#I know the books say shes dirty blonde but listen

[phantomdo11y]

studies with my favourite Harry Potter girl tied with Hermione

[navybrat817]

(Im)Patiently Waiting

Pairing: Mob!Bucky Barnes x Single Mom!Reader

Summary: Bucky is trying to patiently wait for your call.

Word Count: Over 1.4k

Warnings: Fluff, slight feels, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning and already whipped, okay?)

A/N: Continuing with Moving in Slow Motion and Heart and Home, the phone call! ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky looked down at the phone in his hand. He was never the kind of guy to constantly check his device, but he hadn’t stopped looking at it since he met you. Hell, he checked it while he was still at the museum, hoping for a text or something so he’d have your number, too. He didn’t think it was possible to become whipped so fast, but life still surprised him.

He sighed when the screen went dark. Why hadn’t you called yet? Maybe he came on too strong? He didn’t think he had. Were you just busy? Probably. You had an adorable daughter who needed you love and attention and-

“Bucky!”

His head snapped up to find Steve, his best friend and second-in-command, staring at him. He didn’t look impressed and pursued his lips more when Bucky raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t hear a damn word I said, did you?”

“No,” he replied, not bothering to lie. “Was I supposed to be listening, punk?”

“Yeah, you were, jerk.” Steve ran a hand through his golden hair, plopping down in his chair. “Still hasn’t called yet?”

“Not yet,” he said, setting the phone on the desk in front of him.

“I’m sorry.”

Bucky sighed again, staring off at the books that lined one of the walls of his office. He didn’t divulge much of his personal life to others. It was safer that way, to both protect himself and the people he cared about. But meeting you and your daughter, he told Steve and their small circle all about it. How Sweet Pea bumped into him and his heart melted. How seeing you set his heart on fire.

They were stunned to say the least and were naturally curious about you since you caught his attention. Each of them offered in some way to do their research on you and make sure there was nothing suspicious or dangerous about you, but he refused. His gut instinct told him all he needed to know.

“You know,” Steve began, pulling his attention back. “We can get you her number if-”

He cut him off with a glare. “I already said no,” he growled, taking a breath. He wasn’t going to snap at his best friend. “I’m doing this the right way.”

Bucky was powerful, extremely powerful, but he wouldn’t use his influence over you. It wouldn’t be right. His hands were dirty as it was, and this could be his chance to have something pure.

With his hands up in surrender, Steve nodded. “Sorry. I just… I haven’t seen you like this before and you haven’t even gone on a date with her yet,” he smiled a little. “She must be something special.”

Bucky smiled a little, too. “She is,” he whispered. Things that didn’t make sense before did after he looked in your eyes.

“Yelena will be the judge of that,” the blonde winked.

“Yelena will take one look at Sweet Pea and declare that she’s her aunt,” Bucky teased, both of them chuckling.

If Bucky’s group taught him anything, it was that blood wasn’t always thicker than water. Friends were the family he got to choose. He would defend and protect them with his life. He imagined you were like that with your daughter, perhaps even more.

Who defended and protected you?

A ring echoed in the office and Bucky stared at the device as it lit up. He held his breath when a phone number popped up with no name. His gaze flickered to Steve as it kept ringing. Was it you?

Steve stared back at him like he had grown two heads. “What the hell are you waiting for? Answer it!”

Clearing his throat, he waved for his friend to go, who did so quickly. If it was you, he didn’t want anyone eavesdropping. If it wasn’t you, he didn’t want any witnesses when his face fell.

Releasing his breath, he finally quietly answered, “This is Bucky.”

“Hi, Bucky,” you spoke on the other end, stating your name as well. He slumped in his chair at the sound of your voice, his heart skipping a beat. It was really you. “I don’t know if you remember me, but we met at the science museum.”

“Of course, I remember you. You and Sweet Pea.” He couldn’t forget either of you if he tried and he didn’t want to. Did you think of him as much as he thought of you? “How are you two doing? Did she win the contest?”

“We’re doing just fine. She keeps talking about the museum and wants to go back, but no word if she won the contest or not.” He could hear the smile in your voice and it put a smile on his face, too. “How are you?”

“I’m doing just fine,” he replied, getting up and heading to the sofa so he could relax a bit more. He was better than fine since he was talking to you.

“Sorry it took me a bit to call you.”

Should he admit that he kept checking his phone in anticipation? “No, no. You don’t need to apologize,” he said. You didn’t owe him an explanation either. Whether you were busy with Sweet Pea or you didn’t want to call right away, that was your business. “I’m just glad you called.”

“I am, too.” There was silence on the other end. “So, I, um…” Your nervous giggle was beautifully endearing. “God, I’m really out of practice with this.”

“Practice with what exactly?” he smiled, laying back and looking at the ceiling. He wondered if you were sitting on a sofa, too. Or maybe you were in bed, comfortable, unwinding.

“Talking, I guess. At least with someone outside of work or parenting.” There was that giggle again. He wanted that sound on a loop. “I’m not even sure where to start.”

“Why don’t you start with what you did today?” he suggested.

“That might bore you.”

“I don’t think anything you could say could possibly bore me,” he sincerely said. If you decided to pick up a phone book and read it to him, he’d listen. But he was genuinely interested in your day. The little things would help him get to know you better and build more of that connection, both with who you were as a mother and as a person.

“Okay, but only if you tell me about your day, too,” you said.

“Now my day might bore you,” he chuckled. He wouldn’t start anything with you built on a lie about what he did, but he had to be careful with the truth.

“Mmm. I don’t know. You don’t strike me as a boring kind of guy.”

“Oh, I’m not boring,” he smirked. He would love to show you just how thrilling he could be some time. “But my day might be.”

“Try me,” you smiled.

“Can I ask you something before we talk about our ‘boring’ days?”

“Yeah, anything,” you answered.

Butterflies filled his stomach. Jesus, he was nervous. When was the last time anything made him feel nervous? “Would you like to get a drink with me?”

The pause on your end didn’t soothe his nerves. “A drink?” you repeated, your voice smaller than before. He detected uncertainty, like when he offered you his number.

“Yeah. Coffee at a cafe or wine at a nice restaurant, whatever you want,” he replied, exhaling slowly. He didn’t want to mess up your schedule or over complicate anything for you. “What do you say?”

Bucky stared down the barrel of a gun more than once in his life. He experienced torture. Had come close to death. Waiting for your answer was a different kind of torment. It would either be a killing blow or his saving grace.

“I’d love to get a coffee with you,” you stated, allowing him to properly breathe again. He wanted to pump his fist in the air. “Tomorrow, maybe? Unless that’s too soon. Is it too soon?”

“No, no, that’s great,” he smiled. He couldn’t stop smiling. Even if wasn’t free tomorrow, he’d clear his schedule. “Give me the time and place and I’ll be there.”

“Great.” The uncertainty was long gone. “There’s a cafe not too far from me. I can text you the place and time.”

“I’ll be waiting,” he promised, and he wouldn’t be late. “Now… tell me about your day.”

He was going to soak up every single word until he saw you in the morning.

You called! He's whipped! You have a date! I still need to name this AU. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[mrsbarnesblog]

Tattoo

masterlist ko-fi ao3

Tattoo Artist! Bucky Barnes x Bookshop Owner!Reader

Summary: When Natasha begged you to come with her to get her new tattoo done, you didn't expect that her actual plan would be to set you up with a fine-as-hell tattoo artist.

Word count: 5.8k

Warnings: +18❗️smut, p in v sex, oral sex (r receiving), protected sex, dirty talk, strangers to lovers, Bucky is hot as fuck, shy and socially awkward reader, insecurities.

Author's note: sooo, it took me forever to write, but I finally finished it and I'm kind of proud of this one. Bucky with tattoos and a low bun? yup, I'm totally ready to do whatever he desires! I hope y'all will like it too. feel free to leave comments or fic ideas💘

“I’m going to be there almost for a whole day. I love those idiots, but I still need my best friend to cheer me up." Natasha threw her hand over your shoulders, trying to convince you to go with her on a tattoo session. It was not her first time, but now she wanted to get a much bigger one on her thigh, and, for some reason, she really wanted you to go with her, using the fact that it was your day off. 

“Nat, you know that I hate going to such places. I’m socially awkward; what am I gonna do there for so long? I don’t even know those people.” You frowned, already feeling a bundle of nerves in your stomach. 

You were what others may call boring, but you rarely went to unknown places or hung out with random people. You would rather stay with a book in your apartment and read for a whole day than get into such situations. Not to mention, that tattoo salon was full of men, and it made the whole situation even worse. 

“But you’re going to be with me. They are the nice guys, I promise. You will sit with us in the room; we can talk, or you can read another book, while Barnes will do my tattoo. I just don’t want to die of boredom there. Please?” She pulled you even closer, and you knew that she wouldn’t let that go. So you had no other choice but to agree. 

You didn’t know what you were thinking when you decided that wearing a light, flowy dress would be a good idea. Because now, following Nat out of her car to that tattoo studio, it felt too short, too open, and just too much. You tried to calm down, thinking to yourself that there was nothing serious; you were just going to wait in the corner, and other people probably wouldn’t even pay attention or talk to you. Natasha, with her boldness and openness, was always the center, and you were totally fine with that. 

But you were so wrong. 

As soon as you walked inside, four men stopped talking, turning around to face you and Nat, and you honestly thought that you were going to faint. 

“Hey, guys. Hope you don’t mind that I brought my friend. So I do not have to listen to your boring asses complain all day." She teased, dragging you by the hand like a mom who tried to encourage her kid to talk. You were round-eyed, and a wave of heat washed over your body when you were face-to-face with a blonde and big guy. But before either of you could say or do something, a person who you didn’t recognise at first stepped in, pulling you into a hug. 

“Isn’t it my favorite book girly ever? How are you doin’?” Sam’s enthusiasm and energy were always so refreshing to you, so when he quickly pulled away, instead wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pushing you further into a studio, you tried to stay calm and not freak out.

"I didn't know that you were working here. How’s Sarah?” You asked, looking up at him. 

“Yup, for a few years. She is doing great, but AJ and Cass are a pain in the ass. They are growing too quickly, you know." He chuckled. “Now, say hi to those idiots.” He moved his head toward the men who were silently observing your interaction. “Tony, Steve, and Bucky.” Sam named them in order. Tony just nodded to you, Steve smiled with the friendliest smile you had ever seen, and Bucky... 

Your head became empty as soon as your eyes landed on him for the first time. He was leaning on the wall at the back of the room, so you didn’t pay much attention to him at first. He was hot. Unbelievebly hot. He was tall and muscular, with a low bun at the back of his head and tattoos covering the visible parts of his arms and neck. And as your gaze moved to his face, you almost choked on a fucking breath. 

Piercing blue eyes looked right directly at you, and the slightest smirk curled the corner of his lips. You didn’t know whether you felt too cold, too hot, or if you just wanted to vanish right on the spot. Your face heated, your eyes started running around the room, and your heart was beating a few times faster. It was overwhelming, and you thought that you would have to go out of there, but right on time, Natasha stepped in front of you, dragging all attention to herself. 

Bucky had to admit that once in his life, Sam was right. Sam tried to convince Bucky to go to that book shop for a few months, saying that he had to meet with the girl who worked there, but he was way too stubborn. 

He would have done it a long time ago if he knew you would look like the most precious, cute, and sweet person. Bucky could not take his gaze away from you as soon as Natasha dragged you inside, absorbing everything—from the way you looked so soft and pretty in that dress to the way you blushed and were nervous about the whole thing. 

He saw your reaction—how you became even more flushed after your intense stares at each other. Bucky was never the type of guy who liked to tease you, but Goddammit, he wanted to see how you would react if he stepped closer and talked to you. He also wasn’t creepy towards women, but the only thought that came to his mind was that he wanted to taste you. The desire to shove your back into the wall, lift up the skirt of your dress, and fall to his knees was shocking; he had never felt such an instant pull toward another person. 

“Barnes, are we going to start, or you’re planning on standing and staring for a whole day?” Natasha crossed her arms over her chest as if she were annoyed, but you thought that you heard something weird in her voice, as if she held back a smile. 

And then she quickly looked back at Sam and nodded with a smirk. 

You just followed Nat and Bucky to his own part of the studio. Too lost in your head because of your friend’s weird behavior, you sat down on the sofa in the corner, and the next thing you noticed was the tall figure leaning above you. You probably got carried away to much because now there was a cup of tea standing in front of you on the table.

You looked up, only to meet those pretty blue eyes again. Bucky looked down at you with the same smirk on his lips, and you could barely form a normal thought in your head. 

“Hope you don’t mind a hot tea, princess?” Yup, you were dead. Of course, he had to have the sexiest voice you have ever heard in your life. It was not enough for him to be charming or look like a fucking sin—he also had to sound hot. 

“Thank you.” You almost whispered. 

Bucky gave you another mysterious smile before going back to his place, where Nat was already without her pants and ready to start.

You and Nat were talking for the next few hours—well, she was mostly talking about a girl named Maria that she met not so long ago, and you were nodding, listening, and sipping your tea. That way, you almost forgot about Bucky sitting in the room with you because he was too focused on his job and didn’t even look away from the tattoo. 

To be honest, you accidentally looked at him one or two times because it was hard not to notice a few curls slipping out of his bun, or the way his tattooed and veiny arms seemed so sexy, or that perfect face profile... Fuck. But everything was good until Nat suddenly asked him to stop for a few minutes. 

“I really need to pee, Barnes.” She quickly jumped out of her place, winking at you as she walked away. 

“Natasha…” You hissed at her when she left you and Bucky alone in the room, your insides already shivering with nerves. She was fucking doing it on purpose. You were sure that everything here was her plan to set you up with Bucky because she had never left you anywhere alone, knowing your nervousness. 

“Are you afraid to stay with me alone?” Bucky chuckled, stretching his neck from an uncomfortable position. Your cheeks heated, and you unconsciously started scratching the surface of your phone case. He was charming. He obviously knew that, judging by the way he acted to tease you. When his question was left without an answer, he just shook his head, smiling to himself. “I didn’t know that Nat was dating girls.”

Bucky was desperately trying to make you talk. He saw how you looked at your friend when she left you alone with him, and knowing Nat, she would not have done it if you were truly afraid of him. So he was hoping that you were just too shy to talk to him and that he could make something out of it.

“Mhm. What, you hoped to have a chance with her?” You finally looked up, and you couldn’t hide the disappointment in your voice. Of course, Bucky was just trying to hit on your friend. Everyone tried. And you knew that she was so pretty and an amazing person, really, but you just wanted to experience it yourself at least once.

“With Nat?” Bucky almost laughed, genuinely taken aback by your response. “Nah, she’s cool, but not my type.”

“And who is your type?” You asked before you could even think about it. 

"You know, those cute and shy girls who can barely talk to anyone and easily blush or get nervous." You froze in your place, and you swore that the blood in your veins had done the same. Your eyes widened in shock, looking at the proudly smirking Bucky. Did he really mean that, or was it just a stupid joke? 

Natasha came into the room, curiously looking between you two, but you just stayed silent and looked away again, staying even quieter until the end of the session. 

“Why did you do that?” You frowned, looking away from Nat and crossing your arms over your chest. As soon as she was done, you almost ran out of that place, the mixture of weird feelings bubbling inside of you, and you were too frustrated to even talk to someone there. 

“Did what?” Your head snapped back at her innocent, unbothered voice. She rolled her eyes, not looking away from the road. “I did that because I love you.” 

“And I love you too, but I hate that you and Sam put me in this position!”

“I’m sorry if we made you uncomfortable. Don’t be mad at what I’m about to say, but I know that you feel lonely and that you want to have someone or to date someone. I understand your anxiety; I really do, but I wanted to help you.” Her voice sounded so genuine, and even if you were mad, you knew that Nat had always tried to do what was best for you. “Bucky is a good guy. He’s attractive, he’s kind, he’s funny, and he's definitely not a player. I just wanted you to meet him, and from what I saw, there was a sparkle between you.”

You didn’t say anything to that, because she was totally right. Even if you had never said that out loud, you wanted someone to like you. Was it that much to ask? It was just hard to believe that someone as attractive as Bucky, who could easily get a good handful of women whenever he wanted to, had actually flirted with you. 

The next day, when you finally returned to your favorite place in the world, it was crazy. For some reason, too many people came to the bookshop, and almost everyone needed your advice or help. You were running around the shelves, putting the books in their places, receiving the payment, and then welcoming new customers. So when, at 9 p.m., you put the sign ‘closed’ on the door, you felt the relief that the day was almost over. 

You still had a lot to do, though. Taking the pile of books from the front table, you went to the back room, where you stored some of them. Suddenly, you heard the bell ringing and heavy footsteps on the wooden floor. 

“I’m sorry, but we are already closed. Please come tomor—” You forgot what you wanted to say when you looked out of the room into the main part of the store and saw the last person you ever expected. 

“Hey, princess.” Bucky put his hands into the front pockets, which made him seem even bigger, and smiled at you in a way that made your knees weak. He looked similar to what you saw yesterday—a low bun, black jeans, and a shirt that revealed some of his tattoos. God, his tattoos made you imagine things that were too inappropriate to say out loud. “Sorry that I came so late, but I just got off work, and I really wanted to see the place Sam has been bugging me about for weeks.” He noticed how you were looking at him again, but he decided not to tease you about it. 

“Um, hi.” You dusted off your hands and fixed the bottom part of your dress to make sure that everything was in it’s place. Bucky couldn’t help but follow your hands, staring at the way the hem of your dress moved around your thighs. “Do you need something? Like a book? Or you came just to get rid of Sam?”

“Yeah, maybe a fantasy book or something like that.” 

“I can show you where we have it, but I, um, need to finish the work here, so it would be great if you'd find a book that you like by yourself. Is that okay?” His stare was intense, and you really didn’t know what to do with this. Was he always like that with women? But Nat said that he wasn’t a player, and you trusted her more than yourself.

“Totally.” You nodded, calmed down your nerves as much as you could to not embarrass yourself in front of him, and you showed the way to the shelves at the back of the shop. 

