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tuesdayiminlove · 3 months ago

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i don't wanna look at anything else (now that i saw you) PART 1/3

where you’re just trying to make it through the day, and jamie thinks you’re his girlfriend (jamie tartt x fem!reader)

AN: hello i started this blog to post all of my writings that have been piling up! this has been sitting on my laptop for awhile, and i decided to post the first part to see how things go! lmk ur thoughts! btw this is not proofread oops

word count: 6k+

You think that the highlight of your day might be tending to your garden.

It started as a bit of a de-stressing-after-your-job hobby. At first, you found joy in coming home and taking time to water the flower beds at the front of your home, faithfully tending to them with the sole purpose of making the exterior of the house pretty for passerbyers. That soon turned into your father helping you install a window box at your bedroom window, so you can wake up to the site of blooming Zinnias. You meticulously started planting more flowers in your yard, and soon the vegetable garden (a neighborhood favorite).

Mrs. Dunphy from two houses down was the first person who inquired on the abundance of your radishes and carrots. Never one to turn down a request, you began to give her a generous amount of the vegetables you’ve grown. And she’s just too sweet of a woman, sometimes you will pick the best of your abundance to give.

And once word got around the street that you were giving away free, fresh vegetables, more people came running. Mr. Taylor suddenly was wondering about any spare tomatoes for the sandwiches and salads he makes when his grandkids visit. Stevie likes to snack on cucumbers, and she’s one of the very few people you know around the block your age, so of course you’re gonna chop a few when she comes over to watch shitty reality TV with you (and pack a few for her to take home, of course).

Your garden has become something to connect you with other members of your neighborhood in Richmond, thus making it a passion project of sorts. As well as a productive pastime—that might as well be a second job. You try to keep it a secret, but you’ve begun to talk to your plants. That one tip about how talking to plants is good for their health is pretty famous, right?

You’re quietly humming to the acoustic radio station you have playing on your speaker, meticulously chopping up onions for your soup. You like the recipe you're doing—it’s creamy and rich and you have most of the ingredients in either your cupboards, or your garden.

It’s one of those days where you’re off work early, and just looking forward to a day to yourself. It’s not abnormal for Stevie to come ringing the doorbell whenever she sees fit, but it’s a day where you know she’s going to be gone late for work. So unless you decide to call up one of your other friends, or maybe your parents, it’s just you. And you’d like to go that way: you’ve been waiting for a bit of a self-care day. Nothing can cure your stress like warm soup, some music, and the comfort of your home.

You open your fridge, spotting the array of tomatoes before picking one to use. Though, nearly immediately, your mind wanders off to something. Your eyes instinctually glance out your kitchen window at the house next-door, seeing it empty of the typical car.

A new neighbor had moved in recently next-door, and usually he’d be home by now. . . Is it weird that you know that? Maybe it’s a bit creepy. But, if you’re completely honest, you’re a bit hyper-aware of this neighbor. If it isn’t his status in England, it’s his wonderful personality. And if it isn’t his wonderful personality, it is the fact that he might be one of the most beautiful and fit people that you’ve ever laid eyes on.

You remember the first time you met Jamie.

“You need help?”

Your shoulder jolted slightly, and you nearly dropped the soiled crate of peonies from your arms. It’s hard to startle you, mostly because you think you’re pretty hyper aware of your surroundings. You can easily spot the footsteps of Mr. and Mrs. Michelin, as well as their boisterous voices.

The voice that spoke, however, did not sound like a couple in their early-60s. You hadn't even heard the footsteps.

“Fuck, I’m sorry! Didn’t mean to scare you there.”

You angled your hip around, adjusting the crate in your hands in a way that doesn’t hurt your fingers.

Immediately, it was easy to recognize that the man is Jamie Tartt: not only the man who had recently moved in next door, but also the known striker for Richmond’s own Premier League club. It’d be easy to mistake him for a regular guy, though, if his pajama pants and jumper couldn’t make him look any more average. His hair parts evenly down the center with concerned brows raised up to nearly the hairline.

“Are you okay?” Jamie asked, seeming to mistake your quiet observation of him as you still being scared as balls.

You huffed a laugh. “I’m sorry. You just startled me.”

“That’s my fault—no need to apologize.” He waits another beat before adding, “I’m Jamie. I just moved in next door. I kinda… saw you when I just walked out. Thought to introduce myself.”

You grin. “Trying to be on everyone’s good side?”

He returned your grin, looking less tense now that you had reciprocated the conversation. “‘Never had much of a good one to begin with in neighborhoods. I’m trying to change that.”

There was a beat of silence before you said your name, feeling surprisingly awkward in this situation. You’re by no means a social butterfly, but it’s hard to startle you—especially on your own home property. Every conversation approached to you has always been reciprocated evenly by you. If Mrs. Michelin from down the street wanted to tell a story of the old diner she owned, you did your work quietly while listening, chiming in when necessary. If Stephen from down the block wanted to stop by for tea and gossip (which you’ve never been into the gossip part of it), you sip your tea nonchalantly and ask engaging questions that won’t entirely give away your true opinion on the matter: Mr. Barnaby is rude? What makes you think that?

But for some reason, in the presence of your new neighbor, you found yourself quite speechless. Maybe it’s because Jamie is basically a celebrity. You had no doubt that he had millions of followers on every platform he ran—and the paps love him (she sees it on the news and papers).

That’s probably why.

“Well,” you cleared your throat, smiling. “Welcome! Everyone around here is pretty nice, but you can make those conclusions yourself when they inevitably pay you a visit.”

“Is it a tight-knit group around here?” he asked with a smile.

You nodded. “Quite. A lot of them come over sometimes to get veggies, and they seem to know about each other’s lives well.”

His smile turned into a full-grown grin. Immediately, you were desperate to know which words you said elicited that smile, so that you could say the same thing over and over again.

“You sell veggies?”

You shook your head. “I just grow them for everyone!”

In the next few minutes, you’re setting an arrangement to give Jamie a crate of carrots for his morning smoothies. You hide the giddiness you felt from the possibilities of seeing him again.

You’re placing onions into a pot on the stove, mind now away from your neighbor’s whereabouts, when your phone rings. You toss the chopped onions into the sizzling pot before picking up your phone and placing it between your ear and shoulder.

“Hello?” you say cheerily. It’s been a decent day and you’re about to make your favorite dish, so you’re in a good mood. You balance the phone in between your ear and shoulder and you go back to tend to your uncut tomato.

A lady on the other end—in a voice that seems quite familiar, but you’re still unsure of—says your name questioningly, in an almost frantic manner that has you furrowing your brows.

Placing your cutting knife down, you wipe your hand on a rag before holding your phone directly to your ear for more support. “Yes?”

“Um—I’m sorry, I don’t quite know how to deliver this news to you, especially since we’ve never spoken before… which surprises quite a bit…” the woman’s voice on the other line trails off, leaving you more confused. Setting your knife down, you lean a bit closer to the phone. “But, Jamie’s in the hospital. He’s hit his head.”

Jamie? Your next-door neighbor Jamie? Premier League Jamie? The one you were just thinking about? “Tartt?”

“Yes,” the woman replies, “I’m so sorry.”

You don’t know why the woman is apologizing to you. Jamie’s the one who’s hit his head! It’s still confusing as to why you’re the person who received the call, but concern immediately seeps into your bones at the thought of someone so lovely not being alright.

“No, no. I-It’s okay. Is he alright?”

“He’s got a concussion. It’s quite bad, but not horrible. I’m sure the doctor can explain what’s wrong better than I can. Do you think you can come right now? He’s been asking for you nonstop.”

You frown confusingly. “Me? Are you sure?” You and Jamie are far from strangers, and maybe more than just acquaintances. Sometimes you give the man carrots, that’s basically friend status. But you both are definitely not close enough for him to ask for you after being concussed. He should be asking for a parent, or a relative, or just anyone who is much closer than you are to him.

The woman on the other end giggles. “I’m quite sure. He’s been yapping nonstop to see you—gave us your number and everything! I know this isn’t an ideal circumstance for his friends to meet you, but we really are a bit excited and curious to put a face to the name.”

What the hell has Jamie said about you?

“So,” the lady says on the phone, reminding you that she’s there, “are you able to come?”

You stare at the pot boiling on your stove.

“Send me the address.”

—

The second your eyes meet Jamie’s, his eyes soften until a smile goes over his face. “Took you long enough.”

“Sorry…” your voice trails off, unsure of how to go about talking to him. Your body has barely entered the room in full, but the attention goes to you immediately. You feel the need to give a justified response for why your arrival has been so delayed (you didn’t even know this was happening until barely half an hour ago!). “I was cooking when I got the call, it all happened so suddenly. Are you alright?”

The smile remains on his face. “Perfect now that you’re here.”

There’s a pause in the room. All eyes seem to be on you as you stare back in shock at Jamie's words. A quick glance around the room reveals that everyone is awaiting your next response with surprised, curious eyes.

“I’m sorry,” you say with a frown, trying to ignore how your heart lurches at Jamie’s words. A sentence like that seems like something you would conjure up in the back of your mind during times you’d like to fantasize about Jamie. You try to push those thoughts aside, because he’s nothing more than your neighbor—possibly friend. A double meaning has to be coming from the sentence, and all you have to do is act cool so that no one will know how affected you are by this. “Am I supposed to be bringing him back to his home?”

The nurse looks down at his clipboard. “You’re his neighbor, correct? You know his address?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Then you should be fit to bring him home. Unless, you think it’ll be more reliable for someone else to? I know all of this must be stressful.”

You quickly shake your head. “Not stressful at all. I’m just trying to grasp why I was called here.” Surely Jamie had a family member to ring up, or even one of the people currently in the room, who seem to care about him very much. You walk closer to Jamie’s bedside to see if there are any damages to his face that you might’ve not been able to see from afar. Your heart beats at a less-rapid pace when you see that physically, he looks fine. He catches your eye with a smile as you look down at him.

Ted Lasso speaks up. You never thought you’d see him in the flesh, just a person on your television that you see when you eat dinner alone. “Well, Jamie here has been hassling us to see his lady since he’s been up. It’s nice to finally put a face to the name! ‘Been a long hour of wonderin’.”

Before you can even retort, like how you didn’t even know Jamie had a girlfriend (like why would you be here if Jamie wants to see his girlfriend—your heart sinks lightly at the thought, but it seems all too selfish to care about that when Jamie’s in a worrying predicament), the blonde girl speaks up.

“You know, I will say that I was mad hurt when I found out Jamie has a girlfriend and didn’t even tell us.”

Yeah, you think. He didn’t tell you, either.

A tall man grunts from beside her. “How long have you lot been going out, anyway?”

Your head snaps in his direction, eyes wide.

Jamie’s voice cuts through the room, “For Christ’s fucking sake, can you all stop bombarding her with questions?” He reaches out a small distance to grab your hand and pull you closer to his bedside, your hip now resting against the bed. “It’s fucking annoying.”

Your mind freezes. You look down at your joint hands, then back to his face.

Surely this has to be some mistake. Jamie is telling everyone that you’re his girlfriend. You can’t tell if he’s joking or not; if this is some sort of bit he wants to play on the very many people in this room that care about his well being. The only time you’ve gotten even close to touching Jamie was whenever his fingers would brush against yours to pick up a crate of carrots. You don’t even know what the inside of his house looks like! There are many facts about him that—though, you would like to know—you don’t know at all. And now he’s gone and told everybody that you’re dating!

The only thing you do know, is that you and Jamie have now got five pairs of eyes on you.

And they all think that you’re in a relationship.

“Jamie…” you say, tip-toeing through your next words to make sure you don’t say something that will put him into shock. “How hard did you hit your head?” His hand remains firmly in your own.

He pouts, turning to a man who’s sitting on a chair in the corner. He’s pouting guiltily, still in his Richmond kit with dirt on his knee pads.

“Pretty fucking hard,” the man mumbles. His fingers are fidgeting, and you recognize him as Richmond’s captain—Isaac.

The nurse standing by you nods. “Essentially,” he says, shrugging.

“Like—extremely hard?”

The nurse sighs. “I’m surprised it’s just a concussion. But nothing seems to be truly wrong; the X-rays would’ve shown.”

(Clearly something more than a concussion must have happened for Jamie to believe that you’re his girlfriend!)

“Are there any medications, protocol that we should be aware of, Nurse?” Ted chimes in, leaning closer to the center of the room.

“Recommended actions will be included in his discharge papers. I would say wait a day or two before taking any pain medication. Avoid bright lights, like the telly or your phone. I suggest wearing sunglasses outdoors—though I don’t think that’d be any different than usual. Other than that, I think you will heal just fine. But until then, it looks like your girlfriend has to be your nurse for a bit.”

You choke up again at the mention of that term, a dry cough riding up your throat. Eyes snap towards you, concern immediately filling each iris.

“Love,” says Jamie, voice in clear pain over his misinterpretation of your emotions. “I’m going to be okay. I always get better. You know that.”

No, you wanted to say, I don’t know that. You wanted to close your eyes and count to ten—meditate maybe, and think of your next moves. You wanted to be back home, stirring broth in a pot instead of getting tangled up in a fiasco that you’re ill-equipped for.

Unfortunately, none of those are an option for you. And, as you look at Jamie in his hospital gown, your heart constricts. Something plucks a small melody on your heartstrings as you stare into his glazed and hopeful eyes. Hopeful for you.

You try to give your best smile. One that says, it’s going to be okay. If you worry, it’s clear Jamie will worry. It’s obvious by his expression that his sole focus at the moment is you.

You’re not sure how convincing the smile is. You feel like a fraud, pretending to be something for Jamie that you’re clearly not. You’re far from being his girlfriend, or even someone Jamie could fancy if his head hadn’t been so fucked up.

But maybe, though, the smile is convincing enough: his face is elated at your positive acknowledgement towards him.

“Fucking gross.”

Your body snaps around, yet again acutely aware of the presence of multiple bodies around you, all looking at you and Jamie the same: confusion mixed with wonder (or disgust). It’s clear, though, that the voice had come from Roy Kent himself.

(He’s known for these things, you guess.)

Frowning, you turn back to Jamie.

“Oi,” snaps Jamie, eyes shifting gloweringly to Roy. “She hasn’t got a clue of your attitude yet. Pipe down.”

Not wanting to upset Roy Kent, you shake your head vigorously. “Don't even worry. I’m just a little caught off guard at the moment.” You clear your throat, “Um… do you suppose I can speak to the doctor quickly?”

“Doctor!” says Ted loud and eccentrically, no doubt in hopes that his obnoxious manner would lighten the mood. “Let her see the doctor!”

“Get the fucking doctor here!” says Keeley to the nurse, who merely sputters in return.

“I-I’ll fetch her right now.”

It only takes a minute for a woman to peek her head through the door. “I heard I am needed.”

Roy groans, and she smirks at him like they both know something that not many get.

“Jamie’s lovely lady wants to have a word with you,” says Ted with a grin when you take a beat too long to reply for yourself.

She turns her head to you, and you nod.

“Yes,” you say. Prying your hand gently from Jamie’s, you follow the doctor. “I’ll be back,” you add softly.

Once the door is closed behind you two, a large and panicked breath releases from your lips. You finally get to feel how clammy your hands have gotten. “Listen, Doctor…” you look at her quizzically.

“—Doctor O’Sullivan,” she says.

“O’Sullivan. Thank you.: You breathe in. “I’m not very sure how to say this, but I’m really fucking confused at the moment. Kind of freaking out confused.”

