freezing out there.” She was messing with the thermostat. Shane heard the boiler start to purr somewhere below him.

He tried to focus on the sound, and not the way the farmer looked.

Her hair was wet, melting snow dragging it down.

Cheeks ruddy. Eyelashes dark. 

Fucking delicious in that dress.

A problem.

“I’m an ice cube, feel my hands!” 

“Fuck!” She’d pressed her cold fingertips to the back of his neck.

“You’re so warmmmmmm….” A hint of a moan. 

Something in him was fraying. 

“Except for my hands.” His voice was only a little ragged. It was playful, right? Giving as good as he got? Turning to face her, pressing his hands onto her neck and shoulders.

Yoba, she was warm there.

She made a sound of mock distress. “Gloves, Shane! Have you ever heard of them?”

The room was swimming now. The farmer was the only thing that felt real.

Her skin was so soft. His hands were moving on their own, fingers spreading, tracing down, brushing over the deep red velvet and the curves beneath.

Pressing.

The fabric was soft, but not as soft as the farmer.

“Shane?” She didn’t sound mad. She didn’t sound scared. She didn’t sound disgusted.

She sounded… curious.

She sounded like a problem that needed to be solved. 

Sometimes you could solve a problem with finesse.

But sometimes a grenade was also a solution. 

Shane knew where his strengths lay.

He fell to his knees.

“Are you alright?” Her hands were reaching down for him, gentle, worried. His were doing what they’d wanted to do since he’d first laid eyes on that dress: clutching at the skirt, pulling it up, letting his mouth fall forward.

“Fuck,” she gasped as he pressed up between her thighs. “How much did you… fuck.”

He had to press in deeper, to mouth against her. His lips were moving. The stubble that plagued his chin and cheeks caught at the nylon hose she wore. It pulled at his face. It separated him from her.

It was a problem.

So he solved it. The thin fabric parted easily beneath his fingers. Her dress draped over his head, just like he imagined it would, soft and quiet, blocking out the world.

But not the farmer. 

She was right there. A cry of surprise as he ripped her tights. Hands in his hair now, gripping tight, and fuck, he knew it, he fucking knew it, knew that she’d know just what to fucking do. He knew she’d grab hard, press him into her, press herself into him, offer herself up to his mouth and his teeth and his tongue and his fingers, fingers pulling, pulling cotton aside to reveal soft, warm, fragrant skin. 

So warm. So fucking warm.

So much softer than the velvet.

So pretty.

He ran his tongue down the place she parted. She whimpered, shifted her legs, tried to open up for him.

(what a good fucking girl, he knew it, knew she’d be so fucking good for him when he got his mouth on her…)

He could help with that. Shift forward and hook her leg up over his shoulder (the good one, the one that still felt strong and capable). Steady her as she leaned back against the couch. Pull and pull and pull at the gusset of her panties, the backs of his knuckles brushing against her folds as he did so. She gasped, pulled him in deeper, and she was all soft and wet and warm and welcoming, inviting him to taste, to fucking delve, and so he did. Tongue loose at first, covering as much as he could in case she changed her mind, pushed him away, left him sprawled on the floor, useless and alone.

But no, she was making noises, good noises that said he was supposed to stay right there.

(fuck, the noises she was making, breathy and needy, whines and gasps and little moans, better than he could have imagined, so much fucking better, raw and honest and real and good, almost as good as the way she tasted…)

So right there is where he stayed. Mouth wide, tongue firmer, listening to the sounds she made, cataloging the way she moved. Her hips were shifting, like she was trying to bear down on something, and oh fuck, oh sweetheart, he could absolutely help her with that. Not a problem at all to press his hand up, fingers searching, just one at first, stroking in time with his tongue, gentle and slow until she was whining, bearing down harder, welcoming him in

Yoba, she was wet.

(she wanted it she wanted it fuck fuck fuck she couldn’t hide it it was right fucking there, so wet and soft and yielding, he could push his cock right into her like this, so fucking ready so quick, so needy for him, she needed it like he did…)

Her moans changed as she clenched around him. Lower, longer. She tightened in time with her hands in his hair, clutching harder and loosening as her walls pulsed.

“More,” she gasped, and he didn’t know if she meant fingers or tongue, but did it matter when he could give her both? Press another finger into her, focus in on her clit. Quick flicks, she liked that, if the way she gasped his name was any indication.

(fuck fuck fuck fuck she was saying his name Yoba’s fucking Light he never would have thought his name could sound like that, like lips on his neck, like a tongue down his throat, like a hand stroking his cock…)

His mind was fuzzy, and the temptation to give over to instinct grew overwhelming. He let her hands in his hair guide him. Let the way her hips stuttered show him how fast to go. Let her use him, grind against his tongue, rock against his fingers. Let her drown him, take the breath from him, just movement and soft and wet and tight and gasps and sobs and his name 

(his name his name his name…)

And then her legs were shaking, hips taut, hands in his hair so tight it pricked tears in his eyes, and for a moment nothing was wrong, there was nothing dragging him down, only what he could give and what she would take, all perfectly aligned. 

An equation balanced.

A problem solved.

“Fuck, Shane!” She said it shaking, drawn out, clenching around him so tight and hot he wondered dimly if she’d branded him. 

He worked her through her climax, slowing as she loosened, as her grip became gentle, as she let go of his hair, let her fingers trail down his jaw, his neck.

He didn’t want to move, but something was churning in his stomach.

He didn’t have much space for good in his life.

The farmer wouldn’t fit.

He had to get the fuck out of there.

“Shane?” She sounded uncertain as he slipped out from under her hip. 

The room was spinning again.

A hammer had started pounding behind his right eye.

He staggered to his feet.

“Are you okay? You don’t… are you gonna be…?”

He hadn’t even taken his coat off. His boots were still on, heavy and loud as he made for the door.

“Shane!” She said it once more, in a voice he’d never heard before. Choked, a little panicked.

He didn’t look at her.

His face was wet. He didn’t notice it until he stumbled outside. He should wipe it off, probably, but he didn’t. The cold air stung. 

He could still taste her.

He could still feel her.

He could still hear her and see her.

He wanted to taste her and feel her and hear her and see her.

It was a problem.

It was a real fucking problem.

The snow swirled.

His head pounded.

The farmer was a problem.

And it was more clear than ever that he absolutely did not have the tools he needed to solve it.

Head on over here for part 3 if you wanna

Masterlist

[mykoreanlove]

christopher.

writing is a funny thing - one moment you're deeply focused on your actual work, the next one you're fantasizing about riding bangchan heeeelp

here u go

______________________________________________________________

Loving Christopher felt juicy. Loving him felt nerve-wracking and exciting at the same time. Loving Christopher implied numerous butterflies in your stomach as well as intense tingles in your little toes. Loving him was adventurous and vulnerable. And you loved every second of it.

Silly, little kisses turned into deep feelings and promises of forever and ever. Before you knew it you were head over heels in love with him. His love engulfed your whole being, it was as if he was present in every cell of you. He swallowed you whole and you did not even notice.

And now you were his. You were his in this dim-lit room which was barely illuminated by a couple of fairy lights. You were his on this giant bed which was made specifically for the two of you.

Christopher was sitting in the middle of the bed, cross-legged, waiting for you. He watched your every move carefully with glistening eyes. His desire for you was as intense as the throbbing of his cock. You mounted him while wrapping your legs around his sculptured torso, facing him directly. His sensual, distinctive smell clouded your whole mind which made you barely notice anything else.

He put his arms around you and hugged you tight, sliding even deeper into you. A small grunt left his lips as he adjusted to the feeling of your dripping pussy swallowing him. You wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders – he was so strong, yet his porcelain skin was soft like silk. Your eyes studied his defined chest, admiring every curve and crease of his determination. You had never felt as intimate with someone as you had with him.

“Baby girl”, you heard him whisper gently. You peeked up at him, anticipation was running through your whole body. He smiled at you sweetly. “You are so beautiful, baby. How did I get so lucky?”

Funnily enough, you had asked yourself the same question over and over. Since you did not have an answer for him you chose to lean into a kiss. You felt so close to him – physically, as well as emotionally.

He deepened the kiss and started to move his hips which you gladly welcomed. Soft moans left your lips as you enjoyed every second of this. Christopher smiled broadly as he noticed this, too. “Do I make you feel good, baby?” You started rolling your hips in response, further deepening the position you were in. Your boyfriend was very well endowed; he never had a problem with filling you up and pleasing you to the limits. But it were those times when you both slowed down and were gentle with each other, vulnerable even, that turned you on the most.

Your rolling hips were met with his hard thrusts that made you lean back in pleasure. You felt him twitching inside of you, in return clenching around him even more. You needed Christopher like the air you needed to breathe.

“y/n, look at me.” You opened your eyes and looked at the handsome man in front of you. Your cheeks still turned red when he looked at you like that; like you were the most precious being to ever exist in this world. “Do you know what I love, baby girl?” You shook your head and waited for his answer. Christopher’s hand travelled down your body and landed on your heated pussy. He used his index finger to collect your juices before placing it on your clit; softly, only a slight amount of pressure. But that was more than enough for you to lose it. You gripped his shoulders harder and inhaled sharply; eyes automatically rolling to the back of your head. You felt his hot breath on your neck as he was kissing his way up to your ear. “I love making you feel good, y/n.”

Oh boy, and he did. He knew exactly what to say to you or rather do to you – you were putty in his hands. You started rocking your hips ferociously as you were in desperate need of more friction; in desperate need for him. “Hmmm, my beautiful baby likes that, doesn’t she? Tell me, do I make you feel good?”

“Yes”, you whimpered. He applied more pressure on you. “I couldn’t hear you, baby. Mind saying that again? Do I make you feel good?” His thrusts accompanied the strokes on your pussy, making you almost black out from pleasure. You full on moaned anything that came to mind.

Yes. - More. -  Chris. - Fuck. - Please.

He enjoyed seeing you like that; he lived for those moments. It made him feel powerful; knowing that no other man would ever make you come like he did. You were close and he knew but he was not done with you just yet. He wasn’t done toying with you; he needed you to crave him more. Hence, he stopped moving abruptly which left you staring at him confused.

“Wha-?”

Heat rushed through your body – a mixture of arousal and frustration at best. You grabbed his hand that was still lingering on your pussy and glanced at him with doe-eyes. “Don’t stop.” He looked into your pleading eyes and was about to explode. How can someone be that sexy yet cute at the same time? How could he ever deny you?

He whispered softly: “Do you want me, baby?” Christopher felt needy, he was aware of that. So what? He needed you to need him, too. He desperately needed you this instant.

“Yes, I need you. Now!” You looked down at your hand hovering over his and encouraged him to move again; to pleasure you again. “Where?” you heard him say. “Where do you need me?”

Him being needy like that was rare; if any you were the one that was craving him most of the times. Christopher on the other hand was always composed and assured; the embodiment of pure male energy. But sometimes he slipped up, and his vulnerable, softer side came through. And in moments like that you obliged happily, giving him the emotional satisfaction, he so badly needed.

You placed a tender kiss on his plush lips. “Need you here.”