“Take as much time as you need; I’ll go... there.” You pointed behind you to the piles of books, and Bucky chuckled at the way you were nervous around him. That was so fucking cute that he wanted to just scoop you up in his arms and make you blush again and again. 

Almost ten minutes later, you showed up again with a few books in your hands that were from the fantasy section, and as much as you wanted to escape Bucky, you also wanted to finish your job. He just quickly looked at you, too interested in the book in his hands, but didn’t say anything. 

You tried to reach the highest shelf to put the book in it’s place, but it was too far away. Usually you used a small ladder, but it was somewhere else now, and you just tried to do it standing on the tiptoes. 

“Let me do it, princess.” Bucky chuckled, closing his book and putting it down, and reached out to help you.

“No!”

“You won’t reach it. Just give it to me.” He placed his hand on your back, stretching the other one. 

“I can do it myself!” 

You couldn’t. Because the next thing you know, the book slipped out of your hand when you tried to make more distance between you and Bucky, and you also lost control of the ones you held near your chest. Everything fell onto the floor with a loud ‘boom’ and you prayed that nothing got damaged. 

Your head snapped back to say to Bucky that it was his fault, but he was already looking down at you, and you immediately forgot about everything. Only then did you realize that he was so close to you; his hand was holding your waist, and your back was almost pressed against his hard chest. 

“Sorry.” He didn’t know what he was sorry for. That he distracted you and made you drop everything, or for what he did next. After his eyes quickly looked at your plump lips, his right hand fell onto your cheek, and he kissed you.

Your instant thought was to push him away, run, and hide in the storage room, but the firm hand on your face and waist made it impossible to move. Bucky almost devoured your mouth and completely controlled you, and you could barely keep up with the rhythm of the kiss. 

He was good at it. 

No one ever kissed you as if it were the best thing they'd ever tried, but Bucky just couldn’t stop. He spined your body, so you were not in that awkward and uncomfortable position anymore. Now that you were standing chest to chest, your back got pressed into the shelves, and Bucky was towering over you. It felt unknown but so right at the same time. Your experience in this area was really poor, but the adrenalin in your blood made you a little bit more sure of yourself. 

“You’re doing something to me.” He breathed into the kiss, and you just whined without realizing it. He connected your lips again, tightening his hands on your waste and, that way, pulling you even closer. You had no idea where to put your hands, but your body seemed to work on autopilot, so they landed on his chest.

You felt something hard on the lower part of your belly, and the thought that Bucky had become hard solely because of the kiss nearly drove you insane. Hot, handsome, and charming men had never kissed you as if you were their last meal, teasing you with their bulge in the middle of your shop. 

God, he must be big. 

Your heart started beating so fast that you heard it in your ears. Was it the right thing to do? What should you do or say after that? Did he think that you kissed badly? 

“I can almost hear the thoughts in your head. Why are you worrying? You don’t like or want it? Just say, and I’ll step away.” You licked your lips, as if you tried to taste him again. You felt how your face heated again from being so close to Bucky. He didn’t sound or look as if he were judging you, and it made you feel safe enough to tell what was going on in your head.

“I just—I'm not really familiar with it. I barely know you, and you just kissed me, and I am at a loss for what to do." You said, nervously playing with the material of his shirt. Bucky's hand cupped your cheek, making you look at him. It surprised you that he didn’t try to do anything to push you, like many other men who just think with their dicks. Your stomach tightened from the way he stared at your face.

"I understand and that’s okay if you feel a little bit scared. I’m not pushing you and you can say no to me. I really came here just to talk to you, but I cannot think of anything else but you. Can I kiss you, princess?” Your eyes closed when you felt his breath on your lips again. You couldn’t deny that you wanted it too, so you just slightly nodded to his question. 

Bucky kissed you deeper and slower, allowing you to follow him. He stroked your cheek gently as his tongue slid into your mouth, causing you to moan. You swore that he smiled at your reaction, and it encouraged him to push his other hand from your waist to your thighs. 

Your skin started tingling when you felt it going under your skirt. Tattooed fingers traced the soft lines on your legs until they reached your underwear. Only then did you realise that you were getting wet. This whole time, it was not just nerves; oh no, your body actually just craved that man in front of you and now you could do nothing to hide it. In your last attempt, you tried to push your legs together, but you made it worse when Bucky’s hand slipped higher and touched the wet spot. 

“Holy fuck.” He growled, ending the kiss and looking down, where his hand stayed under your clothes. “You are not so innocent, huh?” 

“Shy and innocent are two completely different things, Bucky.” 

“Right.” Biting his lip, he looked up at you again with darkened eyes, and you felt his hand pressing onto your dressed core more firmly. “Can I taste you?"

Your eyes widen in shock. You were not a complete virgin, but unfortunately, you had never experienced that before. “My sexual life is actually really, and I mean really, meager, and no one ever asked me to do it.” You whispered, almost in embarrassment. 

“So you’re telling me that no one asked to eat you out, princess? Well, that’s a shame. I bet your pussy is as sweet as you are.” He ran his nose across your cheek, enjoying your delicate skin and the light scent of your perfume, until he reached the sensitive part of your neck. “Your scent drives me crazy... You’re so sensitive, God. When was the last time you were with someone?” You tried to act normal and not shiever, but when Bucky’s finger was running up and down the soft cotton of your panties, it was nearly impossible to do. 

“I don’t know. I did it just a few times, and I don’t date. Guys are not really interested in me.”

“Loosers.” 

“Bucky.” You moaned his name when he suddenly fell to his knees. That view was so surreal for you. He seemed desperate to touch and taste you, to please you, even though he was painfully hard in his jeans. But he did not go too far because he was waiting for your response. “What if someone walks in?”

“There is a sign on the door. Are there many people who go to bookshops at that time?” Bucky took your left leg, slowly putting it on his shoulder. Your eyes followed every move with curiosity and a hint of worry when he turned his head to softly kiss your thigh.

“Okay.”

Bucky took your leg off his shoulder but only to slide his hands under your dress and take off your underwear. He did not break eye contact when he helped you step out of it and then put them in his jeans pocket. With a quick motion, your leg returned to it’s place near his face and you blushed, realising how close he was.

With his right hand on your thigh and the left one slowly creeping up your other leg, Bucky started leaving kisses higher and higher, until he finally reached your pulled-up dress. When his head suddenly lowered and you felt the first touch of his tongue, you almost died. 

Up until that moment, you didn’t even realize how tense your body was, but that first lick sent a hot wave over you and you could not hold back a whine. You just became a fucking puddle under his touch. 

Bucky was not much better than you. He gripped your thigh harder, as if he wanted you to be even closer, and moaned when your taste blossomed on his tongue. He knew that he was addicted now and that he could spend hours in between your legs. His tongue slipped across your folds, collecting your juice, and then circled around your sensitive clit. 

“Fuck, princess. You’re s’ sweet.” 

"Bucky—oh my god, please!” You didn’t know what you were begging for, but that tight knot in your stomach was becoming almost too painful, and you felt tears forming in your eyes. As if Bucky had already understood your body better, he put two fingers of his left hand at your entrance, slightly pushing in just the tips. 

You moaned again, your hand moving on it’s own and grabbing Bucky’s hair in despair. He slowly slipped inside, letting you adjust while still not stopping the movements of his tongue. You felt so fucking tight and wet around his fingers and his cock painfully twiched in his jeans. He started pumping his fingers in and out of your pussy, and if you weren’t so far up in your head, you would’ve been embarrassed by the noises coming out of you. 

The combination of his thick digits and tongue pushed you into your first orgasm. Your back arched, and your legs unconsciously tried to close, but Bucky did not let that happen, gripping your thigh tighter and holding you in place. 

“Cum for me, pretty girl. C'mon, don’t be shy.” He encouraged you and that was everything you needed. 

You had no idea what happened next because your body felt like it was floating and your head fell back with a moan of Bucky's name. He let you go through it, slowing his pace and pulling out his fingers. As much as he didn’t want to stop, he knew that it was enough for you for the first time. 

You felt how Bucky jently lowered your leg and then, holding you by the waist, stood up and shamelessly licked his shiny lips. “I can’t believe you actually just did that. No one has ever given me an orgasm.” 

“Princess… You’re unbelievable.” He got closer to you, nuzzling into your neck and breathing in your scent. You could feel hardness in his pants, and while Bucky did not try to push it any further, the desire within you made you bold. 

“Do you have a condom?” Bucky immediately pulled away from you, his eyes darker than before and his hands tightening on your waist. You bit your lip and lowered your gaze, as if you said something wrong. 

"No, no, no, you can’t get shy after you just asked me this. Eyes on me, princess. Do you really want it?" 

“I do.” 

Bucky connected your lips, distracting you from unnecessary thoughts, and you felt two hands on the back sides of your thighs. Your legs automatically wrapped around his waist, as if your body knew what to do better than you. You both moaned when his bulge met with your dripping core; Bucky’s grip tightened and he slightly moved your hips. 

Firmly holding you in his hands, Bucky stepped away from the shelves and went to the table that was standing nearby. He blindly moved aside some books there, dropping a few on the floor and receiving a groan from you. He put you on the flat surface, not moving away from between your legs. 

Your hands finally felt more confident to study his tattooed skin. You never realised that you were into people with tattoos, but now, looking at the variety of things covering his tanned skin, your belly tightened with anticipation. Your hands slowly reached his neck, slightly pulling him closer. 

“You didn’t answer my question. Do you have it?” Instead of replying to you, Bucky, not breaking eye contact, reached into his pocket and pulled out a wallet. He opened it, taking the shiny square that was sticking out of there. 

Your eyes shot up at him, meeting his half-hooded and full-of-lust eyes. Bucky looked right back at you, mesmerized by your beauty—by the way your cheeks heated and your lips were slightly swollen. He quickly unbuttoned his pants, sliding them with boxers down his legs, until his hard as rock cock was free with pre-cum leaking from the tip. 

“If you’re going to look at me like that, then I might cum like a teenager before everything starts, princess.” Bucky growled, squeezing your thigh in his hand. You closed your eyes for a few seconds, then looked at his face again. You didn’t want to stare at his cock, but holy shit, it was better and bigger than everything you’ve seen before. You wondered what it would taste like, and that one thought made you clench around nothing. 

With a quick, smooth motion, Bucky opened the package with his teeth, sliding the condom down his shaft. His hand moved you closer to the edge of the table, so now your faces were just a few centimeters away and you could feel his cock through the fabric of your dress. 

“Be a good girl and hold it here for me.” Bucky folded your dress on your stomach, guiding your hand there, so he had better access to your sweet pussy. He had to see how he was disappearing inside of you with his own fucking eyes.  

“Bucky…” You whined because of the way you were exposed to him, but you still did what he said. With wide eyes, you looked at how he moved even closer to you, slightly brushing your folds with the tip. Your free arm gripped his tattooed forearm, digging in your nails. 

“So wet for me, so pretty... God, princess. I won’t be able to keep my hands from you. Say you want this. I need to hear it.” He palmed the side of your face, making you look up at him, and held himself at your entrance at the same time. 

“I want it. Please.” You whispered, your eyes running back and forth between his pretty blues. 

When he finally started slowly pushing into you, your mouth opened with a silent moan, and your eyes almost crossed with the way your whole body got covered with goosebumps. Bucky could not tear his eyes away from the place you two were connected. He felt every movement of your body and felt how your pussy almost sucked him inside. 

He knew that you would feel good, but he did not realize that it would feel like the most correct thing in his life. 

Bucky finally bottomed into you, stretching you the way you had never been before. You both thought that you could cum in that exact second, but you also both wanted to extend this moment as much as you could. 

“Princess…” That sounded so desperate when Bucky finally started moving his hips, dragging his cock out and then pushing right back in. "Fuck, I need to kiss you. You feel like a fuckin’ heaven, holy shit.” Not stopping sliding into you at a steady pace, he dragged your face closer, as if his life were depending on it. Bucky greedily bit and sucked your bottom lip, swallowing every moan and whine you let out.

“Mh— I can’t— oh, Bucky!” You cried, trying to hide your face in the crook of his neck.

He pulled you back away from his body, holding you that way so he had a better view of your face and body. He felt the way your thighs tried to squeeze together, your face started to heat and you tried to look away. 

“Don’t you dare become shy when I’m balls deep in you, princess.” He slowed his movements and teased you until you almost begged him to fuck you properly again. “You need to cum, huh? Show me those pretty eyes; don’t hide from me, c’mon.” You looked up, almost whining from the way he was looking at you. Pupils blown out, eyes slightly narrowed, and running around your face with interest and desire. “Do you need something? Speak up, sweet girl.”

“I want to cum. Let me, please.” 

“Good fucking girl.” 

Bucky started fucking you with a new forse; the table under you was squeaking with every move, making the whole scene even dirtier. You could not care about embarrassment anymore, moaning Bucky name and begging him to be harder. 

You both felt how close you were. 

Your hand, with your skirt in it, tightened around the fabric, your spread legs were trembling and you started uncontrollably squeezing Bucky’s cock inside of you. His dirty words made your vision foggy with satisfaction and the way he didn’t stop hitting your sweet spot was enough for you to go crazy with an overwhelming orgasm.

“Bucky! Bucky, oh my— fuuuck!” You cried in pleasure, feeling a few more thrusts of his throbbing cock, until he finally slowed down and emptied himself in the condom. Your body fell forward right into Bucky’s chest, too tired to even sit straight. He wrapped his hands around you, slowly stroking your back and kissing your temple. 

“You are fucking amazing, princess.” He mumbled into your hair and you just hummed in response. After a few quiet minutes, when your head started to clear up and the whole weight of this situation fell on you, you finally pulled away, hiding your eyes from him again. “What? What’s wrong?” 

“I just… I don’t know what we are supposed to do in this situation; I mean— it was just sex for you, right?” You asked, focusing on one particular tattoo on Bucky’s neck to not show how nervous you were.

Bucky didn’t answer for a few seconds, but you felt the weight of his eyes on you. Then he lifted your face with one of his hands and softly smiled at you. “If it meant nothing for me, I would’ve already been on my way home. I want you. I wanted you from the moment I saw you and I won’t be satisfied until you let me take you out. Are you free tomorrow evening, sweetheart?” He cooed, playfully tilting his head to the side. That man and his charm would be the death of you…

“Um, okay. I’m free, if you’re not kidding.”

“Not in the slightest. Now get dressed. I'm taking you home.” He pecked your lips before slowly pulling out of you and getting rid of the condom. You slowly jumped from the table, legs trembling from two mind-blowing orgasms, not missing how Bucky’s smirked at you. 

“You don’t have to take me home, Bucky.” You fixed your dress and hair as much as you could without a mirror and then picked up the books from the floor that were forgotten during your makeout session. 

“Well, I didn’t see a car near the shop, so I assume you’re walking home. And it’s dark.” He walked behind you, wrapping his hands around your waist and burying his face into your neck. “I don’t like this idea. I’m driving you home, princess.” 

“Fine. You won.” You playfully made an annoyed voice to what Bucky just chuckled and held you even closer. 

[amywritesthings]

press four for more options. | part three.

( Read on AO3 )

Pairing: levi ackerman x f!reader (attack on titan / shingeki no kyojin) Word Count: 4k Summary: After seeing your ex with his new girl at a work party, you take the not-so-smart advice from a friend to call a sex hotline to get over him. Your match? A baritone bossy dom named Levi.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI - smut, alternate universe (modern), sex work, phone sex, dirty talk, dom!levi, light dom/sub, guided masturbation, edging, pet names, sex toys, multiple orgasms, mentions of body image Credits: dividers by @saradika-graphics

part two. / part four. | masterlist

“Hel-lo, is the idiot in the room still with us?”

A slender hand waves back and forth, back and forth, until you awake from your everlasting daydream.

Annie Leonhart sits across from you at your favorite coffee shop looking like the cat that caught the canary.

That knowing smirk hasn’t left her face since she sat down.

Curling her fingers, she pulls her arm and returns her hand to join the other under her chin once she’s finally caught your attention.

The small blonde squints her icy blue eyes, observing, deciding on what you’ll say before you launch your defense.

“That good, huh?”

Embarrassment is your first folly.

"I— What?!”

“I know a blissful climax cloud when I see one.”

“Annie.”

Sometimes Annie could be an ass, too smug for her own good, but she was a fiercely loyal friend and colleague.

Everything is meant in jest — at least, to you. Not many others got to avoid her wrath.

You lean over the table, reaching your hand out to cover her mouth.

She manages to duck your advances, expertly so, and rears her head with a small chuckle.

“Relax, no one’s listening,” she chides.

“That’s not true,” you argue under your breath. “It's a small shop. You know the vultures circle this place.”

“Not since the old thirsties got busted for their smutty book club — which, quite frankly, I resent losing.”

"You resent?" you repeat, mirroring her squint. “But you never ended up joining the old lady book club.”

“Mm, I didn’t,” Annie agrees, picking up her coffee cup to sip leisurely. “Doesn’t mean I didn’t listen. I looked up a couple of those titles for myself. In retrospect, they had good taste.”

“Seriously?”

“Dead.”

She pauses, setting the cup back on the table.

“So… are you going to make me work for the details, or what?” she finally leads, getting to the point while you skate around it with imaginary triple axels. “Did you call again after Friday?”

You did.

In fact, you've called several times — almost every night since last Friday with the exception of Tuesday, since you’d fallen asleep as soon as you hit the couch after working overtime.

It’s now another Friday afternoon, one week from the first time you’d called the hotline, and you’re wondering what constitutes bordering on addiction.

“I have,” you confirm. 

“That’s all you’re going to say?” she chastises with a grimace. “Boo — tomato, tomato.”

“What?! What did you want me to say?”

“For starters, who the guy is.”

“Not happening.”

“Loser.” A beat passes. “But it’s not Bert?”

You shake your head vehemently.

“Definitely not Bert.”

“Thank god,” she exhales. “I like you, but I don’t know if I like you enough to be calling up the same dude to get our rocks off.”

“Jesus, Annie.”

“Oh, come on, don’t be such a prude.”

You pick up your own tea, sliding it across the table before taking a tentative sip.