The woman in front of you doesn’t hesitate to place a comforting hand on your elbow. “Is everything alright? Roy had said you were Jamie’s girlfriend; I know how hard this could be on—“

“--That’s the problem!” you can’t help but interrupt, eyes wide and frantic with worry. “I’m not Jamie’s girlfriend. I’m just his neighbor! I’m not sure how him banging his head led me to believe otherwise, but—but I don’t know what to do.”

The doctor stares back at you, mouth agape.

“Yeah,” you sympathize, nodding your head. “I know.”

Her mouth opens and closes repeatedly. “Um,” she begins, “out of all things you could’ve said… I wasn’t expecting that to come out of your mouth.”

You nod frantically, your voice going down to a worried whisper. “Is his head—like—okay? I’m worried that if he’s remembering stuff that isn’t true, then something may be very wrong with his brain, or whatever part he hit.”

Dr. O’Sullivan sighs, looking down at her clipboard before jotting something down. “Memory loss… things like that tend to happen with the concussion he has. I would be far more concerned if the X-rays showed any trauma, but he truly does seem to be fine. My guess is his memory will come back—maybe slowly, but it will certainly recollect.”

“But do I tell him now?” you ask, in a minor panic. If someone this morning had told you that your neighbor (the one you have been minorly crushing on, mind you) would suffer from a concussion that rendered him thinking you two are in an established relationship… well, you probably wouldn’t know what to say in that situation. But this certainly hadn’t even been in your mind for unexpected things that could possibly happen.

“My recommendation right now would be no; don’t startle him. His concussion has only just occurred, and it’s best not to confuse him even more. The first and most important goal is to get him back home to rest. Just check in on your comfortability as you go through this, okay? I’ll give you my personal cell, in case you have any dire questions.” She writes down her number on a piece of paper before ripping it off and handing it to you.

You neatly tuck it into your pocket, nervously smiling at her. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” she replies with a more assured smile compared to yours. She rubs your shoulder comfortingly. “I mean it when I say reach out. This will be difficult to navigate.”

You nod, giving her one last look before you re-enter the room apprehensively. It’s quiet when the door creeks and all eyes are on you, as if wanting to observe your next move. In the array of eyes, Jamie is looking at you with an expectant look, a large smile on his lips as you fidget with the rings on your finger awkwardly. You want to run out of the room, but you remember Dr. O’Sullivan’s words: Don't startle him.

“Jamie,” your voice is hoarse. The entire group leans a little closer at the sound of your voice, awaiting your next words. You clear your throat. “I’m very worried about you.”

His smile dims. “I’m sorry,” he says guiltily, “I should’ve been more careful.”

Everyone else in shock by his quick admission to his wrongdoings, Isaac stands up suddenly. “It’s my fault, bruv. Your girl should be mad at me.” He bows his head ashamedly. “I’m so sorry.”

You frown, shaking. “I think everyone in the room can agree that none of this is intentional.” You look around the room for confirmation. “Right?”

“Jamie’s lady is right!” says Ted. And then, “—wait, does me referring to you at Jamie’s lady dehumanize you? I apologize on my behalf. You are your own woman!”

That manages a small laugh from you. It’s clear Ted’s good-naturedness isn’t just a personality created in the papers. “I’m feeling perfectly humanized, thank you. I don’t blame anyone, I’m just glad you’re okay, Jamie. But I’m very worried. You don’t … seem the best.” You think that we are dating, when all I do is give you fresh veggies. “I want you to get better.” I want you to get your own memories back, because this fabrication in your head is extremely, medically concerning. “But it could be worse!” you add at the end. You could’ve forgotten your own identity, so there’s that!

The room is silent.

“I don’t know about y’all,” begins Ted. “But I’m lovin’ the element of concern with added positivity! You’re right, it could’ve been worse! Jamie could be dead.”

“Too much, Ted,” says Rebecca softly.

Roy grunts. “I thought that was a wonderful, brief visual.”

Jamie’s nose scrunches up in disgust. “What the fuck, man?”

The older man grunts, angrier. “I said brief.”

You can’t tell if his comments are a joke or not.

Jamie, appearing to sense your uncomfortableness, is quick to reply, “Oi! What did I say about her not knowing your fucking attitude?”

“It’s okay!” you squeak, not wanting to create more problems in the room. “Let’s focus on getting you home first.” Don't startle him. You need to ease Jamie into any shocks that he might face. You don’t know if there’s anything else Jamie might have misconstrued due to his concussion. For all you know, the poor guy might forget another giant aspect of his life. He needs to rest. “Did you lot by chance take his car here?”

Keeley nods quickly. “I drove it from the stadium. It’s parked out front.”

“Perfect,” you say, turning back to the man of the hour. “Jamie, is it okay if she drives it back to yours?”

“As long as I get to ride with you.”

Your heart rate strikes at his reply. This is something that is going to take time to get used to. “Good with me. Let’s get you home.”

The arrangement to take him home is simple enough, maybe even the easiest thing you have had to face since arriving. Jamie had already signed his discharge papers, and was free to walk on his own. He manages to look normal enough, but it’s a unanimous agreement for him to not drive on his own. Keeley is off to drive Jamie’s car back to his place, already knowing his new address. He bids goodbye to the rest of the group, and they offer their own forms of condolences (Roy’s is just a grunt).

“It’s a pleasure meeting you!” says Ted. “You’re gonna have to stop by Nelson Road sometime. You know, introduce you to the rest of the team.”

You fight a frown, because you shouldn’t. You probably won’t. But, hating to be rude to Ted, you reciprocate his hospitality with a warm smile. “I appreciate that. It was wonderful to meet everyone, even in these circumstances. I’m glad that Jamie is in the right hands.”

Ted nods solemnly. “Always. Now, go take care of that son of a gun!”

—

“Don't ever think I’ve ever been in your car before,” mumbles Jamie sadly. You’ve never been in my car. Or my home. Nor have I ever been to yours.

You fight the thoughts running through your head, about to comment on his dejectedness, when you remember what Dr. O’Sullivan had said about Jamie avoiding sunlight. “Wait!” You open your glove compartment, shuffling through the various coins and junk inside until you find what you’ve been looking for.

The sunglasses may not be what Jamie prefers. They belong to your younger cousin, Jolie. Sometimes you’re tasked with picking her up from school when your aunts can’t. Along with the task of picking her up and babysitting the six-year-old for a few hours, you often find things that she had left behind, or forgotten. You keep the hot pink cat-eye sunglasses for whenever she’s in your car and wants to put them on (they make her feel older). They may be a little small on Jamie, but you don’t care. His concussion is going to be treated attentively on your watch, whether he is okay with that or not. It’s the least you feel that you can do, considering roleplaying as his girlfriend isn’t exactly ideal.

“Here you are!” you happily exclaim, unfolding the sunglasses, putting them on by yourself before he can get a chance to protest.

The thing is, you truly don’t know what Jamie is like. You’ve had multiple interactions, but all so surface-level that it’s hard to tell if it’s a front he’s put up or not. For all you know—and for what you expect—he’ll take the sunglasses off and question why he has to wear that pair (toxic masculinity, and all that bullshit that you’re accustomed to from men).

To your surprise, he doesn’t even make a move to adjust them. Instead, he moves the rearview mirror to get a better look at himself. You giggle lightly as he moves his face around to observe his look.

The sound makes him smile. “I look good. These mine now?”

You scoff. “They’re Jolie's, don't even think about it,” you reply starkly, not even thinking about the fact that he doesn’t know who Jolie is.

For Jamie, however, that appears to be the first thing he thinks about. Because there’s a moment-long pause, and it feels very thick, before he replies, “Jolie?”

“Oh—my cousin,” you say plainly. You begin to pull out of your spot, checking your side mirror to see if any cars are coming by.

You might’ve been driving for a minute, silently. You aren’t sure what to say because, again, this is not the type of interaction with Jamie that you’re used to. Besides, you figure that maybe the silence will be good since Jamie has spent god-knows how long in absolute worry and chaos. Your mind goes back to the soup on your stove. You had turned the heat off, and placed the lid on your pot to finish when you get home.

Jamie is the first to break the silence. He says your name slowly, almost embarrassingly.

You furrow your brows at his tone, giving him a quick glance before laying your eyes back on the road. “Yes? Is everything alright?”

“Am I—“ he clears his throat, “Am I supposed to know about Jolie? Have we spoken about her before? I just don’t remember anything about her.”

You’re in shock for a moment, not expecting that question to come from him.

You realize, at this moment, the weight of Jamie’s concussion. Not only is it going to be physically taxing for him to avoid doing certain things until he’s better, but the mental toll of feeling like he doesn’t remember things will also certainly pain him. He thinks that the two of you are together—meaning he expects himself to know aspects about your life that you two had never discussed before.

Not only is Jamie a blank slate to you, but you are to him.

The only problem is he thinks that the blank slate is wrong.

“I’ve never spoken of her before, Jamie,” you say softly.

You hear him exhale.

“You don’t need to worry about forgetting, okay?” you add. “If I’m very concerned by anything you don’t seem to remember, I’ll be sure to tell you. And I’m sure everyone at work will do the same, as well.” You take a left turn, following the GPS on your phone back to your neighborhood.

“Thank you,” he says. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize. I’m here to support you. Patiently.”

A less-tense silence fills the car for the remainder of the drive. Jamie has his head leaning against the passenger window. You don’t need to see under the glasses to know that his eyes are shut, likely to gain as much rest as possible.

When you finally arrive back at your neighboring homes, Keeley is already sitting on the steps that lead to Jamie’s door, his car parked perfectly in his usual spot.

After parking as close to Jamie's home as possible (you’ll fix your spot later), you move to open his passenger door, but he gets out by himself. He places his hand on the small of your back, guiding you off the edge of the street and onto the sidewalk.

Keeley smiles softly at the pair in front of her, extending her hands to give you Jamie’s set of keys. “Hey, guys!”

You smile back, quietly using the keys she just handed you to unlock Jamie’s front door while the two converse behind you on his current state. She worriedly asks him how his head feels, to which Jamie gives a very detailed explanation on how it feels like a giant is squeezing around his head with a pressure that can pop his brains out.

“Gross,” mumbles Keeley. “Please go to bed.”

“Yeah, yeah,” says Jamie, “that’s what everyone’s telling me. Thanks for bringing me car, I appreciate it.”

“Of course. My payment requirement is—sorry to jam it—get some fucking rest.” She stands by the doorway as you and Jamie enter his house. “Roy’s a couple of minutes away. I’m gonna wait out here and contemplate stealing those peonies from that house down there.”

You pause. “… That’s my place.”

“Oh shit! My bad, babe. I promise I wasn’t going to do anything.”

You laugh. “Please, go ahead if you would like. I’ve been told it’s practically a forest.”

She laughs. “Maybe next time. Stay safe, yeah?” She’s walking down the steps as you both bid her a goodbye.

You smile up at Jamie as he guides you further down his hallway, and into the kitchen. He immediately goes into his fridge to pull out some water, chugging it down.

You stand in your spot awkwardly, watching as Jamie pulls the sunglasses further up when his head finally levels from drinking. “...Um, if you don’t need anything else, do you think you’ll be fine on your own?” you ask. You feel better now that Jamie is in the comfort of his own home. “I had food on the stove, and wanted to finish it up. I’ll have a bowl for you as well, if you’d like.” You already make a plan in your head to put it in an isolated thermos to leave on his doorstep so that he can still access it and have his alone time.

“But you’ll be back, right?”

Your brows furrow. “Do you want me to come back?”

“Of course,” he says, like it’s the thing he’s most sure of.

You smile. “Then I’ll be back,” you reply, mind scrapping the doorstep plan. “With creamy vegetable soup.”

“Fuck yeah,” he says. He closes the fridge and makes his way to you.

You don’t know what you’re expecting… maybe a hug at most.

But your eyes shoot up as Jamie leans down, his lips puckering slightly as his face inches closer to yours.

You instinctively place your hand on his chest, quickly stopping him from going any further. “Woah, wait.”

Jamie pulls back further immediately, his brows furrowing from above the pink sunglasses he wears. If this were any other situation, you’d find his look comical.

“What’s wrong, love?” he says so sweetly that you may feel sick, if the nickname isn’t enough to nearly make you faint. He places a hand on your shoulder, rubbing softly.

You try your best to conjure up words for this situation, as well as trying to concentrate on the conversation instead of the soft ministrations on your shoulder. “It’s just—we’re moving too fast. You’re moving too fast.”

“Huh?” replies Jamie quizzically, “Do we not… kiss?” When your eyes hold more panic, he makes the conclusion for himself. “So, we’re dating and we’ve never kissed? Am I a fucking idiot?” The last part is mostly to himself, and you backtrack immediately, rewiring your brain into thinking of a half decent explanation.

“I mean… I don’t know. I just feel bad,” you say. “You have a concussion and don’t remember some things. I don’t want to overwhelm you, and make you do things that you might regret.”

Jamie frowns. “Why would I regret kissing you?”

You wince, making the edges of his lips turn down even more.

He looks as if he’s been punched in the gut. “...Would it make you uncomfortable? If I kissed you?”

“It—“ you think about it for a moment. You don’t think kissing Jamie would make you uncomfortable at all. It is something you fantasize about, but only when you’re alone. And not under these circumstances. So, you reply truthfully, “I think it would,” because you just can’t find it in you to physically reciprocate affection that was never properly established in the first place.

“Is it because I don’t remember our first kiss?”

There never was one. “… Yeah.”

Jamie looks off before nodding. “Okay. I’ll do everything in my power to remember,” he says surely.

Well, shit. It’s going to be very hard for Jamie to try and remember something that never even happened. You wonder now if you should just alleviate the guilt right now, and break the truth to him: you have never dated, nor even kissed once. Maybe the interactions you’ve had with him when handing over a batch of carrots seemed delusionally romantic in your mind, that’s not how it went at all.

There’s a feeling in you that makes you want to take care of Jamie and make sure that he’s okay. The thought of abandoning him now feels almost cruel, he clearly trusts you enough to keep you around.

Normally, this would be no issue.

But with what you know, a heavy weight fills your chest.

#ted lasso #jamie tartt #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt x you #ted lasso imagine

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revelboo · 1 month ago

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GUESS WHO CAME IN THE MAIL FROM THE EBAY PEOPLE U RECOMMEND. MY FAVE MY DARLING 🗣🗣🗣🗣🗣

I love him so much I want him in my pocket and take him everywhere. I want him to see the world. I'm so happy. I think I might be done now. Atleast for a bit so I can see who comes next. Might get some TFone guys or the new defender ones(? The tiny tiny ones) but I'm so happy I found this blog, your amazing works and blokees 💕💕💕💕 thank you !!!

Soundwave! I'm glad you enjoy my stories! They’ve given us so many Megs variants… I need some more Soundwaves and Starscreams now

Pretty much 🤣 Megs was an oops, though to be fair

Everything Is Alright Pt 118

IDW Starscream x Reader, Soundwave x Reader, Megatron x Reader

• Servos lightly trembling feeling your stress and anxiety soaking into him to mingle with the almost manic fury radiating from Megatron and Starscream’s own outrage until he’s nearly overwhelmed, Soundwave swallows a growl. “No,” he says, voice calm and unyielding. Wrapping his servos around you, he opens his cassette compartment and gently eases you inside. Shielding you from what he suspects is coming with how volatile Megatron’s thoughts are right now. And it's a comfort to have you tucked safely inside him, helping ease the ragged hurt of that severed bond. It had felt like having his spark ripped out of him. Had known the Seeker wasn't happy that he'd tried to bond you, but hadn't realized the other mech would go that far.