Followed by another kiss on his broad shoulders. “Need you here.”

Your hand travelled down his muscular torso and stopped at the shaft of his dick. “Need you here”.

And finally, you placed his hand on your wet pussy and whispered seductively: “Need you especially here.”

Fuck, that was driving him wild. You needing him. You verbalizing your needs for him. You wanting to be pleasured by him. Christopher thought you were sexy before, but this took things to a new level. How the hell did he bag such a divine goddess? He chuckled at his realization before looking at you hungrily.

“Baby girl, let me satisfy your needs then.”

[lains-reality]

some ideas if you want to test how far you can go

obviously you are limitless, but you need to see how far you can go yourself, lester had the motto of 'i only know that which i can do' and asked 'what can i do?' since why not go all the way? not out of obligation or fear, but to see how much you can maximise your peace and joy! do it for the truth!

almost all of these require mindfulness as you need to be able to catch yourself in the moment of the mind's chatter - that you can get through being in the present moment (read eckhart tolle's practicing the power of now). infact your whole life will be based on the present moment, and not being in it makes it infinitely harder so please read the book.

whoever i expected something from: give to myself 

before you do this: go here! (getting to a state of neutrality first might make this easier)

this one is to think back on a person that you don't like, now think abt whether you expected something from them. did you want them to act a certain way? now, whatever peace, love, security that you think they were meant to give you, feel that yourself

and even if it was someone that is meant to give you those things, you will need to release your hatred of them and give them up. you don't need to forgive them right now, but you will soon when you won't care much of their impact on your life and when you see that everybody is acting off insane levels of fear. i released my hatred of someone who is literally meant to take care of me and now i don't care abt them, i used to hate having any contact with them but now i can talk to them and not have my mind run 50 miles an hour. also! they called me to say that they're working on themself & will repair what they did

just keep doing that and going back to other people until you feel no more obligation to care abt what they did! this is (one way to) how you become free of attachment to people, and less anger

astral projection

pretty self explanatory, just try ap, it'll make you see you're not your body

for this i'd definitely see how far i could travel and for how long

‘No matter what happens, I will create no more pain for myself.  I will create no more problems.’

this one is to affirm this at the start of your day and surrender all trouble and control, just this one day (or longer) you'll let yourself have no problems

throughout the day you can remind yourself, when you are getting wound up, that today you've given up troubles and problems

this requires mindfulness - that you can get through being in the present moment (read eckhart tolle's practicing the power of now)

‘Am i willing to live (in a world) with no problems?’

this is just a question to be used for self-inquiry, meditation, an affirmation, whatever

‘What would i do if there were no others?’

same as the last question

no input

no music, no books, no overconsumption, no anything

just like a dopamine detox?

this one might be hard too (and maybe a bit useless, but try it?)

‘From here on, i have everything i need as i need it’

this one is to affirm this at the start of your day and surrender all trouble and control, just this one day (or longer) you'll let yourself have everything you need

throughout the day you can remind yourself, when you are getting wound up, that today you've given up worrying, anticpation of the worst and projecting into the future

this requires mindfulness - that you can get through being in the present moment (read eckhart tolle's practicing the power of now)

remove time - stop living through memory and anticipation

"Time and mind are inseparable. Remove time from the mind and it stops - unless you choose to use it. To be identified with your mind is to be trapped in time: the compulsion to live almost exclusively through memory and anticipation." - eckhart tolle, practising the power of now, pg. 31

self explanatory again, just remove time lol

idk you gonna have to figure this one out yourself

good challenge tbh

deleting or revising something everybody knows

not just some memory only you and 2 people remember, something like changing the name of earth itself

or historical events, or the order a song came out from your favourite artist

go crazy! keep in mind that there's no big or small, its all the same concept in awareness, even if i do imply it

just thinking abt when you go to search the thing you revised in google and it doesn't come up lol

live as if theres no past

this one is something that you should definitely try

i think this becomes the norm when you are present in the now (which is why its so important!)

the point is when you go bed, wipe out your past, through whatever way you like. then in the morning make a declaration that the past is no longer relevent! no longer will you go back to it as a source of identity, breaking the habit of it!

inspired by this quote by osho

i think this one will yield interesting results

in the end, the goal is not especially to get results, but to release fear and limitations. you also get to practise being in the present moment!

[charlesollielandooscararthur]

Telling The Family

summary:^^^^^^

The idea of telling your families was both exciting and terrifying. You and Lewis spent the next few days planning, ordering custom "Big Brother" shirts for Roscoe and Ace. It was honestly adorable—Roscoe's tiny shirt fit snugly, while Ace's had to be custom made because of his size.

"Why is Ace built like a damn tank?" Lewis muttered as he wrestled the shirt over the Cane Corso's broad chest.

You laughed, watching as Ace stood proudly, wagging his tail, completely unfazed. "Because he is a tank."

Lewis sighed, shaking his head. "This boy is gonna be our baby's bodyguard."

"Good," you said, running your fingers through Ace's fur. "They'll need it with the life we live."

That was something you had thought about—the fact that your child was going to be born into a world where both their parents were constantly in the public eye. But that was a problem for another day. Right now? You were just focused on the joy of it all.

After finalizing everything, you called your parents and Lewis's, inviting them over for dinner. You kept the reasoning vague, just saying it had been a while since you'd all gathered.

Lewis was buzzing the entire day. "Do you think they'll figure it out before we say anything?" he asked as he set the table.

You smirked. "If your mom notices that you haven't stopped smiling for the past 72 hours? Maybe."

He chuckled. "Yeah... I don't think I've ever been this happy before."

Your heart melted.

By the time everyone arrived, you were bursting with anticipation. Lewis's parents, your parents, and a few close family members all filled the dining room, laughing and catching up.

Roscoe and Ace stayed near the table, proudly sporting their "Big Brother" shirts, but no one seemed to notice at first.

Then, Lewis's mom, Carmen, finally looked down.

"Oh, Roscoe, what are you wearing?" she asked, reaching to adjust the fabric.

And then—

She froze.

Her eyes widened, and she sucked in a sharp breath, her gaze snapping to you and Lewis. "Wait. Wait."

It took about three seconds for everyone else to catch on.

Your mom let out a gasp, her hands flying to her mouth. "y/n. No way."

You grinned, reaching for Lewis's hand. "Yes way."

His dad let out a low whistle, shaking his head in disbelief. "Are you serious?"

Lewis beamed. "We're having a baby."

For a moment, there was silence—the kind that's filled with nothing but pure shock.

Then, chaos.

Your mom was the first to scream, immediately rushing forward to wrap you in the tightest hug of your life. Carmen was crying, pulling Lewis into her arms before turning to you, holding your face in her hands.

"I knew something was up! I could see it in your eyes!" she said through tears.

Lewis laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah... we found out a few days ago."

His dad clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Damn, son. You're gonna be a dad."

Lewis grinned. "I know. Crazy, right?"

Your dad, who had been shockingly quiet, finally stepped forward. His expression was unreadable—until he placed a hand on your shoulder and pulled you into a tight hug.

"I'm proud of you," he murmured.

Your throat tightened. "Thanks, Dad."

When he pulled away, he turned to Lewis, his eyes sharp. "Take care of my daughter."

Lewis straightened immediately. "Always."

The night was filled with happy tears, endless hugs, and so much excitement. The second the initial shock wore off, the questions started.

"How far along are you?"

"When's the due date?"

"Are you hoping for a boy or a girl?"

And your favorite—

"Does this mean Roscoe and Ace are technically brothers?"

Lewis lost it at that one.

By the time everyone had settled down, you were curled up next to Lewis on the couch, exhausted but so happy.

He pressed a kiss to your temple. "That went well."

You sighed contentedly. "Yeah. I think so too."

His fingers brushed over your stomach. "They're already so loved."

You smiled, lacing your fingers with his. "Yeah, babe. They are."

And in that moment, surrounded by warmth, love, and family, you knew—this was exactly how it was meant to be.

The house had finally quieted down. After hours of celebrating, answering a million questions, and getting wrapped in an endless number of hugs, your families had finally left, leaving just you and Lewis.

Roscoe was curled up in his bed, completely knocked out from all the excitement, while Ace sprawled across the floor, his large frame stretched out near the couch where you and Lewis sat.

You exhaled deeply, leaning into Lewis's side, his arm draped securely around you. "Well... that was a lot."

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to your hair. "Tell me about it. I swear your mom was crying more than you were."

"She's dramatic," you teased. "But she's just really happy."

"I could tell," he murmured, rubbing small circles against your shoulder. "I think your dad nearly gave me a heart attack, though."

You grinned. "He likes you, don't worry."

Lewis let out a breath. "Good, because he terrifies me."

You laughed softly before falling into a comfortable silence. The only sound was the faint ticking of the clock and the soft breathing of the dogs.

Then, Lewis shifted slightly, his hand moving to rest gently on your stomach.

His touch was warm—gentle, but with a firm sense of protectiveness. You felt your chest tighten at the sight.

"I still can't believe it," he murmured.

You placed your hand over his, intertwining your fingers. "Me neither."

His thumb brushed against your skin. "You think we'll be good parents?"

Your heart ached at the vulnerability in his voice.

"Lewis," you said softly, turning to face him. "You know we will be."

He hesitated. "I just... I want to get it right."

You understood what he meant. He had spent years being a role model to so many—millions of fans, young drivers, kids who looked up to him. But this? This was different. This was his child.

"You will," you assured him. "You already love them so much. That's what matters."

He swallowed, his gaze softening. "And you? You doing okay?"

You smiled tiredly. "I think so. It's still overwhelming, but... in a good way."

Lewis nodded, pulling you closer. "We'll figure it all out together."

You exhaled, letting yourself relax against him. "Yeah. We will."

His hand lingered on your stomach for a moment longer before he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

"You should get some rest," he murmured.

You hummed in agreement but didn't move. You were too comfortable, too wrapped up in the warmth of the moment.

And as you sat there, wrapped up in Lewis's embrace, you knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, one thing was certain—this baby was coming into a world filled with so much love.

[hanhonymous]

The Trainee’s workplace authenticity

One of my favorite things about workplace TV shows is when the characters actually do work. AND when the details of such work are not only relatively accurate, but also essential to how the characters relate to themselves, the world and each other. So far, "The Trainee" is giving that to me in the first two episodes.

Having interned/been an assistant at a TV production company and later moving to entertainment journalism and managing interns/junior writers there, I can appreciate both Ryan's and Jane's POVs. Here's what I liked so far:

Good Pick's pink tube slide and movie theater seats in the lobby - A lot of these entertainment-adjacent companies take a cue from Silicon Valley and have this frivolous, frat-boy design aesthetic -- bean bag chairs, foosball tables, etc. I worked in an office that had a ping-pong table. The idea is to make it fun enough that people want to stay in the office and work longer, which isn't really all that great. You stop seeing that fun stuff after a while and just want to get home. That said, I'd love to work in a company with a fire pole in it, but that would be too much of a liability.