“I don’t know how you freely talk about this like we’re trying out restaurants.”

“Because it’s not real?” she suggests, and your stomach flip-flops. 

You know it isn’t. 

It’s a job.

It’s his job.

“I don’t know,” Annie continues, sitting back against her chair with her arm draped across the curve. “It’s no strings attached and hot. I’ll never meet Bert, and he’ll never meet me, and it isn’t like he’s going to ask to hold my hand and beg me to meet his mom.”

“You’re such a commitment-phobe,” you comment with the roll of your eyes. “You won’t ever meet anyone’s mom.”

“Yeah, because I’m not a psycho,” she replies with a snort. “I take it you went premium?”

You nod once. “Levi suggested it.”

Her eyes widen, delighted, and you scowl at your own stupidity.

“Levi?”

Ah.

Fuck.

"Wait." You sit up taller. “Don’t—”

“Oh, that’s a hot name.”

“Annie, I swear to—”

She sours to herself. “Damn, that’s so much hotter than moaning Bert.”

The tea in your cup bubbles from your chortled breath. 

“Oh?”

“Yeah, not my favorite name ever, but that’s fine — because it’s more like he’s moaning Annie.”

Paired with a wicked grin, your friend winks at you.

“We have two very different wants.”

You squint, and her grin widens. “Wait, do you—”

“Uh-huh.”

“Oh my god, Annie.”

“What?!” she chirps with a chuckle. “You like the bossy ones, I like being the boss. You’re not allowed to kink shame me. We’re in this shit together.”

“Who said I like being bossed around?!”

She points her finger at your facedown phone.

“Porco Galliard bosses people around. I’m not stupid. And you scream ‘I don’t like being assertive’.”

Great.

The same observation Levi made over the phone without ever meeting you in person.

“Whatever, that isn’t the point,” you wave off, deciding to try and swerve the subject. “I wanted to ask: how many times do you call a week?”

Annie presses the tip of her tongue against her cheek as she considers.

“A week? Maybe two, three at most. It used to be a hell of a lot more, but I’m working a lot of late nights.”

“When you say ‘a hell of a lot more’, do you mean—?”

“Daily?” she finishes for you then tries to recall. “Why? Are you daily right now?” 

You hate yourself for a second. 

“Sort of? It’s only been a few days, but—”

“Hey, that’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

She reassures in that randomly serious way Annie can pull on a rare occasion.

Making fun of people might be her favorite pastime, but if she can sense true withdrawal from her friends, then she’s quick to stop. 

The blonde reaches over the table to pat your hand, but it’s hardly a comfort.

Annie is about as comforting as raw-dog wearing a hand-knitted sweater by an amateur: it's itchy, too tight, and you want it to stop immediately. 

“You’re a grown woman with grown woman money. If guys can go get blue balled at the strip club, then why can’t we call a hot guy over the phone?”

Again: not comforting at all.

With reluctance, you nod.

“You have a point.”

“I know I have a point.”

“Then again, I don’t know how long term this fix can be,” you reason. “It’s very expensive.”

“Yeah, but you know what’s more expensive?” Annie retorts. “Hooking up with a stranger at a bar who’s abysmal in bed. Maybe not so much for your wallet, but definitely for your ego.”

“And your sanity,” you agree, “if they’re weird.”

“Or a creep.”

“Or a serial killer.”

“A weird creep that happens to be a serial killer.”

You both give each other a look, an unspoken conversation of two delusional women saying ‘exactly’ in a singular gesture, as you sync the sips of your drinks.

.

.

— —

.

.

  “Do you ever — ha — use to — oh — ys?”

You’re not sure why you’re so chatty with your rabbit vibrator barely hovering over the hood of your clit.

A week ago, you would've been trying to smother yourself with a pillow for talking.

However, with each night you’ve called Levi, the more comfortable you’ve become.

More bold, if openly using toys tells him anything.

The avalanche that brought you here was quite swift.

Traffic lights no longer remind you of the cars on the road but the man waiting for you on this hotline.

A willing striptease; a compliance to do what you wish but let him take the lead.

All you had to say was ‘my hand’s getting tired’ during an edging session.

All Levi had to reply with was ‘if you had a toy, I’d allow you to tag it in’.

Allow.

Like you’re completely under his spell.

Like you couldn’t have been using one from the get-go, but you listened.

You said you did.

He said grab it.

(God, you always listen.)

Now you’re here, legs spread in the center of your bed with your phone sitting between the valley of your breasts as you talk to him through the speaker.

“I am right now,” Levi replies in that diplomatic way of his, the lift of his voice telling: he’s amused by the way you try to speak to him, even when you’re ready to scream with impatience.

“I meant on yourself,” you exhale shakily.

“On myself?”

“Like on c-calls,” you stammer, forcing yourself to focus.

He loves when you lose your mind.

You refuse to cave so fast tonight.

“A mystery for another day,” he teases, before adding in a firmer tone: “You earned it. Touch it to your clit, but don’t go inside yet. I want you wet and ready for me, understand?”

“You’re so mean.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he softens for just a moment. “And don’t talk back.”

“Sir, yes, sir,” you joke, before pressing the device against your clit.

The vibrations surge pleasure down your legs, causing your toes to curl.

You’re not sure if it’s the ‘sir’ or the moan you emit that makes him groan in return.

“The answer is no,” he finally states.

For a second, you think you did something wrong.

Then you circle back, remembering what you asked in the first place.

Right.

The toys question.

“You don’t?”

“Not on me, no.” He exhales, slow and steady. “Too busy making sure I’m hitting the script.”

That’s the funny thing about these calls:

The fourth wall? 

Broken.

He doesn’t pretend to be your boyfriend for the night, just as you don’t pretend he’s only yours.

You’re aware he’s a sex worker, just as he seems to open up about his profession when speaking to you.

At first Levi wouldn’t — it was meant to be a fantasy — but each night he’s divulged more.

Like how he used to be in the military. (Unrelated to sex.)

Like how he has an affinity for tea, going so far as to have a mild cup with you after a session in lieu of a cigarette. (Unrelated to sex.)

Like how he’s a Capricorn. (Unrelated to sex — kind of.)

In the midst of learning about him, you’ve learned about yourself.

You’re less vanilla than you originally thought.

With Porco, things felt regimented.

Scheduled.

You weren’t willing to open up your heart, much less your legs, because he was too cold behind closed doors.

Focused.

Driven to his work and passions.

Levi, on the other hand, will suggest leaning against the wall with your hand in your underwear, eyes forced to watch yourself in your full-length mirror.

To worship yourself, when he can’t.

To pump your fingers into your weeping core, when he can’t.

To give over complete and utter control with the promise that you’ll come as many times as he asks you to, because if he could be in this very room — this very apartment — he’d easily do it himself.

With Levi, you’re bold.

With Levi, you’re in.

So you’re not shy to arch your back, moaning into the receiver when you feel your first orgasm approaching you like the incoming tide.

“Levi,” you whimper his name, “can I—”

“Shit, baby, you know you can,” he practically purrs, already knowing what you’re going to ask. “C’mon. Let me hear that pretty little voice of yours, huh? Just for me?”

“Just for—”

The last word is garbled by the way your teeth clench, legs snapping together as the first climax hits after a relentless twenty-minute edging session.

It’s unreal.

It’s pain.

It’s bliss.

It’s everything you’ve ever wanted.

(Freedom.)

You pant, pulling the vibrator away from your body for a moment to catch your breath.

You hear him hum with approval on the other end, a low rumble against your chest.

“That’s a good girl,” he says after a beat. “Feeling better?”

“So much,” you confess breathlessly.

“You sound better.”

“Thanks to you.”

“Didn’t do much.”

“Oh shut up,” you scowl before laughing.

Turning off the toy for a momentary reprieve, you allow yourself to catch your breath as you grin up at the ceiling.

“Always so goddamn modest.”

“You’re one to talk,” he scoffs, shifting on the other end of the line. “Can’t take a damn compliment to save your life.”

You make a face like he can see you in the dark, but you decide to continue the conversation.

That’s a new thing the two of you have picked up — talking.

Lots of talking.

You get off, sure, but he knows your work drama, your chore schedule — your mailmen even have the same first name, funnily enough.

“I’m serious, though,” you exhale. “Do you ever like… get off? Without toys, obviously.”

“During a call?” he clarifies, and you nod. He answers like he can see it. “No, not — not typically.”

“Wow, so you’ve faked an orgasm with me,” you tease with a blissed out snort. “Shame, shame, I know your name.”

“I what?”

“Faked it,” you clarify, fluffing your pillows behind your head as you situate yourself on your bed. “As if I don’t hear you breathing all heavy and shit over there.”

Then something unusual happens.

The man grows quiet on the other side. 

Nothing shuffles.

No huffs or ‘tchs’.

Just… silence.

“Levi?” you ask, brows knit.

A beat passes, but he answers.

“Yeah?”

“Are you good over there?”

“I— yeah, fine,” he clears his throat.

Uh-oh.

You frown immediately, blinking twice. “Sorry, was that a weird question?”

“Not at all,” he clarifies, gruff this time, “just… I said not typically, not never.”

…oh.

Oh.

Suddenly you abandon the rabbit and sit up in bed, eyes as wide as saucers.

“Wait.”

“Scarlet.”

“No, did you actually—”

“I already said too much.”

“No, wait, you can’t just imply that you’ve gotten off with me then abandon ship here, Levi!”

“I’m not abandoning ship — why do you say such weird shit sometimes?”

“How many times?!” you yelp.

“I’m not answering that.”

“Holy shit,” you exhale, “I’m so mad I didn’t pay attention.”

It’s like you can hear Levi squinting, narrowing his eyes with uncertainty on the other end of the phone. “...why would you be mad?”

“Because maybe I want to hear you get off, too?” you suggest simply.

Another agonizing breath of silence.

Chewing on your bottom lip, you place your phone on your sheets and pick up the vibrator, contemplating your next move.

“Because I would totally love to just… I don’t know, make you moan, too? See what you taste like? Feel you lose control, pull my hair, hold my head down while I wrap my lips around—”

“Baby.”

Two syllables shoot out of his mouth, as if overwhelmed with shock.

Huh.

An Uno reverse in your favor.

You’re no Shakespeare, but what you say is as honest as words can possibly be.

“I picture you all the time,” you confess softly, pressing the rabbit vibrator’s first function.

A low rumble begins, and you guide it between your legs.

You’re already soaked from your session.

There will be little give to the toy.

“When we’re not on the phone together, I wonder what it would be like. I could be at work. I could be at a coffee shop. Like, holy shit, I was meeting with a friend today and all I could think of is how badly I’d love to just take you to it — maybe disappear in the back hall, find a bathroom? I’d bend over a sink. I don’t wear skirts all the time, but I’d wear one for you.”

You hear shifting on the other end of the line, but Levi is deathly silent.

Mindlessly, your hand takes hold of the vibrator and you press against your entrance.

With a tiny whimper, you push in, deliciously enveloped in a sea of vibrations.

“You wouldn’t need to wear a skirt.”

Suddenly his voice appears, and you accidentally push the vibrator further in, causing a strangled moan to exit your mouth. 

“Le—”

“Pants are just as easy,” Levi cuts you off, a thread of a whisper. “Couldn’t take that much effort. Wouldn’t give a shit if anyone saw your damn clothes at your ankles.”

Suddenly the room burns.

“I just know you’d fill me up so good,” you whine, and there’s a sharp hiss on the other end.

“Jesus Christ.”

There.

You hear it: the waver in his voice.

“Yeah, baby,” he concedes. “I’d fill you so fucking good.”

You whimper, a pathetic little noise at the base of your throat, and he exhales a large breath — as if he’s been holding back this entire time.

“Promise?”

“When have I ever led you astray?” he challenges, a bit more strained now.

It’s the hottest thing you've ever heard.

“I wanna make you feel so good,” you breathe, ragged and wrecked, and there’s a small groan on the other end of the line.

“You already do, baby.”

“Not how I want to,” you argue in return, body pulsating with the growing need to release a second. “You’re so good at making me cum, but all I want is to take it how you want me — bend me over and fill me up, push me to my knees and stick my tongue out—”

“Fuck,” he curses sharply. “You’re so good for me. So, so fucking good, not fuckin’ fair.”

“Wanna cum with you.”

He groans, louder this time, and inhales the most deliciously jagged breath you’ve ever heard.

“Right there, baby,” he forces out. “C’mon. Give me one more. Just one more.”

You don’t need to be told twice.

You purposefully bite your tongue when you come a second time, squeezing your eyes shut with all of your senses focused solely on your ears.

A grunt, as if he’s holding back just the same before exhaling, slow and languid.

In your mind’s eye, you see it: how he uses his teeth to hold up his t-shirt, painting his abdomen with streaks of white as he holds himself back from climaxing too loud. His whole body trembles. He squeezes the tip, milking himself for all he’s worth.

Pulling the vibrator from your body, you turn it off and toss it elsewhere on your bed. Your body curls around your phone, trying to stay quiet so you can listen.

Shaky.

Exhausted.

Not typically, not never.

You say nothing, can’t, but a small giggle of euphoria emits from your throat.

Surprisingly, Levi chuckles back with that drugged slowness that comes with exhaustion.

“You’re too damn giddy after two orgasms,” he chastises, which only makes you laugh harder.

“Uh-huh, Huff ‘n Puff,” you tease right back, and he tsk’s right against the phone.

And in your heart, you know—

Know you’re in deep shit.

Know that you like Levi, even if it’s impossible to like a stranger.

Maybe when you get this month’s credit card bill, you’ll sober up from your crush.

But not right now.

Just not right now.

.

.

— —

.

.

  The next morning, you’re up bright and early.

Skip the elevator to the apartment lobby.

Walk down the stairs to kickstart your adrenaline.

Skip the coffee at the local shop.

Choose a small cup of chai instead.

By the time you make it to the gym, you’re more ready than you ever have been in your life to take on the day.

.

.

— —

.

.

  Forty-five minutes later, your sweat even has sweat.

Staring at your reflection in the mirror, the endorphins from a tough workout only make you feel that more excited to get your shit together. To be more mindful of your time.

(Totally not because your last call with Levi was unreal. Nope.)

Overall, you went from hating your life to — well, this.

Whatever this is.

Owning your self agency and worth after a pitiful breakup?

Unfortunately joining this gym had been Porco’s idea — he’s a treadmill hamster, and you got swindled by the sea of abs under his tank tops.

A ‘couples activity’, whatever that meant.

(Being sweaty and tired without an orgasm to finish it off never did feel rewarding.)

After the breakup you considered trying to get out of your 6-month contract, but Porco dipped first.

He joined Pieck’s crossfit endeavor somewhere else in the city, leaving you and this dingy little gym to commiserate together.

Now?

Now, you excitedly get ready in the morning to the gym — not to get thin or look a certain way to appease anyone else. A revenge body is bonafide stupid.

No — you don’t want to be anything but stronger.

Because Levi would probably think it was hot if you were stronger.

Maybe the next time you call, he’ll be impressed that you’ve taken to strength training. 

Maybe he’ll give you some pointers — one more topic of conversation to be had.

Setting down the free weights back on the rack after a thorough cleaning of the equipment, you step out of the way of the other regulars gearing up for their workout and head towards the locker rooms to shower.

In the small pocket of your leggings, you hear your phone vibrate. 

Digging your hand in to fish it out, you see a familiar name on your lock screen.

[A. LEONHART]: Yo [A. LEONHART]: We’re all going out Tuesday for drinks – u in?

All.

All means the department.

All might mean Porco and Pieck.

Annie must sense your apprehension, before adding:

[A. LEONHART]: Porky probs not going, Pieck’s got a family thing

 

Well, that’s two positives.

[ME]: I’ll think about it. [A. LEONHART]: Think about it????

[A. LEONHART]: 🍅🍅🍅

Her and her fucking tomatoes.

You snort and begin to write back—

But not before accidentally slamming chest to chest into a stranger.

The phone flies out of your hand like a bar of wet soap.

Like a Scooby Doo short, it alley-oops to the sky then smashes down against the black-speckled rubber gym floor.

Before you can even react, the person you’d bumped into is bending to crouch on the floor.

“Shit. My fault.”

Every cell in your body freezes.

Time ceases to exist.

They scoop your phone into their hand, flipping it over checking for damage. 

Luckily, the screen is intact. 

No fall damage.

But that isn’t why you’re frozen.

As they rise to full stance, your eyes are still downcast. 

From their sneakers your eyes crawl up, up, up — noticing the basketball shorts that cut just above the knee with compression under armor peeking beneath.

On his torso is an emerald green tank top, clinging to his flexing abs, the fabric speckled with sweat. 

His collarbones are defined; chin just as sharp as his cheekbones.

Then you meet his eyes.

A blue-ish gray.

The man standing before you runs on the shorter side — under average height for a man.

His ebony hair dangles and sticks to his sweat-slicked forehead, the ends pointed and shaggy.

It takes a moment until you realize you’ve seen that hair before.

While you’ve taken to walking on the treadmill for your warm-up these last several weeks, he’s typically nestled in the strength training corner of the gym alone. 

Every morning that you’re here, he is also here diligently working on his physique.

He’s always in some squat position or lying on a bench, so you never paid attention to his face—

He’s fucking gorgeous.

“Looks like it’s fine,” he says casually, and your stomach falls out of your ass.

Baritone.

Smooth like honey, low like a rumble.

There’s no way.

There is absolutely no way it’s—

“Here.”

The man holds your phone out for you, brows knitting curiously. 

You can’t speak. 

Hell, you can barely breathe.

He shakes his hand to wake you from your shock.

“Take it.”

You know that voice like the back of your hand.

Wordlessly, you reach a shaky hand towards the phone to take it back.

You part your lips to speak, but no words exit.

All you can do is grasp your phone and pull it to your chest as you catch the scent of his deodorant with a mixture of musk when he passes by, none the wiser.

By the time you turn to say something, anything—

Levi from Scout Services Hotline dips into the men’s locker room.

.

Author's Note:

...oops.