• Did he really just nope and hide you? Sitting down, illuminated by his biolights and surrounded by the thrum of his spark, a part of you is thankful for the respite from the madness. Because your hands are shaking, just overwhelmed and you really want some alone time to try and process. Maybe cry at how ridiculous your life is. And it’s warm and safe inside Soundwave. “Thanks,” you whisper, unsure if he can hear you in here or not. Can still feel that jangling wrongness where Soundwave's bond had been as you press yourself into a corner of his cassette compartment. Letting yourself grieve that loss with no one staring at you.

• “Give me back my mate,” Starscream growls. Optics narrowing, he checks his wing to make sure that big brute didn’t bend it dragging him and to distract himself from the worry clawing at him. Had felt your pain echo through him and hadn't been able to do anything. Had been helpless to save you or himself and that can never happen again. Needs to be able to hold you in his servos, reassure himself that you're really okay. Doesn't even want to think about the fact that Megatron stole his sparkling and bonded you while you were helpless even if it was to save your life. And his. Doesn't want to owe that mech anything. Denta gritting when Soundwave just folds his arms across his chassis and stares him down. And he can pry that stupid cassette door open if he needs to. Starts forward only to hiss when Megatron seizes him by a wing. Again.

• Pulling until the Seeker leans so far one leg kicks out for balance, Megatron smiles down at Starscream. Because all of this is his fault. His selfishness. He’s sparked because the Seeker had severed Soundwave’s bond and hurt you. “Leave our pet alone. I think we need to have a little talk anyway. Just the three of us.” Ignoring Starscream's furious expression, he releases him and sits on Soundwave's berth. Trying to get his temper under control when he just wants to wring the Seeker's neck. Rip his still pulsing spark from his chassis. And he can't. Can't lay a servo on the mech to do any real damage. Killing Starscream might kill you. And because he's fully bonded to you, him as well. Maybe you'd fully bonded to him on purpose as a way to ensure he couldn't hurt your other mate. Wants to be furious, but he hadn't felt any scheming when he'd been tangled in you. "No one is to find out that we can spark a human or that I'm sparked." Not until he can figure this out. Because yes, it's a chance at saving their race slowly declining race, but if it gets out, there's the question of who the sire is and the Pit will freeze over before he lets it get out that he has Starscream's sparkling. Still can't understand humans and their alien weirdness. You're the carrier, you were supposed to stay sparked. Not pass it to him.

• Servos pressed protectively against the door to his cassette compartment, he croons softly to you, trying to soothe away your turmoil. Lulling you like he would a cassette. Aware that they're both staring at him when he lifts his head and he stares them both down defiantly, daring them to say anything. "Hurt our mate instead of protecting," he says, attention fixing on Starscream. Tries so hard to be the one in control, to be calm and rational, but he'd lost it when the Seeker had torn through his bond. And why? Because he was jealous? Didn't want to share you? Just callously lashing out without realizing there would be consequences. "Keep hurting our mate."

• "Our mate," Starscream hisses, angry and upset at the truth in that accusation. Because he had hurt you trying to free you. And even now, he's not sure if he'd done it to protect you or to keep you to himself. Because you were supposed to be only his. To love only him. You're all he'd needed or wanted. So why hadn't he been enough for you? "You're not my Trine. Not my brothers. You seduced my mate." And Megatron had stolen his future. Denta bared, his wings flare out before dropping. "I was happy."

• Servos pressing to his head, Megatron looks from Soundwave to Starscream. "At this point, it doesn't matter who screwed up the worst. You're fully bonded. I'm fully bonded. Soundwave will be, too." Snarling when Starscream opens his mouth to protest, he looms over the Seeker. "Soundwave, too. Primus, knows our poor pet will need a calm voice in all this. Safety." Pointing at Soundwave when Starscream hisses, Megatron thumps him in the chassis with the end of his cannon. "Where is the human right now? Hiding from both of us with Soundwave. And I swear to Primus if I could blast you in the face for getting me involved in this stupidity, I would without hesitation." Thumping him again to make the Seeker stumble back, Megatron's servos curl into fists. "It's divine comedy that I'm now tied to you for the rest of my existence."

• "Or our mate's. Humans don't live that long, Lord Megatron," he blurts, trying to hurt the other mech. And Starscream freezes as Megatron's optics narrow. Because it's something that has occurred to him more than once. Bond mates bond for life. One following the other in death and he'd known how short your life was when he'd claimed you. Willingly made that sacrifice to spend what time you have with you. But Megatron didn't know and a petty part of himself is almost gleeful about the blank expression on the warlord's face up until Megatron grabs him by the jaw, servos squeezing. 'How short?' Megatron snarls.

I finally gave up and did an inbox cleanse… but I kept quite a few still as drafts. I just discovered the TransArts Tarantulas figure and he's so pretty. And so, so out of my price range lol

#transformers x reader #starscream x reader #megatron x reader #soundwave x reader #soundwave #starscream #megatron

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yara0546 · 17 days ago

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Enhypen reaction when they confess their love, but you think it’s a joke

୨୧ Pairing: enhypen x fem!reader

୨୧ Genre: Romance, Fluff, Light Angst, Comedy

୨୧ Word Count: 1,000–1,200 words

୨୧ Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction from our imagination. It is not intended that the plot, theme, original characters, idols, etc. portray any real-life events/people. Plagiarism is NOT tolerated on this blog. If you believe we have copied an existing authors’ work, please message us privately. thank you and enjoy :)

Masterlist

✦ Heeseung

You were sitting across from Heeseung at a café, laughing at a funny memory when he suddenly stopped mid laugh.

"I like you, Y/N. A lot." His voice was softer than usual, his gaze locked onto yours.

You chuckled. "Pfft, sure, Heeseung. And I’m secretly a billionaire."

His smile faltered for a split second before he leaned in, resting his arms on the table. "I’m serious."

You blinked at him, still half-expecting him to laugh it off. But when he didn’t, your breath hitched. His usual playful demeanor was gone his eyes held nothing but sincerity.

"I’ve liked you for a long time, Y/N. Don’t laugh it away."

At that moment, you realized this wasn’t a joke.

✦ Jay

Jay had been dropping hints for weeks, but when he finally gathered the courage to confess, you just… laughed.

"Oh, Jay, that’s a good one! You almost got me."

His jaw clenched, and he exhaled sharply. "Y/N. I’m. Not. Joking."

You still grinned. "Come on, Jay, you’re always teasing me. Why would this be any different?"

He ran a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated but keeping his cool. "Because this is the first time I’m telling you something that actually matters." His voice was lower now, more serious.

Seeing the shift in his tone, your stomach dropped. He wasn’t playing around.

✦ Jake

Jake’s confession was clumsy but heartfelt.

"I… um… I like you, Y/N. Like, a lot. More than just friends."

You burst out laughing. "Jake, stop, you’re too funny!"

His face turned beet red, and he started fidgeting with the hem of his sleeve. "Wait… what? You think I’m joking?"

You nodded, still giggling. "Well, duh! You flirt with everyone!"

Jake’s eyes widened, and he stepped closer. "Yeah, but not like this. Not with you."

Your laughter faded as his sincerity sunk in. Oh.

✦ Sunghoon

Sunghoon confessed in the middle of a casual conversation, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"I like you, Y/N. It’s kind of annoying how much I do."

You snorted. "Nice try, Sunghoon. You’re hilarious."

He narrowed his eyes. "What part of that was funny?"

You smirked. "You? Liking me? No way."

Sunghoon crossed his arms, leaning back against the wall. "Wow. You really think I’d joke about something like this?"

You hesitated. Sunghoon wasn’t laughing. In fact, he looked offended.

"I don’t say things I don’t mean, Y/N. Maybe you should think about that."

✦ Sunoo

Sunoo’s confession was all sparkles and confidence.

"Y/N, I have a confession to make. I like you, and I think we’d be the cutest couple ever."

You gasped theatrically. "Oh no, Sunoo’s finally lost his mind!"

He blinked. Once. Twice. Then placed a hand over his chest.

"EXCUSE ME?!"

You giggled. "Come on, you love attention. This is just for fun, right?"

His mouth fell open. "How DARE you underestimate my sincerity! Do you know how many times I practiced this in front of the mirror?!"

His over the top reaction made you laugh even harder until you saw the actual hurt in his eyes.

"Y/N… I really meant it."

Oops.

✦ Jungwon

Jungwon confessed after days of overthinking.

"I like you, Y/N. Like… more than a friend."

You burst into laughter. "Jungwon, that was so deadpan. You need to work on your delivery."

His face remained neutral. "It wasn’t a joke."

You faltered. "Wait… you’re serious?"

Jungwon sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Why would I joke about something like this?"

Your heart pounded. You had just laughed in his face. Oh no.

"It’s fine." He forced a small smile. "I’ll just… pretend you didn’t say that."

Now you felt horrible.

✦ Ni-ki

Ni-ki’s confession was blunt and direct.

"I like you. A lot."

You immediately rolled your eyes. "Haha, good one, Ni-ki."

He frowned. "What’s funny?"

"You! You’re always teasing me, why would I believe this?"

His expression darkened slightly. "Because it’s true?"

You still looked skeptical, and he huffed. "You know what? Fine. Don’t believe me. But I’ll prove it to you."

You raised an eyebrow. "Oh? How?"

Ni-ki smirked. "Just wait and see."

And from that day on, he made it his mission to show you exactly how much he meant it.

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bobo-boo · 3 months ago

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PATRICK VERONA x READER

patrick shadowed behind you. you didn't even notice until you caught the scans of annoyance from your peers, waiting for the havoc to begin. the temperament you built up and held back within you came crashing down; you twisted instantaneously, resulting in the other pupils to quake in apprehension. elevating over you was patrick verona - the patrick verona - ever since you caught sight of him, your head was full of hatred. Isolated by him, violated.

yet, your mind digressed on how his lips curled every time he saw his impact on you, how he held the most alluring stares, how his looped curls drooped to his vast shoulders... and that stupid, smug look that he's presenting right now.

It recalled to you; patrick verona was an arrogant fucker. your body malfunctioned before you unleashed your ape of fury. "patrick, today is not the day, seriously." both of you usually shared mockery, however, the wrath that was bottled inside was inside for a reason this time. as expected, patrick used this to his advantage, "oh!" he hitched up both hands haltingly, "someone's in a bad mood!" then shifting his face to that look again. "shocker." It wouldn't've been possible for him to sound any more sardonic.

you stare out of disbelief. he is so maddening, it drives you up the wall and leaves you there, completely unhinged. though patrick was leaning on the dilapidated, poorly painted wall, all you could contemplate about were his henna eyes pinning you down. predator, prey... well, most of the time. you were either screaming down the building due to the man before you, or he was taunting your every move. "well? no words of wisdom today doll?" his arm fell to his side, replacing the pillow-wall with his locks, depleting the visible muscle he knotted and a face that looked like he'd won the lottery.

a sough emerged from you, glaring towards the marble flooring, then to meet his glare back. once you were face to face again, your eyes grew full of aversion and consciousness.

"doll? really? don't ever call me that again. you're filthy." that wasn't the end of it. all those emotions and feelings that you've kept a mystification with just yourself, were about to erupt. "listen, you're not getting to me, you know that? and you're also not getting with me!" "oh, really?" "yeah." you seemed proud, like you wanted the validation. you wanted him to congratulate you for not wanting him "sure seems like it" of course, he had to fuel the fire.

"well, you're definitely not getting with me after that stunt patrick." "okay, but I'm getting to you, right?" a chortle sprung out from him. this was enthralling for him. fucking sadist. you couldn't help yet smear yourself with vexation; you orbit away from the burden. only a few marches until, unceremoniously, you're schlepped by a formidable grip. his fingers delicately, yet firmly, dug into your arm, refusing to unchain you. there was little too time to caterwaul, up until you had ascertained that it was just you and patrick. alone - in a desolate classroom.

before another thought sprung into your mind, patrick, within the speed of light, picked you up by your waist. his hands reached underneath your loose shirt as if you needed more support in staying up, whilst each of his fingers gripped your skin desperately. he slammed you against the wall, with one sizeable hand housing the back of your head. "you say you 'hate' me, yet..." the veins in his hands and arms fluctuated as he lowered himself to your crotch hesitantly. he kept still, maintaining the eye contact, whilst your eyes darted in between him and his hand. "yet, you would've stopped me by now. right, doll?"

hi, i'm bobo! i started writing this alllll the way back in july and finished it off with a little paragraph oops. this is also my firsttt blog on here hehe. hope u like it! its a bit of a slow one, with not much action, just a lot of tension!!! (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) .ᐟ.ᐟ

ps. lmk if u want more of this or any other chars! also fb is appreciated

layout inspo from princessbrunette

#patrick verona #heath ledger #x reader #patrick verona x reader #enemies to lovers #oneshot #slow burn #fem reader #10 things i hate about you #heath!ledger

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604to647 · 9 months ago

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Marine Attraction

4.3K / Detective Tim Rockford x fem!reader

Summary: When a stakeout at the aquarium does not go as planned, Detective Tim Rockford must interview all the aquarium visitors, including you.

Warnings: Fluff! Meet cute! Maybe a dirty thought or two that reader really should not be having about a (hot) man just trying to do his job 🤭 Made up Merge Mansion lore. One cute nickname because it’s me (won’t spoil).

A/N: This was written for @mermaidgirl30’s Ocean Challenge – thank you for hosting a lovely event. Please see #Jamie’s Ocean Challenge for all the wonderful works! I’ve noticed that as of late, some of the authors that I look up to and consider mainstays in this community since I started lurking 2+ years ago have wanted to leave, needed to take breaks from the fandom or felt disconnected from the community. This story is for you, about stepping away when you need to and maybe rediscovering how something old can still bring you joy. Xoxo, love you all.

Fishy dividers by @saradika-graphics 🥰

EDIT: Oops this turned into a series - Masterlist

You’re not really sure how this happened.

You’ve been feeling a bit off, as of late. Nothing was wrong, per say - your job is fine, your friends are dear, your life leaves you grateful. It’s just that you feel… untethered. Like you should be doing something more? Work is fulfilling enough – you achieve and excel. Friends and family make for wonderful company, but your social battery isn’t infinite and as much as enjoy your get-togethers, they can leave you drained. Even some of your solitary pursuits, cooking, watching tv, scrolling through social media don’t seem to be as satisfying as they used to be – you consume, but you don’t create.

On a whim, you decide to take the day off work (the first in who knows how long?) and go somewhere you’ve always loved: the aquarium. You’ve been visiting this aquarium since you were a child – something about the gentle hum of the tanks and the darkness that’s illuminated only by the glow of the exhibits has always relaxed you. You’re going to go specifically to take photos. Photography used to be a casual hobby of yours; you were even featured on local news blogs and had your photos chosen for a gallery showing once – but as life got busier and your other endeavours required more of your time and energy, it had fallen by the wayside. It’s been forever since you took a photo walk or even a picture that wasn’t for capturing a moment rather than a snapshot. You’re actually getting excited about shooting photos again.

It had been a serene couple of hours spent watching your unhurried fish friends and the silent watery dances of the marine plants that shared their abodes. The aquarium is playing host to a few young families and two eager fieldtrips, but otherwise, you’ve had the place nearly to yourself. Able to loiter so you can try different lenses and play with the lighting of your shots, or wait as long as you want in order for a mixed rainbow hue of fish to swim into frame, the morning had passed quietly and contently.

