#I’m making some REAL mistakes with my time today lol…..

[samkerrworshipper]

so win.

alexia putellas x reader

no fuel quite like my procrastination to not do other things i need to do. this is porn without plot, i’m not ashamed of it. it’s also unedited and has been worked on after a day of clinicals so if there are spelling mistakes and grammar mistakes i apologise. i wrote this in like 3 hours lol. i’m also a mess at the moment and actually avoiding my whole life so this is my outlet. anyways i wrote smut! for the first time in forever ;) also for the sake of this let’s ignore timezones bcus i couldn’t rewrite the start of this to make it work lol.

warnings: smut, 18+ viewer discretion advised

You’re not with Alexia when the campaign drops. You’re not even watching the game, you’ve never been quite able to wrap your head around the nfl thing or get into like your girlfriend, the rules of rugby have been so ingrained in your mind from childhood that seeing men run around in massive pads just gives you an ick.

You’re not even the person who sees it first, you’re sitting in a cafe trying to get some studying done because it’s impossible to do at home when your clingy girlfriend insists on sitting, holding, grabbing or clinging onto any part of your body when she’s bored. It’s like trying to keep a five year old entertained, and it always ends up with you sacrificing whatever coursework you have and being endlessly stressed when you fall behind. You simply leave studying for when Alexia is out of the house or when you have time to study elsewhere.

You’re heavily engrossed in rewatching a lecture you’d missed the previous week due to training when your phone lights up. It’s no exaggeration, your phone screen goes from being blank and dark to suddenly notification after notification pouring in. Different groupchats, instagram tags, text messages. There’s another ten minutes left on your study clock before you’re technically allowed to take a break but with every thing that pops up your only become more curious. Curious enough that you look down at your clock with complete disregard and reach for your phone. It’s sitting next to your laptop, it’s supposed to be upside down to minimise distraction but when you were watching the lecture it stopped you from being able to check the time and you liked to watch as the time ticked by.

You click onto you groupchat first, a mixture of Barca girls, mostly the older ones. Most importantly Mapi, who has bombarded the groupchat in a matter of seconds, with image after image of your girlfriend.

You click onto them harmlessly, Alexia has a series of campaigns that you’re aware of that are coming out in the next few months. As you’re waiting for the images to load you try and remember if she’d told you about any coming up, there was something for Cupra at the end of february and a big campaign for more than eleven in march, and a few smaller things amongst it but nothing you could think of that was due to release today, or in the next week.

When the first image loads, you’re eyes almost bug out. Your throat closes, the oxygen leaves your lungs and you feel almost dizzy. You have to blink multiple times to clarify that what you’re looking at is real, it’s not just a hallucination of some wet dream you’ve had, it’s a real photo that exists in front of you. As you flick through them, you only feel more unwell, and a little bit wet… or a lot.

The first one is just Alexia’s face, staring straight down the lense. The way she’s been captured is almost animalistic, pink sports bra, big earrings, her hair in the wet look. It’s her eyes though, pointed straight on, the eye fuck look, like she’s staring into your soul the same way she does before she’s about to rail you, except it’s all magically been captured in one photo. You want to look at it forever, you’re scared you’ve actually lost the ability to use your extremities and all the oxygen has stopped circulating inside your body from the mix of shock and awe.

With as much power you have you flick to the next photo, and if you were already feeling unwell this feeling is close to death.

Alexia, looking over her shoulder, flexing.

All of her tattoos are on show, every single muscle is accentuated and you almost drool on your phone as you study all of the different parts of the picture. Alexia’s skin is literally glowing, effervescently in a way you cannot even begin to describe. You know from thousands of hours of tracing the skin of your girlfriends back just how strong she is, yet with everything emphasised more in the photo you feel like no matter how many hours you’ve spent staring this is adding a whole new perspective. Her arms, her facial expressions, the illusion of her hair sticking to her skin, the pink contrast against her skin.

You have to scroll, because if you don’t you won’t be responsible for the actions you engage in whilst in a very public space.

The following few pictures are of other athletes, basketball players, gymnasts, runners, other football players. For the most part, americans, yet your girlfriend in all her glory is a part of it.

You get through quite a few photos before it comes to the video, you were already gobsmacked, but the video seals it for you.

Alexia looks flawless, absolutely ethereal in every way. It actually feels like you are living in one of your fantasies or dreams but no this is very much real life and you are actually dating the person on your screen.

There’s no chance you’re going to get any work done, you can’t even get a coherent thought that doesn’t involve Alexia. Alexia’s abs, Alexia’s back, Alexia’s eyes, Alexia’s face, Alexia. You pack up your books and laptop with one thought on your mind, seeing your girlfriend.

Mapi’s private messages to you are filthy, message after message of her reminding your of what is now out in the world and about how now even more people are going to be even more obsessed with her.

You drive home over the speed limit and slightly recklessly, it’s not a long drive from your favourite study spot to you and Alexia’s shared house, but it feels like it drags on for forever. Your knuckles are white from your tight grip on the steering wheel and your unoccupied foot is bounding furiously against your floormat. You run a couple of close yellows, which are mostly red and have a complete disregard for giving way to anybody. You have an end goal, and that goal is to get home before you combust from all of the built up energy and tension in your body from the reruns of the pictures you’d seen.

You’re not even sure if you put the car in park when you swing into the driveway, you practically sprint towards the door, leaving Alexia’s prized cupra to fend for itself. Your hand is so sweaty you struggle with the door knob for a few seconds, your brain is frantic and you struggle and jiggle with it until it finally turns and there is nothing between you and finding exactly what you’re looking for.

Alexia isn’t in the front room, not that she normally would be. You pace your way through the hallway, past your bedroom which seems unoccupied and into the living room.

Alexia.

Alexia is sitting, on your couch, trying to look as nonchalant as possible, though it’s hard to appreciate it with the shit eating grin on her face as she tries to make herself look comfortable and like she’s actually lounging on your couch. Her body is tense, it gives away her whole bravado, you don’t really care though.

“You’re home early? You said you wouldn’t be back till lunch time, no?”

There is no acknowledging of her comment, you take your jacket off and lay it on the edge of the couch before unceremoniously pouncing on your girlfriend.

“I cannot believe you.”

Alexia makes it easy enough for you to straddle her lap, opening up her legs and making plenty of room for you.

You stare into her eyes and all you can picture is the photo of her, the look on her face isn’t dissimilar to the one captured, but it’s not quite the same.

“The campaign? Did I not mention it?”

You roll your eyes before leaning down, alexia goes with ease, her mouth opening up for you as soon as your lips meet hers. It’s all teeth and tongue, not quite a fight for dominance, just pure arousal.

“You’re a brat, and really fucking sexy.”

Alexia smirks against your lips, and then she bites back, her tongue fighting against yours.

“So you like it?”

You move your lips to Alexia’s neck, licking a line down her neck and kissing up it before biting down, foregoing any kind of gentle.

“Do I like my girlfriend looking extremely fuckable on the internet? Jury’s still out on that one.”

Alexia chuckles, leaning her head back to give you full access to her neck.

“Mm, muy fuckable.”

The laugh that leaves her mouth is enough fuel for you to nip her again, sucking a mark right above her collar bone, not directly visible but enough to make her sweat about keeping it hidden at training tomorrow.

“I’m going to need a private show in that outfit at some stage.”

You move back up to Alexia’s mouth, this time the make out is less frantic, you’ve gotten out some of your residual jitters.

“That can always be arranged.”

You tug at the hem of Alexia’s sleep shirt that she still hasn’t gotten out of yet.

“Bed first, fashion show after.”

In the swiftest motion possible Alexia is bringing herself up onto her feet, and lifting you with her. You wrap your legs around her torso, never breaking the makeout.

She makes it to your bedroom at a record speed, dumping you onto the mattress before climbing back on top of you, her shirt being thrown haphazardly into the air somewhere as she lowers herself down. There’s no bra to fight with and you reach for her breasts before her lips are back on you, grabbing and rolling at her nipples until she gets the message and has climbed fully onto the mattress on top of you.

Alexia stays on top of you, making out for a while, until she get’s bored with her hands and decides that you need to mirror her level of undressed. She flips you on top with so much ease that it doesn’t even surprise you, the photos on the internet showed Alexia’s muscles, but they didn’t show just how strong your girlfriend truly was.

Alexia didn’t mess around with your tank top and bra, tugging them off with the same kind of urgency that you’d been in to get back to the house earlier. As soon as the clothes are gone you’re flipped back onto the mattress, Alexia retaking her position. Her hands go straight to your tits, pinching and pulling in a way that makes your back nearly arch off the bed. You’re already aroused from your session in the coffee shop, but this is only adding fuel to the fire.

It takes everything in you not to moan immediately, you clench your jaw and bite your lip as Alexia elicits all different kinds of sensations.

‘Sé ruidoso bebita.”

As per usual, not much gets past Alexia, you try to relax just slightly, let yourself feel it all completely.

“How wet are you going to be when I finally touch your pussy, hm? How wet did my photos get you? All hot and bothered in the coffee shop like a little slut.”

There is no point in shaking your head, you just smirk, you’re proud of it, you’re proud that you get to come home to this and everyone else just has to enjoy Alexia from a far.

“Show me, reach into your panties and show me how wet you are and maybe I’ll think about touching you.”

You hesitate for a second, but then Alexia pinches on of your nipples and rolls your other breast in her hand and your hand naturally moves downwards, your hips canting up as you do so.

Your fingertips are glistening and dripping as you bring them out of your shorts, Alexia doesn’t hesitate to pull them straight into her mouth, sucking all of your arousal straight off.

“Alexia, please.”

Alexia licks her lips in a way that makes you so certain that she’s desperate for more, she’s just as turned on about this as you are.

“Pants off.”

As soon as the words leave her mouth your reaching for them hem of your pants and kicking them off, your panties go with them.

Alexia doesn’t wait, she moves her body downwards until her mouth is hovering right above you.

She looks up at you, hesitates for a second, it’s the exact same face as the photo, beautifully feral.

She doesn’t hold back whatsoever, her mouth goes straight to your clit and you’re already aroused, already dripping everywhere but you reach another level. Your moans are breathy and free falling.

“Fuck baby, feels so good.”

You’re a stuttering mess and far too aroused to try and pretend like you aren’t already close.

Alexia keeps a steady pace, licking and sucking at your clit and occasionally living long strips up from your pussy. It feels so good, earth shattering good.

“Ale, close.”

You expect her to pull back a little bit, normally she likes to prolong your pleasure just a little bit, the wait is worth the reward. But it seems like the both of you are too aroused to ignore the urgency of the situation. Alexia doubles down, her arms pushing your thighs further apart and reaching up behind you to grab at your ass whilst she enjoys having more access.

When you realise she isn’t going to let up you unclench your hands from the sheets and push them into Alexia’s hair, grabbing at the root and pushing her exactly where you want, grinding down against her chin.

It doesn’t take long at all, alread close as it was. Then Alexia grazes her teeth over your clit and doubles down and you see stars. Your body goes with you, shaking and tensing before relaxing as your enjoy the aftershocks. Alexia takes the opportunity, pushing two fingers into you and setting a brutal pace.

“Alexia, need a second.”

Alexia doesn’t stop, if anything she only goes harder, her fingers searching for your g-spot and finding it with ease. The overstimulation makes your stomach tight and yoru clit ache, in the best way.

“Una mas.”

You shake your head, even though it’s blatantly clear you’re going to give her another one, there isn’t really a world where you wouldn’t, not when Alexia makes it so easy to feel so good.

“You can give me one more bebita.”

Alexia’s palm grinds against your clit gloriously, it’s a bit too much for a few seconds but it fades as the pleasure overtakes.

Alexia’s favourite activity is amking you fall apart, watching you experience a kind of pleasure that is unmatchable, all at her own hands. Alexia adds a third finger, knowing that it’ll give you what you need.

It’s more than enough for what you need to reach a release. This time the initial orgasm lasts longer, you tense for a few seconds before you go boneless on the mattress. You melt into the sheets, your head lulling against the pillow as you breathe your way through.

Once you’ve stopped clenching against Alexia she pulls her fingers out, licking up every part of your orgasm, not leaving a single drop behind.

She crawls her way up to you, lying down on her side next to you, looking at the blissed out expression on your face.

Your eyes open lazily, a big smile on your face.

“You’re unreal, literally, how did I get this lucky?”

Alexia leans in, it would be rude to not kiss your lips at every possible chance, especially when your smiling at her like that.

“The real question is how I got this lucky.”

It the same kind of phrase that would elicit vomiting noises from your teammates in the locker room, and yet you love it all the same.

The kiss is soft, everything you need in the moment. It gives you enough confidence to reach your hands down inbetween the two of you, pressing down against Alexia’s front with one intention.

Alexia gasps into your mouth, and it’s enough guidance for you.

You walk your fingers up to the waistband of her pyjama shorts that she still hasn’t changed out of at nearly midday. You trail them down on the inside, unsurprised at her lack of underwear.

Alexia’s wet, the cotton of her shorts sticking to the insides of her thighs.

You part her folds, enjoying the way she moans and gasps into your mouth as you map your way through a different part of her body.

When your fingers find her clit, it’s easy to tell just how turned on she is.

You set a pace of fast tight circles, you’re well educated on Alexia’s body and when she’s this worked up this is the best way to get her to an orgasm.

You know she’s getting closer when her kisses get sloppier and desperate, her lips hang onto yours like they’re becoming an extension of her, like she’s scared that if you separate it’ll take part of her with her.