Ryan's fluke hiring - Baimon totally hearing what he wants to hear from Ryan in that sham interview is hilarious but sadly not all that unusual. What sucks is that this is unfair to the manager who then must work with the unqualified person, and unfair to that person hired also, who isn't the best fit for the position. I've been the person saddled by the unfortunate hire and have had to make do … and sometimes you can figure it out, but often you're left doing extra work to make up for their deficits. If it's just an intern, no problem -- they'll be gone in a few months. I felt Jane's pain!

Ryan's uncertainty & silence - That said, Ryan clearly wants to do well but is out of his depth since this was not even what he was learning in school. I remember the first day as a journalist for a small company where I kind of was on my own, and nobody told me what to do. I was like, "WTF??" Part of you doesn't want to ask questions lest you expose your imposter identity, but you're also wondering just how long you can do nothing before someone notices.

The printer always breaks down -- always. You get pretty good at troubleshooting everything until resorting to calling a technician

Jane's prickly demeanor - The fact is that in any company, people who are competent can move up, but that doesn't automatically infuse them with good managerial skills. I think workshops, etc. are a must for anyone who gets promoted and suddenly have people reporting to them. Everyone can get frustrated when they're overwhelmed, so I do have some sympathy for Jane. He does have one skill that I think is essential to be a good manager: identifying and acknowledging the strengths of an employee. It really makes all the difference that he finally sees Ryan as an asset, not a hindrance.

Ryan's skills aren't that bad at all - As soon as Ryan tells his family that he's no help to anyone at work, he immediately shows five different ways how much he's relied on by his family. Yes, people who are competent, reliable and can anticipate needs (like how his sister needs to be reminded to charge the battery after using the camera) will be able to apply those skills to other situations and can go far. Ryan just needs to familiarize himself with the industry first in order to know how he can fill in the gaps. (I believe in being able to change careers and taking big pivots in life.)

The interns banding together - OMG I remember sometimes just being unsupervised while trying to get a project together, and there is a strange bond you have being the youngest and least experienced. And you do have the most stupid conversations.

Being one cog in a bigger machine - I really appreciate how they show all the different departments that have to come together to make one project work -- especially when last-minute changes need to be implemented or a persnickety client has opinions. You complain, you worry, you put in extra late hours and have to make 11th-hour fixes -- but it's so satisfying to see it all come together. Shit goes down, and you fix it.

Hiring extras - The hiring of extras at Good Pick was different from what I've experienced. I actually have been an extra, and what I'm used to is being part of a company or agency that has you in their database, and then you get picked or cast by that company and sent to your gig. But that's in Hollywood and for TV shows & movies. It's probably different for ad houses or in Thailand, but I did like how they showed that it is still a casting process. There are deliberate decisions made, and certain looks sought out. I thought it was hilarious that Ryan's first thought for hiring the salaryman was to get an uncle from the same restaurant as the auntie. If he had his way, everyone in that restaurant would be hired for some gig or another.

Ryan getting scammed by the extra - I was screaming at Ryan as soon as he offered to pay that scammer extra. Just … no, boy. You had to have known that was shady. BUT despite being duped, he was willing to think on his feet and try to solve a problem by being proactive, and that does happen. And so do mistakes. He just needs to calibrate his radar for what is OK. (I'm glad Jane saw that.) Ryan is lucky that it only cost him 1,000 baht for that lesson.

Extras must be on hand and wait - OK this is a scene in the preview for Episode 3, but I was so happy to see it: Extras in Hollywood actually cannot just spend 5 minutes or whatever to do their job, even if that's how much you see them onscreen. There's a ton of hurry up and wait on film sets, and so extras have to stay in Holding -- usually just a designated area with some chairs (sometimes you get tables) -- until you're needed. And production schedules never run on time, so it can be hours or even days. You're lucky if you're there long enough to get a meal, if the temperature is nice, if you're able to make friends with the others and if there's wifi. Sometimes you bring your own clothes for wardrobe based on what you're told, and sometimes the wardrobe department supplements your wardrobe with extra pieces to help complete a specific look. And yeah, you're not able to leave except for the bathroom, so Ryan definitely shouldn't have let that one extra wander off.

"Ryan After Work" - I like these post-credit sequences that give extra insights into the job. And while the first one was more instructional, explaining how the production house differed from an agency, the second was more about the cohort camaraderie (and hinting at Ryan's positive feelings toward Jane). I hope the romance aspect of the show doesn't overshadow the work specificity going forward!

[stylesispunk]

"I couldn't want you anymore" | part 12

Artist! Joel Miller x Florist! Reader

series masterlist | prev chapter | epilogue

summary: when Sarah's mom comes back into Joel's life to fight for their past relationship, Joel needs to convince her he is in a happy relationship with the florist next to his gallery in order to make her go away. The problem is, that he and the florist can't stand each other's guts or that it's what he thinks.

warning: age gap (8 years), bee is the reader's nickname, fluff, mentions of birth, not proofreading because I'm lazy.

a/n: Well, we have arrived at the last chapter of this story! This has been my favorite baby and thank you so much to all of you who stay and read this one. So much love for you <3 now, perhaps this chapter may look a little rushed but my inspo is not at my best right now, but still think it was the best way to end it. By the way, the epilogue is coming soon. Reblogs and comments are appreciated. <3

It has been a month since the second Joel made the choice of ask you to marry him, and by now it was a secret between him and Sarah who had helped him to pick out the ring and choose the perfect moment to ask the question that would change the course of your relationship forever.

A week from now on he would have a new exhibition at his gallery.

A week from now on he would ask you to marry him.

Since the moment you had appeared into Joel’s life, he tried to deny the nag feeling settled in the bottom of his stomach, same feeling that after days, weeks, and months passed became into butterflies dancing inside his gut every time he looked at you far away.

All those memories seemed have happened a lifetime ago, but in this last month, Joel found himself reflecting on the journey that brought you into his life. Since the first talk to the day, you became an official couple, and he smiled at those memories, he smiled at your face and at how it has been so lucky to find a person to spend his life with.

You had reached your six months of pregnancy; your belly had grown a lot, and Joel gazed at you with a mix of awe and tenderness as your baby kept growing inside you. Recalling the first baby’s kicks, the joy of picking out baby clothes together, and the quiet moments when he spoke to the rowan inside your belly before you fell asleep.

“I don’t think I should go to the opening” you spoke, as you try dresses on “I don’t feel good in any clothes!”

Joel, looked at you attentive and understanding you discomfort as you tried on different dresses.

"You don't have to push yourself if you're not feeling up to it," Joel said, his voice filled with reassurance. “But you look beautiful no matter what you wear. I want you to feel good and not be stressed about this."

He crossed his arms around your middle, placing his hands over your belly as if trying to comfort you and the baby “I want you both there, and I will do anything to keep you both safe.”

"Joel, I appreciate your support," you said, a small smile playing on your lips. "I want to be there for you, and I know the opening is important. But it's just hard to find something that feels right, you know?"

He nodded, understanding etched on his face. "I get it. We'll figure this out together. If you're not up for the opening, we can come up with an alternative plan. What matters most is that you and Rowan are comfortable and safe."

You leaned into his embrace, feeling the warmth of his love. The anticipation of becoming parents had deepened the connection between you and Joel, and in moments like these, you found strength in each other's presence. The upcoming exhibition held significance, but the well-being of your growing family took precedence.

"But do you want my opinion?" Joel whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple.

“Yes.”

“I think the red dress fit you perfectly” this time he kissed your cheek.

You chuckled, appreciating Joel's opinion "The red dress, huh? Maybe you're onto something."

Joel's eyes sparkled with a playful glint. "Trust me on this one. You'll turn heads, and Rowan will appreciate the stylish entrance."

His words brought a genuine smile to your face. Joel's ability to find joy and humor in even the challenging moments had always been one of the things you loved about him. With a nod, you agreed, "Alright, then. The red dress it is.”

Joel grinned, giving you a quick peck on the cheek. "That's my girl. Now, let me take care of everything else. You just go to sleep.”

“Okay, but don’t go to bed too late” you said, pecking his lips.

“Promise.”

In the anticipation-filled hours before the gallery exhibition opening night, the energy at home was a mix of excitement and nerves. Downstairs, Joel and Sarah were getting ready, as she was fixing his tie, and you were getting ready in the bedroom.

You stood before the mirror, carefully choosing an outfit that felt just right for the occasion. The red dress Joel had suggested hung elegantly in front of you, accentuating the curve of your growing belly, and you couldn’t help but smile at his choice.

Downstairs, the sound of footsteps echoed, and Sarah's voice was just a whisper "Dad, are you ready for tonight?"

Joel chuckled, a hint of nervousness in his voice. "As ready as I'll ever be, kiddo. Why do you ask?"

There was a pause, and Sarah's tone turned sly. "Just making sure you're prepared for everything."

Joel raised an eyebrow, a playful smile forming on his lips. "Prepared for what, exactly?"

Sarah's reply held a mischievous edge. "Well, you know” then she lowered the voice “So, what's the plan? Can I see the ring?"

Joel hesitated for a moment, the weight of the moment sinking in. "Of course, you can. Just promise not to spill the beans to your bee”

Sarah chuckled, "I promise, Dad. My lips are sealed."

Joel carefully retrieved the ring from its box. As he opened the small velvet case, a delicate rose-shaped ring was revealed. The petals were intricately crafted, each one holding a shimmering gem at its center. It was a piece of art, a symbol of the love and growth between him and you.

Sarah's eyes widened in awe. "Dad, it's beautiful. Where did you find this one?"

Joel grinned, a twinkle in his eyes. "I actually designed it, and then I asked a jeweler to bring it to life. I wanted something special, just like my girl”

Sarah couldn't help but smile. "She's going to love it, Dad. It's perfect."

Joel sighed; relief evident in his expression. "I hope so. I fear bee will say no”

“Say no to what” you asked, descending down the stairs.

Joel rapidly hid the box inside his pocket, as he and Sarah exchanged a quick glance, their eyes widened.

With a subtle smile, Joel replied “Oh nothing, I mean about you going tonight”

“Well, I’m ready” you smiled, walking towards him to peck his cheek.

“You look stunning” he said in awe.

Joel's compliment brought a warm blush to your cheeks. "Thank you. You're not too shabby yourself," you teased, playfully nudging him.

Sarah grinned, observing the interaction between you and Joel. "Alright, lovebirds, we better get going. The exhibition is waiting."

There was an aura of excitement and anxious anticipation as the three of you made your way to the gallery. Joel exchanged a knowing look with Sarah as he hid the ring's secret in his pocket. The night ahead held both would be the one changing the course of your lives, and he was excited for it. 

Once in the gallery the gallery was bustling with enthusiasm as people showed up to witness the exhibition's opening. Tommy and Lily, Sarah, friends, art critics, and the artists Joel collaborated with were all there. Music and chatter filled the air as everyone enjoyed the pieces of art on the walls.

Joel stood in the center of the room, a glass of champagne in hand, ready to speak to the audience. He gazed around, beaming with because of pride. He grinned as he noticed you in your red dress among the attendees, showing off the belly as your eyes met in an understanding language only the both of you could understand, the butterflies in his stomach temporarily replaced by a warmth that only your presence could provide.