But now you sit in the children’s play area, the last of today’s aquarium visitors, waiting for your turn to be questioned by the police.

---

Detective Tim Rockford is not really sure how this happened.

It had been a simple enough stakeout operation. He and his team had received a tip a few days ago that there would be a handoff taking place at the aquarium today: an exchange of money between one of Grandma Ursula’s henchmen and a mystery player whose identity has eluded Tim for the entirety of this case thus far. Perhaps it was unreasonable to expect Mr. Pie (so nicknamed by the squad for the Bolton Berry pies he consumed) to show up himself, but Tim held out hope that whomever they nabbed today would provide the break in the case that he so desperately needs.

Only, Grandma’s man had come and gone and none of the six men, Tim included, posted at the various vantage points and exits had seen a damn thing. At some point between spotting their target enter the aquarium with a briefcase in hand, they had lost track of him and picked up his movements again only when he was already leaving the gift shop, empty handed. How was it possible they couldn’t account for what happened in the aquarium? Did the meeting with Mr. Pie occur? Or was the briefcase stashed somewhere? Tim presses the heels of his palms to his eyes and grimaces – the operation had been an utter failure.

Not only did they not get what they came for, but now the remainder of the day was completely shot. What had followed once the police realized just how out of depth they were, was a complete shut down of the aquarium with all visitors locked in and needing to be interviewed before they could leave. Even the elementary school trips of thirty children. Each. After giving instruction to the additional LAPD support he called in to search the aquarium top to bottom for the missing case, Tim had settled in for a long afternoon of what he expected to be fruitless Q&As.

As he wearily enters the kids play area once again (an officer more considerate than he had suggested that given the number of children being held, it might be the best place to have everyone wait), Tim sees only one witness left to interview: you. He had noticed you earlier, each time he came in to select another interviewee, in fact – if your pretty features and sweet smile hadn’t caught his attention first, your everlasting patience and kindness would have. Several times, he spotted you playing patiently with the children – the sound of your melodic voice and gentle laughter floating above the grumblings of the other adults who had also had their days ruined. The sound eased the tense spot in his shoulders where his holster straps had started digging in a little bit. At first, Tim thought you might be one of the teachers or a field trip chaperone, but then he noticed that you let all the school trips and families with children go ahead of you, and he overheard you tell his fellow officer that you didn’t mind waiting, that it must be much harder for the children. He was grateful for you and he didn’t even know you.

As Tim approaches, you look up from your phone and shoot him the soft smile that’s been his one bright spot in this disaster of a day, though he thinks it seems a bit more tired than when he first had the pleasure of seeing it earlier this afternoon.

“Is it my turn?” you ask him, still in good spirits despite the circumstances.

“Sorry for the wait, miss.”

“No need to be sorry… Detective?”

“Detective Rockford. Tim Rockford. I appreciate that, it’s been… a day.”

You hold out your hand to shake his before repeating his name, then giving him your own. Tim can’t decide if he likes the way his name rolls off your tongue, or the way your own name floats above the cheer of your voice more.

“Well, hopefully I can help with… whatever has made it such a day,” you give him a sympathetic smile.

The kind of smile you might offer to him when he comes home after a long hard day. Damn. He’s in trouble. Focus, Rockford.

Since you’re his last witness of the day, he offers to conduct the interview right here instead of the stuffy office that the aquarium staff had lent him. As you acquiesce to his suggestion, you stretch out your arms and legs, arching your back to work out a bit of stiffness from having sat for so long and Tim finds himself admiring your figure in a way that is decidedly not going to help him solve this case. He tries to cover up his less than professional gaze by stretching himself – it feels good.

After collecting your information and starting with his routine questions, Tim realizes he’s pinning his hopes on you having seen or noticed something today – not only because no one else has, but so he can keep speaking with you.

When it becomes evident that you didn’t, he sighs a heavy sigh of disappointment.

He hadn’t realized that he’s done so until hears you apologize; quick to reassure you that that you don’t have anything to apologize for, Tim places his large warm hand over yours before he can stop himself. You gasp softly, you think only to yourself, but Tim hears the sweet noise and smirks a little – it’s nice to know he’s not the only one who’s been affected. When he notices that you don’t move your hand away, he lets himself revel in the feel of your soft, small hand under his for a beat longer before he removes it and somewhat begrudgingly starts to wrap up the interview.

---

Fuck. This fucking detective. Rockford. Tim Rockford.

Even his name is hot.

You had noticed him earlier, of course – how could you not? He was a hulking presence, impossibly broad and tall, and he carried himself with the authority and gravitas of a man in charge. During the earlier hours of your wait, you had been preoccupied with helping entertain some of the young children in the waiting area who were restless with boredom, not sure why their promised day of aquarium fun had to be ruined by something as trivial as a police matter.

But once you caught sight of Detective Rockford’s handsome profile, it became impossible to not be captivated by the deep richness of his brown eyes or that strong nose that centered his face perfectly. His grave countenance conveyed the seriousness with which he took his work (that facial scruff screamed he worked too much), but he was quietly calm and his tone gentle with all the witnesses, especially the children. You couldn’t help but hope it was him every time an officer entered the waiting area.

Some time between now and the last two times he had come in to call forth witnesses, the detective had lost his suit jacket, strolling in wearing only a gun holster and a white dress shirt that stretched taut over his firm chest and bulging arm muscles; you thought you were going to have to dunk yourself into one of the aquarium tanks to cool off just from the sight of him.

Your heart picks up a little when it’s him who appears when you’re the last one left to be interviewed; silently, you pray to Beyoncé to give you the strength needed to coherently answer the detective’s questions when he asks them in that honey laced baritone of his.

When Tim mirrors your big stretch, you hope you’re discrete enough that he doesn’t catch you staring: his limbs extend fantastically long, arm span wide enough to cast a shadow that reaches across the floor in front of you - he's huge. After hearing the detective inhale a deep breath, it feels to you as if all of the air has been sucked from the room, leaving you dizzy as you gawk at his hard chest, expanding and pushing up against his crisp dress shirt, held closed only by the strained efforts of a few valiant buttons.

You feel bad that you have to answer in the negative to Detective Rockford’s questions. Unfortunately, you hadn’t noticed anything out of the ordinary during your visit, too engrossed in your own photo taking, and you don’t remember seeing the man in the picture that he shows you. You can tell that Tim tries hard not to show his disappointment and wish very much that you could please him, be the one to wipe the weary look off his face and the release the tension from his hunched-up shoulders. Maybe please him in other ways, as well. You have a feeling that praise from one Detective Tim Rockford would have you dripping wet and clenching around nothing embarrassingly quick.

GIRL. GET IT TOGETHER. For all you know, a serious crime took place here today!

You apologize. Outwardly, for your inability to help him with his case, and inwardly, for the dirty thoughts that are wholly inappropriate to have about a complete stranger who is just, very competently, doing his job.

To try and put you at ease, Tim relaxes his handsome face and hopes to reassure you when he gently pats your hand; instead, a jolt of electricity shoots through you and you warm all over from his touch. Maybe it’s your imagination but Detective Rockford seemingly lets his bear paw of hand linger over yours for a bit longer than he needs to, and you think you spy his plush lips curve up slightly at the corners when you gasp. You might just melt off this bench right now.

“Oh, one last thing, did you take any pictures at the aquarium today?”

You nod, but are suddenly shy as you anticipate the Detective’s next question. Tim nods at you matter of fact, “Good. Could you please show me? I just need to look through them quickly to see if there’s anything in the background that might be useful.”

He holds his hand out, not really expecting any resistance - you’ve been nothing but perfectly cooperative so far. But when his hand remains empty, he looks over to find you adorably chewing your bottom lip while gripping your phone tightly with both hands, making no motion to hand it over. For one ridiculous moment he panics, Are you Mr. Pie?! He shakes his head slightly to rid himself of that ludicrous thought, and waits patiently for you to tell him what you’re ruminating on.

“It’s just that there are a lot of pictures..,” you start, “… and a lot of them are kind of duplicates…”

You know you’re being deliberately vague – sighing in resignation, you decide it’s best to just rip the band aid off. Unlocking your phone, you go to your camera roll and filter to today’s library before handing over your phone without meeting the detective’s gaze. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Tim scroll slowly through hundreds of photos of the aquarium’s exhibits; you attempt to avoid meeting his eye by focusing on how your phone looks inexplicably small in his big, rough hand.

“That’s… a lot,” Tim finally says when he reaches the bottom of the roll.

When you look up, you expect to see maybe a cringed look or even a mocking expression on the detective’s handsome face, but instead you find the massive man looking at you with a gentle curiosity, maybe even holding himself a little smaller in an attempt to not intimidate you. It doesn’t seem to matter that you don’t really know him, you suddenly feel comfortable enough to tell Detective Tim Rockford this very personal thing about yourself – he might look like he's perfectly cast as the 'bad cop' in interrogations, but you have a feeling he’s got just as good of a track record playing 'good cop'.

“An old hobby of mine was… I guess they call it iPhoneography? Using apps to mimic traditional camera captures? I used to love it, actually. Selecting the different lenses and choosing different exposures, then seeing how the images would developed – of course, with the phone, you wouldn’t have to take it in and wait for a week or anything, it would be processed digitally in a matter of seconds. But… editing apps are so common place nowadays, and most social media platforms have built in filters and effects - iPhoneography has sort of fallen out of favour,” you explain. Tim is nodding along - he doesn’t really know what you’re talking about, he has three apps on his phone that he uses regularly (Weather, Candy Crush, and the app from the City that reminds him when to put out his garbage bins); the rest of the apps on his phone were preinstalled and he can’t figure out how to delete them. But he encourages you to go on.

“In fact, I haven’t really gone out to shoot in years. But lately… I’ve sort of wanted to get back into it? I came to the aquarium today to fire up the old camera, so to speak. That’s why there’s so many – a lot of the pictures are just of the same frame but where I was trying out different lenses or exposure options. I’m not, like, super obsessed with fish or anything,” you finish up quickly, hoping you haven’t made a complete fool of yourself.

Tim hands you back your phone, still open to today’s photos, and smiles, “Why don’t you tell me about what you shot today?”

“Really?” you look up, surprised.

“Really,” Tim tries to convey his genuine interest via his eyes, and is instantly rewarded by a smile on your face that could light up the room. It’s certainly lighting him up.

And so, you tell Detective Tim Rockford all about the photos you took today. You swipe through your pictures and show him how the different lenses affect the lighting, exposure, saturation and even colour tinting of the resulting photo. You proudly tell him about how you had to switch up your technique and settings when shooting the tanks where the marine animals or plants thrived primarily in the dark or relied on bioluminescent light. You laugh, mainly at yourself, when you tell him about how long you stayed at certain attractions, waiting for a particular school of fish to swim perfectly into frame.

Tim thinks your laughter is the loveliest sound he’s ever heard.

You tell him your favourite sea creatures to photograph are the jelly fish because they’re so weird and they move with such alien grace, unpredictable yet seemingly purposeful, and that’s why there are more pictures of them than any other animal in your camera roll.

Tim finds himself enchanted watching you get more and more animated and excited as you go through the pictures you took today; while your eyes are peeled to your screen, he admires how they twinkle and the way your mouth slopes upwards, grinning wide even as you talk non-stop about your long-forgotten hobby. Your pretty face is aglow. He thinks he could listen to you talk about the things that bring you joy forever.

He lets you talk for an hour. You don’t even realize until you get to the last photo (a school of clown fish weaving between the tentacles of their anemone home) and glance up at the time at the top of the screen, “…oh my gosh! I’m so sorry!! I’ve prattled on for so long, I’m sure none of this was helpful at all!”

Tim won’t have any of that, “Don’t be sorry. You had fun. I’m glad you had some fun today… before I ruined it by sequestering you here in this waiting area for the entire afternoon.”

You shyly look at his apologetic face, “I’m having fun now.”

Tim can feel his ears warm and is sure they’re pink at the tips. Darn, you’re sweet. He distracts himself by flipping to a brand-new page in his notebook, “Me too.” You feel your heart expand at his soft confession.

“Now, I have some good news and some bad news.”

You look at him expectantly with an innocent, doe-eyed expression that Tim thinks might be one of the most dangerous things he’s ever encountered in all his years on the force, “The good news is that I think you’re a very, very good photographer. It’s clear you enjoy it and there isn’t a single photo you showed me today that isn’t obviously a labour of love. I think you should get back into it if you can. The way you were talking about your photos today, I don’t think I’ve seen that much joy on someone’s face in… I don’t know how long. I’m grateful you shared that with me.”

You’re speechless. His words are so, so kind… and exactly what you needed to hear today. You’re filled with tremendous gratitude and fondness for Detective Tim Rockford.

“… the bad news is, I spotted the reflection of our man in the shadows on the glass in some of your photos, and I’m so very sorry but I’m going to have to confiscate your phone,” Tim could not be more truly sorry.

After the initial shock of being told you’re losing your phone for a few days, you quickly recover and tell Tim that you’re genuinely glad you could help. You give him your email and use your phone to send off a message to a few of your group chats regarding how you can be reached for the next few days before dropping your phone into the evidence bag Tim produces. Under different circumstances, you might be upset at this turn of events, but the expression on Detective Tim Rockford's face is more than enough to make the minor inconvenience worth it – he looks invigorated, energized. Clearly, this is what he loves doing.

Walking you to the aquarium exit, Tim apologizes and thanks you again before seeing you out. Right before the door closes behind you, you turn and see him already rushing off to brief his team, your plastic covered phone clutched in his hand and an excited grin on his face. After the kindness and patience the detective has shown you today, you’re glad to have played a small role in putting that smile on his face.

True to his word, you receive an email from [email protected] just a few days later, letting you know your phone is ready for pick-up. When Detective Rockford meets you in the precinct lobby, you have to suck in your breath – he’s even more handsome than you remember, and you’ve been spending nearly every waking minute over the past few days picturing his strong jawline, soulful eyes, and that charming facial scruff you’d give anything to run your fingers through. He’s jacketless again, just another pressed white dress shirt that his broad frame threatens to rip through, bordered by those leather holsters that make you want to swallow your tongue.

As Tim takes you to Evidence so you can sign out your phone, he tries to chat amiably and not cast too many obvious and admiring glances your way; you’re all warmth and serenity in this place that he only ever associates with being loud, bustling and cold. He simultaneously never wants you to leave and wishes to sweep you far away and keep you only for himself, distanced safely from this place where his every day is synonymous with darkness and mystery.

When you’re once again outside, Tim leans against the frame of the precinct’s front doors and you look up at him from one step down, hopeful, “Did I help?”

Yes. You help more than you know, Tim thinks, having been unable to get your incandescent smile out of his mind since he last parted from you; finding that it’s become the image that grounds him during his long grueling hours. Instead, he says, “I’ve got good news and bad news.”

“Oh no – not this again,” you grin.

Tim smiles back, emboldened by your cheery demeanor, “The good news is that a lot of your photos and what the tech guys called… um.. meta data? A lot of it helped generate some good leads that we’re now following.”

“Oh! That’s wonderful! I’m so glad, Detective Rockford!”

“Tim. Please call me, Tim.”

“I don’t know, I kind of like calling you Detective,” you tease, good naturedly.

Tim should not feel his pants tighten at this, “The bad news is, because your photos had so much useful information, there is a very good chance they will be used as evidence if this case ever goes to trial. I don’t think you will need to testify, as you yourself didn’t see anything, and that meta data gives us the info on when and where the photos were taken. But even so… it means I can’t ask you out until the case is over.”