She shakes and grinds into you, searching for that last bit of stimulation she needs. When she infds it she groans into your mouth, her hips jerking one final time before they go weak, her body goes still for a few seconds. You slow down but don’t come to a full stop, pulling every last bit of her orgasm out for her until she’s tugging your hand out of her shorts.

Alexia presses some soft kisses to your lips before pulling you into her with one arm.

“If that’s what I get every time I take some nice pictures, maybe I should do it a bit more. See if I can get a job with Victoria’s secret or a swimsuit company.”

Alexia doesn’t need to see the look on your face to know exactly how all of your features would clenhc up and your eyes would roll.

“If you do that there will be a whole lot less sex for you and a whole lot more sessions with my vibrator for me. You’re cute, but I’d like to keep some of it for me.”

Alexia snorts, before tugging you in tighter.

“The fans would like it so much though, maybe I should just post some of the photos from the beach over the summer in Ibiza, the topless ones were cute.”

You elbow Alexia straight in the gut.

“How about you model the nike outfits for me first, and then we can decide how far you can take your new found modelling career.”

You’re still in slight disbelief that Alexia managed to keep something this big from you. She was obviously always having ongoing things going with nike, but something this big, and this special was hard to keep underwraps.

“I looked that good, huh?”

You roll even further into Alexia, pressing your whole body into hers.

“Muy bueno. New additions to the wank bank right there.”

You snort when you look over your shoulder and see the confusion on Alexia’s face, her english is good, but her english slang lacks in certain departments.

“Wank bank?”

You snort again, the innocence behind her voice makes it so much better.

“Just my folder for when I’m very alone on camp, and need some extra assistance.”

Alexia’s brain clicks, she laughs, and then the meaning must click in because she blushes beet red.

You stand up, already searching for your forgotten articles of clothing.

“Wait a minute, wank bank? What else is in this folder?”

You’re already tugging your pants on and trying to find your tank top which had apparently vanished into thin air.

“Hopefully whatever new photos I can find in the album of spares that was left over from this shoot.”

Before you can hear what else Alexia says you’re racing off in search of her laptop.

“Wait, I need to see this folder. Bebita, I need my own folder. WHAT IS IN THIS FOLDER.”

—————-

anyways have a wonderful day/night! i love you! somebody out there loves you! you are blessed to have this day and every other one to come <3

[heartsiebyul]

Can you do Malleus+Leona and whoever chooses *separately with a reader who usually shows no facial emotion, but due to a potion, they temporarily have a tail (sort of like Jack's) when they get kissed, even though their face doesn't react, their tail wags really fast? Lol

╰─▸ ❝ Twisted Wonderland x reader!

(not mine)

featuring — Leona Kingscholar : Malleus Draconia x reader.

˙˙ᵕ˙˙ᵕ˙˙ᵕ˙˙ᵕ˙˙ᵕ˙˙ᵕ˙˙ᵕ˙˙ᵕ˙˙ᵕ˙˙ᵕ˙˙ᵕ˙˙ᵕ˙˙ᵕ˙˙ᵕ˙˙ᵕ˙˙ᵕ˙˙ᵕ˙˙ᵕ˙˙ᵕ˙˙ᵕ˙˙ᵕ˙˙ᵕ˙˙ᵕ˙˙ᵕ˙˙

Leona Kingscholar

Leona was used to people being loud, emotional, and exhausting. That’s what made you different. You didn’t react to everything. You didn’t squeal or panic or demand things from him. Your face was like stone most of the time, and Leona liked that. It made you easy to read, ironically.

But not today.

Thanks to a class mishap, you were now sporting a tail. You didn’t want to talk about it. Leona noticed immediately, of course.

“Tch. You grow a tail and act like that’s normal?” he said with a raised brow as he lay in the dorm lounge, eyes lazily roaming over you. “You’re even twitching it like some Savanaclaw mutt.”

“It was a potion mishap. Temporary,” you replied flatly.

He grunted and pulled you down beside him by the wrist. “Fine. Doesn’t change anything.”

What did change everything was when he suddenly leaned in and planted a kiss on your cheek. A casual act, until your new tail went stiff for a split second, then burst into rapid, wagging movements like a fan on high speed.

You froze. Your face didn’t flinch, but your tail... traitor.

Leona slowly pulled back, ears flicking as he smirked. “...Huh. What’s this? Your tail’s makin’ a fool of you.”

You turned to him deadpan. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you don’t,” he drawled, already leaning in again. This time, he kissed the corner of your lips. Your tail wagged even harder, thumping against the bench like an excited puppy.

Leona barked out a laugh, real and loud. “Oh, I like this potion. Gonna miss that tail when it’s gone.”

You sighed. “Can you pretend you didn’t see that?”

“Nope,” he grinned. “In fact, I’m gonna make it wag every damn chance I get.”

You didn’t answer.

But the tail twitched again.

Malleus Draconia

You rarely react to things, at least, not on the surface. Your face stays blank in most situations, a trait many mistake for aloofness. But Malleus never judged that part of you. In fact, he found your stillness quite calming. Today, however, that calm exterior had a new weakness, one with a tail.

A potion from Master Crewel’s class had accidentally spilled on you, and the effects were strange, you now had a long fuzzy tail. According to Master Crewel, the potion was temporary, but it would “reflect your true emotional state via nonverbal expression.”

Which wouldn’t have been a problem, until Malleus gently pressed a kiss to your forehead while walking with you in the garden of Diasomnia.

“Dearest, you are quite radiant tonight,” Malleus whispered, brushing back a strand of your hair. “May I...?”

You gave a single nod.

He leaned forward and pressed his lips against yours. It was soft, slow and sweet, barely more than a brush of warmth.

Your face remained as neutral as ever.

But your tail, instantly began wagging so rapidly it looked like it might fly off your back.

Malleus blinked. Then again. “...What curious behavior,” he murmured with a tilt of his head, eyes glowing in quiet amusement.

“I don’t know what you mean,” you replied calmly, expression blank.

He leaned in again. Another kiss. Your tail wagged in bursts, like it had just been hit with a sugar rush.

His lips quirked into the most pleased, smug little smile you had ever seen on him. “You say nothing,” he mused, voice low, “but your tail sings your truth, my dear.”

You cursed Crewel in your mind.

˙˙ᵕ˙˙ᵕ˙˙ᵕ˙˙ᵕ˙˙ᵕ˙˙ᵕ˙˙ᵕ˙˙ᵕ˙˙ᵕ˙˙ᵕ˙˙ᵕ˙˙ᵕ˙˙ᵕ˙˙ᵕ˙˙ᵕ˙˙ᵕ˙˙ᵕ˙˙ᵕ˙˙ᵕ˙˙ᵕ˙˙ᵕ˙˙ᵕ˙˙ᵕ˙˙ᵕ˙˙

[galaxywannabe]

The Miscommunication Trope™

Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: After getting into the first real argument of your relationship, some misspoken words from Bucky leave you thinking that he's done. By the time he realizes just how badly he screwed up, will it be too late to correct his mistake?

Warnings: Angst; Hurt/Comfort; Miscommunication; Crying; Arguing between romantic partners; Bucky is mean but he makes up for it; Happy ending; Reader identifies as a woman and uses she/her pronouns, but other than having hair that can be swept behind an ear I don't think there are any other physical descriptors; Please let me know if I missed anything!

Word Count: Almost 9.3k.....I'm sorry lol

A/N: Ummm....so. I'm fairly certain I promised this fic, like...3 months ago? In fact, I actually just went back to look and I first teased this fic on Febuary 19th, so um...lol? I made it! Listen, idk if it's even any good anymore but if I look at it for another second I'll scream, so please take it off my hands. Any and all comments or reblogs would be SO appreciated because this has truly been a labor of love, I didn't know if I had it in me. Also!! I have not forgotten @buckyinmyuniverse - you asked to be tagged in this wayyyy back when I first posted about it and I have FANTASTIC news for you babe: The wait is finally over!! I know you've no doubt been refreshing your feed for months looking for it (/j) but this whole time I was cooking this thing I remembered you asking for a tag. So, this one goes out to you. Hope you all enjoy! <3

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You and Bucky hadn’t ever been in a fight before, not really. You bicker, sure, usually over something lighthearted, usually resulting in an eyeroll and a “whatever you say, honey,” from Buck, but nothing serious, nothing that can’t be worked out through a civilized conversation. That was, until today.

You weren’t even trying to start an argument, you were just expressing your concern. He works too much, he takes more missions than anyone else, and it’s running him ragged, anybody can see that.

Obviously, you miss him when he’s away, but that’s not even the point - the point is that he’s taking on too much because he thinks he owes the world something, and that’s not sustainable, it’s not good for him. All you said was that maybe he’d ought to ask Fury to take him off the rotation for a while, or even just cut down on his assignment load, to give him some room to breathe. And Bucky got…defensive.

Obviously, you knew that was a possibility. Typical male pride of course prohibits silly ideas like “self care” and “burnout,” but on top of that is Bucky’s specific brand of guilt, the kind that makes him work himself into the ground no matter how badly his brain and body beg him to stop.

The defensiveness you were prepared for, but you were only coming from a place of love, your concern that of a devoted girlfriend, and surely he’d understand that, wouldn’t he? Except he hadn’t. He’d immediately dismissed your suggestion, waving a hand and continuing to type up his latest mission report with a laser-like focus. 

“I don’t need a break, I’m fine,” he’d muttered, eyes trained on the bluish light of his laptop screen.

Again, you weren’t trying to argue. You certainly weren’t going to  force him to take a break, you just wanted him to at least consider it, to remind him that it would be okay for him to rest a little, if he wanted to. The world would go on without his help for a few weeks, and there were other heroes available besides him. 

“Honey, I know you might not need one, but it’s okay if you just want one. No one would judge you if-”

And then he did something he’d never done before: he snapped at you. He didn’t even look up from his screen, his fingers still a steady staccato on the keyboard as he barked out harshly.

“I said I don’t need a fucking break. I’m just doing my goddamn job, and I don’t need you breathing down my neck watching my every move the whole time I do it. I can take care of myself.”

You winced. Obviously, that stung, and if he’d bothered to look up from his computer screen, he might have seen that on your face. But you could tell he wasn’t as unbothered by this conversation as he was acting.

Despite his brusque attitude, your words were striking a chord with him, hitting a little too close to home. His shoulders were stiff as a board, bunched up around his ears in a telltale sign of defensiveness, and you understood, really you did.

For Bucky, doing this job is the one way he can even attempt to atone for all the bad shit he’s done. Of course he felt uncomfortable with the idea of a break, he thinks he has to do these missions as some sort of self-imposed penance for the things he’d been made to do as the Winter Soldier. 

So you didn’t judge him too harshly for lashing out. You understood the reason he worked so hard, and you knew what motivated him to continue going out there even when he was exhausted. You just wanted him to see that taking a break for his own mental health wasn’t a bad thing, that even if he was making amends he still needed to find time to take care of himself, too.

You took a deep breath and spoke in a calm voice, hoping to express your concern in a nonthreatening manner even as he still refused to look at you. 

“Angel. I’m not trying to breathe down your neck or tell you how to do your job. I know it’s important to you, and I love how hard you work! It’s just that, super-soldier or not, if you want to continue to do this job, you’re gonna need to stop and rest at some point, honey. That’s all I’m trying to say. I’m worried about you, love.”

Finally, he looked up at you, and your heart fluttered just seeing those baby blues you love so much. Until you clocked the scowl on his pretty face, and the hope in your gut curdled to dread. He was angry, you knew what that looked like, but in the six months of your relationship so far you’d never once seen that anger directed at you before.

It wasn’t frightening in a physical sense, not like you were scared for your well-being, of course not. But it deeply unsettled you, seeing the man you love looking at you like that. It made you want to apologize, though you weren’t quite sure what for. Before you could do anything at all, he spoke, his voice a cold, steel edge.

“You don’t know anything about what I can handle. I was doing just fine before you came around, and I don’t need you fussing over me at every turn just because I don’t sit around here all day scrolling on my phone or whatever it is you think I should be doing. I don’t need or want your hovering, so just stop, okay?”

There was silence. His shoulders heaved in the wake of his outburst, and you felt almost dazed, like this was some kind of mirage you could will away if you blinked hard enough. He’d never spoken to you like that.

Obviously, you’d hit a nerve, and while logically you understood that, it didn’t lessen the pain in your chest. You were just worried about him, why was he fighting like you were trying to strap him down and force him to quit?

While you tried to regain your bearings, breathing deeply and forcing back the stinging you felt building in your eyes, he slammed his laptop shut, standing and stalking towards your bedroom door. He’d come over to your place to work on his mission reports at your insistence because you’d wanted to keep him company, and now it appeared he was leaving.

“W-where are you going, what are you doing?” you’d squeaked, alarmed, following after him as he made his way to the foyer of your apartment and shoved his feet into his boots.

“I can’t fucking do this, I'm done,” he’d muttered in a gruff, hard voice, lacing his boots efficiently and standing back to his full height as he reached for the doorknob.

You shook your head, panicked, reaching for his arm and trying futilely to drag him back into your apartment. “Baby, please. I’m sorry, don’t go.”

But he just shook off your hold and stalked out the door, leaving you there as your eyes blurred with tears. After standing there in your foyer for several minutes, waiting for him to turn around and come back, you’d simply fallen to your knees and curled up right there on the polished wooden floor, bawling your eyes out.

That’s where you still are a couple hours later when your phone starts to vibrate incessantly in your pocket. You pull it out with trembling fingers and swipe to answer a call from Natasha.

----------------------------------------------------------

“H-hello?” you croak into the receiver.

The second Nat hears you pick up the call she’s talking, looking distractedly through her closet as she holds the phone to her ear with her shoulder.