Thank you for reading part three of P4! I continue to be blown away by the response. Because of your encouragement, I wrote one of the fastest updates I've made in ages. How are we feeling now? Let me know in the comments!

Thank you for likes, and even more love to those who choose to reblog this to help spread the word of this series or reply in the comments. ilu xo

[absdoll]

Hi bee:3 requesting for Abby eating out or playing with readers 🐱 with her fingers while reader is playing a game

It's all I've been thinking about lwjeuvesivdsi

hi qt ૮ ˶´ ᵕˋ ˶ა i luv this idea ! ty for requesting 🎀

cw : pervy!abby <3 my beloved ♡ // reader is playing animal crossing new horizons !

“abs! guess who just came to my island?!” you squeal as abby lifts her head from her book to meet your sparkling eyes. “hmm let me guess, the weird looking red dog?” she asks, quite genuinely.

“wh-… oh! cherry? she’s so cute! you’re mean.” you furrow your eyebrows at her, offended she called one of your favorite villagers weird looking.

your girlfriend smirks, a sigh leaving her mouth. abby gets a rise out of making her sweet doll-face frown and pout. abby knows it’s wrong to think such dirty thoughts about how innocent you are. the way your cute little butt peeks out of the bottom of your cotton shorts when you try to reach the top cabinet. when you’re all doe-eyed and curious asking her what she wants for dinner. how you sit crisscross applesauce in the big comfy living room chair, looking so small and fragile. and right now, the way you’re so giddy about a silly animal video game. she takes a deep breath as she moves over to where you’re lounging.

“i’m sorry baby, can i see?” abby rests her head on your shoulder, her right hand settling on your bare thigh. you giggle when she gives your soft flesh a little squeeze.

“it’s chai! i’ve wanted her to move to my island since i started playing!” you ramble on about your beloved blue elephant. “she’s just like cinnamoroll, look!” you tilt your nintendo switch screen in abby’s direction, biting your bottom lip in excitement, so happy you get to share this moment with your favorite girl.

abby glances at the game for a moment, then looks up at you, your eyes glistening. she looks back down at the screen, noticing your small fingers toggling with the knobs of the device. she takes another deep breath.

“mm so cute angel, i love the little teacup on her head.” abby kisses your shoulder. “i’m gonna get something to drink from the fridge, you want anything?” she inquires. you shake your head no, too focused on trying to make a good impression on your new guest.

the tall blonde stands to walk to the kitchen, stopping to stretch her arms above her head, letting out a long sigh. she turns around to give you a sweet look before she leaves the room, but her eyes fall somewhere else.

as you sit with your legs in the butterfly position, your pretty pussy on half display. abby clenches her fists, she’s resisting the urge to pry your game out of your soft dainty hands, pin them above your head, and fuck you dumb. she can’t hold back much longer.

“baby,” abby breathes, she walks back over to you, kneeling before you, elbows on your knees. “just keep playing, okay? don’t mind me.” you’re too busy cleaning up your island and making small talk with your digital neighbors to give abby any more than a “mhmm! okay bibi!” and she knows it.

abby begins planting gentle kisses to your cold thigh, humming against your skin as she sees goosebumps rise up your legs. you shiver a little when her face gets closer to your half covered heat. you move your game slightly to the left, looking down at her. “what’d i say pretty girl? hmm? eyes on the screen, don’t look at me again.” abby softly speaks through her pebbled kisses. you frown, confused, but decide to listen and be the good girl abby wants you to be.

abby’s mouth is nearing your pool of slick, you can feel the warm breeze of her breaths tickling your entrance. she uses her nose to reveal your wet pussy from your shorts.

“abs!” you attempt to close your legs around her head, but she knows you, she knows your movements. she knows that you like to play this little game where you say “nooo abs! don’t wanna! too sensitive!” and then a few seconds later, you’re spread wide open, desperately waiting for her skilled tongue to plunge into your aching hole.

“cmon princess, i don’t have to tell you again, do i?” abby coos. “spread.” her voice a little huskier.

you nod and relax your legs. you resume playing, eyes glued to the screen again, quickly getting distracted by the singsong isabelle is putting on outside town hall.

abby’s tongue now inches away from your puffy pulsating clit. all she can think about is devouring every last ounce of you while you sit there, so innocently focused on something far less disgusting than what she’s doing.

your perverted girlfriend watches as your cute hole tightens around nothing, a smile forms on her freckled face. she extends her wet pink muscle and licks a gentle zigzag from fold to fold. “mm-aahh!” you let out in a high pitched moan. abby shoots you a glare, a warning, that if you acknowledge what she’s doing again, she isn’t gonna be so sweet and soft anymore.

she’s drinking your pussy, tongue circling your sensitive nub, slurping every drop of white cream that’s sticky all over her chin. abby glances up at you, “good girl, so proud of you angel.” you bite your lip so hard that you wince a little at the sudden taste of blood, but you know better than to look at abby, let alone let her know how good she’s making you feel.

abby slides one finger into your pussy with ease, your drenched entrance practically sucking her in. “so wet for me.” she’s making out with your thumping clit, curling her index finger up, the pad perfectly tapping your g-spot.

you can’t breathe, you can’t think, you’re trying to move the controls of your game, your hands shaking. all you want to do is buck your hips up to her face, shoving her tongue so deep inside of you that feel her nose touch your clit over and over and over. “you’re close princess, i can feel it.” abby hums.

she’s going so agonizingly slow, the soft sensation of her saliva mixed with the unhurried pump of her finger, you’re dying for her to pick up the pace — and that’s exactly what she isn’t gonna do.

“cum slowly for me baby, ride it out.” abby continues lapping up your slick, using her free hand to hold your legs open. “that’s it sweet girl, riiight…. there.” you’re cumming all over her face, from her nose to her chin, her face is buried in your juices.

“let me hear that pretty moan of yours.” abby’s eyes fixated on your blissed out face. finally granting you permission, you scream out in euphoria, “uug-uuuh aahh aaa-bby-y-y!”

abby removes her finger, plopping it in her mouth, eyes rolling to the back of her head as she sucks your cum off.

sliding your shorts back up your legs and kissing the top of your head, she starts to walk towards the kitchen. “you want something to drink now?” she teases.

a/n : i loved writing this ପ૮๑ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ๑ აଓ hehe if u don’t love pervy!abby then idk what to tell u , ur missing out ! 😵‍💫💕 hope u enjoyed bbs <333

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆ @whore4abby @hersweetheart @enbesbians ♡🧁

[arimanhwa]

SOFT SPOT !

Pairings: Alhaitham x reader

Summary: Alhaitham thought having a soft spot for her was a bad thing.

Warnings: implied pining mentioned (?), grammar errors, more

A/n : my first time writing this man, so I apologize if his ooc and also for kaveh ( omg kaveh cupid era??!!)

Note ; I'm sorry this took long 😭 and dividers by @/cafekitsune

You're here | II. | III.

He knew having a soft spot for her was a bad idea, but he often found himself diverted by her presence. The prideful Haravatat scholar was absolutely smitten by her yet he was too afraid to approach. The scribe's roommate, Kaveh was witnessing the ever prideful alhaitham being deeply lovesick for the girl who stole his heart ever since the day they meet.

Alhaitham, akademiya's grand scribe was too afraid to approach [name]. Kaveh took the matter in his own hands and friended her, which to the scribe's dismay, he would tease him every single day whenever he saw how puppy dog the 'stoic scribe' can be. As always them arguing back and forth, "Oh pls, don't act how smitten you look around her." Kaveh gaze at him with disbelief look but alhaitham seems unfazed by the look given towards him. "It's none of your business, kaveh." Sumeru's renowned architect just tsk'd and look away from him. Other than that, [name] [L/n], under Vahuma, architect's friend Wonders why the Kshahrewar male wanted to be friends with her.

FLASHBACK

A few days ago, [name] doing her presentation for history outside the akademiya too concentrated to notice kaveh approaching. "Boo." Whispered her senior in her ears, causing her to startle while it made the presentation fall on the ground, She lift the project from the dirty ground and gaze at a senior who step away after he did a scare.

A little curiosity could be seen on his junior's face, even minutes pass by, both stared at each other. Not saying a single world until kaveh finally spoke cutting off the awkwardness.

"do you need anything, kaveh-san?"

"Maybe a certain scholar does, but this guy is afraid to approach, what a coward. Hmph." Kaveh Mumbles the last part. "But anyways, do you wanna be friends?"

[Name] blinks, processing what was said. Then regained herself after and respond back, "Oh I see, alright, is that all?" She asked him in questioning manner that he nods. "And I would be glad to be your friend."

That made kaveh grin and wave a goodbye.

FLASHBACK END

She sighs, continuing where she left on, which is studying for history. Meanwhile on the other side of the akademiya sits alhaitham reading a book alongside him is the senior kshahrewar. "So when is this pining of yours gonna work or when will you start" he sighs. "You know, if you don't act now. Someone is gonna steal [name] from you."kaveh look at the man who was reading.

Yet clearly, he was listening to what the blonde male said in silence.

© Arimanhwa , ✩ !! - All rights reserved.

[cellophaine]

Chapter V: BACKCOURT

Masterlist

Pairing: Art Donaldson x F!Reader

Warnings: Toxic family dynamic, toxic parents, mild abuse.

Author's Note: Woo this is a longer one (a little over 5k 😬). In this chapter, we dive deep into Reader's background to see how she became the way she is now. Art is not in this chapter much, but I promise he'll be back and his appearance will be delicious.

GIF Source: @/roranicuspond

2021. San Francisco.

4 AM. Two hours felt endless in your sleepless state. You sat up and, after a moment of contemplation, left the bed.

You settled on the couch with a glass of water and turned the TV on. Flipping through the channels, your eyes unfocused over the flashing images. A familiar face appeared for a brief second before vanishing. Your body went still, and your finger rested atop the forward button before reluctantly pressing backward. The image changed again, and Art's face filled your screen once more. His lips moved, but you didn't hear a thing. From the close-up, you could see the small changes in the face you had missed so much. His hair looked longer, and as he dipped his head slightly to hear the interviewer's question better, the movement pulled a strand of dirty blond out of the neat slicked back and drew it over his forehead. He looked much happier than you saw him last. You increased the volume to hear him better.

"I've been busy with the foundation. It's a lot of work, but I find it very fulfilling. I might be retired, but tennis is still an important part of my life, you know? And, of course, spending time with my family–"

The screen turned to black, leaving you to confront yourself. You stared at the empty screen, where Art was seconds ago, at your guilty conscience. After all that time, you were still stupefied at the mere sight of him. Your heart ached in your chest, and you felt a new kind of exhaustion taking over your body. Your loneliness crept along the edge of that guilt as you looked away from your own reflection. This empty apartment used to harbour the presence of another, but that was long gone. It took a while for this place to feel like it belonged to only you again.

A muffled sound of an incoming text came from the bedroom. You rose from the couch and went to retrieve it. The text was from your sister.

Call me when you can.

You opened her contact info and called. Two rings later, she picked up.

"Hey Soph. Is everything okay?"

"Everything is fine. Isn't it early for you?"

"It is, but I wasn't sleeping anyway. What's up?"

There was a brief silence on her end. You had a feeling what her call was about before she said it.

"Dad called me. He asked about you, and if you were planning on coming home this Thanksgiving this year."

"And?"

You could hear your sister's soft sigh on the other end.

"He wants to follow up with you on his cut from your second book."

The Dollhouse was partly autobiographical. It took inspiration from your childhood, grew a solid root and allowed the fictional elements to take shape and become the story it was. It spent ten consecutive weeks as number one on the New York Times best sellers list, but the aftermath dulled the achievement. Your parents picked it up, and so did some people they knew, and for a while after that, they sent you texts doused in anger and emails with thinly veiled threats. Most of them came from your dad, all of them explicitly expressed indignation and wrath, and none of them received a response from you.

"He's not getting a penny. The Dollhouse was fictional."

"I told him that, but he wouldn't listen."

"He can take it up to my lawyer."

After a moment, you asked.

"Did mom say anything?"

Your sister fell silent again. Before the release of The Dollhouse, things were already strained between you and your mom, and after, the contact slowed until it ceased to exist. You hadn't talked in a few years, and to you, it was for the best.

2006. Your hometown.

Despite school ending on the 16th, you booked the train ticket home for the 22nd. The early train was quiet as most people in this cabin retreated to their own bubbles. Some read, some slept, and some listened to music with their earbuds. The nerves in your lower abdomen seized, and all of a sudden, the cookie Grace made two days ago became so sickeningly sweet that you had to put it back in the wrapper. You sighed as you looked out into the passing scenery. Home had always been a tough subject for you, and it involved complicated feelings that you couldn't put into words. How could you confide in someone that the idea of going home filled you with a sense of dread?

Standing in front of the door to your childhood home, you took a deep breath and straightened your posture. You rang the doorbell and listened for its muffled echo from the inside. You could see that the TV was on from the bay window with the curtain swept to the side. Your dad was in his usual seat, watching a game. After a moment, you rang again. You watched as your father took a sip of his beer and placed the bottle back on the small table before reclining further into the chair. You heard hurried footsteps making their way to you, and the door opened to reveal Sophie. She excitedly called out your name and pulled you into a tight hug.

"I'm so happy you're here! How was your trip?"

"It was fine. How are you doing?"

"Hanging in there."

Your sister looked relieved now that you were here.

"How are … Mom and Dad?"

You asked, and Sophie caught onto the underlying message.

"Mom is grumpy because Dad's not helping. She's stressed out about the Christmas dinner. She hasn't decided on what to make for dessert."

"Oh, no."

Usually, by this time of Christmas, she already had a detailed plan for the big family dinner on the 25th, from appetizers to desserts to finger food before the dinner started. She prided herself on the Christmas feast, which was hosted by your family every year.

"Yep. Also, the tree hasn't been decorated."

"It's… the 22nd."

"I know. That's why Mom has been in rare form the whole week."

You grimaced. Your sister ran her hands up and down your arms reassuringly.

"You've got this. I'll be here with you."

You nodded, and the two of you headed inside. You dragged your suitcase with you as Sophie announced your arrival, but you were only met with silence. You stopped at the door to the kitchen and took in the chaos. Not a lot of free counter space was spared from the various pots and pans and unfinished dishes. Your mom was standing with her back to you, chopping vegetables and dropping them into the big pot.

"Hi, Mom."

She didn't turn around to acknowledge you, but she addressed you as she took a break from the vegetables to stir a smaller pot.

"I thought your exams were done on the 13th?"

"They were, Mom."

"Then why didn't you come home earlier?"

"I had work."

"I highly doubt that they were so busy that they needed you there."

"But … they were. It's Christmas."

"Almost Christmas. I don't see why you couldn't come home earlier and help me with the housework."

The enunciation in her words was hard to miss. She went back to the cutting board, her movement more precise now, and riddled with more force.

"I booked the train as soon as I was able to."

"My life would have been so much easier if you were a little more thoughtful than that."

"I'm sorry, Mom. I–"

She finally turned to look at you.

"Why are you still standing there? Put your suitcase away before someone trips on it and help me."

Sophie gave you a look of sympathy. You obeyed your mother's dismissal and took your suitcase upstairs to your old bedroom. Your parents made you repaint and fill in the screw marks before you left, and now it had turned into a workspace of some sort. On one side, there was a computer setup with a wooden cabinet filled with files, paper and books. The other side was your bed, with a blue sheet covering the whole bed. You pulled it off and found your old bed sheet, just like how you left it a few months ago. You wheeled the suitcase over to the old dresser, your eyes roaming over the fine layer of dust on its surface. You lowered yourself to the bed, allowing yourself a moment of seclusion away from your parents. You wanted to lay down, to close your eyes, and to escape for a while. Being here for less than ten minutes had left you with a taste of dejection. It'd started to gather in your throat, but you didn't want it to win. You were stronger than this. So you swallowed it down and buried it deep, putting on a smile before heading downstairs to join Sophie and your mother.

Your effort and helping hand in the kitchen didn't improve your mom's mood. She complained about your hair, telling you how much it irritated her eyes and making you put it up with a hair tie. She was there to criticize the ratio of the marinade and the meat, the way you prepared the rolls of grilled beef, and the piping on the cupcakes. It was exhausting, but you kept the smile on your face and did as she said. About two hours later, the fridge was filled with food and prepared ingredients for Christmas day. You went to the washroom to catch a quick break from your mother's nagging and checked your phone. There was a missed call, along with a text from Art.

I hope your trip home was good :). I wanted to call to see how you were doing.

– I'm home now. Sorry I couldn't talk. Maybe later?

He responded within the minute.

Promise?

– Promise.

A short while after that, dinner was served. The preparation was paused for the day. During dinner, you told your parents about Stanford. Your dad was silent for the most part, only responding with a grumble here and there. Your mom, on the other hand, was very inquisitive in a way that made dread grow in the pit of your stomach.

"Did you know you could also take English here? At Lawrence?"

"Yes, I know, but the program is so much better in Stanford."

"So you're telling me Lawrence is not good enough for you? I went to Lawrence."

"I'm not saying that, Mom. At Stanford, the program is really detailed, and they have so much more to offer."

Your dad decided to chime in.

"It's a useless degree anyway. You were born and raised here with English as your first language."

"There's so much more than that, Dad."

He snorted.

"So much more of my money. It's a waste."

"I promised you I'll pay you back. Besides, your money is for the rent for my first year, not tuition."

If it wasn't for the scholarship, you would have never left this place.

"If it wasn't for me, you wouldn't have a place to live."

Your father's friend from college owned the building, so you got the shared apartment at a much cheaper price. Your rent was covered by your dad since you didn't have a lot of money when you started college.

"No, I wouldn't have. I'm really grateful for your help."

"Thank you. Wasn't that so hard?"

Your sister tried to dissolve the tension in the air, and your parents went with it. The attention was taken off of your shoulders, and you were grateful for it.

/

You went to your sister's bedroom that night to catch up. You sat next to her on the bed while she lay down with her feet propped up against the wall. Grade 11 was proven to be dull and unexciting in the small town. The conversation eventually reared its head back to your parents.

"How do they treat you here?"

You asked, and Sophie sighed.

"They're not too awful most days."