"Thank you all for being here tonight," Joel said, his voice brimming with modesty and emotion. "This exhibition means a lot to me, not just as an artist, but as a person who has found inspiration in every corner of life."

He gave you a slight nod, acknowledging the huge impact that you had on his art and his heart. The audience listened carefully as they felt an intimate element in his words.

"I want to express my gratitude to the incredible artists I've had the privilege of working with," Joel concluded, thanking his colleagues. "Your dedication and talent have enriched my life and made this gallery a home for creative freedom."

The artists bowed gratefully while Joel spoke. Sarah, who was standing next to you, smiled proudly at his dad. Joel's job, as well as his relationships inside your growing family, were created by the path to this particular point, which had been defined by difficulties and triumphs.

Joel returned his eyes to you before raising his glass. "To the beauty that surrounds us, the art that brings us together, and the future that holds infinite possibilities. Thank you for being a part of our journey."

The crowd exploded in cheers, and Joel continued speaking with guests with a genuine grin on his face. The exhibition was both a celebration of his artistic accomplishments and a foreshadowing of the significant thing he was about to do.  The excitement remained adding a layer of emotion to an already enduring evening.

After a while, he excused from the guests to find you. Once he walked through the sea of guests congratulating him, he spotted you next to the pastries table eating a mini pie. He beamed at the sight, feeling his hands sweating as the moment he was waiting for got closer.

"I see you're enjoying the pastries," he commented.

You glanced at him with wide eyes, a pang of embarrassment in your stomach as he witnessed you eating like that.

 "You have cream here," he continued, cleaning the corner of your lips with his thumb.

You blushed at his gentle gesture, a mix of embarrassment and affection washing over you. Joel's touch was tender, and you couldn't help but smile at the subtle intimacy.

"Thanks for the save," you chuckled, savoring the sweetness of the pastry. "These mini pies are irresistible. Want one?"

Joel shook his head, his eyes fixed on you. "No, I've got something else in mind."

“What? You want to eat me?” you asked, concerned.

Joel chuckled, “No, bee, but if you are finished with your pie, I would like you to go with me somewhere” he said.

You raised an eyebrow, a curious smile playing on your lips. "Go somewhere? Now? What's going on, Joel?"

He took your hand, gently leading you away from the pastries and the crowd. There was a sense of excitement and nervousness in his eyes. "It's a little surprise," he said, a mischievous grin tugging at the corners of his lips.

As you followed him through the gallery, you couldn't help but wonder about the surprise. The art around you provided a unique backdrop, and you were intrigued by the anticipation in Joel's demeanor.

He knew you hated being the center of attention, so he planned where to asked you the question he had practice for a month.

Joel guided you through the gallery, carefully avoiding the main crowd. He led you to a secluded spot, where a particular piece of art, a captivating sculpture, stood illuminated by a spotlight. The sculpture itself resembled the intertwining branches of a rowan tree, and it held a special significance to both of you since rowan was safely growing inside you.

He stopped beside the sculpture, and you noticed a small table nearby with a single, elegant rose. The soft glow of the spotlight cast a warm ambiance, creating an intimate setting away from the bustling crowd.

"Joel, this is beautiful," you whispered, taking in the surroundings.

He smiled, his eyes reflecting the love he felt. "I wanted it to be just us, away from the crowd. and I thought it would be the perfect place."

“Perfect place for what?” you asked, curious.

You admired the thoughtfulness and effort he had put into this moment. The rowan tree, the lights, and the rose.

Joel reached for the rose and handed it to you, a gesture both sweet and "This is for you, Bee."

Joel took a long breath as you clutched the rose, his gaze stuck on yours. "Now, there's one more thing," he continued, kneeling on one knee. He took the velvet box in his hand and opened it to reveal the gorgeous rose-shaped ring.

“Bee, these past year and months have been an incredible journey, filled with all the joy I could ask for.”

You listened intently, touched by the sincerity in his words.

“I promised myself that I would never going to fall in love again, but then you appeared.” He smiled at you, trying to ease his nervousness. “From the moment you came to my life, everything changed. You brought a warmth and light I never knew I needed.

"From the moment you entered my life, everything changed. You brought a warmth and light that I never knew I needed and you've been my rock, Bee, and now, as we stand here surrounded by art that tells a thousand stories, I want to add another chapter to our story.”

Joel looked at you with such love in his eyes, as you were already crying.

“So, before I ask the most important question of my life, I want to thank you for being by my side, for sharing in the highs and lows, and for making every day brighter." he took another deep breath, his eyes never leaving yours. "Now, Bee, will you make me the happiest man alive? Will you marry me?"

Joel's eyes shimmered with anticipation as he awaited your response. And you overwhelmed by the depth of his words and the love shining in his eyes, you nodded, tears streaming down your face. "Of course, I want to marry you, Joel”

Joel's face lit up with an indescribable joy as he slipped the ring onto your finger. The intimate atmosphere, surrounded by art that mirrored the beauty of your shared journey, made the moment even more special.

The secluded spot, hidden away from the prying eyes of the crowd, became a haven for your private celebration. The gallery, filled with the echoes of your shared promise, the glow of art, and the lingering applause from the distant crowd, transformed into a sanctuary for your love story.

As you both pulled away, still caught in the enchantment of the moment, Joel held you close. And so, in the glow of the spotlight, surrounded by the intertwining branches of the rowan tree sculpture, you and Joel embraced the beginning of a new chapter in your family.

Joel's eyes sparkled with sheer happiness, and he leaned in to seal the moment with a sweet, lingering kiss. The world around you faded away, leaving only the warmth of Joel's embrace and the soft echo of the gallery's ambiance.

As you both pulled away, still caught in the enchantment of the moment, Joel held you close. His forehead rested against yours, and he whispered, "I love you, Bee."

The secluded spot, hidden away from the prying eyes of the crowd, became a haven for your private celebration. The gallery, filled with the echoes of your shared promise, the glow of art, and the lingering applause from the distant crowd, transformed into a sanctuary for your love story.

But the celebration continued beyond your private moment. Joel, still beaming with joy, led you back to the bustling crowd, hand in hand. The whispers of the artwork and the murmur of conversations became the soundtrack of your return.

As you rejoined the celebration, Joel couldn't contain his excitement. With a contagious grin, he interrupted the ongoing conversations, capturing the attention of friends, family, and art enthusiasts alike.

"Everyone, can I have your attention?" Joel called out, his voice carrying a mix of pride and happiness. The crowd hushed, turning their gaze toward the artist who had captivated their attention earlier.

"I have an announcement to make," Joel continued, his eyes fixed on you with unwavering adoration. "Bee and I are getting married!"

An audible gasp rippled through the crowd, followed by cheers and applause. The news spread like wildfire, and soon, well-wishers surrounded you, offering their congratulations. Lily and Tommy exchanged knowing smiles, while Sarah beamed with joy.

Joel, proud and beaming, held your hand tightly, savoring the shared happiness with those who had become a part of your story.

A few days later, the excitement of the engagement still lingered in the air as you and Joel began planning the details of your upcoming wedding. He wanted to marry you after Rowan birth, so he was just in the middle of the chaos of choosing venues, selecting invitations, and deciding on a color for every single detail to be ready at the moment you two had chosen.

But in a day, you were contemplating Joel from the couch, him in front of his laptop, eyebrows frowned. At the exact moment, feeling surge of boldness, you came up with an unexpected idea.

"Joel?" you called out

“Yes, baby?”

"What if we don't wait too long? What if we get married next month?"

Joel looked away from his laptop to you, surprise and curiosity etched on his face. "Next month? Bee, that's quite soon. Are you sure?"

You nodded, a gleam of determination in your eyes. "Think about it. We're already planning a wedding. We don’t need a fancy place, or fancy dress. We just need to celebrate ourselves with the people we love. Besides, with the baby coming, I don't want to wait too long. It feels right."

Joel smiled at you as you speak

“Let’s just make it a small party, with our loved at your gallery, the same place you asked me to marry you. I mean, just think about this at evening under the candlelight’s, just us and our friends, our families…I can wear a sheet” you joked

Joel stood up from his chair and walked towards you, laying on the couch. He chuckled; his eyes filled with love. "You could wear a sheet, and you'd still be the most beautiful woman in the room." He sat down beside you, wrapping his arms around your legs, placing them over his lap.

"Alright, let's do it. A small, intimate celebration at the gallery next month," he agreed, pressing a soft kiss over your belly "I can't wait to call you mom, my wife."

“Oh stop! I don’t want you to his favorite” you scoffed.

Joel chuckled, his fingers tracing gentle patterns on your belly. "Well, I can't help it. You're going to be the most amazing mom, and you're already my favorite. But let's not argue about that now; we have a wedding to plan."

And that’s how the month slipped away, an in the days leading up to the wedding, the small gallery buzzed with activity as friends and family helped transform the space into an intimate setting for the celebration. With the support of Lily, with all the arrangements and catering, the preparations flowed smoothly, and soon, the gallery become into a place full of soft lights, floral arrangements around. It looked so different, yet so familiar for you.

You were at you flower shop with Lily and your mother helping you to fix your hair. “I can’t believe this is happening”

Letting out a soft laugh, Lily came to stand right next to you in front of the mirror. With your wedding dress on accentuating your belly, you looked like a princess to the eyes of your best friend, as both of your eyes looked in the mirror.

“You and Joel are made for each other, don’t worry” she said, kissing you on your temple in a supportive way.

“I’m wearing converse” you laughed,

Lily chuckled, sharing in your laughter. "Well, that's just adding a touch of your personality to the princess look. I'm sure Joel will love it."

Your mother joined in, adjusting a strand of your hair with a gentle smile. "Sweetheart, you look absolutely beautiful. Joel is a lucky man."

Blushing at their words, you couldn't help but feel a wave of gratitude for the people surrounding you. The small gallery wedding, with its unique charm, felt like the perfect choice for the celebration of your love and the impending arrival of your little one.

And that was how, under the soft glow of the gallery lights, surrounded by the beauty of art pieces and the people you and Joel loved, you made your way to the gallery, nervous yet feeling with anticipation, and you couldn't wait to see Joel's reaction. Lily, acting as both a bridesmaid and the wedding coordinator, ensured everything ran smoothly.

The moment you entered the gallery, Joel's eyes lit up with admiration and love. The soft lights, the fragrance of flowers, and the presence of friends and family created a magical ambiance just out of a fairy tale.

Joel stood at the makeshift altar, his eyes never leaving you as you approached. As you stood face to face, surrounded by the art that had witnessed your journey, the air was filled with a quiet air. The soft lights accentuated the love and commitment in Joel's eyes, and the background faded away as you took his hand, facing him with tears shimmering in his eyes.

“Dear friends and family,” the priest began when everyone had settled and the room became silent. “We are gathered here today to witness and celebrate these two souls coming together in love and commitment," the priest continued, his words filling space. "We are not only witnesses to a union of two people but also to the beginning of a new family, a family that is bound by love, nurtured by trust, and destined for a future filled with joy”

You and Joel stood before the makeshift altar, hands clasped together, your gazes locked in a moment that felt timeless. The priest's words carried a weight that resonated with the significance of the occasion.