“Hey honey, listen, me and the girls were thinking about running to Target, and we wanted to- wait, what’s wrong?” Natasha’s cheerful voice quickly drops into something soft and concerned as she picks up on the sniffles coming through her tinny cell phone speakers.

For a few seconds all she can hear is you sobbing quietly, the way you struggle to slow your hysterical breathing so you can put together a sentence. “H-he left, Nat. He broke up with me,” you whimper, voice barely audible. 

This stops Natasha in her tracks, her brow furrowed in deep confusion as she freezes with one hand reaching for her favorite sweater. What the fuck? Why in the hell would Barnes break up with you? Especially when she knows for a fact that on the last mission she had with him, he stopped into a jewelry shop in Germany ‘just to look’ at engagement rings? This doesn’t make any goddamn sense.

“Honey,” Nat speaks into the phone again, her voice soft and soothing even through the crackly audio coming from your cell phone. “What happened, what did he say?”

You sniffle again, and clear your throat so she can hear your scratchy voice a bit better. “We…there was a fight, a-and I didn’t mean to, Nat, I swear, I was just worried, but…he said he can’t do this anymore, that h-he's done, and then he left. He didn’t take any of his things with him, but maybe he’s gonna come back for them, I don’t know…I don’t know what I’m gonna do, Nat…” As your sentence tapers off, your voice fades out, and a few renewed sobs float over the phone call into Nat’s ear, the sounds soaked in agony.

Oh, okay. Nat thinks she can see what really happened here just from your description, but that doesn’t make the sounds of your misery in her ear any less painful to hear. Likely, when Bucky had said he couldn’t do “this” anymore, that he was done, he’d meant the argument, the conversation, not your relationship.

But Barnes is your first real boyfriend, and you’ve never had a fight with him before. You were probably so confused and upset in the moment that you weren’t thinking about the context of his statement.

All you knew was that Bucky got upset with you for the very first time, and then he left. To you, that must certainly look like a breakup, and when Nat thinks about it from your perspective, she understands how you’d come to that conclusion.

She’d love to explain to you how you may have misunderstood, but as she listens to your hoarse crying over speakerphone, she knows you’re not in the frame of mind to process rational thought right now. Instead, she decides to focus on soothing you for the moment.

“I’m sorry, honey, I don’t know why he’d ever do anything like that to you. I’m gonna get to the bottom of it, alright? In the meantime, I just need you to do something for me,” she coos, her voice comforting and warm.

You don’t answer, just sniffling occasionally as you sit there in silence. Natasha, interpreting your lack of response as an affirmation, continues on.

“Where are you right now?”

There’s more silence for a few seconds, the sound of you pulling deep breaths into your lungs as you regain awareness of your surroundings. Then:

“Uh. The floor. In my apartment,” you mumble, confused, like you’ve just now realized that fact.

Natasha feels an additional lash of anger at Barnes flood her system when you tell her that, but she works to keep her voice calm even has her knuckles go white around her device.

“Okay, well, I need you to get up off the floor and go to your bedroom, okay? I want you to get dressed in your comfiest pajamas and crawl into bed for me, and wait there while I handle this. Can you do that? Just close your eyes and try to rest while I figure everything out?”

More sniffles, a hoarse cough, and then, after a beat of silence, your voice crackles over the line.

“Yeah….okay. I can do that, Nat,” you croak, the sound of shuffling floating over the line as you stagger to your feet after who knows how long on the floor.

She smiles, relieved to hear your voice coming through a bit more calmly, even as her mind races with the next items on her to-do list. “Okay sweetheart, you do that, then. I love you, I’ll call back soon, okay? Go get some rest.”

After hanging up with you, confident that at least you’re not curled up on your apartment floor anymore, she pockets her cell and immediately stalks down the hall towards the elevator, Target trip long forgotten.

----------------------------------------------------------

Bucky knows he fucked up. As someone who fucks up just about everything, he’s intimately familiar with the process, and he can say, with 100% certainty, that in this instance he absolutely fucked up. He never should have snapped at you - his sweetheart, his girl. You were just worried about him, and of course you were.

Bucky knows damn well he works too hard, especially lately, and he’s been on the verge of physical and mental collapse pretty much every damn day for the past month, running himself into the ground. He’d even been thinking to himself before your argument that he should slow down, take a break before he gets himself killed. So why did he get so defensive when you’d suggested it?

He doesn’t goddamn know. Because he’s messed up. Because it’s one thing when he decides to take some time off, but another when someone else has the idea, like they think he needs it.

He can’t help it; for decades of his life, the slightest sign of weakness meant pain, meant the frigid blast of a firehouse to wake him up or the wandering scalpel of a Hydra doctor looking to find a defect. Not that that makes his outburst okay, by any means, but it’s an explanation, and hey, he’s working on it, really he is. 

Still, he knew the second he walked out of your apartment that he’d fucked up, and so he’s spent the past two hours at his own place a few floors up, licking his wounds and gathering the courage to go apologize.

Because…yes, okay, he’s embarrassed by the way he acted. He’s ashamed of his own behavior, and he’d needed a minute to feel sorry for himself before he inevitably goes back down to your apartment and grovels for your forgiveness. 

He figures you’re pissed beyond belief, and if giving you some time to cool off also gives him a little while to stall the complete destruction of his ego, well, then, he’ll take it.

He finished up his mission report, he took a shower, and now he’s preparing his apology speech, debating the merit of walking down the street to a bodega for some flowers, when his doorbell rings. Shit, maybe he’s already out of time and you decided to come to him. 

When he opens his door, looking thoroughly contrite, it’s not your expected figure that stands in his entryway, but Natasha’s. And even given all his super-soldier reflexes and military training, he still staggers back a step in shock when she slaps him right across the face. 

“Whoa, what the fuck, Nat?” he barks, rubbing at the heat blooming under the skin of this cheek.

Standing there in front of him with her arms crossed, she looks anything but remorseful, her fists clenched as if she has to deny herself the urge to do it again.

“Why the fuck did you break up with her, Barnes? Are you insane?! The one good thing in your life, and you threw it all away, why, because you got a little pissed off? Out of all the stupid, careless decisions you’ve made in your fucked-up life, I really didn’t think you had it in you to top all that, but Jesus…”

As she continues to rant at him, her face pinched with rage, Bucky struggles to make sense of the words she’s already spoken. Broken up with you? Why in God’s name would he ever do that?

What an absolutely absurd thing to accuse him of, given that everybody in this building knows how insanely in love with you he is, especially your own best friend. Why is she here playing some kind of prank on him when he’s supposed to be rehearsing his apology?

“I did no such thing,” he answers bluntly, interrupting her impassioned speech, his expression confused and a little irritated at the accusation.

Nat barely even blinks at this denial. “Oh really? Then why did I just talk to her on the phone, bawling her eyes out on the floor of her apartment, telling me that you did?”

Of course, Nat’s pretty sure that Barnes hadn’t really meant to break up with you by leaving during your argument, but she’s pissed at him either way for not being cognizant enough of your feelings to foresee your interpretation of his behavior.

To Bucky, Natasha’s words might as well have been a bucket of ice water poured over his head, the way they immediately freeze his joints with dread. He feels his stomach churn as if he might be sick, the horrifying mental image of you curled up on your wooden floors driving a stake between his ribs. When he’d left, you’d been standing. Sure, you’d looked upset, but surely not that upset…right? 

He tries to think back to your emotional state when he’d stormed out a couple of hours ago, but truthfully he hadn’t turned back to see your face as he’d walked out your door. Had you been crying? He didn’t think so, but now he isn’t so sure, especially given the look of anger on Nat’s face. Why would you tell her that he’d broken up with you? As a joke, some kind of payback for his outburst?

“I….” he pauses, tongue darting out to wet his suddenly dry lips. “You talked to her? What did she say?”

Natasha almost feels sympathy for Bucky in this moment, standing before her looking so confused and slightly horrified. But then she thinks about her best friend sobbing on the floor because he’s an idiot, and that emotion vanishes, replaced with her plentiful anger.

“Well, it was kind of hard to hear her, what with all the sobbing and such. But when I finally was able to get her to speak, she said that there was a fight, and that you broke up with her and then left her there. She said you hadn’t taken any of your stuff with you when you left, and she wasn’t sure when you’d be back for it, but that she didn’t know what she was going to do,” Nat recalls in a hard voice, her gaze sharp and accusatory. “After that she started crying again, so I didn’t ask her any more questions.”

Another bruising blow to the tatters of Bucky Barnes’s heart. What did you mean, he hadn’t taken his stuff? Why would he take his things when he’d left them there on purpose so he had them to use when he was at your place?

Why would he take his belongings out of your apartment just because you got into an argument? This doesn’t make any sense, and the longer Natasha talks, the worse his growing sense of unease becomes. 

Why were you crying? Sure, he expected anger, he’d been a huge swinging dick and he deserves some harsh words. But why is Nat saying that you were curled up on your floor sobbing? Why wouldn’t you be on the couch, or in your bed, or even down in the gym punching out your frustrations? 

And why were you on the phone with your best friend moments ago talking like you didn’t expect him to come back? Surely you know he’ll be back, he practically lives in your apartment - his wallet and keys are still sitting in the dish by your front door, his favorite jacket hung on the coat rack. He looks at your closest friend desperately, his face drawn in stark lines of horror and regret.

“Natasha, please, I don’t know why she said all that stuff to you, I didn’t break up with her, I would never break up with her. We had an argument. She was only worried about me, but I got defensive like an asshole and said some shit I didn’t mean, so…I just wanted to get out of there, get some space before I lashed out some more, that’s all. I just needed a minute to cool off, I was always fully planning to go back, to explain myself and apologize. I don’t know why she…” he trails off, looking lost.

Nat sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. Her best friend is in hysterics, and it’s all because men are the dumbest creatures on this planet.

“What do you think that looked like to her, Barnes? You guys get in your very first fight, and after saying some mean shit to her you stomp out of there and go ‘I can’t do this, I'm done’. What do you think those words might have sounded like to her ears? You’re her first serious boyfriend, jackass! She’s never been in this situation before! She doesn’t know that it’s relatively normal for couples to argue, even if you definitely shouldn’t have snapped at her. She just knows you’ve never fought before, and the first time you do, you walk out the door. She thinks you’re gone for good, James.”

You could hear a pin drop in Bucky’s apartment right now, the sounds of bustling Manhattan outside his windows muffled by the blood roaring in his ears. He wants to be upset with you, to question how you could ever doubt his love enough to think he’d really just walk out after one disagreement. But in truth, given his actions and your lack of relationship experience, he doesn’t see how you could’ve come to any other conclusion. 

Bucky thought he’d been regretful before Nat got here, but after hearing his behavior described in this new light, he’s got a whole list of emotions to add to the pile. Self-loathing, remorse, fear. You’re in your apartment right now, believing yourself to be single. All that time you two spent together, every memory and intimate moment, you think it’s over, just like that, in the blink of an eye. 

Obviously, he needs to explain himself immediately, to tell you that he hadn’t meant to end your relationship in the slightest and that this is all just a giant misunderstanding.

But what if you don’t care? What if, after the way he acted towards you today, you’d rather accept his words as you’d thought he meant them and stay broken up, even knowing that wasn’t his intent? He’s shaking, he realizes distantly, noticing the way Natasha looks at him with concern in her eyes now.

He hadn’t ever really let himself consider that you’d turn him down before, when he was rehearsing his apology speech. You’re in a committed relationship of six months, you’re in love. Surely, even if he was a bit of an asshole, one transgression can be forgiven as long as he apologizes sincerely.

But that was back when he thought his only sin was his harsh words, back when he thought you were angry with him for his outburst.

Now that he knows what you’ve really been feeling, that you’ve apparently spent the past two hours sobbing on your wooden apartment floors waiting for him to come back and take his belongings, he’s not so confident that he can grovel hard enough to make up for this.

He hadn’t meant to hurt you, god damn it, that’s the whole reason he left in the first place, to spare you from his undeserved anger. Now he might be about to lose you because of his own childish temper tantrum, and the terror of that thought feels icy in his veins as it travels straight to his heart, freezing it in place. 

His body is moving towards his apartment door before he even commands his muscles to do so, single-minded on the only thing that matters anymore: fixing what he’s done. His hand is already turning the doorknob by the time a slightly startled Nat is able to catch up with him, her hand on his shoulder stalling him for only the tiniest moment before he’s barrelling ahead again.

“Don’t fuck this up. You love her, now go make it right,” she commands sternly, and Bucky just grunts his acknowledgment before bursting through his door out into the empty hallway, towards the elevator.

He doesn’t stop to voice his fears to Natasha, that it might be too late to make anything right, that he may have fucked it up beyond repair already. He just keeps moving, hoping beyond hope that he still has a chance.

----------------------------------------------------------

When he makes it to your apartment a few floors down from his own, it’s eerily silent as he pushes the door open. He’s never needed a key, FRIDAY has explicit orders to grant him entry, but for the first time ever it feels wrong entering your space unannounced, like maybe he should knock and wait for permission in light of what’s happened. He ignores the impulse. 

You’re not crouched on the floor of your entryway like Nat said you’d been, so he supposes that’s a good sign, but it occurs to him then that he’s not even entirely sure you’re home. Bucky pauses to ask FRIDAY where you are, and is relieved to hear that you’re only in your bedroom.

He almost thinks he picks up a hint of annoyance in the AI’s voice when she responds to his inquiry, though, as if even the damn computer program is pissed at him for the way he treated you. It must be his imagination.

“Angel?” he calls out softly, making his way slowly through the apartment to your bedroom, noting the oppressive stillness of the place as he goes deeper. “Honeybun? Sweet pea?” he uses his softest, most gentle voice, disturbed to find your usually lively dwelling so silent. 