She looked at you, and you could see the empathy in her eyes.

"I don't understand why they're so hard on you."

You shrugged, looking down at your socks.

"I do. Mom has said it so many times. I'm stubborn; I don't listen to them; I wasn't a good kid growing up …"

"So what? It doesn't mean they get to treat you like this."

"Maybe they do. They just want what's best for me."

"The way they show it is not okay. It shouldn't be like that."

A part of you wanted to agree. You wanted, so badly, to believe that you were a good person. Because a good person deserved good things. And if you were the person your parents had made you think you were, then you deserved nothing at all. You gave your sister a reassuring smile despite the doubt in your head.

"I know."

"I'm sorry. It's unfair."

You brushed it off.

"Don't apologize. It's not your fault that they prefer you to me. One of us has to be the favourite."

Sophie gave you an incredulous look, and you shared a laugh. You missed this, talking to your sister about anything. She turned to the side, facing you, and braced herself on her elbow.

"So, tell me about Stanford."

By the arch of her eyebrow, you could tell the conversation was going in the direction you weren't exactly thrilled about.

"It's … good. The campus looks nice, but the course work is a lot."

She rolled her eyes.

"That's not what I'm talking about. Has anyone caught your eye yet?"

Your mind went to Art, and you felt a gentle warmth that felt like a ray of sunshine enveloped your heart. You looked away from your sister briefly before uttering one single word.

"No."

Sophie sat up, pushing into your space.

"I can see right through you. You're such a terrible liar."

You kept your lips sealed.

"Come on, tell me."

There truly was no way of denying Sophie's pleading eyes, so you ended up telling her about Art after a few moments of resistance. You watched her expression change as you wrapped up the story.

"Is he your boyfriend now?"

You realized you had never had that talk.

"We … haven't talked about that yet."

"You obviously like him. Why haven't you asked?"

You shrugged noncomittally.

"I don't know. I think a label is unnecessary."

"What if someone swoops in and takes him from you?"

Sophie snapped her fingers, demonstrating the snatching of Art. You held out a hand.

"Okay, first of all, he's not an object that anyone can take. He doesn't belong to me and vice versa. Second of all, if he is so easily … taken away like that, then he never really likes me to begin with, and I'll be better off without him."

It was an upsetting thought, allowing a tendril of doubt to slither in. Sophie shook her head.

"I don't understand you."

"I just feel like we're not there yet, you know? Whenever I'm with him, I feel … seen. There's no expectation that I have to meet. That's enough for me."

"He'd better appreciate you. You're amazing."

You hugged your sister. She had always seen the best in you despite the doubts you had. You weren't entirely sure you were this amazing person your sister seemed to think you were. Breaking away from the hug, you said.

"Speaking of Art, I promised that I would call him earlier."

"Call him here."

"No."

You shook your head vehemently.

"I want to hear his voice at the very least. You don't even have a picture of him."

"No."

You jumped down from her bed, your finger pressed call on his number. Sophie blocked the door while the phone rang. To your luck, Art picked up after the third ring.

"Hey. I thought you wouldn't call."

Your sister squealed, and you had to put a hand over her mouth to keep her quiet.

"Who was that?"

You harshly whispered, asking Sophie to shut up. She enjoyed teasing you so much that she left an opening to the door. You slipped past her, but not before she sneaked the last words in.

"He sounds hot."

"Shush."

You held your phone against your chest as you went back to your room.

"Hey, sorry. That was my sister."

"Ahh. How many siblings do you have?"

"Just the one."

Art sounded sleepy on the other end.

"You sound tired."

"It's– uh … 2 AM here."

You remembered the time difference.

"Oh shit, I'm so sorry. It's only 11 PM where I am right now."

"That's okay. I like hearing your voice."

The honest confession sounded like a dream in the slow drawl of his words. Warmth dusted your cheeks, and at that moment, you wanted to ask Art to be exclusive with you. But it was a question better asked in person, you thought. So you held your tongue.

"I like hearing yours too."

His soft, drowsy sighs caressed your ear, and you couldn't contain your smile.

"But seriously, though, you should go to bed."

Art exhaled again, slow and languid, as if he didn't want the call to end. At last, he said with resignation.

"Alright, I'll talk to you later."

"Later. Good night, Art."

/

The next two days went by so quickly, with even more preparations and decorations for the 25th. Christmas Day finally came, burdened with anticipation. Uncle Eddie arrived with his wife, and Aunt Donna came by herself. The day was long, but it went by smoothly, and you hoped that it would stay like this for the rest of your time here.

Dinner came, everyone settled down, and the twenty questions game began with your uncle leading it.

"How's Stanford?"

"It's good. I'm really enjoying it."

"What is it that you're studying again?"

"English."

Aunt Donna chimed in.

"Oh. Aren't we all speaking English? Why are you taking it?"

"It's so much more than that. I'm learning the history of American literature, how it'll be shaped, and the cultural intersectionality in liberal arts. Uhm, to name a few."

Your dad decided to weigh in with his opinion.

"In other words, fancy school for useless things."

Uncle Eddie picked up from where he left off.

"What do you want to do after school?"

"I want to be a published author."

Your dad sneered.

"Great, another jobless career."

You were taken aback by your dad's downright brash statement, but you maintained the pleasant attitude you'd practiced.

"It'll be hard, but I want to do it. Or give it a try, at least."

"Writing books is not going to pay your bills. When you fail, you're going to run back here and ask me for more money."

"I'm not there yet, so we shall see, huh?"

Your father fixed his angry gaze on you. His nostrils flared, and you knew you had really pissed him off.

"You went to Stanford for one semester, and you already think you can talk back to your own father? You've forgotten your place. You can be ignorant now, but you'll see that I'm right. You'll regret not studying something that's actually useful."

"I'm not talking back to you. I just want to say that it's my life, and I should be able to live it the way I want to. And I'm very grateful that you even gave me the money for rent."

Your mom cut in.

"Grateful? You sure don't show it. And who do you think gave you that life? I did. I gave birth to you. You wouldn't be here arguing with the very people who care about you if it wasn't for me."

You had heard this argument before. Your mother continued.

"The least you can do is listen to me and take my goddamn advice so you won't end up a useless brat."

Sophie's timid voice pulled at the tension.

"Can we just get back–"

But your mother didn't allow her to finish.

"Do you know how much you cost? How much did we spend on your tutors? Private dance and piano lessons so you would have at least some skills for your future self, just for you to skip classes?"

You tried to defend yourself.

"I was 11. I didn't ask for any of it."

Your mom pressed on.

"Everything we've done is for you. But you never showed us gratitude, not even a thank you. And now, you're off to California on the way to a useless job. You will fail, and when you do, don't come to me or your father, for support."

"I will not ask you."

Your quick remark came with the bitterness that could burst at any moment, and you weren't sure if you could contain it.

"I will not take responsibilities for your failure."

At that, you lost it. Your composure, your calmness, your pleasant attitude. All were sucked out of your body, and the only thing left inside was the aggravated animosity. Its rot was spreading through you like wildfire, and you unleashed your anger. Your voice was booming, reverberating through the dining room.

"I'm not asking you to. I've never asked for any of this!"

"Shut up!"

Your dad roared. You barely dodged the gravy boat he threw at you. The ceramic bowl hit your shoulder, splashing what was left of the gravy onto your arm. The sauce wasn't as hot as it was ten minutes ago, only left a dull burn on your skin, soaking through the holes in your sweater. You sat still, not daring to move, as your body became paralyzed by what had just happened. Your sister immediately got up, only to be shut down by your dad.

"Sit down, Sophie! It's what she gets for being disrespectful."

Your mom added.

"Eat your food, Sophie. Let her think about what she's done. She's ruined dinner. She just had to make everything about her."

Aunt Donna patted your hand where the gravy didn't reach, a patronizing tone dripped in her voice.

"We're just very concerned about your future, dear. No need to yell."

Your mom and dad's voices started to blend together as they continued.

"When you crawl back from California because your dream doesn't work out, don't expect a penny from us."

"How is it that you find our life so beneath you?"

You stared at your plate, willing your tears not to fall. The conversation around you continued in apprehension, with everyone ignoring you. Your sister grabbed your hand under the table, giving it a reassuring squeeze. But you didn't have the strength to squeeze back.

You half listened to your surroundings as everything your parents said kept regurgitating like a fire alarm that wouldn't stop screeching long after the fire was gone. Your body went numb, and exhaustion draped over you like a weighted blanket. You only stood up after the adults had left the dining room with their dishes on the table, understandably for you to clean up. Sophie helped you with the task.

"Are you okay? Does it burn?"

You shook your head.

"I'll be fine. It's not that bad."

"It doesn't look fine."

You stopped dead in your movement, and without looking at your sister, you said.

"Sophie. I just want to do the dishes, and then head upstairs. Okay?"

"Okay. I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize. It's not your fault."

"You don't deserve it."

But what if you did? You received exactly what you needed, a punishment that reminded you of the facts: you were worthless, and your future was bleak and aimless. You avoided answering Sophie, instead directing all of your attention to the dirty dishes.

/

Later on that evening, after your aunt and uncle had left, you headed to the living room, where your parents were, with an envelope in hand. You held it out to them.

"Here's my actual gift for you."

Your dad reached for it without a word. He opened and counted the bills. Your mom got up and retrieved a familiar notebook before settling down next to your dad.

"$1,227."

Your mom wrote the number into the accounting book. After setting it aside, she stared at you for a long time before finally breaking the silence.

"You embarrassed us today."

"I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"For … talking back, and disrespecting you in front of aunt Donna and uncle Eddie."

Your mom thought about it for a moment. You hated this feeling. You knew she knew that she had the advantage, and she was making this as painful as possible.

"Hm. Have you learned nothing?"

"No, I have–"

"Do you know remember what I told you in high school? About our method of discipline?"

"Yes, I do."

"Remind me again?"

You swallowed thickly.

"You said– you said you stopped hitting me because … I was old enough to know better."

"Right. But it seems like you haven't learned anything. You still don't know better. You've always done whatever you want, you don't care about anyone, not even your own parents. Who took care of you whenever you were sick, huh? Who worked tirelessly so that you could have a roof over your head, clothes on your body, food in your stomach? And this is how you repay us?"

Your head dipped in shame.

"I'm sorry. I will do better. What can I do to show you that?"

Your dad hadn't said a word, but the disapproving glare he gave you said everything you already knew.

"You always say that you're sorry but nothing has ever changed. Get out of my sight. You're making my eyes itch."

You retreated to your room, and a moment later, Sophie knocked on your door. Her comforting presence was much needed as you drew into yourself on the bed and tried your hardest not to cry.

"I can't stay here."

"I can ask Shelly–"

You shook your head.

"No, they'll know. I can't stay here. I don't want to. I want to leave."

Sophie slid in next to you and pulled you into her arms.

"Okay, okay. I'll take you to the train station tomorrow."

After putting your clothes back into the suitcase, you sat there in your childhood bedroom, not knowing what else to do. You felt hollow, as if your insides were carved and gutted empty, and you were left with only this shell of a body. The skin where the gravy touched didn't throb as much anymore, leaving only a dull pain. Your heart was aching as if someone had taken hold and crushed it in between their palm. You wanted this feeling to go away, to disappear, so you could forget about it, so it would stop hurting. Overcame with the thought of needing some comfort, you didn't stop to think twice as you reached for your phone and dialled Art's number. You needed to hear his voice, to be reminded of what would be waiting for you when the next semester started. The ring went on and on, and when you thought he wouldn't pick up, he did. You sat up straighter.

"Art. Hi. Merry … Christmas."

The background on his end was noisy. You could hear his name being called.

"Merry Christmas."

It seemed like you had called him at the wrong time.

"Are you … are you at a party?"

"It's not really a party, just a get-together at my house. Patrick is here, and we're drinking this thing that we stole from my dad's liquor cabinet …"

He trailed off as a hiccup filled in the gap.

"It's making my head spin a little, I'm not gonna lie."

"Oh. I'm glad you're having fun."

Your voice dropped, and Art caught onto it even in his inebriated state.

"Are you okay? You sound … sad."

You didn't even realize how obvious it was, so you cleared your throat and responded in a more cheerful tone.

"I'm okay."

Art called your name softly.

"You don't sound okay. What's going on?"

"Nothing. I'm sorry for bothering you. Bye."

You hung up the phone. Seconds later, Art's call came by, and you watched as it rang and ended. Then, a text message came through.

I'm sorry, I'm a little tipsy to talk right now. I'll call you tomorrow.

You tucked your phone under the pillow, not wanting to look at it anymore. You tried to clear your head and think about something else. Still, your mind insisted on reliving the mistakes after mistakes you had made today. Exhaustion eventually took over, easing you into a fitful sleep.

/

You left without saying goodbye to your parents the next day. Sophie gave you a ride to the station, and by 5 PM, you were on the train back to Palo Alto. You received a call from Art. Just the sight of his name raised a storm of conflicting emotions in you, but the side that craved his affection overturned the other. You picked up after several rings.

"Hey. Sorry about last night. I didn't know my limit."

"That's okay. I shouldn't have called anyway."

"No, no, I'm glad you called. How was your Christmas?"

"It was fine. Are you preparing to go to the ski resort?"

You kept your voice level, hoping that you didn't give away anything like you did last night.

"Yep. We're heading there tomorrow."

The crackle of the announcement system broke out over your head, notifying you of your final stop. You were about to wish him a good trip, but Art spoke before you could get it out.

"Wait, where are you right now?"

You couldn't bring yourself to answer, but Art was determined to get it from you.

"Are you going back to Stanford?"

"Sorry, I have to go."

You ended the call. Almost immediately, Art's name appeared on the screen. You declined. Seconds later, he sent you a text.

Pick up. Please.

After shutting down his third call, you turned off your device. You went back to your apartment. It was empty. Your roommates wouldn't be here until school started, so you'd have the whole place to yourself. You felt an immense relief as you finally got to be alone, and you would be for at least another week. You didn't bother unpacking; instead, you headed for your room. After changing into something more comfortable, you crawled under the cover and pulled it to cover your head. Only then you allowed yourself to cry until you couldn't anymore, until the sobs that came out of you were reduced to soundless whimpers. Sleep came easier this time.

Likes, reblogs, and comments are greatly appreciated! I'd love to read your thoughts on the story!

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[tlou-reid]

Cruel Summer ❆ JJ Maybank

☃︎ SUMMARY: jj is love sick for a kook, much to his friends' dismay

☃︎ WARNINGS: fluff, cussing, that's it really

☃︎ NOTE: welcome to swiftmas 2023! we're happy to have you here!

swiftmas masterlist

.｡❅⋆⍋∞｡∞⍋⋆❅｡.

And I snuck through the garden gate, every night that summer just to seal my fate.

JJ knew John B would tease the shit out of him if he knew what was going on. He could hear the way Kiara would yell at him as he pulled himself up to the top of the fence. JJ!, she would say, for a fucking kook! He couldn’t bring himself to be embarrassed or ashamed about his current situation. Not when you were on the other side.

He could see the subtle glow of your fairy lights from where his feet dropped into your family’s garden. He walked a few paces, stopping at the pink azaleas he had seen your mom caring for a few weeks back. He was almost caught that night. Had it not been for the fact that he dropped his hat and had to circle back for it, your mom definitely would’ve noticed the tall blonde creeping around her backyard.

In a way, he thinks it was fate. He wasn’t meant to be caught because he needed to make it to you. But, seeing your mom had him longing to be able to come in through the front door. He wanted to come in and say hello to your parents and pet the over-excitedly family dog. He wanted them to ask him how he was and listen to them talk about their days at work. He wanted to be a part of your family.

He shakes his head to remove any of these longing thoughts. He knew if he wanted it, he had to do something about it. That was the plan for tonight.

He bent down to pick two or three of the pink flowers, neatly tucking them in the back pocket of his jean shorts. He made his way to the trellis that led right up to your bedroom window. He used to hate the way kooks decorated the outside of their houses with stupid shit like this, but it has proven to be incredibly useful. 

The gentle knocks on your window pulled your attention away from the book that was open in your lap. Your tummy erupted into butterflies, knowing JJ was on the other side. Your cheeks were starting to hurt from the amount of smiling you were doing as you opened the window for him.

He crawled into the room quickly, much smoother than he did when your arrangement first started. At first, he would come over to hook up. You’d met at a party and instantly made a connection, or you thought you did. When he walked away from where you stood and talked, returning to the pogues. Even with the lack of light at the party, you could see the dirty looks JJ’s group of friends sent your way.

And I scream, “For whatever it’s worth, I love you. Ain’t that the worst thing you ever heard?”

“Hi, JJ!” You excitedly greet him, pulling him in for a hug. Your undefined relationship had grown past just friends with benefits but was still up in the air. “Hey, princess,” he smiled, pulling you flush against him. “How’s your day been?” You smiled at his question, retreating to sit crisscross at the edge of your bed.

JJ looked very out of place as he took the spot next to you. He looked dirty, worn, compared to the bright, beautiful colors of your room. Even compared to you and your glowing skin and bright smile. Maybe that’s why he felt so light when he was in your room.

You began telling him about your day, using your hands to animate the very mundane stories from your day at the private school you attend. Usually, rich people droning on and on about the minor inconveniences they faced throughout their day would be enough to set JJ off. However, the way you lit up as you told your stories and emphasized different parts with your hands and facial expressions made it intriguing.

JJ laughed at your jokes and looked sad when you told him about your struggles. What always made him feel the best, however, was when you finished your stories and turned to him. You always asked the same question, “And what went down in JJ’s world today?” It was silly and some would even call it cringey, but he loved it.

He tells you about his time mowing a few of your neighbor’s yards, and how one of the older ladies had given him a free lunch. He watched your facial expressions as he talked, knowing you couldn’t hide your emotions if you wanted to. He saw your “aww” at the mention of the old lady, knowing who he was talking about.

He also saw the way your face twisted up as he started telling you about the dirtbike races the pogues had gone on today and how John B. scrapped the shit out of his knees. JJ stopped talking once he noticed how unhappy you looked, turning away from you and tensing up.