“Oh no,” you’re disappointed, but somewhat mollified that Tim has just basically asked you out without asking you out. “That is bad news indeed.”

Tim looks around to make sure no one is looking before he reaches out with his hand and gently strokes your cheek with the back of two of his thick fingers just once, whispering, “I’ve never wanted to put a case to bed more.”

You can’t let the joke pass you by, “The case? The case is what you want to put to bed?”

The booming laugh that shakes Detective Tim Rockford’s entire torso reaches all the way to his eyes, crinkling them in the most adorable way. It’s staggering the difference it makes – he looks 10 years younger, you think.

He’s needed this. A really good laugh. He’s needed it more than he realized. He’s needed you. He looks at your impish grin, so proud of yourself for pulling this sound from him, a sound so rare that it’s become almost foreign to his own ears; Tim hopes he’s able to convey his gratitude for you with the way his eyes have brightened, flecked with gold and mirth.

He thinks you just might understand him perfectly.

When you lift up on your toes to brush your lips softly against his scruffy cheek for a goodbye kiss, he whispers low in your ear, “I’ll call you, Shutterbug.”

A promise.

7 months later

The Grandma Ursula case has taken the nation by storm. The TV in your workplace breakroom is permanently dialed to the court case broadcast so no one misses a minute of the scandalous proceedings, a single interview with those involved in the case, or any legal and criminal analysts’ commentary. For someone who is billed as the Lead Investigator, Tim makes shockingly few appearances onscreen, but you feel a little thrill go through you whenever you catch a glimpse of his striking figure in the background of a news broadcast about the case, or when you see him standing stoically behind the head prosecutor while the latter debriefs the press from the steps of the court house.

You gaze dreamily at his face while the press shouts out what everyone (your friends, colleagues, the public) all want to know:

How many aliases does Grandma Ursula really have?

Can we even call it the Bolton Mansion anymore?

Why that particular number of pies?

You’ll be honest, you’re just as interested in the case as everyone else, but you have one pressing question that you know no one else is asking: Will he call when it’s over?

You’re in a departmental meeting when the verdict is read. It takes you forever to get back to your desk, caught up in everyone’s excited chatter about the ruling, but when you finally sit down and pull out your phone from your drawer, it’s to the best outcome you could have hoped for from the Grandma Ursula case. Positively beaming, you reread the text message sent from an unknown number only two minutes after the verdict was announced: Hey Shutterbug, take any good photos lately?

End note: The iPhoneography aspect of this fic is a bit self indulgent; some might know that this Tumblr used to be a photo blog before it became my writing blog. Just like reader, it's something I used to enjoy a lot but I haven't opened those camera apps in years - maybe I'll get back into it one day! In the meantime, yes - the aquarium photos in the moodboard are by yours truly 🤭

#Jamie's Ocean Challenge #Tim Rockford #Tim Rockford fic #Tim Rockford fanfiction #Tim Rockford x reader #Tim Rockford x you #tim rockford x f!reader #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

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corvid-language-library · 1 month ago

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A life-changing moment

I was thinking the other day about how I came to be in Japan, and how my life could've been so very different had I not gone with my brother on the day he left for university.

You see, I had no interest in going to uni at age 16. Mostly because I was severely depressed and figured I wasn't going to make it to the end of my teens. My plans largely revolved around my band getting famous, or getting a book published, or being discovered by some acting talent scout (despite having exactly zero talent for acting) or something. I hated school and the thought of doing more school just sounded unbearable. My brother was the clever, academic one; not me. So when I went with him that morning in late September, I didn't expect anything to change.

Except I fell in love with the place. It wasn't school; it was a whole new world, with a lake and stunning architecture and gardens and people walking around in the kind of clothes I got bullied for wearing. So I did a complete 180 and decided (much to my father's despair) that I did want to go to uni after all.

While I was at uni, I made friends from all walks of life. All corners of the world. Specifically, Norway.

A couple of years later, I decided I missed being able to speak a second language (my French had been pretty good years before, but I'd forgotten most of it by that point). It was a toss-up between German, Norwegian and Finnish. German because I already knew some, had a cousin living in Cologne and figured it would be useful. Finnish because my music and pole dance idols were Finnish. Norwegian because I had a handful of friends I met at uni from Norway. I decided I wasn't that passionate about German, which left Finnish and Norwegian.

I decided on Finnish.

Went to the bookstore ready to start my journey. I went to the language section and... not a single book on Finnish. But there was a single Teach Yourself Norwegian book. And so, I picked that up instead, and thus started my Norwegian journey.

Fast forward a little and I find myself on langblr. I make lots of langblr friends and even, for a time, run a semi-popular blog. Norwegian was my one true love, of course; nothing could change that. Until someone I'd admired for years started learning Japanese. It was a language I'd always been somewhat interested in but completely adamant I could never learn because it's "too difficult". But seeing her study it made me curious. "Maybe I'll just try to learn some hiragana," I told myself.

If you've known me long enough, perhaps you'll remember that phase I went through where I completely denied I was learning Japanese. "I'll get bored of it," I kept saying. "It's fun right now because I'm in the beginner stage, but as soon as I have to put effort into it I'll give up."

And then I bought a nice notebook and a Japanese textbook and I started making flashcards and practising kanji. Oops.

Covid happened. I started teaching English online because I couldn't teach pole from home and I needed a new source of income. I liked it, but I hated being stuck behind a desk. I wanted to teach in a real classroom. I knew the possibility of getting a TEFL job in Norway was next to zero, especially with Brexit and all. But Japan...

And so I looked into it. And now I'm here.

I wonder how different my life would have been had I, on that unassuming Sunday morning in late September, opted to stay at home and play video games. Would I have ever gone to visit my brother at uni? Probably not; I didn't drive, and that's the year my mum got cancer and I got my first boyfriend, so it's not like I'd have had much inclination to go visit. And had I not seen that campus for myself, would I ever have gone to uni? Would I have made Norwegian friends? Would I have chosen to study Norwegian? Would I have stumbled upon langblr? Would I have made the same langblr friends? Would I have felt inspired to just try learning Japanese?

Maybe I would've found a different route here. Maybe I'd have found myself somewhere completely different.

It seems so silly to think that my life-changing moment was, actually, just the choice to leave the house one day. And yet.

I don't really know what I'm trying to say here, if anything at all. Perhaps all I'm trying to say is that life-changing moments don't just come up to you and punch you in the face; they're the result of long chains of actions that spiral wildly out of control, all starting from an unassuming Sunday morning when you decided to leave the house instead of rotting at home.

#chough chatterings #long post #behold: my two brain cells finally met and together they birthed nonsense #anyway i should go to bed

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archie-sunshine · 3 months ago

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A Year in Review

SO ITS BEEN A LONNNNG YEAR! a very very long year, but a lovely year and a very precious year!!! I feel like because of how big a year its been, we need a recap of everything that happened, and everything that this platform has allowed me to achieve!!

SO LETS START WITH JANUARY!!

I was still in school during this month, so I didn't get to draw as much as i wanted, but i wrote a ton!! I published chapters of Survey Says, Rehab/Cohab, and also the seminal work of fiction that is Positive Reinforcement! I want to celebrate how much writing i got done, especially with how that's taken a back seat on my blog for a while now!!

In february I got more time to focus on my work, and I hit 1000 followers!!!! I conducted the first ever askbox purges, and I drew a load of art!! I also met some great new friends during this month!! (hi soda! :D)

I STARTED STREAMING IN MARCH!!! I think this was one of the best decisions i ever made, because being able to chat and hang out with everyone as i draw is always hugely inspiring. I look forward to streaming and chatting with everyone each week :]

IN APRIL I DREW TOO MUCH NON ROBOT ASS. I finally got around to watching dungeon meshi and i became absolutely fucking obsessed with fantasy. I've always been a huge interest in fae and fantasy and worldbuilding, so knightformers is such a fun creative exercise!!

and then in may my computer exploded. Not actually, the screen just broke. I drew so much knightformers in may that my screen killed itself. oops!

In june, I not only hit 2k followers, but started a stickers business!!! All of your support from that made me feel confident in my ability to sustain myself on my art, and gave me the inspiration to push myself harder as the year went on!

In july, not only did I go to my first transformers convention, I met @pinkanonwrites in person for the first time, and MY BOYFRIEND MOVED INTO MY HOUSE! This month was so busy, but meeting pink and going to tfcon was so fantastic :]

In august it was my BIRTHDAY!! :D i turned 21! And I went on a prolonged inbox hiatus to focus on establishing my art style !

In september my hiatus continued, and I created meter, the greatest blight on the tfa tag to ever exist! Everyone exploded over my sweet boy, and it made me very happy to see :D

In october, i entered what I consider my own personal renaissance!! I was incredibly inspired by tf one, and starting to use more colour in my artwork since september! I released halloween merch (and then got my account on ko-fi suspended for a bit but it was fine) and hit three thousand followers!

IN NOVEMBER I KEPT MYSELF BUSY. I worked on tons of merch, made hypnovembers, and sketched up an absolute storm. The whole month honestly feels like a blur to me. AND THEN THE CANADA POST WORKERS WENT ON STRIKE (union strong, lads, good luck!)

Andddd because of that postal strike, I had to cross the us border into america to get all of my stickers sent off!!! december has continued to be incredibly busy, but! if you're seeing this, it means I'm ON HIATUS OFFICIALLY!!! AND MY WORK IS DONE (or mostly done ehehe)

I want to give a huge thanks to all of you. Because of your support, both financially and socially, not only has my confidence grown, but with it, so has my artistic skill and my income.

Drawing for all of you has allowed me to manage my anxiety more readily with medical marijuana, has allowed me to become more financially independant and responsible, and has opened up so many doors for me socially.

doing this has always been something that was more pipe dream or fantasy than reality, so the fact I get to say I draw for a living at all is a privilege i don't take lightly in the slightest.

I will always be proud to draw for this community. Thank you everyone, and see you next year!

#my art #captain's blog #archie updates #year in review #2024

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luckyartdrawer · 2 months ago

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100 Follower Milestone Poll! 🎉🎉🎉

Heya lovelies!!! This blog hit 100 followers oh my goodness!!!

I really can't believe it, it's so awesome to see you all here! <333 Whether you're new or old around here it doesn't matter, I am electronically hugging and/or patting all of your heads in great thanks! ✨💖✨💖✨💖✨

To celebrate, I have some options in a poll for y'all to choose what you would like to see for this milestone! I HIGHLY suggest reading the explanations of each option below the break! It clarifies some important details. Its down there so any of y'all just scrolling by won't have to worry about a wall of text! <3

Please feel free to vote even if you aren't following me!!!

Poll Options explanations:

Drop early chapters of EYED / Dreamlike: This is a Moon-centric x reader fic I've been working on for several months now and I originally planned to start posting it when I finished it or got really close to doing so. I dropped a sneak peek of it here! I find myself currently on a standstill on it's later chapters, which is why it hasn't been finished yet, but otherwise I am reallllly happy with it's messaging and pacing. (Rn I have plotted out 15 chapters but it's looking like it could be longer with how I write oops-)

The first chapters have been pretty polished at this point, so if people are really curious about this one, I don't mind to start posting the chapters up to a certain point. If this wins, I'll post the first 3 chapters for 3 sequential days, then 4 and 5 will come out in the next week, and then the last week I'll post ch. 6 for no particular reason mhmm yup I am not planning anything nefarious-

Drawing requests: This would be my first time doing something like this, and while I know I can pop out some bangers for y'all I also don't want to dig myself into a hole and leave y'all waiting for a long time. 😅So if this wins, I'll take the first 10 requests and draw them out! If I feel capable of doing more I may open some more slots for y'all, but I need to test my speed and my capabilities here first. Expect some lovely rendering bc I love it so, but I won't be doing backgrounds (besides simple colors) for the sake of my sanity.

Drabble requests: Most of ya here probably see me as only an artist, but I do write and actually started out as a writer first for this fandom hehe. ✨ I've been doing well recently with short stories so as long as y'all want em, I can hopefully dish em out at a reasonable pace! I, again, haven't done something like this before. So if this wins, I'll take the first 10 requests, but I feel more confident that I can do this at a reasonable pace, so if things go well I'll open up 5-10 more slots for y'all!

Rendered drawing of a dca AU: Hehe, my forte /J. I've drawn some whacky crossovers, cute sillays, and horror stuff at times, but some of y'all also know I love soooo many AUs in this fandom, hehe! I definitely do not mind drawing AUs, there are MANY I haven't drawn for, but I will be avoiding drawing other's specific AUs. I love making fanart, but this is going to thank y'all for being here, so I would like to keep from using someone else's AU -- it would feel like I'm stealing them e3e.

Plus, this is from me to thank you! And so will the goobers! I'll try to be as detailed as possible with both the characters and location <3

If this wins, I'll set up another poll to last for 3 days. It'll have some general au options like Mer, then I'll list out some crossovers I have done like Submas! Sun/Moon, and I'll add my own AUs! There will also be an option to suggest an AU/crossover! (Please don't be afraid to do so, as long as enough people have an interest in the option, or even if it doesn't win I may still make it if I really like the suggestion! <333)

Rendered drawing of Biblical dca: This means the drawing will be as realistic to the original as I can get it! Gonna do my best to do material rendering and all mwehehe! Though, I may make him extra polished/shiny to not only play with reflections, but to also say how sparkly y'all make me feel hehe ✨✨✨

If this wins, I'll try to finish the drawing within a week or 2 after I make the announcement of the poll's winner! I'll also throw out a really quick poll for 1 day to let y'all pick who will be our biblical goober: Sun, Moon, or Ruin Eclipse!

Something else: This is pretty self explanatory, but if you have ideas, comment below! (You can even if you didn't pick this option!!!) And if you see an idea you like or that you wanted to comment already said below, please reply to that person's comment to keep things easy to track! You don't have to say anything if you don't want to, just drop something simple like ✨ in it and I'll know that means ya voted for it. :) (I'll be checking to make sure people didn't vote on the same comment more than once! But you can vote for multiple ideas <3)

If this wins/has enough interest, I'll choose the most popular suggestion! Depending on what suggestion wins, I may actually do BOTH that suggestion and the winning/2nd place option on the poll!!!! ( Woah 2 for one what :O )

My choice 💥💥💥: I typically don't like making choices actually, but in the case y'all are indecisive I will step up ✨✨✨ If this wins, I'll likely choose whatever sounds best to me in that moment hehehe, you'll never be 100% sure what I'll do >:)

Moon's bald and we love him for it: Oh yeah we do! <3 This is just a joke option to let people who don't want to vote to see the results. If this wins... Uh... We'll go for the 2nd place vote! And also I'll add a bald Moon doodle as a bonus goodie. (I'm so good at making incentives to get people to vote, I know I know ✨✨✨)

Thanks again for all the love guys!!! This fandom has been so good to me and I cannot thank y'all enough for making it as awesome and welcoming as it has been! <333

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emmett6 · 7 months ago

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i am being attacked by antis.

this is emmett. emmettnet, emmettverse, emmettland, emmettundead, emmettlab. whichever blog you knew me from.

i am a whump creator. i've been in the whump community for a few years now. and now, i am unable to share my work with the community on here because people are mass reporting me for being a proshipper, and Tumblr keeps deleting my blogs as a result.