The TV in the living room - usually playing some youtube video or episode of your favorite show - is powered off, and the lights are all off too, as if the sun had set and you simply hadn’t bothered to flick any of them on to combat the encroaching darkness. The place he’s wandering now is like a ghost of your apartment, no scented candles lit, no steaming mug of tea waiting for you at your usual spot at the coffee table. 

It’s unnerving, to have a place usually so full of life be so startlingly empty all of a sudden. His slow steps and his soft voice calling out for you are the only sounds in the entire space, until he finally reaches your bedroom door and pauses to listen. For a moment there’s nothing, and he worries that perhaps you aren’t home after all, until he hears a soft sound coming muffled through the thick wood of your door. 

He presses his ear against it to listen closer, brow scrunched as he waits to hear the sound again, and a moment later his heart shatters as it becomes clear that what he’s hearing is your soft sobbing, interspersed with the occasional sniffle.

Bucky pushes your door open ever-so-carefully, cursing under his breath at the slight squeak of the wood on its hinges. It’s hard to see anything in your room, even with his perfect super-soldier eyesight, as the lights are off in here, too, the curtains closed to limit even the soft moonlight coming through the windows. 

His instinct is to flick on the light so he can see you better, but he doesn’t want to startle you, and besides, you obviously prefer the lights off or you would’ve turned them on yourself when it got dark. Instead he just steps further into the room, squinting his eyes as he can just barely make out the lump under the covers where you lay, curled in a ball in the center of your mattress, crying quietly.

He knows you must have heard his entrance, must realize he’s standing at the side of your bed right now, but you make no move to acknowledge him, continuing to sob softly as he watches on, heartbroken.

“Oh, darlin’...” he sighs, pulling the covers back a bit to expose your head, kneeling with one knee on the mattress so he can get a closer look at you.

You sniffle pitifully as you feel the cool air of the room on your face, extra cold against your cheeks where they’re wet with tears. Your vision is too blurry for you to actually see him, but you know who it is, know the scent of his cologne and the familiar touch of his fingers on your face as he brushes your hair back to see you better. 

Your stupid, traitorous nervous system reacts immediately to his presence, your panicked breaths slowing and your tears subsiding, a warm wash of comfort moving through your chest along with an instinctive sense of safety.

Your body knows nothing of the events of the past few hours, that he isn’t yours anymore, that he isn’t here to comfort you. It just instinctively calms under his attention, unaware that it is fleeting now, sure to be gone in only moments.

As the man you love wipes the tears gently from your face, his touch so sweet and soft it inadvertently causes more of them to fall, you force your hoarse voice to speak, the sound a barely audible croak even in the silence of your room. “Are you here to get your things?”

Bucky’s own eyes sting at your words, at the miserable tone to your voice as you say them, and he shakes his head vehemently, though he’s not sure you’re even really seeing him right now.

“No, baby, of course not. Why would I take my stuff, huh? I left those things here so I could use them when I’m visiting my girl, you know that,” he counters in a painfully soft voice, like he thinks speaking above a murmur will shatter you. Maybe he’s right about that, you do feel awfully close to shattering.

You feel the beginnings of a headache throbbing behind your eyes, and you close them for a moment, struggling to craft a coherent thought through all the heartbreak clouding your brain. Why is he here speaking nonsense when you’re in the middle of trying to mourn him? Does he not see that it’s cruel for him to be here with his comforting touch and his sweet voice, knowing that those things are lost to you forever now? 

“I’m not your girl anymore…” you mumble brokenly, the very act of having to speak the words into existence pulling another sob from your chest. 

Despite yourself you nuzzle your cheek into his palm as he cradles your face, desperate for his affection. If you’re never going to feel his touch again, you’ll bask in every opportunity while you have it, savoring the familiar warmth even as you question why he’s offering it to you in the first place.

Your face is pinched in concentration, like you’re trying to commit the sensation to memory, and Bucky’s heart might as well be in shards by his feet at this point, the way you seek out his touch like you’re starved for it. Like it hasn’t only been hours since he last gave it to you, like you’ll never have the chance to feel it again.

“Yes you are, baby, you’re always gonna be my girl. You’re mine, honey, just like I’m yours. Forever, haven’t I told you that?” he speaks desperately, like he’s pleading with you to agree with him, and although you’d love to, you have very recent evidence to the contrary.

“B-but, you said…” you trail off in a whisper, unable to repeat the words. You don’t need to anyways, you both know what he’d said. That he can’t do this. Can’t be with you anymore.

Bucky’s quick to interrupt you, needing you to understand that that’s not what he’d said, or, at least, not what he’d meant. “Baby, I didn’t- I’m sorry I said it like that, and I understand why you took those words the way you did. But that’s not what I meant to say, sweetheart, I swear.”

He huffs and slides a frustrated hand through his hair, suddenly unable to bear having this conversation with you while you lie curled up alone in your bed, looking up at him blankly with your shining eyes.

Before you can speak another word he peels back the covers some more, making room for himself as he slides into the bed beside you, pulling you up and onto his chest so he can hold you in his arms. The tears on your cheeks immediately soak through the soft cotton of his T-shirt, but he doesn’t care, cradling you tightly against his chest and rubbing slow, comforting circles onto your back.

You want to say something, to express your confusion at his incongruent behavior, but you can’t, not with his arms around you and his scent in your nose. You open your mouth to speak but all that comes out are more shuddering sobs, your body limp in his hold, completely helpless against the comfort he offers.

Even if he shouldn’t be, he’s here. He’s here, and he’s holding you like you’re something precious again, and even if you know that there must be some mistake you can’t stop yourself from completely melting into his embrace, any semblance of your remaining composure crumbling completely.

Bucky just coos softly, murmuring gentle assurances in your ear and holding you, solid and steady as you weather the storm of your heartbreak. Despite having spent the better part of the past two hours bawling your eyes out, the crying starts anew with him here, his comforting presence both a relief and a reminder of what you’ve lost, what you’ll be missing when he walks out that door again.

You two lie like that for a while, though whether it’s for a few minutes or several hours you can’t say, time stretching into infinity as you cry into his chest. As the tears finally subside once again, your body exhausted and your throat sore, your mind belatedly registers his words from before. He’d been saying something, hadn’t he? 

“What…” your voice comes out scratchy, so you clear your throat to be heard better - though Bucky couldn’t have missed a word out of your mouth if he tried, focused on you as he is. “What do you mean, that’s not what you meant? You broke up with me.”

Bucky shakes his head immediately, bringing his mismatched palms up to cradle your face, sweeping your hair back behind your ears so he can see his beautiful girl. God, it’s torture watching you cry, but he seems to have broken through to you somehow, and he’s not going to squander this opportunity to explain himself.

He can’t suppress the urge to lean down and drop a tender kiss to your forehead, though, your tear-stained face so pitiful he could cry right along with you if he didn’t have something more important to be doing at the moment.

“I mean, that’s not what I meant, sweetheart. I never intended to break up with you. How could I? Leave my girl, my princess? Don’t you know you mean more to me than every other person on this planet put together?” He speaks calmly but firmly, his gaze steady on yours as he practically begs you to believe him. You have to believe him.

You frown, confusion pulling your brows together as you take in his desperate expression. His words make your heart flutter with hope, but you don’t understand, can’t make sense of the reality he’s trying to assert when you know you heard otherwise only a couple of hours ago. It’s all a bit much for your heartbroken brain to handle, and you just blink at him blankly, completely lost.

“I don’t understand, Buck. Y-you were so upset, and then you left, and you said ‘I can’t do this, I'm done.’ I thought you meant we were done, that you can’t do us anymore.” you recall in a miserable voice, searching his eyes for answers as you desperately try to understand.

He nods empathetically, his thumbs brushing at the tears on your cheeks even as more continue to fall to take their place. “I know that’s what I said, sweet girl, and I know how it sounded to you, but that’s not at all how I meant it, I swear. I just…” Bucky sighs, his features plastered with remorse, his eyes falling from yours in shame.

“I was being an asshole. I knew, even as I was doing it, that I was being an asshole, that I couldn’t stop being an asshole, so I just…I wanted to get away from you before I lashed out any more, that’s all. I knew if I kept trying to discuss things with you right then I was only going to say more shit I didn’t mean, so I tried to put some space between us, just until I could cool off and be rational again.”

Bucky pauses, sighing deeply and stroking your cheeks. His eyes are swimming with guilt so deep it hurts your chest just to look at it. He looks almost as torn up about this whole ordeal as you do, which, although his pain isn’t something you revel in, does make your heart beat a little faster with hope. Would a man who doesn’t want to be with you anymore still look at you with that much guilt over having caused you pain?

When he speaks again his voice is low and strained with emotion, apologetic. “Darlin’, I…I am so sorry for the things I said to you today. I didn’t mean a single damn one of them. I love that you look after me, I love that I have someone waiting for me when I come home, making sure I’m not pushing myself too hard. I need you there to do that for me, because we both know I’m too proud and stubborn to take a break on my own. I got defensive, and I lashed out because I felt threatened, and that is not okay or fair to you. If you can’t forgive me for those things I said, I understand.” 

He swallows thickly, his eyes closing as hot tears sting the backs of them, fighting to escape. “But you need to know that when I told you I couldn’t ‘do this,’ I sure as hell didn’t mean you, or us. All I meant was that I couldn’t keep having that conversation with you, that I needed to get away before I hurt you worse. That’s all it was. When I left your apartment today, it was to get some space because I knew I was throwing a temper tantrum. In no way, shape, or form was I breaking up with you, or trying to end what we have. I couldn’t do that, it’s not in my DNA to do that. I’m simply not capable of it, and you have to know that. Even if you decide you’re better off without me, I need you to know that. Please.”

You stare down at him in the wake of his speech, watching as he blinks rapidly to keep tears at bay, and you’re so god damn confused in this moment that you wish he would give you a timeout, let you process everything he just said before you have to respond to it.

Could it possibly be true? That he’d never meant to break up with you, that he still loves and wants you? Could this all just be some massive misunderstanding on your part?

The possibility has hope fluttering warm in your chest, but you suppress it. Better to make absolutely sure first, before you let your heart get obliterated for the second time today. Letting yourself have this hope only to quash it moments later might actually break you for good.

“You weren’t…I mean, you didn’t want to break up with me?” you whisper hesitantly, afraid to let yourself believe it even though you’re desperate to.

Bucky’s heart cracks in his chest as you ask that so timidly, like just voicing the question is opening you up to a whole new potential world of hurt. He shakes his head firmly, his metal hand coming up to cradle the back of your skull, his fingertips massaging your scalp gently.

“No, babygirl, never. Not in a million years. Even though we were arguing, it was the last thing on my mind, trust me. I’ve never wanted to break up with you, not for a second. I love you,” he reassures you smoothly, his voice low and calm, exuding certainty.

You have to sniffle hard to hold back a fresh round of tears at those three simple words, ones you never thought you’d get to hear from him again. Jesus Christ, if you never cry again it’ll be too soon. Your gaze is particularly frail and fragile as it meets Bucky’s, some of that hope you’d been suppressing earlier making itself known in your features, tentative but present.

“So…you’re still my boyfriend?” you ask in a tiny murmur, like maybe this is the part where he pulls the rug out from under you and announces he was kidding about the whole misunderstanding thing.

Bucky’s features tighten a little at your question, and dread pools in your stomach rapidly, fearing the worst. But his words aren’t quite the heartbreaking blow you’re expecting, more like a puzzling wrinkle.

“If you want me to be, yeah, baby, I am.”

Your brow furrows, confused. What the hell does that mean? Suddenly, you recall a few other parts of his speech just now, parts that had been immediately overshadowed when he’d said that he still wanted to be with you. Now that you think about it, he’d also said a bunch of stuff along the lines of ‘If you can forgive me,’ and ‘If you decide you’re better off without me,’ hadn’t he?

What the hell was that all about? Why’s he talking about whether you want to be with him? Like you haven’t been literally bawling your eyes out for the past two hours at the prospect of having to live without him? How does that make any sense?

“Of course I want you to be. You think I was curled up on the floor sobbing because I was happy to think that our relationship was over?” you ask incredulously, frowning at him. 

He chuckles a little at that, the sound vibrating through you as you lay on his chest, but it’s strained, his expression vulnerable. Although you attribute this misunderstanding mostly to your own mind jumping to the worst possible conclusion, Bucky is riddled with guilt for both his abrupt exit from your apartment and the things he’d said leading up to it.

In his eyes you went through a lot of pain today, and every inch of it is his fault. If he’d stopped to explain his meaning, or, hell, if he hadn’t gotten so damn defensive in the first place, none of this would’ve happened. His girl wouldn’t have spent hours of her life sobbing on her hardwood floors if he’d just stopped to breathe like his therapist taught him to. His pale irises swim with shame as he gazes up at you.

“No, no, I just…I said some horrible things to you today, darlin’. And just because you were upset to think that I’d broken up with you doesn’t necessarily mean that all is forgiven, I know that. I understand if you’d rather keep us apart after the way I acted,” he murmurs defeatedly, like he’s already prepared himself for a thorough scolding.

Which is absolutely goddamn ridiculous, in your eyes. You snort, brows raised in disbelief. “Are you kidding me? All is forgiven, Buck, all is so past forgiven. I don’t care about the shit you said. You’re here, you’re still mine, that’s all that matters now. Forget the fight, forget all of it. I’ve got you, that’s all I care about.”

You say it so simply, like it could be so easy. Like his indiscretions are just wiped clean in the face of your pure relief. But he knows that they aren’t, they can’t be. It’s not that easy, as much as he’d like it to be. He fucked up, and he deserves what’s coming to him.