"As we stand amidst the beauty of art and the company of loved ones," the priest continued, "let us remember that love, like the art surrounding us, is an expression of the human experience. It evolves, grows, and becomes more beautiful with time."

Joel squeezed your hand gently, his eyes never leaving yours. The priest's words seemed to fade into the background as you and Joel shared your own language, encapsulated in the love that had brought you to this point.

"Now," the priest said, bringing your attention back to the ceremony, "let us exchange the vows”

Joel began, his voice steady and filled with emotion. "Bee, my love, from the moment you entered my life, everything changed. You brought a warmth and light that I never knew I needed. You've been my rock, my support, and my greatest joy."

He paused, taking a deep breath, a small smile gracing his lips. "I promised myself that I would never fall in love again, but then you appeared, and I couldn't resist. Now, as we stand here surrounded by our loved ones, I want to thank you for being by my side, for sharing in the highs and lows, and for making every day brighter. Now, as we embark on this journey together, I promise to stand by you, to cherish and support you, and to love you and our baby with all my heart."

He took another deep breath, his eyes never leaving yours. "I promise to be your partner in all things, to celebrate your triumphs and lift you up in your challenges. With this ring, I seal my commitment to you, and I look forward to a lifetime with you by my side”

As Joel finished his vows, a tear glistened in his eye, displaying all his emotions.

And now, as it was your moment to talk, you took a moment, looking into Joel's eyes, feeling the weight of the promises you were about to make. Your heart swelled with love and gratitude for this man who had become your everything.

"Joel," you laughed, shaking "as we stand here today, surrounded by the love of our friends and family, I can't help but reflect on the journey that brought us to this moment. In those days when we were more like enemies than partners” you both laughed at the memory “little did I know that the intricate patterns of your life would soon weave into mine”

You took a deep breathe “Today, I stand before you not just as your partner but as someone who recognizes how important you are to me. Our love story is not a conventional one, and that's what makes it extraordinary”

As you spoke, the gallery seemed to fade away, leaving only you and Joel in this sacred moment. "I promise to support you in your dreams and passions, to be your refuge in difficult times, and to find joy in the simple moments we share."

A gentle smile touched your lips as you continued, "With this ring, I promise to choose you every day, to laugh with you in times of joy, and to hold you in times of sorrow. Together, let's build a life filled with love and adventures”

As you held his hand into yours, both of you were crying and shaking, the priest spoke with solemnity, "Having witnessed the unique and beautiful love that Bee and Joel share, and having heard their heartfelt vows, it is my honor to declare them husband and wife. You may now kiss the bride”

As the priest pronounced you both married, a wave of joy and applause filled the gallery. Joel gently cupped your face, his eyes still shimmering with emotion, and he leaned in to press a tender kiss against your lips. The room erupted in cheers, and the soft glow of the gallery lights seemed to intensify, creating a magical atmosphere around the happy couple.

As the night unfolded in a joyous celebration of your newlywed status, the gallery transformed into a dance floor. The soft lights and laughter of friends and family created an atmosphere of pure happiness. You and Joel swayed together, with you resting your head on his chest as he kept leading the dance relishing in the music.

“This is the first time we dance like this” he said, placing his chin over your head as his hands pulled you in by your hips.

“This won’t be the last” you replied, enjoying the embrace as you both continued to dance.

However, as the night progressed, you started to feel an unfamiliar sensation, a tightness in your belly that came and went. At first, you dismissed it as part of the excitement you were feeling, but as the contractions persisted, you realized this was more than just a normal discomfort.

You excuse yourself to go to the bathroom, taking lily with you in the way. It was there when the scared face of Lily made you to look down, seeing a puddle between your feet.

Your eyes widened in realization, and what it was a joyous atmosphere changed. Lily’s face mirrored your own worry as you both understood what this meant.

"Lily, did...Did my water just broke?" you mumbled, trying to stay calm.

Lily, ever reliable and quick-thinking, took charge. "Okay, we need to get you to the hospital. Don't worry, Bee. Everything will be fine."

Joel, sensing that something was amiss, approached the two of you with concern etched on his face. Lily quickly filled him in, "Joel, we need to head to the hospital. Bee's water broke.”

“What?!” he exclaimed “She is not even nine months”

“Well, Joel, I think Rowan might be making an early entrance." In a strained and breathy voice.

The unexpected turn of events brought a mix of shock and concern to Joel's face. He took a deep breath, his hands trembling slightly as he processed the information.

"Okay, okay," Joel said, his voice a blend of worry and determination. "Let's get her to the hospital. We've got this.” He paused a little “Lily can you take care of all this, while I drive Bee to the hospital?”

Lily nodded in response to Joel's request, her quick and organized nature kicking in. "Of course, Joel. I'll handle things here. You focus on getting Bee to the hospital."

Joel gently guided you towards the car, the worry in his eyes softened by a reassuring smile. "Hang in there, Bee. We're going to meet Rowan a bit earlier than expected."

As the car pulled away from the gallery, Joel held your hand, the warmth of his touch providing a comforting anchor amidst the unexpected turn of events. The city lights passed in a blur as he navigated through the streets, his focus solely on getting you to the hospital safely.

"I can't believe this is happening," you whispered, in middle the chaos and anticipation feelings consuming you.

Joel stole a glance at you, his eyes reflecting both concern and love. You weren’t solely focus on Joel but you knew he was just excited as you.

"Rowan likes dramatic entrances, just like their parents. Don't worry, Bee. We'll be at the hospital soon."

“OH MY GOD! I’M GONNA DIE!”

“No, love, you’re fine- “

“YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT I AM FEELING NOW, YOU IDIOT”

This had been the first time Joel had seen the woman in front of her screaming this loud to him, he had been in this situation before when Sarah was going to make her entrance to this world, but this time seeing his Bee hurting, it hurt him even more.

With each contraction, his now wife screamed, squeezing his hand to help her out from the screaming.

“It’s okay,” he said, his voice a steady reassurance. “You’re strong. You can absolutely do this, baby.”

"You're doing great, honey," the doctor reassured. "Just one more push."

As the intensity reached its peak, and you felt like you couldn't endure any longer, Joel squeezed your hand, offering his unwavering support.

"Oh my god, I can’t do this any-" Your sentence was left unfinished as the room was suddenly filled with the piercing cry of a baby, a sound that seemed to echo joy and relief came to you.

The medical team worked swiftly, and as they placed the tiny, wriggling Rowan in your arms, a wave of overwhelming emotions washed over you. The cries of your newborn resonated with the realization that you and Joel had brought a new life into the world.

Joel's eyes were filled with tears of joy as he looked at Rowan on the doctor arms.

The doctor gently placed Rowan in Joel's arms, and he marveled at the tiny, squirming bundle of life. Rowan's cries filled the room, and the doctor offered a warm smile.

"Would you like to hold your baby?" the doctor asked, guiding Joel to bring Rowan closer to you.

Joel carefully handed Rowan over to you, his eyes filled with love and admiration. As you cradled your newborn in your arms, the world seemed to stand still. Rowan's cries softened at the sound of your heartbeat.

While Joel stared at the tiny baby lying in your arms. Rowan's cries eased, and a tremendous sensation of love and protectiveness came over you as you peered down at the little face.

The nurse smiled warmly, "Congratulations. You have a beautiful baby boy." With utmost care, she offered you some privacy, allowing you and Joel to bask in the first moments of parenthood.

Joel, his eyes shimmering with tears, leaned in to admire Rowan. "He's perfect, Bee. Look at him, our little Rowan."

“He loves resting on your chest, just like me” he whispered, his voice filled with awe.

“I have two babies now, and Sarah” you said, caressing Joel’s cheek with your hand.

As you both keep looking at Rowan in your arms, nestled against you, he seemed to sense the love surrounding him.

"He's got your eyes," Joel remarked, his finger gently tracing the outline of Rowan's tiny hand.

You smiled, feeling an overwhelming by love. "And he's got your heart, Joel. We're going to be the best parents for him."

As the realization of your newfound family settled in, Joel pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. "I love you, Bee. Thank you for giving us this beautiful little soul."

Joel kept looking at both of you with awe as his new baby rested on your chest. He took your free hand, gently lifting it to make you look at him.

“Bee, do you remember when you made me promise no to fall in love with you?” he asked.

You chuckled “Yes, why?”

“Now I want you to promise me something” he requested.

You shifted your gaze from Rowan in your arms to Joel's eyes.

"Sure, love," you responded.

"Promise you will never stop loving me," he pleaded.

You beamed at him, "I promise."

a/n: once again, sorry if the chapter felt rushed but I'm just a teacher at the end of the year :(

tags 💌: @joeldjarin @borhapparker @fatima-marisa @kirsteng42 @paleidiot @harriedandharassed @runningmom94 @pedr0swh0r3 @ssacharcoalgrey @missladym1981 @littleshadow17 @sevillagrenada

[reverie-starlight]

gn!reader, no physical descriptions but the fic states that reader doesn't drink often/is inexperienced with it and that they're a bit of a lightweight. the "very giggly but refuses to accept that they're inebriated" type of tipsy that's interesting to experience for the first time. fluff fluff fluff. also this should go without saying, but everyone including reader is over the legal drinking age.

I meant to post this back in august/september but never got around to finishing it. might as well do it now while I'm clearing out drafts!!

it's a bit of a rare sight to see you like this.

you don't drink often- a glass here or there when you're in the comfort of your apartment, or out at a restaurant with friends, but you're adamant about not going past that without some level of planning for it.

but tonight seems to be unfolding a bit differently than you anticipated. (he, however, saw this coming the second you got excited over how good your drink tasted and downed it on a nearly empty stomach.)

"I told you to eat something before we left," he said with a bit of a sing-songy tone. quite truthfully, he's never seen you this close to being drunk before and he's thoroughly amused with your behaviour.

you roll your eyes and lean back against your chair, watching your friend and her boyfriend on the dancefloor. "I'm not even drunk, baby, I barely had anything to drink. besides, she said she didn't like her drink and she offered me some!"

he snorts. the “barely anythings” in question were a lot stronger than you expected them to be. and it's true, your friend asked you to drink half of hers on top of your own so she wouldn't be forced to drink it all- apparently you were the only one at the table who actually enjoyed the taste of it.

the only issue is that the base of the drink was a type of juice he knows for a fact that you hate.

you would get tipsy trying to help out a friend, he thinks fondly.

his heart warms at your generosity, and also at the way you're now staring up at the ceiling with an analytical look on your face, like you're trying to solve a difficult math problem.

"y'know, I'm actually so fine," you seem to conclude.

he chokes on his soda, trying not to laugh at you. "yeah? so you could walk from here to the wall without stumbling even once, no issues?"

you try to match his gaze, but you see his raised eyebrow and dissolve into a fit of giggles, leaning forward to rest your head on the table. you've been doing that a lot tonight. you suddenly sit up straight, very serious look on your face. "okay, but to be fair, am I ever able to do that?"

he shakes his head with a slight smile. "okay, fair enough."

you frown and press your palm to your head. "ughhh, why am I so dizzy?" you whine. "it won't go away."

he quickly leans over and steals a few french fries from your friend's nearly empty plate, feeding them to you slowly. having a full belly doesn’t seem to be helping your state, but it’s the first thing he thinks of. "you wanna know what I think?"

you nod and rest your head against his shoulder.