(if that isn't the reason why, i would be more than happy to get the explanation from @staff that i've been asking for.)

now, that is speculation on my part based on the timing of each termination (it's after i put my pinned post in the whump tags).

but here are the facts:

months ago, i became comfortable enough to share proshipping content. seeing as how every other artist would link their nsfw work on here, i thought it was acceptable for me to do the same so long as the preview image did not violate any rules.

an anon asked if i was a proshipper, and i said i didn't ascribe to that label*, but i agreed with the philosophy.

*i don't have any choice BUT to use it now because my posts get removed for describing what the content is

note that this anon asked multiple people in the whump community if they were proshippers. it was the same person each time, same copy-and-pasted responses.

i kept posting my proshipping content, all with links and extensive content warnings.

i started getting anon hate.

my account was terminated. after further reflection and rereading the terms of service AGAIN, i figured maybe links are not allowed and so i switched to DM only.

this time, the anon hate was consistent. every week was something new. every day felt like bracing myself to open my inbox. i kept anon on, since i have so many people who feel uncomfortable sending asks off anon and didn't want to take away their safe space.

months pass. i go on hiatus for all of July. i find out someone stole my old nsfw art and reposted their edited versions of it to rule34, a site that i never wanted my work to be on. this person waited until the exact starting day of my hiatus to do this.

i come back to more anon hate in my inbox.

suddenly, out of nowhere, my account is terminated again.

i make a new blog. more anon hate. another termination.

lather, rinse, repeat.

i stopped doing DM only stuff. i figured, if i just link my other platforms and only post safe things on Tumblr, there's nothing in the rules against that. everyone has links to their social media.

i still get terminated. and again, i keep getting terminated after i post my pinned post in the whump tags. which -- speculation again -- leads me and others to think that these antis are stalking the whump tags, waiting for me to show up so they can mass report me and get me terminated.

i have NO idea what they would report, aside from claiming i'm trying to "dodge being blocked". which, i'm not. in fact, i say every single time i come back that i WANT people to block me if they need to.

but regardless, it keeps happening.

i'm losing a place i considered home.

i'm being forced out of a community on here i love so dearly.

and you want to know something funny? for some strange reason, i'm unable to block my anons. yup. an 'error' message comes up. and i'm apparently unable to report them too -- like reporting the one who called me a 'tumblr tranny' and said i would 'always be a woman' for hate speech. oops, sorry. error message.

by now, i've been called evil. told to listen to my intrusive thoughts. told that i should be on a watch list. told that it's disgusting that someone's mutuals still interact with me. told that i have no place in the whump community.

i know that's not true.

i'm so sick and tired of being treated like this. i'm tired of being dehumanized. and i'm disgusted with this behavior.

at this point, i'm just screaming as many times as i can. i'll keep losing blogs, because i know my attackers will read this and just keep on reporting me. what do they have to lose? nothing. they don't have enough of a conscience to care. and why should they? clearly, i'm a monster. i'm a piece of shit. i don't deserve basic respect, and i apparently don't deserve to keep my 'platform'. to stay in my community and to keep my livelihood.

my discord is emmettnet. send me a DM if you don't want to lose me, because there is no point in following me repeatedly just for every blog to be terminated.

if you want to reblog this to spread the word and show your support, i would be eternally grateful. but i understand if you choose not to; i don't want anyone to be subjected to what i'm going through.

thank you for reading.

#whumplr #whump #whump community #proshipping #proshipper #proship

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wildemaven · 1 year ago

Note

This made me think of Dieter and Poppy 🎨 I can see Dieter absoutely taking care of her sore feet as he listens to her talk about her day 🥰

dieter x f!reader (nicknamed poppy) word count: 1341 content warning: 18+ blog; established relationship, sweet creature universe, foot massage, mention of food, massaging with foot, foot job— FJ (is that a thing?), slight begging on dieter’s part, praise (one use of good boy), poppy being a menace this go around, Poppy is readers nickname, no descriptive features given for reader, let me know if I forgot anything notes: thank you @kteague for sending this. I was like “oh this is so perfect and cute” but then my mind started wandering and this happened… oops!

“Ugh— I’m so glad parent teacher conferences are over.” You groan as your body collapses into the plushness of the couch. “No more late nights or dealing with parents who think their children are too perfect to get less than an A on their tests.”

“Can’t be that bad.” Dieter says as if he’s the one partaking in these meetings.

He holds out a white paper carton of warm noodles and chopsticks from your favorite takeout place from where he’s sitting on the opposite end of the couch. You gladly accept, your mouth watering as you settle back into the pillows.

“Ha! Can’t be that bad? I had one parent this week tell me her son needs to stay late sometime next week because she has a date and won’t be able to pick him up. I had to explain to her that I’m not a daycare.” You mumble out between a heaping pile of noodles, suspended from your mouth to the chopsticks.

“Did she offer to pay though?” Dieter asks before taking a bite of a crispy roll. He nods, approving of the flavor as he inspects the contents, then shoving the rest in his mouth.

“You’re ridiculous!” You playfully kick his leg resting on the couch, he’s quick to grab for your ankle before you can pull away, his thumbs instantly kneading into the arch of your foot. “No, she didn’t offer to pay. But she was offended when I gave her the number of an actual daycare.”

“Could be good money if you ever considered. So, did they ask about me this week?” Looking down at where his hands continue to massage out the stress you’ve been under dealing with nagging parents over the course of the last week.

The achiness is quickly exchanged for a more enjoyable pressure. Dieter’s foot rubs and takeout at the end of a long work week is a ritualized experience you always look forward to going into a relaxing weekend.

“You know I thought something was off! Not one kid asked about you. They must have forgotten who you are— shame.” You smirk at him over the carton of noodles.

“What do you mean they forgot about me?” His hands still, a mixture of shock and sadness plastered all over his face at the thought of your students forgetting who he was.

You love messing with him because it’s so easy, but his pinched brows and sad puppy dog eyes is your least favorite reaction when you do take a chance at joking with him.

“Babe, I’m just kidding. They never stop talking about you. I swear I get asked at least once by each of them at some point during the day, When is Uncle Dude going to visit us?”

“That’s it, foot rub is over for you! Can’t believe you would do that to me!” He drops your foot into his lap, hands lifted to prove he will no longer be implementing your weekly foot rub tonight.

“You make it too easy sometimes. I saw an open opportunity, so I took it.” Wiggling your untouched foot at him, hoping he has it in his heart to even out the lingering pain still radiating through it.

“I’m sorry, did you need something?” He asks, a singular eyebrow arched, looking at you then back to your foot before grabbing for another crispy roll and television remote off the coffee table.

The man is a menace and he knows it too. Luckily, or unlucky for him, you are too and take any chance to give it right back to him.

Your attention shifts to Dieter’s pants, his favorite pair he wears when he’s lounging around the house. The thin material covered in stripes running lengthwise of the pant legs, varying in different shades of gray. Material so thin, they do little to prevent what hides beneath the cotton fabric. So they’ve easily become your favorite pair— for obvious reasons.

It’s innocent at first. Your foot skimming over the top of his thigh. Back and forth, back and forth. He doesn’t even mention anything, too focused on flipping through the selected streaming service in search of some sort of cinematic entertainment for the rest of the evening.

You sense he was getting aroused as you inched further and further up his thigh, your own body responding in kind. Feeling bold, you slowly slid your foot across his lap and let it rest on his growing bulge, applying just enough pressure which resulted in Dieter letting out a low moan, encouraging you to continue.

“Poppy, what do you think you’re doing? fuck.” His locked on you, lids already heavy as he began to succumb to your pleasurable wrath.

“Hmm— I don’t know what you mean. Did you find a movie?” You could feel the heat radiating from Dieter's body already. “Maybe that one Nic Cage movie where he plays himself?”

“Mmmmmmmmm.” A blissed out groan is all Dieter manages.

Mission accomplished!

But you couldn't resist the temptation to tease him a little more. With your toes, you traced the outline of his cock. Every delicious inch of him rock hard and straining beneath his lounge pants.

“Fuck, Poppy!” Dieter gasps, his head falling back onto the arm of the couch, your touch proving to be too distracting.

“You like that, Baby?” Taunting him with a sultry voice as you take another bite of noodles.

“Mmhmm!” His eyes screw shut, nodding his head frantically.

“I need words, Dieter. Otherwise I don’t think I can continue.” You tell him, stilling your foot.

“YES! I like it so much, Pop! Please don’t stop!” Practically begging with you to keep at it.

You could sense that Dieter was already on the edge, and you wanted nothing more than to push him over it.

Feeling bold, you decide to take it a step further. With one swift move, cupping the bulge in his pants with both of your feet. Oscillating your movements between lazy up and down caressing to hard drawn out dragging motions down the length of his cock.

It’s no surprise when Dieter lets out a loud groan when you jump straight to his most requested stroke that is always one to reduce him to a whimpering mess. Now mimicking the move without the help of your hands by applying just enough pressure at the base of his shaft with one foot while the ball of the other foot moves in circular motions over his leaning head. His pants are sticky with pre-come under your feet, smearing everywhere, completely delighted by the effect this is having on him.

Dieter hips start to buck against your feet, grinding and rhythmically rolling in search of more friction. Poppyyesyesyes, he was desperately pleading, signaling that he was close.

“Dieter, you’re doing so well. Be a good boy and come for me.” You purr, continuing to move over his cock, rubbing and teasing him.

He doesn’t get a chance to warn you, but the way his body goes rigid as he grips at couch cushions is more than enough warning for you that he’s going to come.

“F-fuck!!” That coiling tension winding tightly in his abdomen finally snapping as he lets out choked sob.

Dieter dissolves into a euphoric pleasure as he explodes inside of his pants, releasing his hot arousal all over himself and your feet.

There was a pleasant sense of control and satisfaction that washed over you watching Dieter come undone. The way his cheeks and neck were flushed from the satisfied desire buzzing through him. A sheen of sweat speckled across his forehead, a few drops managing to roll down his face. His already disheveled hair now soaked and messier.

You dig the chopsticks back into the carton, winding the noodles around and around in preparation for your next bite.

“I forgot to ask— how was your day, Babe?” A lopsided grin forming as you lifted your gaze up to admire the way Dieter’s chest expanded up and down. His labored panting filling the living room as he tried to regain some sort of consciousness.

“Fuck you, Pops!” Lifting his head so he can give you his full attention, his mouth curving into a smile that makes your stomach all fluttery. “It was good— So fucking good.”

#dieter bravo #dieter x poppy #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo x female reader #dieter bravo x f!reader #pedro pascal #wildemaven writes #pedrostories

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burn-before-reading · 7 months ago

Text

Long Ways Away

Bucky Barnes x Reader

connection, reconnection, and a small miscommunication. Bucky will travel however far if it means making you smile

wordcount: 4k

a/n: This was originally written AGES ago (2021) for @wkemeup ‘s 9k writing prompts. I had a different blog and posted one or two fics then ACCIDENTALLY DELETED THE WHOLE BLOG. oops 🤷. remade this one and now im back into writing a bunch again so figured i might as well respost it. i had some other bucky fics i never finished writing so who knowsss i might go back and finish them :p

based on the prompt:

Character A calls Character B in the middle of the night crying - something they’ve never done before. They’re several states away. [B] gets in the car without hesitation and drives to wherever they are.

Bucky found himself on the balcony, looking out into the busy New York nightlife. Cars driving through the busy streets. He felt it matched the energy inside the Tower. If he looked behind he would have found Tony chatting away, creating a spectacle and being the center of attention as usual. Sam was playing pool against Scott. Accusing him of cheating by using ants to move the balls around when he wasn’t looking. Steve and Natasha were in the corner chatting away about the last mission. Steve was always a little too focused on work, even when these get-togethers were planned to distract the team from just that.

It was why Bucky needed a break, that's what he would say at least. The reason for this whole party, as much as he hated the whole spectacle. A break from the team. A break from missions. He just needed an out, for now.

It’s at least what he was telling himself.

“Hey Stranger. Found your hiding spot.” He glanced behind and saw you there. Relaxed and leaning against the doorway, a half empty drink in your hand. Smiling like there wasn’t a reason for you to be sad. He smiled back for a second, like he was still going to be here tomorrow.

He would miss you the most.

______

You hadn’t called yet.

He wasn’t too worried at first, the last he heard from you, you had said Steve was planning a mission and you probably would be gone for a while. You didn’t specify what kind of mission. You never did. He hated that.

In all honesty taking this break, full on Move-Into-a-subburb-in-Indiana kinda break, was killing him. It was one of those things he thought he would be fine with. The neighbors were nice. A sweet old lady who was always baking and bringing him cookies and pies. The other was your typical nuclear family. Maybe that was something Bucky would have wanted back in the 40s. Now he’s not so sure.

Bucky’s so called retirement wasn’t that exactly. He wasn’t off the team. It was a break. A long break. A break for some undetermined amount of time, but had currently lasted for almost six months. Time away from the hustle and bustle of city life. Of Avenger life. Steve had suggested it after Bucky had one too many sleepless nights. Giving him time to try and live a life not fighting for something. Somewhere peaceful. He would’ve considered it sooner, if it weren’t for you.

He didn’t know how it had started. The friendship between the two of you. He knows you were the one to first initiate the conversation. It had taken him a while to warm up to you. He’s almost mad at himself that he didn’t keep track of all your interactions. Everytime he heard you laugh. Everytime you sat next to him during a movie night. When Your friendship started bleeding into something else. He felt like the two of you skipped a step somewhere. A line between friends and… something else, something better, started to blur.

You would slip into his room at night right before the nightmares could start. Running your hands through his hair as you softly sung lullabies and old songs. You spent the night more often than not. Fast asleep with your arms wrapped around him. His head delicately tucked into the crook of your neck, arms wrapped around your waist. You both waking up in each other's arms, tangled together in a peaceful bliss.

He knows what ended it. It was his fault. He pushed away.

But Damnit, Bucky did miss you.

At least you called every once in a while. Giving him updates about everything going on at the tower. It was like clockwork, almost. A call springing up at the end of almost every week, updating him on every little detail of Steve's extremely long Disney Movie Marathon. Last update you gave was he just finished the Renaissance era. Swearing on your life that you managed to catch him singing along to The Little Mermaid.

Another time you called just to complain about how bad your sparring session with Nat was.

“I swear someone must’ve pissed her off before it because now I have a stupid bruise on my back and it just hurts all over” you groaned over the phone. he could imagine you lying on the floor in your room. Blankets thrown about and laptop angled so you could still watch Netflix. The thought made him laugh which caused you to respond “Don’t laugh at my misery!”

If it wasn’t a call, you would text, but that was rare. You had confessed early on that you hated texting, but you couldn’t help but send him pictures and videos of the group hanging out. You, Wanda, and Natasha in the lounge watching horror movies. Sneaky photos of Steve asleep in the common area. His favorite had to be when you send a video of Sam spacing out and crashing into a window while flying. He sent back laughing emojis and saved the video.

He never said much about his time away. He got a cat. A little white furball he named Alpine. He sent you a handful of pictures that you absolutely adored.

He would say that the time away has been helping. Less chaos, more calm. He always tried to make it sound like he was enjoying his time away. The neighbors were nice. The place was quiet. He was getting sleep. Enjoying his break.

He was starting to miss the chaos. He was missing you.

He always looked forward to your calls, even though they always seemed to interrupt him meditating, like today. It had been over a month since your last call.

You had changed your ringtone to some upbeat song he honestly couldn’t stand at first but grew on him over time. It couldn’t even finish its first verse before he picked up the phone and spoke with a smile on his face.