“Why do you always have to do that?” He said with an attitude. You were learning how easily he could get upset, but you couldn’t really blame him due to how his family life is. Still, you rolled your eyes at his words, “Do what, JJ?” You mirrored his tone, the joyful air that had surrounded you when he first arrived quickly dissipated.

“Get upset when I mention my friends. Sorry they’re not kooky bitches who cry when they get a bad grade.” You rolled your eyes again at his words, shifting your body away from him. “You know I don’t care what or who your friends are.”

“Then what’s your issue then?” He turned back to face you, raising his voice as he spoke, “I listen to you talk about your rich friends and I can’t even tell you one fucking story?” You were getting quickly annoyed as he was making assumptions about your intentions. “JJ, that’s not-” He cut you off, “What is it then?” He was almost yelling now, not caring that your family was still in the house.

“I fucking love you, JJ! I love you and your fucking friends are gonna ruin it! It’s the worst fucking thing that could’ve happened to you, to us! But I fucking love you!” It was your turn to raise your voice. You were ranting, almost, just trying to get your feelings out there. You loved him, but the pogues would never let that happen. You’re not Sarah Cameron, queen of the kooks. You’re just you, and they won’t like that.

You think you’re about to lose your mind when JJ’s smile spreads across his face. He’s grinning like a Cheshire cat, and it’s pissing you off. You open your mouth to speak, but he stops you by pulling you in for a kiss. The most passionate one you two had shared up until this point.

Once he pulls away, he holds your hands in his lap as he speaks, “When have I ever given a shit about what they think?” In his own, messed up kind of way, this is JJ’s way of telling you he loved you too. This was confirmed when he stood up and retrieved the crushed flowers from his back pocket. He handed them to you and you both erupted into laughter at the state of them.

[tonyspank]

PROLOGUE | GET ME

Jenna Ortega x G!P Reader

Words: 1.2k A/N: I decided to turn the imagine into a book! This isn't published on Wattpad yet so feel special LMAO

series masterlist | main masterlist | next chapter

You didn't know the exact number, but it was quite a few people sitting together at your dining room table. Everyone was laughing, talking, and enjoying each other's company. You examine the scene in front of you, taking a quick sip of your iced tea.

You couldn't help but smile, feeling the warmth of the moment as your mom laughed loudly placing an arm on your dad's shoulder. He leaned into the touch, smiling even wider than before.

"No! Honestly, you guys are like Mr. and Mrs. Smith." John, your father's best friend says, letting out a heartwarming chuckle. Your mom and dad look at each other, their eyes twinkling with love and joy. They both nod in agreement, finding it hilarious to be compared to the movie couple.

"Don't you think Jenna?" Jenna turns at the sound of her name, humming in agreement. "Just like em'. Remember when they were them for Halloween?" John laughs, nodding in agreement. "That was a good one, wasn't it?" He turns to your mom and dad, giving them a wink. "And you two were perfect for the part."

Jenna smiles, grabbing her glass of wine. Her diamond ring shining in the light of the room. "Y/N," a voice says at the end of the table. You raise your eyebrows, looking at the older blonde-haired woman. "My son, Chris, wants to know if you're still playing basketball."

You nod, taking a sip from your glass. "Yeah, I'm still playing." You say, smiling. The woman smiles back, "That's great. Chris would love to hear more about it." You nod again, placing down your glass. "Sure, I'd love to. Why don't you let me know when he's free and we can talk about it?" The woman nods, "I'll do that. I'm sure he'd be happy to hear what you have to say."

The rest of the night went by smoothly, everyone being glad to celebrate your parents' success with their recent client. You were grateful for your parents. They loved you dearly and always made sure you knew that despite their busy schedules.

You had a deep appreciation for their dedication and hard work. You wanted to make them proud, and you knew that meant doing your best in everything you did.

Everyone was gone except Jenna who was talking to your father at the kitchen island as your mother and you were washing the dirty dishes used for the get-together. Jenna was telling your father about her plans for the future. Your mother and you were silently listening, washing the dishes as Jenna talked. You could tell your parents were proud of her and the plans she had made.

She was their youngest friend, but one of their closest. They looked at her like another daughter, and she looked up to them as mentors. "But yeah, that was about it." Jenna finishes off. Your father nods with a hum, stroking his beard. Jenna smiled, a peaceful look on her face.

"Could you put these glasses away?" Your mother asks, gaining your attention. You look away and grab the glasses, putting them away in the cabinet. You turn back around and your father winks at you causing you to laugh.

Your mother smiles, shaking her head. She knows your father and you are always joking around. "We have some news." Your mother speaks up, leaning against the kitchen counter.

Your father nods, sitting upright on the bar stool. "We're leaving for Europe tomorrow morning for business." You nod, already knowing this information.

You feel there's a but coming in, "But..." There it is. "It's a three-month-long trip." Your father speaks up immediately reading the look on your face, "Well, it was supposed to be a month and a half but your mother and I want to take some time to relax."

You shrug and nod, knowing that you can handle the extended trip. You turn to your father and smile, "It's all good. I'll be on my best behavior. You two deserve a vacation." Your father side-eyes your mother, who takes a glance back at her husband.

Okay. What's going on? "We know... because Jenna will be watching over you." You snap your head to Jenna, your brows furrowed together before glancing between your parents.

"You're leaving Jenna to babysit me?" Jenna smiled nervously, not knowing what to say. Your parents exchanged a look before your dad spoke.

"Honey you have to understand, it's three months. We trust Jenna to take care of you."

You sighed and crossed your arms, not wanting to accept the reality. You knew what they were saying was true, but you just didn't want to believe it. You looked at Jenna, who was still smiling nervously. You turn back to your mom, uncrossing your arm. "I'm eighteen!"

Your mom raises an eyebrow at the rise of your voice. You took a deep breath, trying to stay calm. "You just turned eighteen. Watch your tone." You exhaled sharply and nodded, conceding to the fact that you had to wait before you could make your own decisions.

You glanced at Jenna, who was still sitting patiently, and then back at your mom. "Okay, I understand," you said, before turning your attention back to Jenna. Jenna smiles at you, relieved.

"And since you're under some new supervision we talked about some ground rules." First a babysitter and now ground rules? Were you fourteen? Your mom looks at your dad who nods quickly, turning his attention to you.

"We're taking the keys to your motorcycle," your eyes widen and you drop your jaw. He continues despite your reaction, "Please consult with Jenna before you do anything. No random invites, no random going out, tell her."

You nod your head in understanding. You know that this rule is for your own safety. "And finally go to class. No skipping! If I get a call from the office telling me you missed class, all hell will break loose. You hear me?" Your mom buts in, a stern look on her face.

You nod again and mumble, "Yes ma'am." You take a deep breath, knowing that your mom is looking out for you. Your mom raises from the counter, walking over to you and rubbing a hand on your bicep and saying, "We love you. We want you to be safe and responsible."

She gives your arm a gentle squeeze stepping back and facing Jenna, "Jenna you can stay in the guest room upstairs. If you need anything don't be afraid to ask, and make yourself at home." Jenna smiled and thanked her.

"There's plenty of food in the kitchen, and feel free to watch TV or use the internet if you want." Jenna nodded, giving your mom a warm smile. She thanked her again, and your dad stands up giving Jenna a squeeze on her shoulder before sticking his tongue out at you and heading upstairs.

Jenna laughed and your mom shook her head, amused following behind the tall man. Once your parents we're out of the kitchen Jenna looks at you, her dark brown eyes staring into yours. She smiled brightly and said, "Don't worry, I'm not a bad babysitter."

You shake your head, smiling. "Please stop. The term babysitter is so embarrassing." Jenna laughed and said, "I know you're not a baby, but I guess I'm still going to have to look out for you." She winked and you both laughed. You were relieved that she wasn't going to treat you like a child.

This was going to be a crazy three months.

[abilouwrites]

THE BEFORE, AND THE AFTER

3

series Masterlist

(Og draft got deleted I’m sorry pookies)

It takes Bakugo three months before he winds up in my ER once again. This time less injured, with a large gash on his abdomen. I’ve just worked a twelve hour shift and am dying to get home. But alas I get called in to the trauma room where he’s just sitting, “called for you” He smiles weakly but lifts his shirt to show a semi-deep cut just at his ribcage, “hoped you weren’t off”

I groan a little as I slip my sterile gown and gloves on, grabbing a suture kit and bringing it near where I’m sitting, “uh-huh, can I take a listen to your lungs?” I ask taking my stethoscope from my pockets.

“Yeah. Can I get more of the pain killers?” He asks, crimson eyes flick over my figure and how I’m hunched listening to his lungs. Which sound fine.

“No, I’m just gonna numb you a little bit and then stitch you up” I clarify, gentling numbing the area and slowly pulling the sutures tight.

I hear him wince and inhale sharply, “you do not have gentle hands”

“Uh huh” I nod, “I just wanna get home. I’ve promised my roommate that I’d be there for dinner. And I’ve broken my promises more than enough” I murmur; dumping my gloves and gown into the trash.

“You have a roommate?” He asks; sitting up and pulling his mask off- allowing stray blonde hair to fall into his eyes. Which he quickly brushes out of his face.

“Yeah.. not all of us make almost two mil every year. But shes great I love her” I murmur, “uh yeah you’re good”

“Why don’t I take you out to dinner” he asks and now I know the morphine is talking.

“Ha-ha” I joke a dry laugh, “I’ll see you around. Just take it easy for a while”

I’m tired and burnt out when I slink through the door, listening to some jazz pop as I unlock the door. I’m not surprised to see Suki asleep on the couch. Stove off and food in the oven. I don’t bother waking her. She has a job interview with this tech company in the morning.

I open my door, clothes on the ground. A messy room, with makeup on my desk and medical books holding up the uneven legs. The little trinkets on my windowsill.

I’ve been working the past 48 hours, non stop— doctors are working less hours, which means the nurses have to step up. I’m working harder than I ever have. For the same pay.

I have the feeble energy to put the remaining clean laundry I have away before I stuff my laundry basket full of dirty clothes.

I flop into bed and am grateful I won’t have to work until tomorrow night.

Halfway through my shift I go for coffee. Mostly because this is my favorite coffee spot but also because hospital coffee sucks. There’s a shorter line than usual, people know this place but not very well. The nurses know it best, but I’m still a little astonished to see him there. Hair a little damp and eyes red with irritation. In the bareness of his hero costume, no gauntlets. Still those dumb boots.

I pick up my iced coffee, relishing in that first sip. The sip doesn’t cure my exhaustion; or the fact I’m walking a little under a mile back to the hospital.

But Bakugo never misses, eyes keen he spots me. Murmuring my name against the crowd, sliding next to me as I walk out. Light green scrubs and black clogs. The ugliest shoes but also the comfiest, “dynamight I haven’t seen you in a while” I tease gently as he smiles. Not even bothering to get his coffee.

“I’m almost due for my next visit then? Aren’t I?” He asks. A faint smile of that softened jaw-line. He’s not much taller than I am, 6’2 to my 5’7.

“God no, we’re so understaffed.. I’m working 80 hours a week and I’m still struggling on grocery and car and just everything.” I murmur a little, looking over at him.

“I’ve heard about the strikes, everyone says hero’s are the foundation of society but it’s carried by medicine” he speaks, a soft voice against the few cars that pass the streets.

“I know.. I’m just exhausted.. y’know?” I’m still quiet, “how has the stitches been healing?”

“All healed. Just a little sore.”

“And the wrist?”

“Because we’re out of your work place.. what’s it gonna take for me to take you out to dinner?”

I shrug back a laugh, but smile at him, “a lot more than that”

[incorrect-riordanverse]

finally reading tsats here are my live thoughts (spoilers, obviously):

i’m so excited because some pages are darkly decorated and its so cool. still don’t vibe with the title though (the sun IS a star and its peeving me)

why are we talking about dating darth vader 😟 where are we rn (anakin is a yes, but DARTH VADER???)

maybe i’m too old but the jokes are not funny 😭

“this whole place feels like my soul. empty and dark. dark as the pit of the underworld.” <- i don’t care if he’s joking nico would never say thissss 🙏😭 we’re only 10 pages in but please stop butchering my fav character he’s not himselffff i am cringing so bad

i know i’m being dramatic but if they do nico dirty in this book i’m going to end it all

oh my god i don’t think i’ve thought about the words “significant annoyance” in so long. bringing back good memories for sure.

i can tell which parts were written by riordan and which parts were written by oshiro. i don’t think their voices are blending very well together…

also, maybe it’s because it’s the start of the book and they’re trying to familiarise new readers quickly with the characters but it feels like they’re making nico the caricature of ‘emo and shadow and ebony darkness dementia raven way 🥀⛓️🖤’ and will the caricature of ‘happy and sunshine and blonde and flower gleam and glow ☀️🌈🫧’ and i usually like this dynamic when it’s not blatantly pointed out every other page. i have faith they’ll show more complexity than this later on though. future yan will let me know by the end. (future yan here, im not at the end but the characterisation def does get more complex thank gods)

oh ok so it is bob the titan

since when was nico’s actual name niccolo??? how did i forget this detail??

“you have to listen if not you’ll share my fate.” “ominous much?” <- ok he’s finally himself again guys it’s all good

the one-sided beef nico has with percy will never not be funny

“cookie monster appeared over the mouth of the jar, reached inside and gobbled up nico like the chocolate-chip cookie he was.” <- nevermind i’ve gone back to hating this book again

“what was one straight boy when you spent your whole life longing for the impossible?” <- i’m reminded of that time a few years back where everyone made ‘having an unrequited crush on percy’ nico’s whole fanon personality, so i’m glad they addressed this somewhat. this boy has been through so much and people really thought crushing on percy was the biggest thing to focus on about ‘nico angst.’

“we made a mistake. you have to fix it.” <- call me a red flag but if i was nico i would do anything and everything to not go. i would medicate myself so highly on sleeping pills that i can’t dream (doctor bf can go kick rocks). i would track percy and annabeth down and haul their asses into tartarus instead to do it. and if i had to go i would only go in to kill bob myself for sending me those traumatic ass nightmares. no thx. bro willingly jumped in himself and now wants me to save him. nuh uh.

not cupid being will 😭 its like his aphrodite 😭 i am not well.

they always have a really good and emotionally moving scene and they ruin it with a dumb joke. let it be heavy 👏👏

something’s really fishy and i have a feeling that it might not be bob calling for him

if this whole “grumpy ball of darkness” thing continues i will actually lose it

you can’t tell me the percabeth pep talk was actually needed. i will forgive it because i miss them though

im sensing tension in the gap between nico’s connection to the underworld and his relationship with will and i’m here for ittttt. give me the dramaaa

who is the gorgyra girl and why is she in their business sm?

oh shit a will solace pov??? christmas came early 🙏

nevermind that whole nightmare sequence was so fucked up 😭😭

somebody HELP HIM i never thought we would get will angst (nico angst fs, but will???)

DONT JUMP IN THE STYX PLEASE

SOMEBODY TELL HIM HE’S HELPFUL OMG

nico strangling epiales in his sleep is so fucking cool he’s literally HIM he’s literally THAT GUY

[ofstoriesandstardust]

winner takes all

or: How Ice became Rebel’s godfather

like father, like daughter masterlist

warnings: this takes place during the brief time Ice and Mav worked at Top Gun together, a little angsty, Mav doubts if he’s good enough for his daughter but it’s brief, icemav if you squint because i’ve got an agenda

word count: 1.3k

He raps on the door of his co-instructor’s office. "Ice.” 

The blond lifts his head from the paperwork he’s looking over, grinning when he sees him. “Hey Mitchell. Headed out for the day?” 

He nods, taking a tentative step into the room. “Yeah, I just had a quick question for you about my kiddo.” 

Ice chuckles, putting his pen into the holder on the desk. “How’s she doing?” 

Maverick shrugs. “Pretty good. Lost her first tooth yesterday, so we got a visit from the tooth fairy last night.” 

“Good for the little rascal. Well, what’s your question?” 

“Do you want- Well, would you- Would you be her godfather?” 

He finds himself unable to keep Ice’s eyes, falling to the clock behind him as it falls silent in the room. The longer Ice takes to respond, each second ticking by, he scrambles to pull himself together, to apologize for asking, to forget about it-

“What would she need a godfather for? She’s got you.” Ice says, standing up from his desk. He shrugs, averting his gaze to the floor. 

“You know, I just- I just want to know that if something happens to me-”

“Nothing’s going to happen to you.” Ice says firmly, a finality in his tone he usually can’t argue with. 

He continues on like Ice didn’t say anything. “-and I don’t come back down, she’s got someone on the ground to take care of her and I can’t really put that kind of ask on Carole, not after-” He stops, swallowing. “Well, she loves you anyways, so you felt like the obvious choice.” 

“Where’s her mother? She shouldn’t she be around for this kind of thing?” He says with a wave of his hand. 

That earns Ice his gaze, scowling as he raises his head. “I hope Natalie never comes back into the picture, because if she does it’s going to be because she’s trying to take my daughter from me.” 

Ice is silent again and Maverick watches the minutes tick by, growing more uncomfortable with the time that passes every second. 

“Look, don’t feel pressured to say yes or anything, you don’t even have to- to think about it.” He pauses as his eyes flicker back to Ice, the tall man frowning. “Actually, forget I asked.” 

-

The doorbell rings. 

“Brad, that’s Ice, would you go grab it?” He asks, the vegetables sizzling on the stove. The boy nods, slipping off the chair, Hardy Boys book in hand. It’s only a few more minutes before Ice appears in the kitchen doorway, Bradley’s nose still tucked into his book. 

“Guess, I’m not worth saying hi to anymore.” He chuckles. 

Maverick shakes his head. “Don’t mind him, he’s had his head in that thing since we left the library this afternoon.” 

“Uncle Icee!” His kid screeches and Ice turns, barely catching the toddler barricading into his knee. Ice reaches down, picking her up as a wide grin spreads across his face. 

“Hi kiddo. You’re awfully dirty.” He glances up from the food on the stove to see his kid covered in dirt. Her hands, which look oddly sticky, make messy work of pushing her hair out of her face. 