"I think you're definitely not sober, sweetheart. despite what you're saying."

you look up at him with narrowed eyes. "fine... maybe just a bit... can we go home now?"

he thinks that's the most logical thing you've said since finishing dinner.

your friend must see him helping you stand up and grabbing your coat, because she quickly steps off the dance floor to assess the situation. "hey, are you guys leaving?"

your boyfriend nods. "yeah, I think I'd better get them home."

she takes in how you're leaning against him, eyes shut in an attempt to stop the temporary vertigo, and shares an amused look with your pillar before hugging you both goodbye. "get home safe, you two. call me if you need anything!" and then she's back on the dancefloor, her boyfriend waving from where he's stood.

"alright, baby, let's go."

you nod and try to lead the way, before reaching out behind you with a small "oh."

he's steadying you in an instant and making sure you're okay.

"c-can I just hold onto you until we get to the car?" you ask sheepishly.

he snorts and crouches down a bit to pick you up. You're definitely able to walk with his support, but quite honestly, he'd use any excuse to have you in his arms. "I wouldn't let you walk on your own right now even if you insisted."

you direct a dreamy sigh towards him. "you're so good to me, baby."

he's thankful you're more focused on the city's nightlife with a dazed expression than the pink blooming on his face.

ATSUMU, kuroo, kirishima, geto, isagi, akaashi

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

yippee for rushed endings!!! I definitely had more planned for this fic but I can't remember exactly what those plans were LOL

i got tipsy/mildly drunk on vacation for the first time and it got me thinking about who'd be best at handling you while you’re inebriated. this is just a silly little fic *partially* based on true events. "I'm actually so fine" might've been my most repeated phrase of the evening. (I was in fact not fine)

[ak319]

Yan G!P Princess x fem reader

PART V ➺ Prev ⤷ Series m.list Your name is Deniz here

(YOUR POV)

"Princess here!"

"Princess Kade , here!"

"Where did you both first meet?!"

"Is our new princess in the castle?!"

"How long I’ve waited to hear these questions, to see the desperate anticipation in every man, woman, and child’s eyes about my marriage with you. The day they would be dying to know about you, about us."

That’s what she said. She released the article, just as I expected. So, I lost. I finally lost. And I would have lost no matter what.

It’s been two weeks since... I can’t even bear to say or think about what happened. But yes, two weeks, and I’m still stuck in this damn room, watching her answer questions with such delight. The lies she’s telling, as if she’s trying to craft a fairy tale. And she’s done it. She told them how she first saw me playing and was captivated by everything—my sportsmanship, my personality, my beauty. Then, when someone asked about her previous failed engagement with Juniper, she outright denied even knowing her and excused herself, slamming the car door. That means she’s coming back to the palace—probably to spend more time with me here.

I would just sit in the corner, ignoring her as best I could while she tried to talk to me. But she still remained, informing me about the commencement of the arrangement and how she had spoken to her assistant to arrange some classes for me—ranging from media etiquette to royal protocol. At first, I cursed at the mere idea of it, but when she said I wouldn’t be allowed to use my phone, I had no choice but to comply. But I’ll make sure to make those classes as miserable as possible. Let’s see how long the teachers last.

My parents went back home and will be invited back for the wedding. I video-call them daily now that I have the strength to. Ever since the incident, I had been blaming them, even though I knew it wasn’t their fault. I just needed time. Clara and Leo finally picked up my calls, but not from my phone--from the palace’s telephone. Yes, apparently, Kade ordered this too, and I had no choice since the calls from my phone are still blocked. It’s just another way of monitoring me because Kade knows Clara could help me somehow. But I also know that if I tried to ask for help, it would only create problems for Clara. So, in the end, I could only cry during the calls while she cursed Kade and her family non-stop.

The door opened after a subtle knock, one I knew all too well. Why is she even bothering to knock? It’s locked from the outside. Kade entered the room with her usual air of authority, her tall, statuesque figure clad in a form-fitting black turtleneck that highlighted her regal bearing. Her hazel eyes, sharp and observant, flickered with a mixture of contentment, control and...concern?

"Good morning, love. Hazel informed me you skipped breakfast again. You shouldn't skip meals like this. I don't want you to faint when you're walking down the aisle. I care for you, alright? For your health. And I know you definitely don't want me to force feed you." Yep. I'd rather kill myself.

"Well forgive me Your Grace, for not eating due to getting literally , kidnapped."

"I am not having this conversation again." She slumped against the couch.

"Ever thought about how I don’t want any of this either?" I watched her jaw tighten as she turned on her laptop and started working on her project, as if my words meant nothing. She always sits in this room to study, turning it into her own workspace. She even had the nerve to ‘introduce’ me to her friends on a Zoom call once, pretending everything was perfectly fine.

Ignoring my complaint entirely, she announced, "The wedding is in August, so you’ve got a month and a half to adjust. Your classes start next Monday."

I decided to play her game and ignore her right back.

"Kade, what will happen if I kill you right now?"

"Death sentence, love." She responded nonchalantly, flashing me a quick, almost amused smile. I scoffed and leaned back into the sofa, staring out the window. "In a way, we’d be reunited," she added with an unsettling calm. God, this woman is next-level delusional.

"If you could be even a tiny bit positive about this, I might consider taking you outside."

"I’m perfectly fine here," she sighed, her eyes still glued to the screen. "Are you sure, love?"

"Yes. Very." I stood up and headed to the bathroom, seeking a brief escape from her presence. When I returned, she was still there, now on a group call with her legs propped up on the table. She gave me a quick wink before turning her attention back to her work.

I decided to use my phone while she was occupied. When she finally left, I knew she'd be back for supper and then dinner. I groaned into the pillow. The door couldn’t be locked from the inside, there was no LOCK! It was clear she’d planned this meticulously, which only made it even more stomach-turning.

As I settled in with a book, a knock at the door interrupted me, distinctly different from Kade’s.

"Can I come in?"

Who the hell--wait a minute. Is that... Princess Romana?! My future sister-in-law. NO! EW! Stop thinking that way! How did I even think of that-?!. I quickly shook off the unsettling thought and answered with a hurried "yes." I had no idea if she’d be as crazy as the rest of this family, but something in my gut told me she was different. I only knew a little about her from the media, she lived in Windsor with her own family, not here in Buckingham.

The door clicked open, and she walked in, looking just as confused as I was.

"Seriously? Whose idea was this?" Before I could even register her question, she muttered to herself, "Who am I kidding—of course it was that sister of mine." She turned to me, her expression softening. "Anyway, um, Deniz. Nice to meet you. I’m Romana, if you-"

"I know, Princess Romana... hi." Damn it, why did I interrupt her? Forget it. Why does it even matter?

"Can we have a talk, if you’re comfortable with that?" She folded her arms and gave me a polite smile, and for the first time in what felt like an eternity, I felt a sense of warmth. She felt like... home. Maybe because she was the first person I’d interacted with besides Kade.

"I-y-yes." I cleared my throat , trying my best to hold back my tears.

"Thank you. Please, have a seat." I moved to the edge of the bed, facing her, still wary of her unexpected appearance.

"I'll be honest with you, okay? And don’t be scared of me. Be as open as you want to be." She paused, her gaze fixed on her folded hands in her lap. "I read the article and was shocked at first, but then I was happy and decided to call Father about this sudden news because my dear sister wasn’t picking up. Then I got a call from someone here, someone loyal to me, who filled me in on the whole-" She licked her lips, searching for the right word-"situation."

That was the final trigger for me, and I let my tears flow.

"God, I am so sorry for what they did to you. What my sister did. I just can’t wrap my head around all of this. It’s bloody diabolical." She gave me a moment to collect myself, her eyes brimming with sympathy and regret.

"Look, Deniz, the situation between Kade and me has been complicated. We started off with a strained relationship, but as we grew older, things improved significantly. We eventually became quite close. I am thoroughly aware that she has a tendency for being stubborn. My father, as you might expect, has always had a special fondness for Kade, which has influenced many of his decisions. I wish I had known about this earlier, I would have done everything I could to intervene. Though, given his position as King, it might not have made a difference."

"It’s not your fault... it was mine."

"No. Don’t blame yourself. This is what I’m trying to explain. Kade has a habit of getting what she wants, and this time she’s gone too far. I had a huge argument with her when I arrived. She shouldn’t have done any of this. But now-" She sighed, her expression heavy with regret. "The articles are out, the press is all over it, the situation has spiraled out of control. As much as it pains me to say this, the marriage is going to happen."

It felt as though my heart was being slashed once again, and all I could do was absorb her words, powerless and numb.

"I wish I could make this better for you. Right now, all I can offer is the small comfort that Kade has failed as a person, but there’s a slim chance she might be a good partner." I shook my head violently and stood up, pacing in front of the window.

"God, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. The reality is, you will have to leave this room eventually and confront the world she’s created outside. I’m not trying to manipulate you or play some sort of Stockholm syndrome game, I’m just stating the facts."

"You don’t have to keep reminding me," I snapped, frustration seeping into my voice. "She comes here every day to make sure I know just how much she’s made my life a nightmare!"

She ran a hand through her sleek black hair and nodded. "I understand. But Deniz, I’m here for you. My wife, Adelyn, is too. We’re both with you. You can call on us anytime, we’re staying here for the time being." She approached me with a somber look. "I’m like your sister, okay? You can trust me. Now, come on. Let’s go outside."

Her words sounded reassuring, so I nodded in agreement.

"Can you gimme a few minutes?"

"Of course. I’ll wait outside." She offered a comforting smile before stepping out. I sighed and wiped away my tears as I sat down to gather my emotions. I felt a bit better than before. The fact that I cried not only from my own situation but also because her presence reminded me of my family touched me deeply. She seemed genuinely honest, a stark contrast to the insufferable Kade. God, why did my stalker have to be a fucking princess? At least a normal person might have faced arrest.

(Kade's POV)

"So, you met my sister?" I was relieved to see you finally eating. It pained me to think of you outside walking with Romana and my sister-in-law as I came back from the gym, but at least you had opened up to someone here. Still, I hated it that it wasn't me.

"What did you two talk about, love?"

"Nothing. Nothing that concerns you." It should fucking concern me. But I’ll let it slide for now, I don’t want you to go silent again. I need to keep you talking. I trust Romana to some extent, but I hope she didn’t poison your mind against me. My fists clenched under the table as I thought about how Romana seemed to have it so easy. She married the love of her life without the struggles I had to endure to be with you. But then again, what kind of love is it if you didn’t have to fight for it? It was such a bittersweet feeling.

"Look, it’s not like I’m keeping you a prisoner here. You could have gone out into the gardens any time."

"Well, I don’t think the lock on my door agrees with that statement." You slammed your spoon down on your plate, your frustration evident.