“Hey, Y/N. You back from your mission?” He only heard silence back at first, and it scared him. “Doll, are you there?” More silence before he could barely pick up the faint sniffling. “Y/N, are you okay?”

More silence. More sniffling. He was getting ready to call Steve or text him or Something before he heard your voice speak up. A fragile, tear-filled response. It broke his heart.

“I’m Sorry Bucky. I shouldn’t have called.”

Then the line goes dead.

______

“You should go back inside y/n. Go enjoy the party.”

“What's the point of it if the person it's for isn’t even there?” you walk over and lean against the railing so your back is to the view. You stared at the inside for a second before looking at him again. “Excited for retirement?” He rolled his eyes at your half assed joke.

“Its not retirement. Its just, a break.” That made you laugh a little. Your nose scrunched up the tiniest amount and is made Bucky smile. He would miss your laugh.

“It feels like retirement, you bought a house and everything. In Indiana right?”

“Yeah.”

“Kinda far from the tower, don’t you think?” you finished up what was left in your glass and set it on the small standing table to the side of you before focusing your attention back to him.

“That was kind of the point. Somewhere quiet, or well, quieter than here.” He gestured to the city, but part of you felt he meant the team.

______

He doesn’t care that the drive is eleven hours. He doesn’t care that he had to stick his now grumpy cat in a carrier and put her in the front seat. Be doesn’t care that he’s rushed out of his house at three in the afternoon with nothing but the desire to check on you.

He does care that you haven’t answered or returned any of his calls yet and Bucky swears on his life he is going to murder Steve if he doesn’t pick up either. He hears it ring three times before he answers.

“Hey, Buck. Whats up?” Steve says into the phone nonchalantly. It's starting to piss him off.

“What happened Steve.” His voice was cold and his grip on the steering wheel tightened with each second. What happened, what happened.

“Wait what do you mean.”

“Y/N Steve! What happened to her on her mission.” his voice cracked a bit as he tried to keep it together. Something was wrong and he didn’t know what.

“Y/n’s mission? It went fine she got back a while ago and… wait did she call you?” He seemed surprised.

“Yes! Y/N was crying and she just hung up suddenly and…what happened Steve.”

“Nothing. She’s been fine this whole time. It happened a while ago so I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Wait how long has she been back from her mission.”

“Two weeks.”

“Well how was I supposed to know that!” He was getting antsy, wishing this car of his would go any faster.

“I assumed she had already called you. She usually did after every mission but… I’ll go check up on her for you if you want. Let her know you called.”

“I’m already on my way over. Just let me know if she does anything else.”

______

He doesn’t remember how long he stayed out there talking to you. It was more you talking to him. How training went that day, A new movie that had come out that week, Peter coming to you for advice on asking someone out. A dream you had.

He couldn’t help but glance at your arm as you talked. Covered with long sleeves but he knew the scar was still there. Long and jagged, running from your forearm to your wrist. Slowly fading but still ever present. He felt your hand lift his chin up to meet your eyes again.

“Don’t even think of feeling guilty right now.” You teased, but your face showed nothing but sincerity. He gripped the railing tightly and it looked like he wanted to say something, but the words weren’t coming out.

He couldn’t. Not that.

“Do you remember the first time you stayed the night?” You took your hand away and watched him stare off into the distance. “ I felt trapped in my own head, in my memories. I wasn't leaving my room.”

“We share a wall. I could always hear when your nightmares got bad, but Steve was always there for you. But he was gone one day and I… I couldn’t just leave you to deal with that on your own.” Your voice turned to a whisper. Reminiscing on what you two once had. The quiet moments together. Why he stopped them, you only somewhat understood.

______

An hour felt like ten, and the full drive felt like an eternity later. When he reached the tower the sky was now dark, but he didn’t care. It had been far too long since he had been back.

He had Steve talk him through what could have happened.

“It must have been something that happened on her mission, but I can’t pick out anything weird, besides the fact that she insisted on taking this one alone.”

It was a stakeout. Suspicions of an arms deal going on. The plan was for you to just find out who was involved. Collect any information you can. You always sounded bored whenever you talked about it and gave Steve updates.

“Wait, why did she insist on going alone. Those take forever and I doubt she got a reasonable amount of sleep if she was by herself.” Bucky at this point was thinking the worst.

“Nothing happened Buck. She gave updates the whole time. I gave her permission to call you, but from the sound of it she never did.” A realization hit him then and there. The first mission he went on with you alone was a stakeout.

He doesn’t remember what the mission was about. All he remembers is two weeks alone with you. The two of you in a hotel room, spying on… he isn’t even sure anymore. All he took away from that time is he was absolutely in love with you. The way you would talk about Wanda’s crush on Vision at the time and how you kept bugging her to say something. Everytime you tried (and failed) to throw popcorn into your mouth.

By the time Bucky arrives at the tower it's almost three in the morning. Alpine sleeping soundly in the passenger seat. Steve is waiting for him in the parking garage. A concerned look on his face.

“She’s locked herself in her room. She won’t talk to me.” Bucky moves Alpine from the carrier to his jacket, and walks with Steve to the elevators to get to the living quarters.

“Is she even still awake? I got here pretty late.” He glanced at the pajama bottoms Steve was wearing.

“Last time I passed by I heard a show playing, she still might have fallen asleep though. Your room is empty if you wanna get some rest.”

“No.” the Elevator opens up to the all too familiar hallway that now you currently reside in. “I wanna see her now, if I can.” if she lets me. Steve simply pats him on the back.

“You planning on staying a while?”

“I guess we’ll see..” The doors close leaving Bucky alone in the dark hallway. He feels stuck in place. It has been so long since he’d seen the tower. He’d forgotten how much he’d miss this place.

He hesitated knocking on your door. The familiar notch in the wood from when you tried to fire one of Clint's bows. He could hear what sounded like a nature documentary softly playing from the other side of the door.

“Friday?” He whispered.

“Welcome back Sergeant Barnes.” The AI called out.

“Is she awake?”

“Agent Y/N is awake at the moment. Would you like me to let her know you’re here?”

“No, no its alright.” Bucky responded. “I can talk to her.”

He continued to just stare at the door, unsure how to start. He looked down to Alpine who simply meowed at him. Her way of saying to ‘get on with it, I’m tired!’

“Alright, alright.” He nervously chuckled before lifting his right hand up. Three delicate knocks rang through the door.

“I’m fine Steve.” He heard your voice for the first time in person again. Muffled and clearly annoyed, but still perfectly you.

“ Y/n? It's Bucky. Can you please open the door.” The documentary paused. He heard the slight squeaking of a bed and footsteps padding over to the door, till he heard your voice loud and clear.

“What are you doing here, shouldn’t you be in Indiana.” He was surprised by the coldness in your voice.

“What’s going on with you. You called and I got worried. Can you please open the door?” He pressed his forehead against the door, trying to get as close to you as possible.

“I never meant to bother you. Please, Bucky, just go home.” There was pain in your voice and your words. Calling somewhere that wasn’t here his home.

“I’m not leaving till you explain what’s going on. What happened that made you call.”

“...I needed to stop relying on you to fix my problems.” You sighed. Maybe you could tell he wouldn’t leave you alone with just that. “It was a nightmare, okay? That’s all. I can deal with those on my own now.”

“ Please let me in. You know I can help with those.” He whispered through the door. He didn’t know you even got nightmares. “How long have they been happening?”

“Why does it matter to you.” You spat. “I’m not letting you in so you can just… go home”

hesitation…. Bucky thought for a moment.

“I have Alpine. You said you wanted to meet her.”

A moment of silence, and then he hears the lock click open.

______

“I’ll miss you. You know that right?”

You stared at the night sky and he couldn’t help but notice how the lights danced in your eyes.

“You can always call.” he replied.

“Do you know… when you’ll come back?” the hesitation in your voice made him suspect you were going to say “if”. The fear he may never come back.

“I’ll be back, doll. If you ever need me just call and I’ll come running.” The idea got both of you to smile.

“I’d never have you do that for me, but I appreciate the thought.” You laughed before turning your head and staring straight into his eyes. “Just promise me. You’ll come back.”

“I promise.”

Both of your feet took control and suddenly you were now facing each other. In both of your eyes you could see a million words trying to escape. Each of you wanting to say something you didn’t think the other would want.

Stay here

Tell me to Stay

Let me spend one last night with you

Please don’t leave me alone

I love you

Just let me love you

It felt like you were inches apart. Miles away from the rest of the world. Your hand rose to rest softly on his cheek. He leaned into your touch and closed his eyes. The pad of your thumb gliding across his cheek, the scratchy stubble, till it rested right under his bottom lip. His hands resisted the urge to touch you, the fear of somehow hurting you again, but your touch he relished in. He savoured this moment between the two of you, almost too hesitant to take it any further. Those million words slowly bubbling up to the surface. Falling from his eyes to the tip of his tongue. They tasted like salt. You raised your hand up to swipe something from his face.

Tears. No words. Just tears.

You could taste your own words as well.

“Hey Ms. Y/N - oh Sorry!” The sheepish voice that belonged to Peter spoke out and caused the two of you to draw away from each other. The timeless moment broken. Words gone. Words buried once again. You could tell he felt bad for interrupting what seemed to be a private moment between the two of you.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“No, it's fine. You didn’t interrupt anything. Did you need something kiddo?” You wiped your eyes and tried to look cheerful. Bucky never understood why you had such a soft spot for peter. He talked too much for his liking.

“Tony said you were out here and… He needed to talk to you about something I didn’t really ask uh.” Peter kept glancing at the now brooding man next to you. “happy retirement Mr. Bucky, Sergeant Barnes sir.”

“It's just Bucky,” He grumbled, “And it's not a retirement. It's just… Tony just started calling it that because i'm old.” You noticed the stiffness in his voice so you decided to break the tension.

“Tell Tony I’ll be inside in a second, okay Peter?” He nervously nodded and shuffled back inside. You turned back to face Bucky. He looked down and away from you now.

Miles apart.

“Gotta go back inside, I guess. Don’t stay out too long okay?”

In a brief second of courage you lifted your hand back to his face, and turned to place a quick kiss on his cheek before walking away and leaving him alone again on the balcony. The feeling of your lips lingered on his skin.

You didn’t see him when he left the next morning.

______

You looked just as beautiful as he remembered. Unbrushed hair and wrinkly t-shirt thrown together with an old pair of sweats. He wanted to wrap himself up in your touch, in your scent, but your eyes gave off a tired and standoffish look. Eyebrows scrunched together. This wasn’t the time, yet.

“Where is she.” You asked. Bucky unzipped his jacket slightly and peeled away one side to reveal a little puff of fur. The door opened wider and you stepped aside to let him in. He took a seat on your bed and let Alpine out to walk around. You sat down and alpine walked over and rubbed her face on your hand.

“Cute..”

“Yeah, she is. There's no cat food in the tower, right? I left in a rush and-”

“Bucky.” you raised a brow at him.

“Right, sorry.” He studied your expression, waiting for you to start.

“Can I ask you something, Bucky?”

“Anything.”

“Am I the reason you left?” Your question left him bewildered.

“Where’d you get that idea?”

“It's just,” you started, “we were so close, and I know I pushed your boundaries a little more than the others, but you seemed okay with it. You even pushed things further so I thought we were on the same page. But after-” you turn your arm to show what's now only a faint line running down your arm, “ -this I, I don’t know. You didn’t just step back, you pushed away. You didn’t even look at me for weeks and then suddenly you say that you're leaving and I-”

Tears spring from your eyes. The million words too much. Bucky grabs your hands and uses his thumbs to rub small circles into your wrists.

The night was one clearly neither of you had forgotten. You had just come back from a mission with Steve and went to Bucky’s room to surprise him, only to find he was having another nightmare. You attempted to wake him up, were met with a sharp pain in your arm. The both of you were too stunned by each other's actions to immediately notice the knife in Bucky’s hand and the stream of blood gushing down your arm and staining his sheets.

You never held it against him, but he clearly did.

“It was a rash decision.” He says, “ I care about you so much, you know that… or I hope you do, but after,” he felt his million words bubbling to the surface again, “After I hurt you, I got scared. I was afraid of making things worse and I didn’t even realize I already had. I left to try and figure myself out. After the first week I knew it wasn’t my thing. I was honestly gonna come right back, but you sounded so happy when you called and, I started to think you’d be better off without me.” His voice grew softer with every word.

“What about your neighbors, meditation. You said you were getting better sleep.”

“Mostly lies. The Nightmares just have become more manageable with time, and I don’t need to leave just to sit on the floor in silence. The only good thing to come from this is Alpine.” he admitted and you released a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

“At the party, before you left. You said to ask and you’d come back. There were so many times I thought about it, but you’d talk about how much better you were doing-”

“All lies, doll. Sorry.”

“ - I thought you were better off without me.” he tugs you forward and you let yourself fall into his embrace. You feel each other relax in each other's touch. He rested his chin on the top of your head for a second before placing a kiss on your forehead.

“I’m so sorry I made you feel this way.” You feel his lips move against your skin. “But I’m not leaving you again. Not ever.” You pulled away just to see his face.

“You’re not going back?” He tucked his head into your hair to muffle his laugh.

“Indiana sucks, I’m here to stay, promise. Besides, you said you had nightmares, right. I’m not just gonna leave you to deal with that on your own.”

He leaned over to kiss your tears away causing you to laugh at the feeling. You lifted your head to meet his lips with your own, and for a second the two of you forget the rest of the world exists. You can taste salt from each other’s tears and he feels himself smiling into the kiss, hands going up to cradle your face when suddenly you both hear a Meow.

Pulling away the two of you watch Alpine nudge your thigh as if to say ‘It's my turn for attention!’ The two of you smiling and crying and holding in a fit of giggles as your stare at the little puff of fur meowing at you and clawing at the sheets.

As the laughter and meowing died down, so did your energy, and the two of you settled into bed. It was almost as it was before. His arms wrapped around you. your head delicately tucked into the crook of his neck, arms wrapped around his waist. A small fur ball settled at the foot of the bed. With the promise of a million more words, and a million more nights together.

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #marvel #mcu #marvel fanfiction #writing prompt #kas9kwc #the avengers #endings are weird

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the-californicationist · 9 months ago

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Shore Leave

Your husband, Alex Keller, finally makes good use of his time off and takes you on your dream vacation. Little do you know that he has darker motives…

The view from your poolside suite was breathtaking in all of the best ways. An endlessly-reflected infinity pool bled right into the deep cerulean Pacific Ocean, making it seem like you could swim forever and ever and never stop. The sky was a mirror of the water, cloudless and pure. Although the sun was out, you were comfortable, and the breeze made you feel like you were always in a limbo between being awake and trapped within a lucid dream.

Even more enthralling was the way your husband’s body felt beneath yours. He was shirtless, clad only in a light pair of linen pants, and his warm body was curled around you protectively like a covetous hound. You’d never felt so safe.

However, you were also made to feel other things as well.

It had all started very innocently. He’d woken you up with poached eggs and freshly squeezed juice, running a warm bath and rubbing you down with lotion and oil before you stepped outside. Then, he’d gifted you with a brand new thong bikini, his eyes hungry as you tried it on. You thought you’d be following him down to the beach, eager to splash in the waves and show off your new fit, but he pulled you onto the pool deck instead.

He’d kissed you softly, teasingly. It was so different than his usual rabid fervor. You loved the way your husband could barely keep your clothes on when you were alone. You’d missed your dinner reservations more than once. But, you reasoned with yourself, he was always on deployment. Of course he was a little excited.