He tries to reason with you, his expression pained. “Baby, you can’t just-” 

“I absolutely can, actually,” you interrupt, looking unamused, stern. “I’m the one you said those things to, so I think I have the right to determine how I feel about them, don’t you?” You keep your eyebrows raised, challenging.

You watch as he mulls those words over a bit, licking his lips anxiously. It takes him a moment to decide how to respond, and when he does his words are slow, strained. Like maybe he doesn’t want to say them, but he feels like he has to.

“Yes, you do. It’s ultimately your decision, of course it is. I just…before you decide to blindly forgive me for this, I want you to really consider how you feel, okay? I know your instinct is to forget all about it because you’re just relieved to have me at all right now, but…I messed up. I hurt you, I said hurtful things even if I didn’t mean them. You didn’t deserve that, least of all from me, the man who’s supposed to love and protect you. You’re allowed to be upset about it, and if my actions made you realize that you don’t want to be with me anymore, then…you’re allowed to feel that way, too.”

His voice cracks on that last word, and your heart aches painfully in your chest at the sound. In this moment, you’re realizing with horror that Bucky truly believes he deserves to be broken up with tonight. With the unshed tears clinging to his lashline and the devastated look on his face, it’s clear that he doesn’t want to be dumped, that in fact that’s the last thing he wants.

But it’s obviously what he thinks should happen, the punishment he thinks he’s earned for the inadvertent heartbreak he put you through tonight, and that’s just…unacceptable, to be honest. 

The man would forgive you if you literally drove a stake through his chest, for Christ’s sake, yet he’s expecting you to kick him to the curb? What, because he got a little snippy with you? Because you jumped to the wrong conclusion and convinced yourself he left you? You would almost be insulted that he could think such a thing of you if you didn't know where the fear comes from.

You've seen them firsthand: the deep layers of self-loathing that have bogged him down since long before your relationship started, the inherent belief he carries that he is irreparably flawed and unworthy of love. He doesn't feel like he deserves you on his best day, so when he screws up, no matter the size of the infraction, he expects to be cast aside.

You reach out with one hand to cradle his cheek, his stubble gently scraping against your thumb as you caress his skin. Your expression is caring but firm, your eyes holding his as you speak in an even voice.

“I need you to understand that I don't expect you to be perfect, James. I don’t expect that you will always say the right thing, or have a perfectly even temperament in every situation because hell, none of us do. You’re allowed to fuck up sometimes, sweetheart, and you still deserve to be loved even when you do.”

His brow furrows as you speak, his instinct to reflexively deny the forgiveness you’re offering. “But I hurt you,” he interjects, the look on his face so miserable it tugs at your chest.

You nod your agreement, though your expression is still full of compassion and love. “Yes, you did. I won’t even begin to address the break-up fiasco because that was a complete misunderstanding on my part, but yes, the things you said before you left really stung me. Do you know why I’m going to forgive you anyways, though? Why, even if this happens again, I’ll probably forgive you a hundred times over?”

You pause for effect, giving him the opportunity to respond. Honestly, as upset as you’ve been these past few hours, it’s all begun to fade in the face of this man you love trying to convince you he’s not worth it. When he just looks at you helplessly, his eyes tracking your speech with rapt attention, you smile and continue.

“It’s because I know you’d never hurt me on purpose, Bucky. Let me ask you something: when you snapped at me today, did you do it because you were trying to find the absolute meanest thing you could say at that moment? Did you say it because you wanted me to feel bad?”

Looking a bit startled at the suggestion, Bucky shakes his head mutely. He hadn’t really even been conscious of the words at all until after they’d already blurted from his mouth, and even then it didn’t fully sink in until after he’d calmed down. You smile, satisfied by his immediate denial. 

“No, of course you didn’t. You didn’t say that stuff to be mean, to hurt just for hurting’s sake. You were feeling ambushed and defensive, and you lashed out. Is it ideally how you’ll always react when I try to express my concern for your wellbeing? No, of course not. But is it a realistic thing for a person to do who’s not used to being cared for? Absolutely, it is. And it’s just something we’re gonna have to work on, baby. I’ve never done this whole relationship thing before, and you’re trying to do it for the first time in 80 years with a hell of a lot of additional trauma thrown into the mix. 

“We’re learning, and it’s not always gonna be perfect or easy. Maybe before this becomes an issue again, we’ll think up some ways for you to politely tell me ‘I’m feeling overwhelmed by this conversation, please back off and we can come back to it later.’ Or maybe we’ll discuss how I can voice my concerns to you in the future without triggering your defensive response, how I can come off as less accusatory and make the discussion feel more safe for you.

“We’ve only been doing this for six months, and as real as it is, as much as I love you more than anything, we’re gonna face a hell of a lot more than this one hurdle if we want to keep doing this thing in the long term. So, yeah, tonight has sucked, pretty much every minute of it was a disaster, but you know what? It’s over now. You apologized, we’re gonna try and do better next time, and…that’s the end of it. Clean slate. All I want to do with the rest of my night is finally stop fucking crying, and eat a burger the size of my head. Preferably, with my boyfriend next to me the whole time, trying to steal my fries when I’m not looking. Do you think you could help me make that happen, Buck? Please?”

He looks stunned in the wake of your speech, silent for several moments as his brain struggles to grapple with the reality of your easy forgiveness. He blinks at you hard, like he truly can’t believe that you’re not running in the opposite direction right now, burning every trace of your life together and cursing his name the whole way.

But the truth is, you’d already made up your mind to forgive him the second you realized he hadn’t meant to break up with you in the first place, and Bucky must see that, too, because the fight in his eyes is slowly dimming into something more fragile, vulnerable. 

His gaze fixes on yours in the dark, searching for some hidden shard of resentment or anger that you may be holding back for his sake, but he doesn’t find it, there is no such thing for him to find. You just smile weakly up at him, exhausted from the emotional turmoil of the day but no less sincere, and when he blows out a slow breath through his nose, you know you’ve got him.

He’s definitely not done badgering himself about the mistakes he made today, not by a long shot, but he must see your weariness on your face, your desperate need to move on from this at least for the moment, so he nods slowly, his flesh hand rising to gently tuck some of your hair behind your ear.

“Yeah, sweetheart, we can make that happen. Whatever you want.”

Your smile brightens, the relief so stark in your features that it brings a lump to his throat, and when you press your lips against his he makes a silent promise to never put you in a position like this again, to never let his bullshit drag you down or put your relationship at risk like he did today.

He’ll go to therapy twice a damn week if he has to, you deserve better than his temper tantrums, than cruel words spoken out of a defensiveness he doesn’t need anymore. Not with you. 

Half an hour later finds you perched in his lap, draped in one of his hoodies and talking and laughing at your favorite diner like there never was an argument, like not a single tear was shed today. He hates that the joy on your face is most likely motivated by your sheer relief that he’s still yours, but he can’t complain about the sparkle in your eyes, nor the way you lean back against his chest as you sip your shake.

Obliging your request, he steals some fries off your plate while you gesticulate wildly through a story, a warm flutter going off in his chest when you pretend to squawk in protest. He soaks in every second, every twitch of your lips and brush of your hand against his, reminding himself what he could have lost, what he perhaps deserved to lose after his actions today. 

He’ll make this up to you, he knows he will - he’s sure Natasha will have plenty of suggestions for how he can start. He thinks back to that little velvet box he’s got buried deep in the back of his sock drawer, a sharp pull tugging at his heart as he realizes he almost lost his chance to give it to you at all. He resolves right here and now, basking in the warm light of your infinite patience for him, that he won’t take that box out until he’s earned it.

He hates to wait even a second longer, itches to lock you down with every passing moment, but he won’t ask you to make that kind of commitment to him until he’s sure he’s the man that you need him to be. As he presses a firm kiss to your temple, swiping another morsel from the edge of your plate with a smile, he swears up to his Ma that he will work hard to deserve you, even if you seem to think he already does.

[nuelles]

Taken, Thanks || Spencer Agnew

Summary: Being Ian Hecox’s assistant means wrangling calendars, dodging glitter explosions, and putting out fires—metaphorical and otherwise. But when a smarmy investor starts flirting a little too hard, Spencer finds himself stepping in with soft, possessive boyfriend energy. Add some cast-wide chaos and Ian’s deadpan justice? You’re in for a hell of a Tuesday. (Yes, Spencer still wins. No, Bradley never stood a chance.)

Pairing: Spencer Agnew x f!reader

Tropes: Protective boyfriend, Jealous but respectful, Chaos Cast Support

Warnings: Mild workplace harassment (non-physical flirting, inappropriate persistence by a male investor toward the reader), Swearing & sarcasm (light/moderate), Fluff, light comedy, mild secondhand embarrassment

WC: 2.6K

Author's Note: Not a lot of Spencer in this one lol, but I might make this a mini series, might not, we will see.

You were halfway through color-coding Ian’s week when the glass door opened, and your day instantly worsened.

He walked in like he’d been practicing it: smooth gait, tailored navy blazer, no visible socks. The kind of guy who wore a watch specifically to show off that he didn’t need a smartwatch to stay on top of things—he had people for that. And apparently, today? You were one of them.

“Hi there,” he said, flashing teeth so white they were probably copyrighted. “You must be the one who keeps the circus from catching fire.”

You didn’t even look up from your monitor. “That’s the goal.”

He leaned a forearm on your desk like this was a sales convention and not a functioning content studio. “I’m Bradley. Strategic investments. Ian said I should ‘shadow the workflow’ today, but I’m really just here to see the talent in action.”

You finally looked up. “You’ll want the bullpen, then. Back hallway, third left.”

“Oh, I’m in no rush,” he said smoothly, eyes sweeping your desk. “Besides… I think I already found the real star.”

You wanted to roll your eyes, but needed to stay professional, so all you did was blink at him. “That line works on other assistants?”

He chuckled. “You’re funny. And quick. A deadly combo.”

“I prefer ‘highly scheduled and politely impatient.’”

He laughed again—too loud, too rehearsed. “What’s your name?”

You gave it. You couldn’t come up with a good and professional reason not to. And you regretted it instantly.

Mistake #1: Eye contact.

Mistake #2: Letting him know you had a name.

“Well, Y/N,” he said, drawing out the syllables like he’d invented them. “Have you ever considered scaling your role? With your skill set, I could see you running entire teams.”

“I’m already running one,” you said, tapping your tablet. “Smosh.”

“Touché,” he said, unbothered. “But if you’re ever looking for a more… refined environment—one with perks, bonuses, corner offices—I’d be happy to discuss it. Maybe over lunch?”

There it was. The smile. The lean. The casual, calculated suggestion. ugh

You didn’t flinch. “Thanks, but I’m happy where I am. Especially with my boyfriend dropping off coffee and cat memes every morning.”

Bradley raised a brow. “Oh?”

“Mhm.” You smiled tightly. “Big fan of hoodies. Great jawline. Plays weird little games for a living.”

He tilted his head like he was trying to solve a puzzle he didn’t like the answer to. “So… he’s talent?”

“Yep.”

“And you’re not worried about mixing business and pleasure?”

You tilted your head right back. “Not when the business respects me. And the pleasure has manners.”

A flicker passed across his face—too quick to call offense, too practiced to be real. But you saw it.

He gave a tight smile. “Point taken. But if you ever change your mind…”

You didn’t let him finish.

“I don’t plan to.”

You didn’t even have to say anything. By hour two, the entire cast and crew had clocked Bradley’s vibe—and they were not impressed.

Courtney popped her head into the hallway just as Bradley leaned over your desk for the third time that hour.

“Wow,” she said loudly, “do investor bros always hover, or is this a custom feature?”

Bradley straightened, flashing a smile. “Just taking an interest in the workflow. You all run a tight ship.”

Courtney looked at you. You gave her your best please don’t commit violence face.

She raised both hands and walked off muttering, “Tight ship, my ass.”

Next came Damien.

You were trying to update the equipment checklist on your tablet when he strolled by, wearing sunglasses indoors and carrying a prop flaming sword over his shoulder.

He paused.

Squinted at Bradley.

Turned to you and asked, “Is this guy bothering you?”

You didn’t look up. “I’m fine.” You were getting good at ignoring the man's—the boys'—presence.

He pointed the sword at Bradley and said, “Just say the word, and he gets a two-minute head start.”

Bradley blinked. “I’m sorry—what?”

Damien grinned. “Oh, I wasn’t talking to you.”

Bradley scurried off—temporarily, at least.

You sighed and leaned your head against the wall.

A few minutes later, Shayne appeared at your desk, holding two LaCroix cans like peace offerings.

He handed one over. “So. Our new corporate overlord is gross.”

“I’m handling it,” you muttered, cracking the can open.

“I know,” Shayne said. “You’re doing great. But also—if you want me to spill something on him accidentally, I’m clumsy.”

You arched a brow. “Are you offering me… a staged workplace soda accident?”

“Two,” he said, holding up his other can. “One for the shoes, one for the watch.”

You laughed, finally—short and sharp. “Tempting.”

Shayne leaned closer and lowered his voice. “Spencer knows yet?”

“No. He’s filming. And I don’t want him to spiral into ‘protective golden retriever’ mode.”

“I give it twenty minutes,” Shayne said.

And he was off by about five.

Spencer wasn’t the most observant person in the building.

He got distracted easily—by snack tables, rogue sound guys, and whatever the hell Damien was doing with that fog machine last week. But when it came to you? He didn’t miss much.

So the moment he stepped into the bullpen that afternoon, iced coffee in one hand and hoodie sleeve pushed up the other, he spotted you.