"Deniz, love, that lock isn’t meant to imprison you. You’re volatile, okay? I can’t have you breaking everything in the palace like—like you did in our room."

"Oh, how marvelous," you retorted, sarcasm dripping from every word. "Are you still not over that? Must be so, so hurtful, right? Even more painful than being forced into a marriage? Tsk. God, one can never fathom the daily struggles of Princess Kade."

I couldn’t help but chortle at your biting sarcasm. "God, Deniz. You’re still the same."

"And you’re even worse," you shot back, your voice laden with exasperation

"I wonder what or who made me like this, hm~..."

"Yourself, Kade." I shook my head, catching a glimpse of Julian returning from his jog over Deniz’s shoulder.

"Anyway, I just wanted to let you know that you’re free to do whatever you want here, except vandalism. Also, I need to discuss our honeymoon trip-"

"Fuck no, Kade." I grabbed your wrist as you tried to head back inside, my frustration evident.

"No, Deniz, we are having this conversation. It’s important."

"NO! EW! How can you even suggest I go with YOU—"

"DENIZ!" I sighed in exasperation, seeing you flinch. God, this is tougher than I thought it would be. "Deniz, love, I just want you to read the schedule. Nothing more, nothing less. You can make changes if you want. I won’t say a word. I promise."

"Well, then cancel it altogether! That is what I WANT!"

"You know that’s not possible. Now please—" You swatted my hand away from your wrist and flopped back down into the chair. "Thank you. Richard." I grabbed the file from him and slid it towards you, which you snatched with your usual resentment. "Don’t ever touch me like that."

I swallowed another wave of pain and annoyance. 'No, no, no. Kade, you have to endure this. I know it’s painful, but it will get better over time. Just focus on how cute she looks reading it and how you can’t wait to take her as your wife'.

(YOUR POV)

The days began to blend into one another, thanks to the interminable classes I was subjected to. I did my best to irritate the teachers, but they remained astonishingly patient. I had never encountered such patience before. Clearly, Kade had trained them well.

Gradually, and unfortunately, I was also taken by Kade to spend time with her family. Thankfully, Romana and her wife, Adelyn, provided a calming presence, along with their adorable 4-year-old son, Idris. I knew I was, in a sense, surrendering, but what choice did I have? I was still aware, as evidenced by my panic attacks. I would never forget what Kade had done to me, no matter how loving she appeared now. I only wished she could understand that.

As my headache returned, I stumbled to the bed, desperately hoping to awaken from this nightmare the next morning. Instead, my mind replayed memories of my previous life, Kade's conversations, Romana’s reassuring words, the King's disapproving glances, and the Queen’s pitying looks. The upcoming interviews and the wedding itself loomed over me. I turned the pillow to the dry side, though it was already damp with tears.

"Just rest, Deniz. Close your eyes. It will be okay. Shhh...just call your parents first thing in the morning."

The earlier walk with Romana replayed in my mind.

"Can you get me divorced from her in the future, then?"

Romana stopped and turned to face me. "That would be possible when I become Queen. I could grant you permission. But that time seems far off, and..." She sighed. "There are other factors to consider, including Kade’s own consent."

"Fuck everything."

"Indeed." Adelyn gently patted my back in sympathy.

Next

( the reader be like)

[measuringbliss]

Ultimate Spider-Man (2024) 14-16

(Check out the masterpost if you're lost)

Gorgeous cover for #16! But first...

Richard decides it's not the 70s anymore and he won't spent half an issue fighting with the Black Cat before talking things through, so he unmasks.

He's funny.

Meanwhile, in the Savage Lands, Peter and Harry ride a dinosaur together, it's really cute.

I'm here for their chemistry. They get help from the Mole Man, and it becomes clear that Mysterio has a plan for the both of them...

Felicia and Richard have a heart to heart, where she explains that she was annoyed at being thrust in this situation without being able to say anything about it. And when she asks Richard about HIS family...

Good AI.

Back in the underground jungle, we learn that Gwen is most likely heavily (and unknowingly?) protected thanks to Otto. Peter, not trusting Otto, had no opportunity to ask for that measure. Smart Peter.

Then, Kraven shows up.

Gorgeous art.

Peak. Um, but the problem is that Harry was shot right in the forehead, apparently? What? Noooo that can't be happening. I refuse to believe it.

Peter gets really angry but then, my savior appears:

So Harry was thankfully probably an illusion, but ah this is so gorgeous! I forgot how peak this is!

AND THIS ISSUE IS GORGEOUS, DAMMIT.

Peter gets home and gives MJ the rundown. They have to run!

Onto issue 15!

Well hello...

Peter and his family are staying in a weird place for mobile homes, I don't know how the US work when it seems to be in the middle of nowhere but there's a lot of people.

Hahaha.

Oh, MJ.

It's time for a father-son talk, and even a father-suit talk. It goes well!

Those issues are short, but they excel at echoing (be it plot points or comedy) themselves (the "language" joke or MJ saying people need "help"). The writing is rather economical, but it's good.

Anyway, there's a nice "fight" with the Sandman, who eventually shows himself naked.

I thought it was important.

Later, Peter asks THE question. No, the other one.

They got no news from Gwen, although she was there at Harry's funeral...

Peter quickly checks on Ben and Jameson, and they're having a totally non-threatening visit from Fisk. And he drops a bomb.

O-oh. Isn't that a bit much?

Fisk is actually happy about their endeavor, because that means there's a truth to twist and turn around. So they should keep going. Just don't hide behind other names.

This is so good.

#16 time!

Gorgeous gorgeous gorgeous.

We start with Gwen standing above Harry's grave, then flashbacks of her life. How appropriate to read this the morning of a family member's burial, because her life is full of dead people as well. Her mom, then her dad (just when she's on a date with Harry, too!)...

Wait a minute.

Well, congrats to those who did think she could be Mysterio because she takes over her father's mantle, and so she is! (And four other people, apparently.)

Another flashback to nine years ago, her wedding with Harry. She has a gorgeous dress...

Hell yeah.

Another flashback to their first married Christmas.

Oh!!!! Everything is related, I love it. It's written by this guy, by the way. Turns out Gwen and her friends understand that this Earth isn't "the right one". I love this, they made it so much more than a simple "Gwen = Mysterio" twist.

Peak!

So that's why she was interested in the Paper from Ben and Jameson.

Later, she's informed by a Mysterio friend of hers that they found her husband in the Savage Lands, thanks to their connexion to the Mole Man (I *did* think the eye glow earlier was similar). And... she's told she's being watched by Otto.

Oh he's not gonna like that. Until now, it seems all he's done is be nice and help them, but now, with his knowledge and ambition...?

Anyway, two months later, as anticipated, Harry doesn't die. Instead, she shoots someone else...

It ends with the two Osborn looking at his grave and preparing for their future battle. Hell. Yes.

[wing-dingy]

Remember when I said I wasn't gonna post fanfics? I lied. I'm gonna post just this one as an excuse to have some Johnshi in my life but also because its rare I write a fic that isnt a self indulgent oc fic

This is just a lil fic where Kenshi comforts Johnny after a stunt on set leaves him with an injured ankle, mostly cute banter. Also sorry if the formatting looks weird, i dont normally post fics to tumblr so idk how to space my paragraphs like I do on google docs.

Click. Step. Click. Step.

The Hollywood actor carried himself on his crutches across the room, from the door to his living room couch, where he saw Kenshi waiting in anticipation.

“Honey, I'm home,” Johnny announced in a parody of those old movies, how he loved his dumb movie references.

“Doesn't sound like good news. Are those crutches?” Kenshi asked, judging by the sound and the patterns of the sound. Though he usually relied on Sento for sight, he hardly ever felt the need to in a casual setting, so it rested in the mantle above the fireplace.

“Yeup. Doc says I'll need ‘em for a few weeks, a month at most.”

Kenshi crossed his arms and leaned back on the couch. “Was that stunt still worth it?”

Johnny snorted, “Totally, the shot came out perfect! You may not know this, but I do all of my own stunts. Impresses everybody when I tell them that!” He dropped a small paper bag of his prescribed painkillers on the coffee table and sat next to Kenshi, wincing as he lifted his ankle to rest it on the same table.

“Aren't stuntmen used so the real actors don't get hurt?”

“I mean- yeah. But don't worry, they're just gonna film everything else until I come back, which should be in no time. I'm just built different.”

Kenshi could just hear the cocky smile, causing him to shake his head in disbelief, but he couldn't hold back the small bit of laughter at Johnny’s pride and confidence. “Alright, but it looks like it's my turn to take care of you again.”

“Don't sweat it, Ken doll, I can take care of myself. You've already helped me enough, and you've got yourself to look after,” He noted all too seriously. Obviously there still rested some guilt in his heart over Mileena's rabid attack that day.

“That ankle needs to rest. That movie needs you and you need the money from it.” Undeniable. Johnny was still getting back on his feet (not literally now) after a messy and expensive divorce, he needed whatever work he could get at the moment. “You just let me know when you need something.”

Johnny sighed as he looked down at his injured ankle. These next few weeks were going to be the most boring while of his life.

Kenshi seemed to know Johnny wasn't feeling so good by the sudden quietness, not even a silly request from his offer. When Johnny of all people was quiet, there was a problem. “Johnny? You alright?”

“Yeah… I've just never been good at sitting still and doing nothing, you know? Now I can't even use my own pool in my living room,” He complained, as if having a pool in the living room was a normal thing.

“Come on, Johnny, you still have a whole mansion. Unless your attention span really is that small, you're not gonna get bored,” Kenshi lovingly poked at him. “It’s not like you're alone either.”

Johnny noded with a small smile of comfort. “That's right, I've got you, my best friend, boyfriend, and assigned FBI agent,” Johnny joked. Gods, not again with the assigned FBI agent meme. “And hey, maybe we can invite Kung Lao and Raiden over to hang out. You think Liu Kang would wanna drop by?”

Kenshi gave an amused smirk. “Probably not, but Kung Lao, might.”

Johnny looked down at the table again, spotting a marker. He groaned and wheezed as he leaned over to grab it, trying not to move his ankle off the table as his finger tips barely touched the marker.

“Johnny what are you-” Before he could finish his question, he felt a marker tapping against his hand.

“You wanna be the first to sign my cast?” Johnny offered, trying to play it off cool but his excitement was slipping past in his voice.

“You mean Hollywood’s megastar wants my autograph?” Kenshi teased. He took the marker into his hand, and Johnny guided his hand down to his cast. Confidently, Kenshi began writing his name.

“Not bad writing for someone who can't really see,” Johnny complimented, meaning it obviously and trying to make it sound like that rather than a mockery.

“I still know the motions of writing, that's enough to get by.” Of course Johnny hadn't seen Kenshi's messier writing at his job and maybe it should stay that way.

The real surprise was the small heart he drew right below his own name. Kenshi wasn't so into PDA, nor into cutesy stuff like that, so it caught Johnny off guard to see the small display. It wasn't like people didn't know they were dating, Johnny was way too into showing off their love and too loud to keep that secret, but it was rather that Kenshi was a more subtle lover when it came to their relationship, preferring to keep things behind doors. Still, it was a nice surprise, and at least now it made the cast way better to look at! Of course Johnny was already pulling out his phone to snap a photo of it to post to his socials.