Now, though, that excitement had given way to mischief. As you had sat by the pool, kissing and holding hands, innocently watching the ships float by, you’d been lulled into a false sense of security.

And so, here you lay, your pussy stuffed with an automated vibrator, your poor unused asshole filled with an enormous plug, whimpering and begging for relief. Every time you would get close, writhing your body against his, trying to entice him with your hands and your long, smooth legs, he ignored you. He could control the vibe from his phone, and you never knew which way he was going to go. Sometimes, he would switch it off, watching you desperately humping his leg like a feral dog, swollen and perched on the edge of an orgasm.

His dark chuckle made your blood run cold,

“Does my good girl need something?”

Alex peered down into your face, his eyes hidden behind his sunglasses, smug and thoroughly enjoying himself.

“Oops,” he adjusted your thong again, jiggling the plug as he did so, “Keep these nice and high for me, baby. Need to be able to admire this plump ass of yours. Mmm. What a view.”

A hard, aching squeeze of his huge hand on your ass cheek made you see white, the sensation of all of his toys inside of you making even the smallest affection feel like wildfire.

“Please, Daddy, I’ll be a good girl. Please, may I come… please?” You tried to beg. You’d tried before. Nothing was helping. You could feel the slip and slide of your slick between the meat of your inner thighs.

“Not yet. Trust me, honey. I know what’s best for you, don’t I?”

You didn’t say a word, but you watched wide-eyed as he pulled another velveteen drawstring bag from his case. When he opened up the box, you could tell he’d already inspected and cleaned it. All of its wrapping was gone, and the straps were already in place.

It was a familiar piece. He’d used gags with you before, and nothing brought you more pleasure than allowing his hands and mouth and cock to bring you to your peak over and over again while you mindlessly allowed your shining drool to melt down your neck and onto your tits. When he removed it and allowed you to swallow him, replacing the silicone ball with his warm, softening cock, already emptied of its seed — you’d never come so hard in your life.

But this was no ball. This was a fat, silicone cock gag.

“Daddy, please. I’ll be quiet. I promise. Please… No, I’m —”

“Hey, show me your left hand,” he became very serious.

In your hand, you held a loud alarm button, your finger over the trigger, ready to press it at any time. When he saw it, checking in with you that you were still in your safe zone, he smiled.

“That’s perfect, baby. Such a good little slut for me. How did I get so lucky?” He kissed your cheek, shining with old and new tears, streaking down your face from overstimulation, and he planted chaste kisses on your quivering lip. You let yourself lean towards his affection, seeking more of his comfort, only to be firmly held back in place with his hand as he wrapped around your cheek.

“Shh, shh. Daddy just wants you to feel so good, baby. Now, open up.”

You stared at him with huge, gleaming doe eyes, tears threatening to run out of the corners of them again.

When you didn’t immediately comply, he grabbed the nape of your scalp and yanked your head back, not hurting you, but getting your attention.

“Am I gonna have to bruise that fine fuckin’ ass, huh? Make you walk down the fuckin’ beach with my palm prints all over you?”

“No, Daddy. I’ll be good. I’ll be good,” you gasped when the vibrator started up again as he flipped a switch. The shock made you clench down around it, which jostled the heavy plug, all in a series of mind-numbing chain reactions designed to edge you within an inch of your sanity.

“I know you will be. Now… open… that… mouth.”

Alex pressed the tip of the gag to your lips and you opened up for him, sucking it into your lips just like his cock. He pushed it all the way in and it almost landed in the back of your throat. Any further and you wouldn’t be able to breathe. It was a perfect fit.

Then, slowly, almost painfully so, he pulled it back out, staring into your eyes and seeing what you needed.

“Go on, baby. I know you wanna suck it for me. Show me.”

You wrapped your lips around it again, and as he held it in place, you bobbed your head up and down, your tongue lapping at the head of his toy. You made sure to look straight into his eyes as you used your mouth on it, letting your spit coat the silicone and drip onto his fist.

He removed his hand from your head and pet your hair gently, smoothing it away from your face.

“My poor, hungry little whore. Let’s fill you up, hm?”

Your protests became warped into a garbled whine as Alex pressed the toy all the way into your mouth, making sure it was flush and, before you knew it, you were being latched into the gag. The cock you were sucking was now perched at the farthest edge of your tongue, the soft head pressing into your palate, threatening to choke you.

Alex bent his neck to kiss your mouth as your lips stretched around the toy, smiling as he turned his attention back to his phone. He turned the vibrator down to a medium rumble and removed himself from your cuddling position to stand near the edge of the pool chair.

“C’mere, baby. Lemme show you somethin’,” your adoring husband held out his hand and you struggled to stand with him, stumbling on shaking legs.

He walked you over to the tall dividing wall between your suite and the popular beach, each step making the toys thrust up inside of you as you swayed your hips. Your weakness and the unevenness of the ground made your footing jerky and chaotic, adding to the creamy, lurid jostling happening inside of you. The pressure from the anal plug was so satisfying, and your vibrator teased your most sensitive spot, deep within you, just like a curling finger. Without your thong, you know your vibrator would have slipped out of you on your journey. You had never been so wet, and the way the toy was wriggling inside of your hole was making you dizzy.

Finally, you made it to the wall and used it to support yourself, squeezing your thighs together, desperate for some relief. Alex pointed down to the beach, showing you the little umbrellas and towels full of soldiers on shore leave, all oblivious to your torture.

“Put your hands on the wall, spread your legs apart, and don’t move them until I tell you to. Hold up a two if you understand me.”

You held up a two with your hand and then placed both of your palms on the wall, gripping it for dear life, feeling the long thread of your tangled orgasm beginning to unravel. Alex nudged your legs even wider, changing the angle of the toys within your body. The vibe buzzed away deep within you, faithfully held in place by your tight thong.

Then, you felt the familiar loosening of your bathing suit top as Alex yanked out the bow you had tied, letting the small fabric flutter away, revealing your breasts to the soft breeze. If any of the partying soldiers got too curious and decided to study you from below, they’d surely be able to see your dark nipples as they tightened on your tits, unbelievably sensitive in your current predicament.

You whined, and Alex shushed you,

“Shh, baby. I know. What if they see? That’s why you need to be nice and quiet for Daddy, hm? Wouldn’t want to attract any visitors, now would we? Now…” He grabbed your hips, his thumbs digging into the v-shaped strap of your thong, “Suck that cock for me while Daddy plays with his toys.”

You tried to focus on his instructions, but you couldn’t bear the anticipation. What was he about to do to you? You let your eyes wander back towards him, trying to prepare for whatever came next.

A rough hand came around to grab you by the jaw,

“What did I say? Show me how you swallow that dick, honey, or I’ll make you scream so they can all watch you do it.”

You nodded as best you could, trying to show him you could be a good girl for him, and you experimented a little, swallowing in an exaggerated rhythm, feeling the gag sliding back and forth through your mouth as your throat moved. It made you drool a bit, the spit pooling at the ring of your stretched lips, running down your chin.

“That’s it,” Alex praised you, rubbing his clothed cock against your ass from behind, “That’s what I wanna hear. Keep sucking, just like that.”

So, you did. As you swallowed and suckled on the solid shape, it began to feel more and more like the real thing. The ridges of the head, the pronounced veins of the body; it was all contributing to the absolute mindrot you were already experiencing. You let the cock fuck your mouth, using the tension of your tongue to mimic the feeling, allowing your thoughts to dissipate in favor of the sparkling blissed your husband had promised you.

Alex kept his crotch jammed against the cleft of your ass, forcing you to feel his hard shaft as it rolled against you, reaching around your body to softly pluck at your nipples.

At the first touch of his fingertips, you gasped, sucking in air through your nose, nearly losing your footing. His hands mirrored each other, rubbing feather-light circles around your pebbled skin, petting your heavy breasts with the palms of his hands. He was fire and ice, at one point squeezing your flesh cruelly and pinching you hard enough to make you cry out through the muffle of the gag, and then sweet as could be, stroking and petting you like a scared bunny.

You weren’t sure of the concept of time. It could have been only seconds that he played with you like this, or perhaps an hour had gone by. You just knew that your lover wanted to hear your hungry suckling sounds and to touch your swaying breasts. Nothing else mattered. Nothing else existed.

Then, he pulled the other string at your back, letting your top fall to the ground.

You missed his touch immediately, turning your head to look back at him, questioning his choices. It was the wrong move. You knew he would take care of you, but your fervor made you selfish and doubtful.

You faced the ocean again, watching the soldiers as you swallowed against the dick in your mouth, ignoring the obvious lines of spit hanging from your mouth. Alex came around to the wall and perched himself against it. After watching you for a few moments, he took his hand and wiped your mouth, smearing your own spit all over your tits, wetting your nipples so that the cool air could tease them.

Then, right in front of you, he unbuttoned his fly and took his cock from his pants. He began to stroke it in a languid, lazy pattern, slathering his precome over his immense head and down his shaft. Surprisingly, the cock gag made you hungrier for the real thing, and you eyed him like a prize.

“I want to make sure you’re really enjoying this vacation, baby. I planned it all for you. Are you having fun?”

You nodded enthusiastically, knowing he was leading up to something threatening. You loved him like this. And he loved you when you were fully under his command. Under his care. All for him. His plaything.

“I’m about to look and see how much fun you’re having…” He let his fat cock hang and walked around to your rear, “Are you ready for me to see the pretty little mess you made, darlin’?”

You nodded again, steeling yourself for what was coming.

He placed his hand at the very middle of your thong and pulled up on it instead of down, cramming the toys inside of you deeper than they had been, making you writhe and whine, losing control of your legs, feeling them trembling, barely able to hold you up.

He let go. You breathed as deeply as you could, feeling like the cock in your mouth was growing down your throat, wishing you could scream in earnest.

Then, he rolled down your bottoms until your spread thighs stopped them, your ass and pussy now on full display.

He hummed with pleasure, and you heard his pants fall to the ground, rustling in the grass and pooling around your husband’s ankles.

Suddenly, fingers began to tug at the plug in your ass, pulling it in an undulating pattern against your muscular ring, making you feel like you were being fucked by a thick cock. Then, he applied even pressure, and removed it, letting your hole clench around nothing for a moment before teasing you with the rounded tip. Alex let it fuck you shallowly for a while, pressing it forward only a few inches at a time, barely applying any pressure at all. Until he put it back in. He stretched you again, and you realized that since you’d become all too comfortable at the thin, flat base, and you hadn’t had a chance to get accustomed to the insane girth; it was as if you were starting from scratch.

You rolled your hips, trying to ease the pressure, and he rolled the toy with you, playing with you like a lion plays with its food, batting you around, helpless to his power.

The vibrator was flailing inside of your pussy at top speed, pulsing and rumbling loud enough for you to hear the mechanical whir. And every time he pushed the plug back inside of you, the tone of it would change. Your body was making music for him, and you couldn’t help it one bit.

“Beautiful…” You could hear the smile on his lips.

Everything stopped for a moment, but you thought you heard a soft slicking sound, the noise of him jacking off. Then, you felt his fleshy head push its way into your pussy, already filled by the deep vibe.

You turned around, worried, unable to protest with the cock still deep in your mouth, pinning down your tongue.

His sunglasses were off, and he was focused on your hole, using your sticky come to coat himself, thrusting shallowly inside of you right beside the vibrator.

He wasn’t going to fit. You’d never felt so full before. You were already so primed, the audacious lewdness of it all sent you over the edge. You crashed into your orgasm like a runaway train, slamming full force into a wall of sensations. Your skin flushed hot all at once, like an instant fever, and you felt your holes clutch desperately onto anything they could find, squeezing and pulsing and swelling against him.

You lost your strength to stand, but he held you, carrying your weight like it was nothing. And he kept pushing forward, easing his cock right beside the toy, holding it steady inside of you.

“There she is. You’re doing so well for me, baby. Daddy’s perfect little hole.”

Once he was fully sheathed within you, you both sighed raggedly, melting into the feeling like molten glass in a kiln. Below you, the soldiers laughed, running through the shallow water, having the time of their lives.

Alex began to fuck you with very little heed for your well-being. You had your button, you could press it at any time, and out of all of his fun toy box prizes, you’d not once felt like anything had been beyond your abilities. But, now, as his cock made room for itself in your tight walls, you wondered if you could take it.

You understood size queens, the girls who insisted on girthy, long phalluses and who refused to settle for less. You knew why they insisted, now. Your g-spot was lit up like a beacon. There was no waiting to feel his cockhead rub lightly against it. No, it was on and it stayed on because of the terrible girth of both the toy and his dick. You were coming not in waves, but in some sort of constant stream. There was no start and stop to your orgasms; you were given no let down on their end nor warning on their beginning. You were just kept in a hot, milky, perpetual state of bliss that made your eyes roll back into your head.

The plug in your ass began to come out of you as you came. He was pulling against it, prying it from you until it popped free. You knew you were gaping open for him because when he explored the empty hole with his fingers, you could tell how pliant and soft your body was now that it had been so deeply filled.

“My good girl. Taking everything her Daddy gives her today.”

Alex praised you, but you didn’t respond. Your mind was a blank slate. All you could do was tumble further down the winding path of your own pleasure.

You felt him pull himself free from the grip of your pussy, gasping from the relief. He slipped the vibrator out of you, too, switching it off and discarding it somewhere. Then, you were empty. So empty that it felt like grief. And you cried out for his help as much as you could around the gag.

“C’mere, honey. On your knees for Daddy.”

You fell to the ground limply, turning toward him for guidance, for any sort of reprieve.

He looked down at you with so much love and admiration, bending to kiss your forehead and removing your gag.

“So good. Such an obedient slut. I’m so proud of you, honey.”

“But, Daddy, you didn’t come, yet.” You pawed at his hips, rubbing his belly and reaching for his chest, stretching yourself to try and give yourself back to him.

“Today’s not about me, baby,” he smiled sweetly at you, but you weren’t having it.

His cock was pink and flagging, practically dripping with precome, ready to burst. You reached for it, feeding it into your sore mouth, sucking it down like you’d been practicing on the gag. It was too big, but you pushed through it, swallowing and swallowing until you couldn’t breathe, hollowing out your cheeks to make your mouth into a warm wet sleeve for him.

“Baby… oh, shit. Ungh! Holy hell.”

Without any further hesitation, he began to fuck your throat, shoving himself deeper and deeper, controlling your head and moving himself within you like a piston. You let yourself go limp again, allowing the pornographic slurping sounds of your rough-fucked mouth to be as loud and as messy as he wanted them to, abandoning your shame. You rubbed yourself with your hand, shoving your fingers into your soaked pussy, and playing with your clit, already sensitive enough to come again.

He had trained you so well. This was your moment to shine.

You came with him, looking up into the twisted agony on his face as he filled your belly with his load, trying to pull away to let you breathe, leaving a trail of thick spend all along your tongue and cheeks, your mouth full of him by the time he slid away from you.

You made sure he was looking down at you when you spit him into your hands, letting his milk pool in your palms, rubbing him all over your puffy nipples and down between your swollen petals, pushing him into your pussy with your fingers only to return to your breasts to smear him around like a salve. As he watched you in excitement and a wild disbelief, his gaze darkened, and he wrapped his hand around your throat, bending down so that you could hear the rough growl in the timbre of his voice,

“Oh, baby. You just bought yourself round two.”

AO3 Link

Also, @glitterypirateduck - are we still in vacation mode?? 😅🩷

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