Specifically, you, standing near the shoot schedule wall. And Bradley—standing way too close, with that fake laugh Spencer already hated and a shirt that looked like it cost more than Spencer’s entire closet.

Bradley was leaning in, saying something. You had your tablet held like a shield. Your face wore that polite, I’m tolerating this so I don’t get sued smile.

Spencer’s stomach dropped.

He crossed the room in five slow steps, weaving past Courtney and Arasha mid-conversation. Shayne caught his eye. Raised an eyebrow. Almost as if to say I’ve got your back, Spencer just nodded once and kept walking.

Calm. Easy. But close enough to let the guy know, you’re not alone.

“Hey, babe,” Spencer said, voice soft as he stepped behind you, one hand sliding instinctively to your lower back. “You good?”

You looked up, and your smile instantly turned real.

“Yeah. Just finalizing timing for the B-studio block.”

Spencer nodded, but his eyes didn’t leave Bradley.

The guy looked between you both, blinking.

“Sorry,” Bradley said slowly. “You two are…?”

“Dating,” you answered quickly, professional tone never slipping. “Have been for a while.”

Spencer added, with a perfectly polite smile, “Long enough to know she hates being called ‘assistant of the year.’”

Bradley’s grin stiffened. “Right. Well. Good for you two.”

“Thanks,” you said lightly. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, we have a location conflict to fix.”

Bradley took a deliberate step back. “Of course.”

Spencer held your gaze as you turned, guiding you by the hand toward the side hallway.

The second you were out of earshot, you exhaled.

“Okay, that was subtle. Ish.”

Spencer squinted. “Did he really call you assistant of the year?” Asking about the text you had sent him during one of your breaks.

You nodded.

“And try to ask you to lunch?”

You nodded again.

Spencer blinked. “I’m going to pour LaCroix in his briefcase.”

You snorted. “Please don’t. Ian still needs to fire him gently.”

Spencer tilted his head. “...What if I just gently knock over a bottle near it?”

You bumped his shoulder. “Just be here. That’s more than enough.”

He smiled then, soft and slow and only for you. “Always.”

By late afternoon, things had reached peak tension. The vibe was dead. Not just off—dead.

Everyone was avoiding the common areas. Damien had “accidentally” moved his shoot to the other side of the building. Courtney had taken her laptop outside. You, stuck at your desk near Ian’s office, were once again being treated to Bradley’s thoughts on “audience expansion” and how “Smosh had potential—it just needed direction.”

You were moments away from faking an emergency fire drill when Ian’s door creaked open.

“Hey,” he called to you, voice deceptively casual. “Mind stepping in for a sec?”

Bradley, ever the opportunist, started to follow.

Ian held up a hand without looking. “Just her.”

The door shut behind you with a soft click.

Ian was standing by his desk, arms folded. His expression was unreadable—but you’d worked with him long enough to recognize that tight-jawed calm. It was the calm right before a storm. Or a corporate takedown.

“I’ve made a decision,” he said.

You raised a brow. “About Bradley?”

Ian’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly. “Yeah. I’m done watching that guy flirt with you like he’s trying to win a prize on The Price Is Right.”

You couldn’t help it—you laughed.

Ian smirked. “I’ve seen that look on your face. You’ve been walking on eggshells for four hours. Not because you can’t handle him, but because you’re too professional to make a scene.”

You shrugged. “Someone’s gotta be.”

“Well, good news,” Ian said, sitting on his chair and already opening his laptop. “I’m not.” He sent you on your way, and as you walked in, Bradley took that opportunity to send a wink at you as he walked into Ian’s office.

Bradley had spent the better part of thirty minutes trying to corner Ian in his office with phrases like “brand synergy” and “scalable verticals.” Ian, to his credit, hadn’t lit anything on fire. Yet.

From your desk outside the office, you heard it: the signature sigh. The one Ian only made when someone pitched NFTs or called him Mr. Smosh.

“Okay,” Ian said finally. “You know what? Let’s cut to the chase.”

Bradley’s voice stayed smooth. “Of course.”

“I don’t think this is going to work,” Ian said flatly.

A beat of silence. Then Bradley: “Excuse me?”

Ian stood. “You’ve been here for about four hours, and in that time, you’ve hit on my assistant, interrupted four meetings, and suggested we replace our equipment with AI livestream puppets.”

“I was offering opportunities.”

“You were offering weird tech bros in suits energy,” Ian said. “And I’m not interested.”

“I thought we had alignment.”

“You misread the entire room,” Ian deadpanned. “I’ve seen what I need to see. Including how you treat my staff. Also—assistant of the year? That’s the line?” It had made its way around the office, great. 

You tried very hard not to laugh as you typed a fake email just to keep your hands busy.

Bradley sputtered. “You’ll regret this.”

Ian shrugged. “Doubt it. Thanks for your time. Security can show you out. They love investor walkouts—it’s like their Super Bowl.”

Bradley sputtered something under his breath, turned on his heel, and left with his shiny shoes echoing hard against the floor.

Ian leaned out of his office, looked at you, and said, “Sorry. I waited to see if Spencer would deck him first.”

You smiled. “Thanks for the restraint.”

Ian shrugged. “You’re good at what you do. I protect my team.”

Then, with his usual deadpan calm: “Also—he called you ���boss babe.’ That was the final straw.”

By the time you stepped out into the golden haze of late afternoon, the building was mostly quiet.

Bradley was long gone—escorted by security with the dramatic flair of a deleted Try Not to Laugh bit. The tension you hadn’t realized had been coiled tight in your shoulders all day had finally started to melt away.

And there he was.

Leaning against your car, Spencer looked up as you approached, hoodie sleeves pushed up, the edges of his hair ruffled from the wind or maybe from fidgeting with his hands. He had that look on his face—quietly patient, a little worried, like he’d been waiting to see if you were okay before deciding how to feel.

You dropped your bag on the hood and just… let yourself lean into him.

He caught you without hesitation, arms wrapping tight around your waist, head tipping down to press his cheek against your hair.

“Hey,” he murmured.

“Hey,” you mumbled back into his chest.

You stayed like that for a minute. Maybe more.

His hoodie smelled like cedar and laundry detergent. Warm and familiar and safe.

“So,” he said eventually, voice low. “Bradley’s gone?”

“Escorted out by security,” you confirmed, not moving. “Ian didn’t even blink.”

Spencer exhaled. “I wish I could’ve seen it.”

“Ian said it was like the security team’s Super Bowl.”

Spencer chuckled softly. “Should’ve sold tickets.”

You pulled back just enough to look up at him. “Thanks for earlier. For showing up. For not... punching him.”

“I considered it,” he said. “Briefly.”

You smiled. “Yeah?”

He brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. “But then I figured you’d prefer a boyfriend who doesn’t get banned from the office.”

“Correct,” you said. “That’s a bare minimum requirement.”

Spencer looked at you, his expression softening. “I hated seeing you deal with that. You were trying to be polite. Professional. And he just… kept pushing.”

You nodded slowly. “I didn’t want to make a scene.”

“I know,” he said. “But you shouldn’t have to work twice as hard just to be respected. Not here. Not anywhere.”

You blinked. His voice had gone tight at the end—not angry, but serious.

The kind of tone Spencer usually reserved for things like someone insulting your work ethic or questioning your seat at the table.

You stepped closer again, pressing your forehead to his chest. “I’m okay now.”

He held you tighter. “You shouldn’t have had to be ‘okay’ because you powered through.”

You tilted your head up again, suddenly overwhelmed. “You know I’d pick you, right? A hundred times over.”

He smiled. “I already did.”

“And you know I wasn’t even slightly tempted by his... whatever that was?”

“Tech bro aura?” Spencer offered. “Crypto breath?”

You snorted. “It was awful.”

“I almost challenged him to a hoodie-off,” he said seriously.

“You would’ve won.”

“Obviously.”

You both laughed then—real and light and cathartic.

Spencer reached into his hoodie pocket and pulled out your keys. “C’mon. Let’s get out of here. I’ll drive.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You driving is a reward now?”

“Yeah,” he said proudly. “I’ve only curb-checked once this week.”

You gave him a mock stern look. “You are so lucky you’re cute.”

He grinned and opened the passenger door for you. “You’re luckier.”

You slid in, still smiling. “Let’s get tacos. I deserve tacos.”

He kissed your forehead, closed the door behind you, and whispered through the glass, “You deserve everything.”

Meme Team Supreme

Courtney 👑:BRADLEY HAS LEFT THE BUILDING I repeat—THE TECH BRO HAS LEFT THE BUILDING

Damien 🔥: 🧃💼🚫 Investor arc canceled due to harassment and vibes

Shayne 👖: BREAKING: Smosh studio regains 100% oxygen levels after the departure of one (1) walking Axe body spray

Arasha💍: Not the “assistant of the year” line 💀💀 He sounded like a LinkedIn post possessed by a dating app.

Angela 🎤: ✨✨ “Have you considered scaling your role?”YES. Into his face with a chair.

Tommy 🧢: Ian looked at him like:

Chanse 🧪: Ian was all “thanks for your time,” like he hadn’t already deleted the man from our Google Drive.

Ian 🧠: Just to be clear, I never put him in the Google Drive. He showed up with a pitch deck and BDE (bad deal energy).

Spencer 🧃: was gonna throw hands settled for holding hers instead growth 🌱

Courtney 👑: You literally side-eyed him so hard he LEFT I’ve never seen a man retreat in slacks before

Shayne 👖: He had the audacity of a man who’s never been told “no” and the jawline of a lacrosse coach

Arasha💍: not gonna lie

i was impressed he fit that much cologne in one outfit

Angela 🎤: anyway, we all voted and your boyfriend wins “protective king of the year”

Spencer 🧃: do i get a crown or just eternal vigilante rights over her clipboard

You 👀: You get tacos and the right to dramatically stand outside every time I have to deal with corporate

Damien 🔥: 👑Clipboard King long may he snark

✨ Reblogs + likes | Feedback feeds the writer 📎 Requests and fic recs welcome! 📬 Comment for tag requests

[clouji]

Not like a Date

+ hamzah x reader, one shot

You’re sitting alone in a coffee shop, crying over some guy who wasted your time.

You couldn’t even tell your friends about it, not even your best friend Mandy, who had been saying she had a bad feeling about the guy you were talking to. I guess she was right after all.

With mascara smudged and your fists clenched, you couldn’t believe you’d been ghosted after seven weeks of dates, shared music playlists, and late-night FaceTime calls.

“Fuck, I’m so stupid,” you whisper, wiping the tears from your eyes.

“You’re not.”

You flinch, then look up and it’s Hamzah. Nice, out of all people.

You’re not even close to him. You only ever see him when Mandy invites you or Martin brings him along. He’s more their friend than yours, so this is… unexpected.

He’s standing there, wearing a simple black zip up jacket, with two drinks in his hand and a small wrinkle between his eyebrows.

“Oh,” you say, trying to cover your face. “Hey.”

He places one drink in front of you. “Hope this makes you feel better.”

“How do you know I like Matcha?”

“You complained about it once when Mandy gave you Caramel Macchiato by mistake.” He smiles and sits. “So… who do I fight?”

You laugh, sigh shakily and sound completely broken. “Some guy from Hinge.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Public enemy number one for sure.”

You never really talked to Hamzah before, only jokes and exchanging eye contact. You always thought he was loud and fun friend. But now, sitting across from you, he is something different. More calm and quiet.

“Wanna get out of here?” he asks. Not like a date, just somewhere that is not crowded.”

You just nod as you follow him out of the place.

He takes you to a Park.

The big city opens up in front of you, glowing in the sunset. Everything just feels soft and healing.

“I come here whenever I need to clear my mind,” Hamzah explains, removing his jacket. “Thought maybe it could help you too.”

Both of you sit there for a time. There is no small talk, and no pressure to say anything funny or stupid.

“Thank you.”

He turns slightly toward you. “For what?”

“For today. For not making it awkward. For not asking me to smile or assuring that I’d meet someone better.”

Hamzah nods, as if it’s nothing, as if this is just what he does. But then he gives you a genuine, quiet smile.

“Anytime,” he responds. “You know, you’re actually really chill when you’re not crying like a baby.” You slightly bump his shoulder. He gives you a bigger smile.

Later, he drives you home.

Outside your apartment, he rests his hands on the wheel.

“Text me when you’re inside, yeah?”

You give him a smirk. “Look at you, being all concerned.”

“I’ve always been. Just never had a reason to be, with you.”

You smile. A real one.

“Hey, Hamzah?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you again, seriously.”

He nods once, like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

He sent you a text late at night,

“If you ever wanna cry again in a better coffee shop, I know one place that sells good cookie like the same size of your big ass head lol.”

You laughed and liked the message.

Note: ngl reading this with the song I attached made it 10x better… got me smiling and shit

[verdemint]

So this video is my beznaia thesis! You can really see their dynamic and how they work with each other. This is just after India last year, Bezz won the race (his third of the year) and Pecco crashed out of the race. You have Bezz "trashtalking" Pecco a little bit to cheer him up, but it's not mean, Pecco is clearly in on the joke. And then the interviewer is trying to get Pecco to talk about his fall and pecco is kinda uncomfortable/pissed off and Bezz tries to direct the attention of the interviewer back at him, letting Pecco go. And then we have Bezz talking about his friendship with Pecco and how much Pecco is a real friend to him.