“Playing pirate outside with Batman.” He hears the dog in question come in through the sliding glass door of the Bradshaw home, Carole following. She appears in the kitchen doorway a moment later. 

“Hi Tom.” She says, offering him a warm smile. 

“Hi Carole. How are you?” 

“Good. Mav, you're burning the broccoli. Move.” She grabs the spatula out of his hand, nudging him away from the stove and he follows, leaning up against the opposite countertop as Ice watches his kid chatter excitedly, an enthusiastic smile on his face he nods along. 

As Carole finishes the food, his daughter tugs Ice to the table, demanding he sit right next to her. 

He quietly observes the way Ice goes willingly, the way Ice listens to everything she has to say, and even eats the broccoli off her plate so she doesn’t have to. 

“He give you an answer yet?” Carole whispers as they watch their kids help Ice clean up dinner, Ice insisting he do the dishes since they cooked for him. 

He shakes his head. “I wish he would. He’d be good for her.” 

Carole sighs, looking at him. “Not any better than you are for her, Mav.” He shrugs and Carole sighs again. “Oh c’mon Mav, that girl loves you and she would be lost without you.”

He tilts his head, conceding to her words. “She needs someone who can look after her and I can’t give her that. You know I don’t want to stay at Miramar-” 

“Mom! Can we have a sleepover?” Bradley asks as Ice lifts him up to sit on the counter next to his daughter. “Please! Tt’s Saturday and I want to stay up watching Scooby Doo cartons.” 

Carole shrugs. “Up to Mav.”

He sighs, shooting the woman a glare. “Why do I have to be the bad guy?” 

“Dad!” His daughter whines, pouting. He sighs as Ice chuckles, all knowing he folds anytime she makes those eyes at him. 

“Honey, you’re filthy.” 

She shrugs. “So?”

“So I’m not going to let you dirty up Carole’s house. Plus, I’m sure Ice wants to get out here.” 

“Don’t drag me into this Mitchell.” Ice says, pointing a soapy fork at him. 

“How about this? We go home and get you a bath and next Saturday you and Brad can have a sleepover then?” 

His daughter sighs, crossing her arms. “Fineee.”

-

There’s a sharp knock on his office door. “Mitchell.” 

He glances up from the box he’s packing. “Hey Ice.” 

“Hear you’re leaving.” 

He shrugs, avoiding eye contact with the man. “You know how it is, head in the clouds, all that.”

“I’ll do it.” 

He pauses, toy airplane Bradley had given him sitting heavy in his hand. “Do what?” 

“I’ll be her godfather.” 

He shakes his head, setting the plane down in the box. “You don’t gotta do that just cause I’m leaving Ice. She’s in good hands, Carole’s watching her. Bradley’s thrilled.” 

“You’re right that she needs someone on the ground looking out for her.” 

He shrugs, setting the lid on top of the box. “It’s still a huge ask. I shouldn’t have asked that of you.” 

“Do you not want me to be her godfather?” Ice says with a frown. 

He’s quiet for a moment, eyes remaining on the wooden desk. Finally, he sighs. “You’re good for her Ice. And she loves you so much.” 

“Maverick, I adore your daughter and I have ever since she dubbed me Uncle Icee at Goose’s funeral.” Ice takes a tentative step into the room. “But I am not her father and I would never take that from you.” 

“I know.” 

Because he does, knows Ice loves his kid, loves Bradley, but he would never overstep. 

But sometimes he wishes he would. Overstep, fight him for his daughter, because Lord knows Ice could give everything he can’t to his daughter. 

“Maverick, raising a kid isn’t just about being the best parent all of time. It's about doing right by your kids, making sure they’re growing up happy and loved and safe.” Ice takes another step closer to him. “Is she happy?” 

“She is.” 

“Is she safe?” 

“Of course.” 

“Is she loved?”

“Absolutely.” 

“Then you’re doing enough for your kid.” 

He gives the man a watery chuckle. “When’d you get so smart about all this parenting shit, huh?” 

Ice claps him on the back. “Gotta stay single to impart all my wisdom on to you.” Ice sighs, his hand falling from his back. “I’ll be her godfather on the condition that you do right by your kid in always coming home.” Ice fixes him with a stare. “Your daughter deserves to grow up with her father. Don’t lose yourself so much up there that you don’t come back down here.” 

Ice’s words stay with him the rest of his life. 

[puffins-studio]

Campervan AU🪐⭐️🌙 🔥

I think we know I can get obsessed with an idea and have a tendency to go over the top. And here is an example with me being obsessed with the campervan AU by the lovely @picnokinesis ! I had so much fun doings this! And thinking what details too add!

I made the doctor, and then my brain was like ‘it’s dangerous to go alone take this’ and so I made Koschei I know he just make it more dangerous But I also love the Master. Then I was like 👀 I want to try something and as I made my way listening to each part with my screen reader I made some props! I also had to be a bit silly as when else would you make a little kazoo and spoon, who knows if you will need them! I also couldn’t help but try to sew the bag I saw in one of Taka’s drawings, I just thought it really was cute and I wanted to do the embroidery! i also wanted to try and sew a bag! And I just had to do a prop from the side AU! I also wanted to add the group picture at the end as I thought some other campervan fans may also like to see it ahaha

If you haven’t read this fic series yet. go read it, it’s very long but it so worth it!

Image description is under the cut as this got very long

[ID:There is a felt doll that is the shape of a gingerbread man with a big circle head, who is supposed to Picnokinesis’ 13 doctor she have on black converse, dark blue jeans, you can’t really see if but she have a binder on then a white shirt under 13’s purple stripe shirt, and a black leather jacket with a orange planet, yellow crescent moon, and a yellow star, on the upper right of the jacket. She have shoulder length, dirty blonde hair with brown root and her hair is behind her ears. And she have a scar above her ear on her left side. There also is Picnokinesis’ Koscehi He have light brown felt for skin, black hair with a fringe to his left, he have the staring of a beard. He have on black tried shoes, black pants, navy button shirt, and his purple coat with the golden inside. And golden beads for buttons. The first picture is of them together, then 2 and 3 are close ups of them. 4th picture is the doctor with a sidebag that have a little rocket and stars on the cover, she is sitting with a book that have the label ‘read me’ on the cover, and a notebook next to her feet that say Doctor and Master in Gallifreian. 5 is her sitting with the bag open, notebook inside, with the spoon and kazoo in her lap,6 is a close up of the bag, 7 is the doctor holding a match box and Koschei is next to her holding a lighter, 8 is them standing, 13 has the side bag on and the book open show to show sticky notes inside. And the last 9 is a group picture of bill, the doctor, and rose, and Jack.:ID

[reigningqueenofwords]

They’re Just Kids

Pairing: Steve x Winchester!Reader Word count: 1,229

Read on AO3

“So, uh, funny story…” You chuckled awkwardly into the phone, glancing into the backseat of your SUV.

Dean groaned. “Do I want to know…?” Your older brother asked, worried about what you had to tell him.

Sighing, you made the turn you needed before speaking. Thankfully, even though you were using the handsfree bluetooth, the other occupants of the car were sleeping. “Well, in good news, you finally get to meet my boyfriend!” You said, your overly cheerful voice giving you away- letting him know something was up.

“Okay?” He asked, silently urging you to go on.

“Let’s just say, him and his best friends wanted to try a hunt.” You said hurriedly.

Dean blinked, staring down at a young Tony Stark, Bruce Banner, and Steve Rogers. His eyes went to you. “I thought you said I’d be meeting your boyfriend. Not a midget boy band.”

“Watch it.” Tony snapped, glaring the best he could, making Dean raise an eyebrow at him. “I’m short, but I can still take you.” He crossed his arms over his chest.

“Please tell me that’s not Steve.” His eyes were almost pleading with you.

You giggled and shook your head as you pointed to the blonde in the middle. “That’s Steve. The one you’ve already managed to annoy is Tony, the quiet one is Bruce.”

Shoving his hands in his pockets, he sighed. “Well, what are we supposed to do with them? Isn’t Tony some big shot?” “Yeah, as an adult. What’s he supposed to do now? He’s maybe 8 years old.”

“Oh no. Nope. Not happening.” Dean shook his head.

Sam laughed, shaking his head as Dean sat in the library, sulking. “You could never tell her ‘no’.”

“Like you’re one to talk!” Dean shot back before he saw Bruce walking by with a book. “Isn’t that a little advanced for you?”

Bruce shook his head. “I may look 8, and have the maturity of an 8 year old- however, I am not actually 8.” He pointed out, the words sounding odd coming from someone so young. “I figured I’d do some reading while trapped here.”

“Great. I’m surrounded by bookworms.”

“I’m not listening!” Tony came in, fingers in his ears, yelling loudly.

Steve was right behind him, an annoyed look on your face. “You’re acting like a child!”

Tony whipped around. “I am a child!”

“Yes, we know you’ve always had the mentality of one, but you can’t think of something to get us back to normal?” The tiny super soldier all but pouted.

“How would I know how to reverse magic?!” Tony glared.

“Hey! Short stacks!” Dean snapped, making them both give him a dirty look. “Where’s my sister?”

Steve blushed a dark red. “Showering.”

Tony laughed. “You’re just mad she kicked you out!” His laughter was cut short when Steve tackled him. “Get off me!” He yelled as Steve’s small fists tried to connect with Tony’s face.

“HEY! Lemme go!” Steve squirmed as Sam lifted him easily, his arms around the small boy’s waist. “Lemme at ‘em!” He yelled.

Bruce ignored them, sitting at the table, kicking his feet. “They’ll get over it. They always do.” He said calmly, turning a page.

Dean was holding Tony back from Steve while Sam was holding back Steve. “Alright! Time out!” Dean declared. “Both of you in your rooms for the next ten minutes.” His voice was stern, and deep.

“I don’t have to listen to you!” Tony snapped.

“Wanna make it twenty?” He dared the young man, giving him a look. Tony snapped his mouth shut, crossing his arms over his chest. They were each carried to different rooms, and as Sam and Dean shut the doors, they sighed and shook their heads. “I’m never having kids.” Dean muttered.

“Good.” Sam smirked. It quickly fell when he heard music blaring from Tony’s room, making him wince. Dean grinned proudly at Tony’s music choice, making Sam shake his head and walk away.

Walking out of the bathroom, you jumped when you walked into Dean. “They’ve been here one day, and I’m going insane.” He hissed. “Seriously. We just had to pry your boyfriend and the annoying one apart! The blonde one–”

“Steve.” You said calmly.

“Steve. Whatever. The blonde one was wailing on the mouthy one-”

“Tony.” You reminded him.

He shot you a look. “Tony.” He said through clenched teeth. “I’m contemplating taking a fake hunt to avoid dealing with them!”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “They can’t be that bad.”

As if on cue, Steve went running by, followed by Tony. “Get back here, you goodie two shoes!” He called after him.

Turning, you both chased after them, curious about what they were fighting about this time. “Steve!” You called out. “Tony!”

Instantly, they stopped and turned, both trying to act completely innocent. “Yes?”

“Why are you chasing Steve?” You asked.

Tony shrugged. “Because he wouldn’t let me have fun with Bruce.”

“You were trying to see if he would still Hulk out. That’s just ‘having fun’. That’s being stupid.”

“I’m not stupid!” Tony turned, yelling at Steve.

Steve turned, glaring. “You’re acting like an idiot!”

“Okay, boys!” You stepped in the middle. “Dean, how about you show Tony Baby?” Dean went to protest and you shot him a look. “Steve, how about we go figure out what to make for dinner? I mean, if there’s anything that’s safe to eat in the kitchen.” You muttered.

Dean grumbled as he led the small Stark to the garage. “Stupid sister.” He sighed. “Making me play with the mean one.”

Tony raised an eyebrow at Dean. “Are you sure I’m the child here?”

“Oh, bite me.” Dean shot back.

Sitting at breakfast, Dean rubbed his temples and stared at his cup of coffee that sat in front of him. “I hate that little shit.” He yawned, reaching down to lift his mug.

“Which one?” Sam asked, looking over at his brother.

“The evil one.” He told him. “Hopefully they sleep in. I’d like some peace and quiet.”

Three sets of small feet could be heard running towards the kitchen, followed by yelling. “I hate you so much right now.” Sam glared at his brother. “You had to say that, didn’t you?”

Thankfully, you walked in the other door just as the three boys ran in. “I’m hungry.” Tony whined.

“How are you so damn awake?” Dean asked, looking at Tony like he was insane. “You were up all night playing video games and blaring your music.”

Tony shrugged. “I’m young.”

“They’ve been this age forever. How much longer do we have to deal with them?” Dean asked, looking to you with pleading eyes.

You shrugged. “They’ve been like this for just about a week. So, any time now?” You told them. “Could be– oh God.” You slapped your hands over your mouth as the three of them were back to their usual sizes. Their clothes didn’t fare so well, as you’d gotten them each a few things at the local thrift store. “Um….” Snapping your eyes shut, you heard Dean choke on his coffee. “CLOTHES!”

Sam groaned. “Oh, good Lord.” He shuddered. “I’m going back to bed to pretend this never happened.” He sighed as he got up and passed you. “It was nice seeing you, but please never let them hunt again.” Sam said under his breath.

“Noted.” You nodded.

[hannahssimblr]

Chapter Nineteen

We decide to pack up and leave the beach just a few days after the festival. Neither Claire nor I can stand to be in the mobile home anymore since Kelly’s turned it into an unlivable place. As I fold my clothes away and pack up my books I wonder how I ever stayed here, it’s pokey and old, and smells of stale cigarettes, an environment made even more unpleasant by the dark, heavy presence of another person who outwardly hates me stalking around, waiting until I leave the kitchen to go and make herself a cup of tea. We never discuss the festival, and I don’t expect her to ask about it, but I kind of did expect her to at least acknowledge us when we came home on Monday. 

Claire ran into her once on her way out to the bins, she was sitting on the steps painting her toenails, and it was just a couple of days after we’d returned so she tried to confront her, saying that she never wished her a happy birthday. 

“Oh, just fuck off, would you?” Kelly had said. “We’re not friends anymore.” So that was that. I assume the sentiment applies to me too, so I never seek her out for a chat, and I go on for days avoiding her, ignoring her with a horrible, guilty feeling in my stomach that only serves to make me feel more awful than I already do. 

We can’t think of anything worse than driving back to Tullamore with her in the car, so Claire ends up calling her dad, who comes sweeping down the country in his big black BMW to collect us. It’s nearing the butt-end of August now, and the slow wind down of the summer makes me melancholic. The evenings are slowly drawing in again, and the leaves on the trees have lost their brilliant, luminous green of June. Everything is starting to look rustier, burnt around the edges, and I know that in a month the air will be cold again, and yellow leaves will rustle through the village. Bigger, angrier waves will crash against the shore in place of the peaceful, sparkling waters that I see now on the horizon. I stand on the deck on my last evening at the mobile and look out over the beach, knowing that I might never see this beach in autumn. I might never come back here again, eat ice cream from the surf shack, swim in the balmy, green water. 

Barry, Claire’s dad, who always wears suit trousers even as casual dress, gives her a big hug when he arrives, his gleaming, cosmopolitan car looking out of place pulled up onto the grass outside the Healy’s fusty mobile. “How was your summer, love?” He asks her in his booming, business man voice. 

“Oh it was grand.” She says. “I’ll tell you all about it later.” She stands back and beams at him. She loves her father, and they’re alike too. The same nose, eyes, and dirty blonde hair, even though hers has been dyed platinum for years now. I watch them as I sit on the steps biting my nails. He would do absolutely anything for her. Everybody would, she’s just one of those perfect girls. 

“How did you get on in Menorca?” She asks him then, and I listen to them talk about her father’s luxurious trip to the Baleriacs for about three seconds before I get antsy and start hauling our bags into his boot. I know Kelly isn’t going to come outside and try to talk to us or anything, but at this point even being in proximity to her is making me anxious. I don’t want to be here anymore. I want this trip to be over, and I want to go home. 

After we’ve finally piled into the car, we pull away from the mobile. I keep watching the blinds to see if they twitch, some sign that Kelly is watching us, or that she cares at all that we’re leaving without a goodbye, but there’s no sign of life. I think I’d prefer a fight to a freeze-out. This just feels unfinished. 

As we cruise up the narrow coastal roads we pass a road sign with a big smiling sun on it that’s saying goodbye in five languages. I glance out the back window and look back at the beach, the flip-flopped army zipping back and forth over the footpaths, enjoying their last days here and acting like they won’t be propelled back into the grey banality of their September to May lives within mere days, acting like they don’t have any dread inside them at all, but I know they do. They must. It can’t be only me. 

I slump back on the leather seat as soon as the village is out of sight and stare out the window ahead to the vast expanse of motorway in front of us. Claire and her dad are so busy talking that I know they won’t turn around and see me, so I let my defences down for a second, and a tear brims over and spills down my cheek. I still haven’t felt much of anything but a dull, aching sadness ever since we rolled up our tents and left the campground, and all I can do is keep replaying my conversation with Jude over and over in my head, remembering all the nice things he said to me, and then I can’t help but remember the hard things too, but everything makes me sad. I don’t really sleep well, and I don’t feel hungry enough to eat that much. My week has consisted of just this: moping around in my room and periodically crying into my pillow. I haven’t gone for a swim once. 

I haven’t heard a word from him since I last saw him, nor have I tried to text him, because I don’t know what to say. Maybe he doesn’t want goodbyes, maybe he just wants to disappear and I should give him the space to do that. I’m convinced he has more important people to spend time with, with the clock  running out and the date approaching so quickly. It’s Thursday now. He flies out next Wednesday. The 25th. 

I quietly scold myself for acting stupidly. You can’t be upset about losing a person that you never had. He was never mine to lose, I should be driving away from my holidays thinking about how much I enjoyed all the things I did, the people I met, and have a huge, dopey smile on my face, wishing him well with the rest of his life, but I can’t do that. My insides feel twisted and rotten, my chest tight and my eyes are stinging with tears. 