“You're posting your cast, aren't you?” Kenshi reasonably accused.

“Gotta let the fans know production might be on hold.”

“Is that it? Or are you bragging about us again?”

Johnny snickered, meaning Kenshi was right. “Okay, you got me, but how can I not show you off? You're the coolest! A blind swordsman? Dating Hollywood's biggest hit? We're like a power couple!”

If Kenshi still had his eyeballs, he'd be lovingly rolling them, but admittedly it was kind of cute seeing how enthusiastic Johnny was about their relationship- and kind of funny to think about considering they were previously rivals over Sento.

Kenshi leaned in to press a kiss to Johnny's cheek, and he could feel the wrinkles of a smile under his lips. “Looks like you're feeling better about that ankle.”

“As long as I have you by my side, this injury is gonna be a breeze!” Now it was Johnny's turn to lean in, this time leaning to rest his head on Kenshi with closed eyes and a content smile. Kenshi reciprocated by wrapping an arm around Johnny to hold him. “Shit, that medicine they gave me is starting to catch up.”

“You get sleepy off of a couple Tylenols,” Kenshi playfully quipped, making Johnny laugh.

“Just saying it's a good excuse to nap on you! Unless you're gonna tele-fling me to bed again.”

Kenshi shook his head. “Maybe when your ankle isn't as broken. Right here is fine, just keep your ankle up.”

“Sweet,” Johnny happily murmured as he felt himself starting to doze off. Damn, Tylenol really did knock him out.

[indigosfindings]

Sherm Anon taking the opportunity to send a more substantive ask - your recent post about defending yourself against a perceived worst-faith argument really resonated with me. I very often find myself thinking along the lines of "if I offer an extreme example for sake of argument, I can prove [some point I want to argue] with certainty, but I fear whoever I'm talking to will immediately invoke "well you're just making my point sound scary to slander me." It doesn't actually happen often - growing up autistic, I think I've long since been pushed out of spaces where that's more likely to happen - but I'm often thinking about it. What are your thoughts on that? Do you ever/how often do you find yourself in the position of having to say "I know this seems like a bad-faith hypothetical, but I need to convince you (the listener) I mean it genuinely?" Or even what I think is the broader thing of "I recognize this point comes off as trivial so I have to put in extra effort to prove I'm still operating in good faith"

the way it tends to manifest for me is an instinct to overclarify for the sake of pre-empting a hypothetical counterpoint, and it's an instinct im constantly forcing myself to reassess lmao--like, i'll voice an opinion then think "what could somebody say in retort to this? do i need to grapple with this theoretical argument before it's been made?" and tbh i think sometimes it IS beneficial to address such a counterpoint, but it's extremely easy for that to spiral into ceding legitimacy to an imagined bad-faith arguer--for example, if i say "i really liked this movie, but there are aspects of it i wish were better", i might imagine a person who comes along and replies "ugh, so you HATE this movie and think that everyone that likes it should kill themselves?!" --and in anticipation of this imagined person, i might be tempted to tack on "just to reiterate: i DID LIKE THIS MOVIE and i HAVE NOTHING AGAINST ITS FANS"... the problem with that is that (a) in doing so i indirectly legitimize the arguments of a person who is ultimately making an active effort to misconstrue me for the sake of picking a fight, (b) worrying about this creates a heap of undue stress, & (c) that person is still going to appear in my comments no matter how much time i spend clarifying and caveat-ing

there are two questions i find myself asking: first, "who would raise this counterpoint?"--ie, is it actually a reasonable point that someone would conclude in good faith? or would it be a deliberate misinterpretation, or semantic pedantry, or an attempt to provoke me? & second: "if i add that clarification, what will it look like?"--ie, from the perspective of a viewer, will it look like im preempting a natural question? or will it look like im clumsily trying to defend myself against a nonsensical counterpoint, or like im desperate to convey something about myself to the detriment of actually making a point, or like im afraid of my own shadow?

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Special Interest 4

Warnings: non/dubcon, age gap, creep behaviour, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: Cole Turner, short!reader

Part of the Bookstore AU

Note: this one is a bit longer than I anticipated!

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You have everything neatly tucked into a box for your delivery. You're anxious, more so to get it done and over with, than to meet the demanding buyer. Your mother finishes up and hurries you to get ready. You can’t help but take your time.

You bring another box, this one full of parcels to be sent out. After dropping those off, you’re back in the car hug the last order in your lap. Your mother pulls into the lot, just behind the garden center outside, now selling wreaths and pine trees in lieu of the season bulbs and petals.

You get out and check your phone. Your mom comes around to read over your shoulder. You keep an arm around the box as you lean it against the car. You bring up your Etsy messages.

‘Think I got here early. In the garden center checking out the garlands.’ 

“Oh, great,” your mother says, “we won’t have to waste too much time.”

“Mhmm,” you agree and bring your other arm around the box, pressing your phone to it as you follow her. 

She doesn’t wait as she walks along the wall of the garden centre and dips through the door. You catch up inside, nearly bouncing off of her as you hold the box ahead of you. She squeals and points out a shelf of ornaments made of pine cones. You humour her with a smile and hum.

“Those are cute, mom, but we’re not here to shop,” you huff as you peer around.

That woman in the patchwork jacket looks like a farmer. She has the square jaw of a real hard lady. You know she’d probably best you in any physical combat. You meet her eye, tilting her head in question, ‘are these your crochet goods? Huh? Did you make me come all the way down here?’

She frowns and quickly turns away. Alright, not her but you’ve definitely creeped her out. You glance back at your mom as she ogles the ornaments. You wonder how she manages to work from home effectively.

“Excuse me, uh, SashayCrochet? Um, I think that’s for me?” A voice draws you back to face the rows of trees and hanging wreaths. You almost fall over as you recognize the man approaching you. No flipping way. “Hey,” he points at you in a similar epiphany.

“Uh, Farmer’s Delight?” You grimace.

“That’d be me,” he smiles. He’s wearing the same tan jacket, you note the stain by the pocket, “thanks for meeting me here.”

“Uh huh,” you squint at him. What a gosh dang diddly darn coincidence this is. “Here, everything’s there. Have a good day.”

“Oh, wow,” he sputters as you push the box against his stomach, slowly placing his hands on the corners. “Do you mind if I check to make sure or–”

You hold back a sneer. You can’t believe this. You had a bad feeling all along. You somehow don’t think this is fate. You think this guy has a problem. Why would he needs a lady’s magenta cap and matching mitts?

“Honey,” your mom finally catches on to the scene behind her, “oh, is this him?”

“Um, hello,” the weirdo smiles at her, “yeah, uh, it’s me. Cole.”

He offers his hand as he shifts the box under his arm. Your mother shakes his hand and nearly vibrates in excitement. She loves finding a new mark for her unending small talk. They deserve each other.

“Cole, that’s such a cute name,” she rescinds her hand, holding it over her chest coyly, “matches you well.”

“Mom,” you growl, raising your chin defiantly at Cole the creep, “I included an invoice so you can see everything’s there. Go ahead and check, we have things to do.”

“Honey, don’t be so rude,” your mother chides, “so, Cole, you live on a farm?”

He sets the box down on the corner of a table and shuffles through the contents. You stay where you are as your mom steps closer. You wonder if she sees the silver in his beard and just thinks that’s some festive touch. He’s ancient.

“Yeah, my parents’ place. I help out. As much as I can.”

“Oh, wow, I always dreamt of living out in the country but I’m too much of a busy body. The city is where I belong,” she preens, “but my daughter, she’s loves being at home. Don’t you, honey?” She beckons to you but you don’t move. “Spends all her time making this stuff,” she motions to the box.

“It’s very nice,” he says as he admires the beret style cap, “good handiwork. Talented.”

“Yes, a good hobby,” your mom insists, “not so useful as working the field, I’m sure.”

He chuckles, “yeah, I guess, but it takes all sorts.” He lifts the box up again, “my mother is going to love all this. Her birthday’s just around the corner and I didn’t really wanna walk in with another gift store teddy bear.”

“Too sweet,” your mom chimes, “any mother would be so lucky. Honey, get over here.” She reaches back blindly and grabs your arm, forcing you up next to her, “she always makes me something pretty for the holidays but you can only really have so many socks and scarfs.”

“Mom,” you snarl again, glowering at Cole as amusement dimples in his cheek.

“Actually, uh, I was just coming from the market. I have a booth there. I sell plants, so, uh, I have some in my car. If you wanna have a look. You can have one for free… some probably won’t last that much longer,” he suggests.

“Oh, plants! I love plants. And with this weather, everything’s so grey,” your mother trills. “We’d love to have a look.”

You almost hiss at her again but you don’t want to argue, not in front of this man. He smiles and leads her out of the garden center. You trail behind reluctantly. Your mother glances over her shoulder and snaps her fingers at you. You come up behind her and lean in close.

“Mom,” you whisper, “do you really think we should follow this stranger to his car?”

“Stranger? He’s so nice.”

“You said two words to each other.”

“Don’t be so cynical,” she snaps back, lowering her voice as she talks out the side of her mouth, "he's gorgeous."

He takes her to a pale blue truck and opens the back door, he tucks the box on the floor and steps back, gesturing to the back seat. You furrow your brow at your mom. She is easy pickings.

“You can have a look. Mostly cacti,” he shrugs.

“Don’t mind if I do,” your mom steps up and peeks into the back seat.

You can see the edge of a cardboard tray as she moves around the small pots. You stay a few feet back and cross your arms. Cole edges towards you.

“I guess… we’re running into each other so I can apologise,” he says, keeping his voice notably low, “about the bookstore.”

“Huh, bookstore? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I’m being nice. I just wanna make it up for you. Why don’t you take a plant too?”

“I don’t have much of a green thumb. I’d rather knit my plants,” you sneer.

“You mean crochet,” he corrects you. You look at him sharply and he lifts his brows plaintively, “I’m learning, see?”

“Mom,” you put your hand up as if to say ‘talk to the hand’ and block him out, “hurry up. We gotta grab that thing for dad. Remember?”

“Great, I’m heading inside too,” Cole says, “they have some sod in stock and I need some chicken wire.”

“I like this one,” you mother shows a prickly cactus with a little red cushion on top, “and wonderful, you might know what this is,” she fishes out her phone with her free hand, “something for the sink. My husband sent me a link…”

You die a little as your mother shows him the web page. Of course she can’t just let him go. She can’t let you get out of this. She thinks this guy with his dumb blue eyes and sandy brown hair is some sort of Prince Charming.

“Maybe I’ll just wait in the car,” you say.

“Oh, honey, don’t be silly, it’s too cold for that.”

Cole looks at her phone, “oh, I know exactly where those are. One sec.”

He shuffles past her to shut his truck door. You glare at your mom but she doesn’t notice, she’s completely enamored with this tall hunk of weirdo. Whatever, you’ll have to sneak away and hide in the pet section and daydream about the puppy you never got.