They treat each other as equals, they love trash-talking and fighting a bit but it's clear how Pecco is much more comfortable in front of cameras whenever Bezz is also there. You can feel how they truly value each other presence and the comfort they find in each other, it's just super cute to witness lol. It's obvious how much Bezz cares and respects Pecco, Pecco is just "much more mature!" a true adult in a way, and it's true in all aspects of their life, but Bezz is also the only one able to bring Pecco down to earth in a way, he sees right through him. All the academy guys are very much a little pack, always protecting each other in interviews and stuff but these two are each other comfort zone in that insane sport. This is getting a bit RPF but idc, it's just such a cute friendship :)

Translation lol

*Pecco is doing a gesture, "ti faccio un culo così" meaning something like "next time when I get u! I'm gonna beat u!" OBV HES JOKING*

Bez: “Come here! ... Do I have to come to you?...He wants to let me have my moment! … Can I say something tho? Whenever I’m in front of him during the race he crashes out”

Pecco arrives there

Pecco: “I don't want to be like parsley (lol meaning someone who’s everywhere, all the time, intruding in Bezz’ moment)” I: “What did u say Bezz?” B: “Whenever I’m in front he crashes out!” P: “I feel the mental pressure” B: “He’s not used to it, usually he’s always the one in front of me, the few times I’m first he can't deal with that!” … the interviewer starts talking with Pecco saying that sometimes it's more difficult to lead a race and not make any mistakes than being second and trying to catch up, asking Pecco if that's maybe why he crashed out.  Pecco a bit annoyed :“I crashed out of the race coz I crashed out of the race … Bez to the interviewer: “Stop asking him stuff, he’s angry after the race, it’s normal!” Pecco: “Let's talk about Bez, he was the best today!” Pecco runs away lol I: “Anyway, the relationship you two have is beautiful.” Bezz: “Pecco and I are close friends, I’ve found a fantastic friend in Pecco. It’s difficult sometimes being rivals and friends, but we’re both adults and mature, Pecco a little bit more!” Pecco is looking and touching the bike, “fake-checking” the brakes Bez: “This time I was there! I was braking better eh” Back to some trash-talking

[welcomehomerandomness]

Welcome Home Website Update Reaction Notes (4/12/2025) (SPOILERS)

Hey guys! Today I'm gonna show you my reactions to the Welcome Home website via my notes on Google Docs. I wrote 5 pages and spent around a few hours exploring the website lol. Hope you enjoy it!

NEW HOME ART IT'S SPRINGTIME MY DUDES

OMG JULIE IS ON THE HOME SCREEN INSTEAD OF WALLY???

The neighbors’ outfits are so cute BUT WHERE’S WALLY???

I’m scared, gamers…

I went to the What’s Welcome Home page AND WALLY IS GONE!!! WHERE IS HE???

Frank’s and Julie’s outfits are so cute in the News page…I love these besties lol

The neighborhood is decorated as usual…So cool lol

I clicked Home and WALLY IS STARING OFF TO THE SIDE INSTEAD OF STARING TOWARDS US

Also when I press his audio, all I hear are bell jingles or a telephone ringing???

Ok…all of the audio and pictures of the neighbors seem normal…

The Guestbook seems normal, but for some reason, Eddie’s Halloween sprite is still there…Unless it was a mistake?

OMG THE JOYFUL SIBLINGS HAVE STICKERS NOW SO COOL

The Discoveries page looks so cool lol

WALLY HAS A BROADCAST???

I love Night Mind’s voice lol

I love Julie’s voice impressions for the different flowers lol

Also Eddie’s mom mentioned???

The rhododendron has beef with poor Eddie lol

Someone, please comfort Eddie lol

OMG THE JOYFULS’ VOICE REVEALS OMG

Jonesy sounds like he’s part of The Beatles lol

I love Franny’s monotone voice lol

Bea’s voice is amazing

Poor Poppy lol

OMG HOWDY

Beeya (Howdy’s brother in law) mentioned lol

I love how the Joyfuls are offended that Howdy wants to make the leaves as part of his salad lmao

I love how angry Howdy is lmao

I was looking at the transcript while listening, and they skipped one of Julie’s lines for some reason???

Why does Julie sound nervous and hesitant to join her siblings’ band? I’m worried about her…

I love this radio broadcast so much…This should be a real radio broadcast lol

Julie and her siblings on the music page is so cute lol

The Joyfuls’ album cover is so cool

The Joyfuls’ song is so cool too I love it

Also, I love how one of the Joyfuls’ songs is called “Frankly Boy”...Could it be about Frank?

Omg the rainbow monster cakes are so cute…The little nom noms…

Julie and Frank in the Joy soda ad poster is so cute lol

Omg I love the art style for the Rainbow Monster Handbook it’s so cute lol

OMG BABY JULIE

I love the dynamics between Frank, Julie, and her siblings so much…It’s so sweet…

I want the board game to be real lol

Oh no…The pea is back…

Storybook time! Starting off with “Springtime Salutations”!

In the transcript, the storyteller is calling Julie’s name…But it is not on the audio…

OMG THERE’S A WEIRD DISTORTED GARGLED SOUND IN THE BEGINNING

Wait…ALL OF HOME IS STILL COVERED IN SNOW???

F in the chat for Eddie…He got crushed by Julie lol

Ohhhhh this storybook is basically how Frank met Julie’s siblings

The narrator distorted at the end…

The story is pretty cute I love it lol

Ok the next storybook is called “Sweet Briar”

Omg Wally in his little king outfit

LMAO SOMEONE THREW A BALL IN THE MIDDLE OF WALLY’S LINE LOL

Why do Barnaby and Howdy look so goofy in those costumes lol

Howdy’s shocked face looks like a meme at this point lol

His shocked expressions remind me of Tsukasa from Project Sekai lol

DID HOWDY JUST SLAP BARNABY LMAO???

Day 2 of exploring the updates (I was tired last night lol)

We’re continuing the “Sweet Briar” storybook lol

I just realized that the crown doesn’t fit Wally’s hair lol

I LITERALLY CACKED WHEN I SAW THE IMAGE OF KING WALLY WATCHING THE SPINNING WHEELS BURN…HIS FACE LMAO

I love how instead of Howdy whisking Julie away and putting her in a cottage, it’s his grocery store lol

I love how Howdy doesn’t like to say “day offs” lol

I imagine Eddie blushing when he sees Frank in that prince outfit lol

“The script called for it” lmao

Mrs. Beagle mentioned awww

HOWDY BLASTING BARNABY WITH HIS WAND IS SO FUNNY LMAO

Top 10 manga battles

Barnaby’s expression when he got blasted reminds me of the Yu-Gi-Oh! Kaiba defeat meme

Howdy’s gasp is so hilarious lol

Omg Wally was hit with Howdy’s sleep spell too

BARNABY’S FACE IN THAT WANTED POSTER LOL

Ok there was no distortion in the ending…That’s good lol

I love the story it’s pretty funny lol

The next one is “The Julie Guide to Being Joyful”

Oh there was distortion in the beginning

I just realized that Julie says “a whole clock spin” instead of “a whole day…Is a whole clock spin equivalent to one whole day?

Sally called Julie “Julentine” awww

I love Julie’s voice impressions of all the neighbors lol

Omg the audio distorted and went back to normal later on

WHAT IS THIS THERE IS BLACK INK STUFF ON THE PAINTING WHAT

The audio distorted when Julie said “Joyful Blossoms”

That’s a goofy-looking but cute dog toy lol

I checked the Guestbook again and it seems like Eddie’s normal sprite is there…I think it was a mistake lol

I JUST REALIZED THAT WALLY IS GONE IN THE GUESTBOOK TOO WHAT

Ok I think that’s everything in the main website for now…Let’s check the secret website lol

Ok it seems the new ones are “April 12, 2025”, “Joy”, and “Toy Box”

The journal entry tho…I’m scared…

Also the Joy soda…

For some reason, I can’t see the image in Toy Box so I’ll try to brighten it…

Ok I can’t see it for some reason so I’m just going to cheat and go to Tumblr and Reddit…

I also heard that there is a secret Wally audio, but I’ll find it soon

Ok the first one I found has “/ringring” at the end of the link for the main website

The distortion in the beginning is actually kinda scaring me…

Wally sounds a bit angry…I’m scared…

I think he’s tweaking a bit…

Home…

I’m worried about Wally…Is he ok?

Next is “/revengemessagebeware” at the end of the link for the main website

THE DISTORTION SCARED ME WHAT THE

So we’re looking at the sky now…And it’s a live-action sky…

And the people talking are Julie and Frank…

Omg the video cuts to green plants…

The video then cuts to a bud? It kinda looks like a cactus lol

The video then cuts to another random plant again…

The video then cuts to a weird looking flower…

I don’t know what that flower is but it looks weird…

There’s distortion again at the end…

Next is “/innocenceconstancyaspell” at the end of the link for the main website

There’s distortion at the beginning again…

The people talking are Julie and Frank again…

So we’re looking at some flowers…

Now the video cuts to another plant…

Now the video cuts to that weird-looking flower again…

Now the video cuts to leaves from a tree…

Now the video cuts to a weird-looking bud…Is it from that same weird flower or a different one?

Now the video cuts to the sky again…

Julie stopped talking that even Frank is noticing it a bit…

Now it cuts to a green bush? Another plant?

Now it cuts to the weird-looking flower again…

There’s a shadow looming over the weird flower and there’s distortion again at the end…

Next is “/regardforgetfulnesssilence” at the end of the link for the main website

There’s distortion at the beginning as usual…

The person talking is only Julie this time…

So we’re looking at that weird flower again…

Now it cuts to sunlight shining through the leaves of a tree…

OMG JULIE PUPPET HAND REVEAL

Now we cut to the sky again…

Now we cut to plants covered by a shadow? I don’t know what to describe it…

Now we cut to the weird flower again…

Now we cut to plants showing a small mountain?

SHE NEVER EVEN MENTIONED EDDIE??? WHAT???

Julie and Frank lore??? She’s talking about how they met…

Now we cut to another plant…

Julie starts speaking in a normal voice…It’s not her usual happy tone…

Now we cut to flowers…

Now Julie is back to speaking in her usual happy tone…

Now we cut to that weird flower again…

OMG WALLY’S VOICE AT THE END OF THE VIDEO???

Next is “/temptationdreamshope” at the end of the link for the main website

There’s distortion at the beginning as usual…

Now we cut to sunlight shining through the trees…

There’s a voice but it sounds unfamiliar…It is not one of the neighbors or one of the side characters we met before…

We cut to the weird flower and hear Julie’s voice again…

We cut back to sunlight shining through the trees again and hear that unfamiliar voice again…

We cut back to the weird flower and hear Julie’s voice again…

We cut to some flowers…

We cut to another bunch of flowers…

So the play Julie and the others did was “Sweet Briar” which is from one of the storybooks earlier…

We cut to sunlight and heard that unfamiliar voice again…

Now we cut back to the same bunch of flowers and hear Julie’s voice again…

Now we cut to the sky again…

We cut to sunlight and heard that unfamiliar voice again…

Now we cut to plants covered by a shadow again and hear Julie’s voice again…

We cut to sunlight and heard that unfamiliar voice again…

Now we cut to plants showing a small mountain and hear Julie’s voice again…

We heard that unfamiliar voice again and cut to sunlight…

We cut back to the weird flower and hear Julie’s voice again…

We heard that unfamiliar voice and cut to sunlight…But the voice seems like it’s panicking…

We cut back to the weird flower and hear Julie’s voice again…Julie seems aware of the voice…

Julie’s voice sounds soft and defeated…Poor Julie…

We hear that unfamiliar voice for the last time and the video distorts until the end…

I feel like the voice is Julie’s voice actress, and Julie is hearing her in her head…

Next is “/tearsremembranceinstability” at the end of the link for the main website

There’s distortion at the beginning as usual…

We cut to the sky again…

It is Julie’s voice again…But she is with Frank this time…

Now we cut to some plants…

Now we cut to plants covered by a shadow again…

Now we cut to the weird flower again…

Now we hear the unfamiliar voice again…

I’m just going to call it Weird Voice lol

Now Weird Voice is apologizing and crying…

We cut to the sunlight shining through the trees again…

Now Weird Voice sounds distorted and crying and shouting…

Now we cut to plants showing a small mountain and hear Frank looking for Julie in the distance…

“Julie? Are you alright?” Awww Frank…

Now we cut to the weird flower and hear Julie’s voice again…

Now we hear Weird Voice shouting and crying as it slowly fades into the sunlight…

Now we cut back to the weird flower-OMG IT’S THE DOG TOY BUT IT’S 2D ANIMATED

OMG THE DOG TOY JUST LOOKED AT ME WTF

I feel bad for Frank…They notice that there is something wrong with their husband, and now their best friend, and even asked them if they’re ok…

I feel bad for Julie too…

Next is “/revengeinnocenceregardtemptationtears” at the end of the link for the main website

AND OH MY GOD IT’S A PICTURE OF FRANK

THEY LOOK SO SCARED AND WORRIED OMG

Ok as for the Toy Box in the secret website, someone on Reddit said it was a box, which was assumed to be packaging for the dog toy, and it says “GLE”

Also what was the deal with this dog toy???

I can’t believe I spent two days on this website lol

My hands are kinda tired from typing lol

Also let me know if I miss anything

[astraariel]

eternal snow

pairing: sanji x fem!reader

summary: your love for sanji was unconditional, unfortunately, he didn’t feel the same seeing as there were petals coming out of your mouth.

word count: 3.6K

warnings: spoilers (?) just the name of a character from the whole cake island arc, it’s a modern!au so I don't mention anything about the actual arc!

tags: loosely based on “eternal snow” from fullmoon wo sagashite; angst; hanahaki disease; implied cheating; modern!au; hurt no comfort; lovesick; requited unrequited love

author's note: I think along with everyone opla is taking over my life so it encouraged me to finish this fic I started months ago lol. once again I like angst and this is soooo ooc of sanji he would never cheat I love him so much I’m sorry. on another note, I really like AmaLee’s cover of this song so you can give it a listen if you want to feel the vibe. 

also, ignore the fact that Pudding is sixteen, she’s older than that in this. I couldn’t really think of anyone else to have/didn't want to think of a different character. just know, she’s of age. other than that, ignore grammar mistakes and enjoy♡

──★ ˙ ̟read pt2 here!