We get back to Tullamore after two and a half hours, and by then I just feel like a husk. I’ve thought about Jude so much that I’m tired of thinking, like my brain has been doing strenuous pushups for ages, or like there’s an elastic band inside it that’s worn loose and saggy. Claire’s dad is really nice and brings me right up to my front door, and then takes all my bags out of the boot. I thank him and compose a smile on my face so I can wave goodbye to my friend. 

“I’ll see you next week, won’t I?” she calls out the window. “Are you coming to the hotel at Shane’s debs and get some photos with me?”

I nod, not really understanding why people want to do things like stand outside a hotel awkwardly while their friends go to the debs. It sounds boring, but I’ll do it for Claire, and then probably think about how I’m not going to any debs at all and feel somehow worse about myself than I already do. 

“And then induction in school on Friday.” She says, holding finger guns to her temple and pulling the imaginary trigger.

“Yeah, can’t wait for that.” I drawl. 

Her dad starts the car and she blows me a quick kiss. “Okay, see you soon babe!” 

They pull away from the footpath and I gather up my bags and bring them up the path towards my house. There’s so many. I don’t remember leaving this same house with this amount of stuff, but I can’t even think of what I bought.

My mam opens the door before I can, and she stands there with a look of delight on her face. The house smells like apple crumble, which I’d usually run and stuff my face with, but today the idea of that makes my stomach turn. I come inside and she gives me a huge, warm hug. “Welcome home, Evie! We missed you so much.”

“I missed you too.”

 “Tell me, how was your summer with the girls?”

I try to tell her that it was good, and that we had lots of fun and went swimming all the time, and that the weather was so fine! We even went to a music festival for Claire’s birthday and I heard so many new bands, and actually, I think I might save up and buy an iPod Touch, but of course, I can’t say any of that. I open my mouth and unleash a rack of sobs instead, dropping all my bags onto the floor with a loud thud. She makes a concerned sound, but doesn’t ask, she just rocks me in her arms and lets me cry it out like an infant for a full half an hour, the door swinging open behind me. 

Prev // Next

[sketchy-rosewitch]

Play With Me Like a Child: Carly Jones x Bo Sinclair

Warnings: Carly and Bo are both 18, PinV, fingering, Bo somewhat being Bo, (anything else I missed please tell me)

A/N: Day 3! day 3 day 3 day 3! dayyyy 3! I changed this idk how many times and landed on Carly x Bo so now y’all get this!

Haunted Hoedown Masterlist

Day 3

Previous: Anything for You: Corey Cunningham x afab!gn!reader

Next: ai!android!Captain Denninger x afab!gn!reader

The school bell rings and Carly is quick to get up and make her way to her locker to grab the rest of her things.

Nick told her not to wait up on him, he and Dalton were going to be hanging out tonight. Carly took this chance at lunch to ask Paige is she wanted to hang out. Unfortunately her and Blake were going on a date tonight.

Which means Carly is going to be alone. She hasn’t been alone on a Friday night since her freshman year. But last week changed everything. Her and Wade finally had a serious talk about him coming to New York with her.

Wade didn’t take it well, he spent the whole year trying to avoid this talk knowing sooner or later it’d have to come. Last week was when it came and Wade tried so hard to get Carly to stay and Carly tried so hard to get Wade to go. They couldn’t come to a conclusion and it ended in their break up.

The whole school caught on quickly to it, but that wasn’t saying much as their class alone was only 75 students. Still, it was embarrassing. Everyone and their mother thought Wade and Carly would never break up, that they’d be High School Sweethearts. Now that they weren’t together anymore she could hear whispers of people wondering if true love really did exist.

Did Carly and Wade really set the bar that high?

The dirty blonde girl sighs as she frustratingly opens her locker. She puts the text books she doesn’t need away and pulls out homework she didn’t finish in class that she’d have to do over the weekend. One more month of this shit, then she was free.. until September that is, but even then it’s be a whole new set of work.

“Carly.”

The teen jumps slightly and looks to her right. Her eyes roll to the back of her head and she slams her locker shut.

“What do you want Sinclair?” She looks at him with her brow raised. The brunet has a crooked smile on his face. Carly knows how charming it is, but so does every other girl at this school.

“Just wanted to see if you wanted to hang out tonight.” He replies, shrugging nonchalantly. Carly maneuvers around him and makes her way to the school’s entrance.

“Why would I wanna hang out with you?” She asks, not even trying to hide her annoyance. The oldest Sinclair brother catches up to her and begins to walk at a similar pace as Carly.

“Cause you don’t have anything better to do.” He answers, Carly glares up at him, making Bo snort. “Listen, I don’t have anything better to do either. You’re free, I’m free. I’m single, you’re single. We can go out tonight. Everything is on me.”

“Are you serious? A week after I’ve been broken up with and you wanna ask me out?”

Bo stops in his tracks and laughs stupidly at himself. “Shit, I’m sorry I didn’t mean it like that.”

Carly is quick to turn around. “What did you mean by it then? Huh? You think this is some joke?” Her face turns red from embarrassment and anger. Instead of Bo getting pissed back at her, he holds his hands up.

“No, hun, I just think you need to have a fun night out is all. Relax a bit.”

The teen takes a deep breath and looks down. “Fine. But none of your, ‘Sinclair funny business’.”

“Anything for you. I’ll pick you up at 6.”

-

A truck horn honks loudly outside of Carly’s house making her cringe. Of course Bo had to let everyone in Ambrose know that Carly Jones was hanging out with him.

She grabs her satchel with money and her phone and walks downstairs. “Who’re you hanging out with?” Her mom asks. It’s not suspicious, yet Carly’s heartbeat picks up pace.

“Just Paige.” She smiles and goes to hug and kiss her mom on the cheek. Her mom would murder her if she found out she was actually hanging out with a Sinclair boy.

“Okay, well. Have fun tonight and be careful!”

The teen nods her head and leaves the house. Bo’s truck blasts heavy metal music and if Carly’s mom had come out here. She would’ve known right away her daughter was lying to her.

Nervously the girl opens the passenger’s door and she gets in. Her classmate turns down the music and starts to back out of the driveway.

“You look good.” He comments as he drives down the small town roads. She looks at Bo who wears a flannel with rolled up sleeves and jeans.

“You too. Your uh-hair is nice.”

God, why is she so nervous. This isn’t a date, she literally grew up with him too.

Bo smirks and combs his fingers through his curls. “Thanks.”

“So, where are we going tonight?” Carly asks, her fingers fumble with a loose string on her shirt.

“There’s a lake a few miles out. Figured we could shoot some cans and talk for a bit. Brought picnic shit too.”

“Mmm, you sure this isn’t a date?” Carly teases. She doesn’t mean to be but she ends up sounding more annoyed than playful when asking the question.

Honestly what he was taking her to do sounded a lot more fun than doing homework. It actually sounded more fun than what Wade usually had planned. A movie of some sort, it was always one in town, one at his house, or one of those drive-ins. Those would get so boring after so long and it wasn’t like they did anything together. Any advances she made would get brushed off.

“It’s whatever you want it to be.”

Bo parks the truck under some trees and gets out, Carly following close behind him. He grabs his shotgun and a bag and the two of them start to walk into a large field.

“Over by the peach tree.” Bo points. “I found this spot years ago, I take my brothers here sometimes. I’m surprised no one else has found it yet.”

“Why bring me here then?” Carly asks.

“You won’t tell anyone. Paige is just as city girl as you are so why would she come out here? Nick hasn’t hung out with you in years and Wade.. well ya know.” Bo explains, he sets down his gun against the tree and drops the bag next to it.

“Well why aren’t your brothers here?” Carly yells, Bo is yards away setting up the cans again, he glares at Carly but she doesn’t back down from her question when he doesn’t answer.

She flops down in a shitty lawn chair as Bo comes back up.

“Nuh-uh-uh. You’re up first.” Bo gestures his hands towards himself, he grabs his shotgun and hands it to Carly.

Carly looks down at it and then over at Bo. “I’ve never-“

“God, you really are a city girl.” Bo teases, his signature crooked smile comes in his face. Carly’s stomach churns and her face gets a bright pink in embarrassment.

“I’m not, I grew up with you Sinclair! I just never learned how to shoot a gun.” Carly grumbles. Her grip tightens defensively on the barrel of the gun.

“Well that’s just bad parenting. Come on. I’ll teach ya.”

Carly and Bo walk so they’re facing towards the old shitty fence with the cans on top of it. He takes the gun from Carly’s hands and sets it down. “Do this.” Bo crosses his arms but holds his elbows up and Carly mimics Bo. She watches closely as Bo takes his hand and pokes next to her shoulder but below her collar bone. “Gonna want the butt of the gun right here. It’s gotta be comfortable.” He says. “Your feet like this.” One toe faces forward and the other is pointed right slightly. Again Carly mimics Bo, not wanting to fuck anything up and get herself or even him killed. “Good.”

The teen’s heart swells but she shuts down the emotion immediately. Bo hands her the gun and puts her hands where they need to be, the emotions she feels for Bo coming right back up as if she didn’t just get out of a relationship just last week.

“Gotta keep both eyes open. Right eye stares right down the barrel.”

Carly nods her head. The brunet goes behind her and looks at her stance. She feels his eyes wandering, making her gulp. “If you think this is some way to check me out you have another thing coming, cause who’s the one with the gun Sinclair.” Carly’s tone is defensive. She’s scared, she can’t fall in love again, not when she’s going to be leaving this small town and especially not when it’s Bo Sinclair, who is far worse than any man out there.

Except if he’s so bad, why’d she go somewhere with him… alone.

“I ain’t gonna do shit, I’m makin’ sure you’re not gonna hurt yourself. Geez.” Bo sighs. She can tell he’s shaking his head at her. “I want you aiming at that rusty can in the middle.”

Carly listens her eye focuses on the can. “Safety off.”

She turns it off and shoots, the bullet hits just below the can. Into the wood of the fence. She aims again, this time higher and shoots. The can knocks down.

“Hell yeah!” Bo whistles with his teeth excitedly. “There we go!” Carly’s adrenaline picks up and she blushes.

The two manage to shoot cans for a couple of hours before they sit down and eat dinner.

“Ain’t much but it’s what I make Vincent and Les when we come out ‘ere.” Bo says biting into the chicken salad sandwich he made. Carly takes a bite too and leans back in the lawn chair.

The sun is starting to set, she looks at it then over at Bo. “Why didn’t they come?” She can’t help but ask about his brothers again, Bo’s quiet. She knows he’s reluctant to answer.

“Vincent’s getting caught up with the Wax Museum and Les made some friends of his own.” Bo replies. Carly nods in acknowledgment. “Is it true why Wade broke up with you?” Bo asks, he finishes up his sandwich and takes a sip of his beer which Carly never commented on.

“You mean him not wanting to go to New York with me? Yeah.” She answers, honestly up until now she forgot about Wade’s existence. She didn’t feel anything towards him anymore. Originally she was sad but now, who cares? He was never going to change his mind and she should’ve known that from the beginning of their relationship Freshmen year.

“He’s fuckin’ dumb.”

Carly furrows her brows and looks at Bo. “How so?”

“Because, he had one chance to get the hell outta here. Honestly if my girlfriend asked me if I wanted to go to college with her, I would’ve! Ambrose doesn’t provide shit. You get a whole new life away from this place and he takes it for granted.” Bo rants, he’s now standing up and pacing, Carly shrugs.

“Yeah, guess he wasn’t feeling it.” Carly mumbles, Bo looks at her.

“He didn’t deserve you. Fuckin’ hope you know that.” He huffs and shakes his head. Carly finishes her sandwich and chugs down her water.

“Yeah and that’s why I broke up with him Sinclair. Let’s just, forget about it, okay?”

The boy nods his head and takes another sip of his beer. Carly looks up at the peach tree and looks to see a single peach hanging from a branch.

“I can get it for you, if you want it.”

Carly feels how close Bo is behind her.

“Oh no! I was just-“

Bo drops his beer bottle on the dirt and climbs into the tree impulsively. Carly gasps.

“Bo! Get down here, I don’t want you hurting yourself!” She squeaks. On the ground she follows Bo as he walks and crawls to the branch where the ripe peach hangs.

“Oh god, please it’s not even that far of a drop!” Bo shakes the branch with his legs making all sorts of reactions come from Carly. Bo chuckles and before she knows it, Carly has to stop because of the water. Bo reaches up to grab the peach and smirks once he does grab it and shows it off to Carly. She nervously plays with her dirty blonde hair.

“See, nothing to be afraid of.”

“Okay, stop showing off and get back down here!” Worry still laces the girl’s voice. It had every right to as she hears the tree branch snap and then a large SPLASH. She gasps and runs towards the water. “BO?!”

Quickly she toes off her boots and jeans and jumps into the water. It’s not to shallow and not to deep, but with the sun setting it was harder to see what was underneath.

Bo come up before Carly can fully give under. He wears a goofy smile and it still holding the peach for Carly. The fort blonde huffs at the brunet. “You’re not funny! I told you to be careful!” She starts to walk out of the water and grabs her clothes and boots. Bo comes out after her.

“I was very careful! And I got your peach. Bo combs his hair back and out of his face and Carly glares at him. He makes it really hard with how he’s looking at her, she really wants to smile but she still is a little pissed.

Bo waves the peach in her face and she takes it, biting into it. The juice falls from her lips, down her chin and onto her chest. She wipes her mouth and raises a brow holding the peach out for him to take a bite from. He eyes her and takes it, biting the same amount she did and feeling as the sticky nectar drips down his chin too. Carly takes another bite, but this time from his hand and he finishes it off.

When Bo done chewing he grabs Carly’s face and kisses her deeply. Her lips and his both tasting like the fruit they just ate. Carly doesn’t even hesitate, she knows what she wants. Her fingers entangle in Bo’s wet hair and she lets out a small moan.

“Let’s-let’s go back to my truck.” Bo mumbles breathlessly. Carly nods and everything is quickly packed up as the last part of the sun sinks under the horizon.

Bo chucks the bag and gun in the bed of the truck before opening the hatch and lifting Carly onto it. Messily he kisses and licks at Carly’s jaw, his wet clothes getting thrown off in the process. He easily unclips Carly’s bra and she slips it off. When Bo’s hands reach her panties though both of them stop, panting and staring into each others eyes.

“Do you-“

“I’m a virgin.”

Bo backs up and looks at her. “You’re tellin’ me Wade had one of the prettiest girls in Ambrose and he didn’t fuck her once?” He growls. Carly nods her head.

“Got on birth control cause he said he wanted to. He never took my advances though so I never asked.”

“Such a goddamn cuck.” Bo rolls his eyes. Cary laughs which makes Bo smile. “Do you want me to?” His face drops into something genuine and it makes Carly happy.

She looks away but then back at Bo. “Yeah. I’m sick of waiting.”

Bo is slow with her. He grabs her hips and pulls down her panties. He stairs at her dark and hairy mound and almost drools, his thick sigh it’s dipping between her legs and pushing into her. She feels her pussy stretch and grabs onto Bo’s arm.

It feels good, so much better than her own fingers.

Bo’s thumb circles her clit lightly causing Carly to squirm and let out a tiny squeal. He leans down and kisses her cheek. “So tight. Gonna take good care of you.” He promises. Carly nods, her mouth wide open yet she’s unable to speak as his fingers curl in her. Wet noises come from her pussy as he pleasures her and she lets out breathy moans.

“God, I wanna fuck this pussy. This is a good pussy. So goddamn tight.” Bo growls into her ear and bites on her jaw lightly.

He pulls his fingers out and sucks on them as he adjusts himself, getting ready to fuck into Carly.

Carly looks at his huge cock then up into Bo’s blue eyes.

“Don’t worry. I don’t wanna hurt ya. I’ll be slow.”

Slowly Bo slides into Carly and she arches her back. Both of them letting out loud moans. She takes his face in her hands and pulls him down, kissing him messily. Without warnings Bo starts to grind into Carly.

The dirty blonde doesn’t care, she rolls her hips into him and lets out soft pants. Bo’s cock stretches her out with every thrust. Bo kisses and licks her neck gripping onto her hips trying to get more leverage. The truck creaks and groans underneath them.

“You feel so good around me. Squeezin’ me just right city girl.”

The nickname causes Carly’s pussy to pulsate around Bo making him groan more and almost fall on top of her. He keeps thrusting, his hand moves up and thumb caresses her nipple before he pinched it lightly. Carly yelps in surprise which signals Bo not to stop.

Carly’s legs start to shake as she feels her stomach tighten and she starts to sweat.

“I’m gonna cum. Please.” He pinches her nipple again.

“Fuck, yeah you are. You gonna cum around my cock? You gonna let me cum in you?”

Bo’s nose nuzzles against Carly’s cheek and he gives her a wet kiss. She nods and Bo smirks.

“Gotta hear you say it.”

Carly moans and Bo slows down slightly.

“Come on. Then you can cum.”

Carly wiggles trying to get more friction but Bo’s hands hold her in place. “Fuck.. fuck Bo just cum in me! Make me yours!” Carly screams, Bo starts up his pace again and it takes Carly right over the edge. Her back arches as her pussy spasms. She lets out high pitched squeals and cries into the night sky.

Bo falls over the edge rig after her. He bucks repeatedly into her pussy, filling her up just right. He grunts and falls onto her.

“Fuck you felt so good.” He sounds out of breath.

Bo looks at Carly and caresses her face, moving her sweaty hair out of it. He slides out of her causing her to whine. “Sorry, I gotta get you cleaned up.” He says, getting up, he grabs his flannel and wipes her pussy clean. He then pulls Carly back on top of him and the two lay there like that. The night air feeling warm against their skin.

“Do you wanna come to New York with me?”

Carly lets out a small gasp, no, she didn’t mean to ask Bo that. Not at all. No, that’s embarrassing, she tries to get up, but neither Bo or her own body let her.

Instead she hears Bo laughing, she can tell his nose is scrunched up.

“Ask me again in August. I think it’s too soon for you to think you’d wanna room with me.”

Carly opens her mouth to speak but shuts it again and nods. Bo plays with her hair and kisses her head a few times. The two lay there almost all night talking about everything and anything which each other. Catching up on all those years they despised each other.