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

You weren’t entirely sure how you had gotten to this point. You were certain that you two would be together forever. How you had unknowingly lost the one you love so dearly, you would never know.

Sanji was a flirt and you loved it, he could simply say that you looked beautiful today and you’d melt. Hell, that’s how you too met, Nami had introduced you two and Sanji wooed his way into your heart. You knew that he had you in the palm of his hand, but you weren’t sure you could say the same for him.

Sanji was an attentive lover. When he loved, he showered you with his attention. You could always tell that his presence was there whenever you spoke. He’d care and cater to every request you asked of him, not allowing you to lift a single finger. It’s who he was.

You were blinded by your love for Sanji that you never noticed him slipping away from your grasp.

The two of you were currently sitting together on your living room couch. Sanji mentioned there was a new show he wanted to watch, so here the two of you were. Your attention was focused on the TV in front of you while his was on his phone.

You glance at him, “Who’s that?” 

He hadn’t looked away from it for more than 30 seconds throughout the last episode. You watch him out of the corner of your eye as he looks at you. 

“Oh, it's the new dessert chef at the restaurant,” he shuts his phone off, “I've been assigned to help her around and show her the ropes,” he smiles, “It’s nothing, you want popcorn?” 

You turn to him, “Of course I do.” He gets up to walk to your kitchen, “Hey, I love you.”

He walks up behind you and bends down, kissing your head, “And I love you more.” He stands up and you hear him rummaging through the pantry for a popcorn packet. 

You cough slightly, “Could you grab me some water, Sanji?” He shouts back a response but you don’t make it out because you’re too busy pulling a petal out of your mouth.

♡‧₊˚

After that lone petal had made its introduction, it planted itself as a constant. Every so often for the following weeks, you’d feel something weird in your mouth, only to pull out a single flower petal.

You weren’t sure what was going on, but you couldn’t bring yourself to think too much about it. On top of the weird cough you were having, Sanji was also acting off. 

It was small at first, just tiny, little white lies that he’d tell you. 

Like when he’d say he was tired, that he was going to bed, but you could hear him on his phone laughing at something from the room. Or when he claimed that his phone had died and that’s why he hadn’t texted you back even though you were hanging with Nami at the time and he had replied to a video she had sent him a minute after you texted him. 

That was just the first few weeks.

You weren’t sure when the white lies became real lies but it had only spiraled more. You had found that he wasn’t even bothering with lying anymore, simply stating that he was too busy to come over or that he didn’t even want to hang out with you that day.

Sanji would claim to be too tired and not bother to see you for an entire week, but then he’d call you complaining that he missed you and question why the two of you hadn’t gone on a date recently and then insist that he was going to cook dinner for the two of you. Those times were always the best. It made you feel like nothing was wrong. 

It was pure whiplash. 

You were never sure which Sanji you were gonna get that day. Maybe it’d be the Sanji that you loved or this new person who had taken over and wouldn’t even text you back for days on end. 

Recently, he was your loving, doting boyfriend. Which caused you to completely forget about the flower petals you were currently collecting from your mouth when you were being distracted by Sanji’s full attention. 

You were lying on Sanji’s chest recounting your day to him when suddenly the sound of his phone pinging cut you off. 

A quiet chuckle made you peek up at Sanji, his eyes were looking at his phone intently, whatever was on his screen, clearly captivated him more than what was coming out of your mouth.

You sit up, his blatant disinterest in your day annoying you. 

“Did I do something wrong?” Your voice cuts through the room.

He looked up at your now sitting form, it looked like he was just acknowledging your presence.

He lets out a noise of confusion, “What?”

“Are you angry at me? Did I say or do something that pissed you off? Because, please, just tell me, I can't take it anymore.” you pleaded.

You notice Sanji’s body tensing, his brow scrunching in even more confusion. He laughs awkwardly, “Baby, what are you talking about? I’m not angry.” he looks away, “I love you, you know that right?”

And suddenly, you weren’t angry anymore. 

You smiled, “I love you too.”

He glances at his phone again.

But you don’t care, because he loves you. 

Satisfied with his response, you settle back down but are interrupted when you begin to cough. Quickly, you stand up to fetch your handkerchief from your pocket, wiping your mouth swiftly. 

You look back at Sanji, “I’m gonna-” but before you can finish, you feel the familiar flowers clawing their way up your throat. You walk out of the room coughing. 

Sanji doesn’t look up from his phone.

♡‧₊˚

He was late.

Again. 

You were exhausted. The constant lies that you fooled yourself into believing for the sake of your heart were beginning to wear on you. 

The old hoodie you were wearing enveloped you in an attempt to provide yourself some level of comfort that no one could really give you anymore. 

It’s late, around midnight, last you checked. The spaghetti dinner left on the table you had cooked had long gone cold. The Baratie had closed hours ago and Sanji still wasn’t home. 

You sit in complete darkness, the TV is currently rattling off an old rerun of some show you didn’t watch. You’re too tired to get up and find the remote to change the channel so you settle on watching the old comedic sitcom. You’re holding your trusty handkerchief that’s become your best friend in the past months; ready to close around your mouth in an attempt to catch the petals of flowers that’d come up your throat every so often. 

Your eyes glaze over the screen when you hear the door creak open. Footsteps were heard as a soft clatter sounded throughout the room from Sanji setting his keys down on the counter. 

You sit up slowly, in an effort to prohibit any intense coughing. 

Your eyes meet Sanji’s surprised ones, “You’re still awake? It’s late, you should go to bed.” he looks away. 

“You missed dinner.” You look over at Sanji’s form, he’s stiff, you note.

“I stayed late to help close, sorry we can reschedule.” He brushes you off swiftly.

“Was she there?” The argument had already begun, why not fuel it some more?

Sanji whips his head at you, an incredulous look gracing his features. “Who are you talking about?” Acting dumb was never a good look on him. 

Your tired eyes stare at him, “I know you’re spending time with her.” The venom in your tone was palpable.

You were over the lies. You were over the constant tiptoeing between each other, you’re honestly surprised he still even decided to come over. It would have been better for him to stay at his place and just call you in the morning to tell his lie. 

He has balls, you’ll give him that.

“Do you even love me anymore?”  

The silence that surrounded the room was upsetting. Of course, he didn’t, who were you fooling? You had all the proof you needed in all of the trashcans around your house, discarded tissues soaked in blood, and petals filled the bins.

Sanji scoffs, “I don’t know what you want from me.” He doesn't answer the question, “Why are you asking if I love you, you're being needy.” He stares at you before continuing, “If you don’t trust me,” he looks away, “Then maybe we should break up.” With a tone of finality, he turns around and walks toward the door, the sound of it shutting echoing throughout the house.

You’re left alone in the silence, the ticking of the clock on the wall muffling your coughs that were accompanied by flowers and blood. 

♡‧₊˚

With the new development of the blooms coming out of your throat, you felt defeated. You’re not sure what you did in a past life to deserve this. You didn’t wish this on anyone, it was a lonely and awful feeling, physically and emotionally. 

You’ve gotten used to your condition. It had been a month since you’d seen Sanji after he had broken things off and in that month, you would constantly find yourself leaning over the toilet bowl, hacking up blood and flower blooms. 

You finally had the courage to look up what you assumed was hanahaki disease. It was a rare condition, but you were certain that was what was causing you pain. The only cure was to have surgery that resulted in the patient forgetting about whomever they had loved. That you’d act as if nothing had happened, that you’d live in ignorance bliss afterward. 

Sacrificing your heart for your life. 

After that month, you had decided to go to a coffee shop forcing yourself to get out of the house and do something. 

So you went to Sanji’s favorite coffee shop. 

Why you had put yourself through that? You weren't sure.

You remember wrapping your hand around the door handle, ready to walk in when a wisp of light auburn hair had caught your attention inside the cafe. 

There she was. Pudding. The girl who had replaced you. The one who had captivated Sanji’s attention in a way you could only dream of.

Sanji stood beside her, you were certain he couldn't see you from inside, his attention was fully on Pudding’s face, absorbing whatever story she had been telling him. 

He had never looked at you like that.

Did he ever love you? Were you that stupid to even see the truth? Had it been there all along and you were simply too blind to notice?

An “excuse me” had brought you back to reality and had you rushing back to your apartment in hopes of not bumping into Sanji or Pudding. You weren't sure your heart could take it if you were forced to talk to them.

After that defeat you noticed that you were no longer hacking up petals, but fully blossomed flowers, you couldn’t walk for a long distance without wheezing, the flowers constricting your airways preventing you from wanting to do anything. You knew you were nearing the final stage, soon roots were going to begin to show up, but you couldn’t bring yourself to go to a doctor. You had read that the longer you kept this from being treated, you’d enter the point of no return. 

So, you simply waited.

Your mind was reeling. You never wanted to stop loving Sanji. You didn’t care about the pain that it brought you. 

You don’t care that you still long to have Sanji tell you that he loves you. To tell you and for you not to immediately have to turn away and cough up blood and flowers. 

You missed him. You yearned for him.

After Nami had found out why you and Sanji broke up, she went on a rant about how she was going to kill him, on how he could have done this to you. You weren't sure if you had ever seen her get so angry before. 

But even after that, you confessed that you still loved him. 

She proceeded to call you insane, but she simply didn’t understand. She didn’t know about how his eyes would sparkle when he would go on about a new recipe that he developed and how he was certain that it was going to be the new hit at the Baratie. She didn’t know how bashful he got when you complimented him on his food. How he’d kiss you like how it was the first time you were kissing each other.

You loved him. And you would forever love him.

But he haunted your life. Leaving you lying at night, not even allowing you to find comfort in your dreams since he haunted those too. When you’d close your eyes you could only mourn for the love that once was. To mourn for him even though he was alive and well, but could you say the same for yourself?

You had long accepted that you were going to die. If anything, you willed it. Never did you want to forget your love for Sanji. The idea that you would never be able to recall how he made your heart pound every time he’d look at you, would be a nightmare.

But you were tired. 

In the months after the cafe incident you would go through phases where the pain would turn to anger, cursing Sanji, wishing you two had never met, wishing that Nami had never introduced you too. 

But the anger would never stay directed towards Sanji. It would always circle back to you. And anger would turn to pity and pity would turn to sadness. 

You wanted to cry and scream at the sky, to yell at the world, to question why love felt this way. Why couldn't he just love you back, why were you being punished for simply loving him unconditionally?

You suffocate yourself in the love that you have for Sanji. Sacrificing your every breath to simply feel the true and fierce love you felt for him. You’d cry until you were gasping for air, til you were choking up flowers that were clogging your lungs. You wished, begged, for it to go away. Wishing that you had never fallen for him. 

But even with all the pain he caused you. You could never hate him.

You could never hate Sanji.

You can’t even bring yourself to hate Pudding, it wasn't her fault that Sanji was infatuated with her rather than you.

And you could never truly hate him for that.

The sterile white walls and the smell of disinfectant wafting through the air brought you back to reality. 

Recalling how hours before Nami had found you on the ground of your bathroom, post-hacking your brains out from the various blooms of flowers that rose from your throat at what seemed like at every hour of the day as of recently. You hadn’t heard her call for you when she entered your apartment so you weren’t able to hide anything from her. 

“Are you insane?” Her voice ricocheted in the bathroom after you had explained to her what had been happening to you for the last couple of months.

You were numb the entire car ride to the hospital as Nami yelled at you for being so careless. 

“Why are you letting that boy kill you?” 

Why were you? 

Why were you putting yourself through this pain, knowing he would never love you again?

The recent memory reminded you of Nami’s presence on the side chair that was placed beside the crunchy bed you were currently sitting on. Her brown eyes met yours and smiled softly at you. 

“You’re gonna be okay.” Nami’s attempt at reassurance was comforting to you for 5 seconds before the door swung open revealing the doctor. 

“Hello,” she said your name, “you’re the one with hanahaki disease, correct?” You glance over at Nami before replying to the doctor in confirmation. “Well, unfortunately, it has been developing for a while and if you had come just a little bit later it would have been untreatable, so I highly suggest proceeding with the procedure as soon as possible.”

Your hands grew clammy. This was it. You were going to be relieved from this grueling life you had found yourself in. You would finally be able to go back to normal. 

Normal. 

Would it truly be normal if you didn’t love Sanji anymore? Could you truly live with yourself knowing that you gave up the one thing that has been keeping you going? You guess you wouldn’t actually remember your love for him if you did the surgery but your heart would know. Your soul would know. 

You wished that all of this pain would go away. Longing to run back to Sanji, for him to stop the anguish that you felt. To have him whisper that he loved you and for you to not cough up flowers anymore. To know that he truly meant the words that he was saying.

You wondered how your life would have gone if you had never fallen for Sanji. Would your life still lead you to this very moment of hell that you’re living currently? You would think that hell would be hot, blazing with heat, but all you felt was the coldness of lies that you believed that spewed from Sanji’s lips when he spoke to you. 

You would like to think that you wished you had never fallen into this trap. That your heart never fell for him, but you knew better. You knew that he had your heart from the beginning. You were doomed from the first interaction.

Wasn’t it a true act of love if you could let the person go? Wouldn’t it be the final seal of approval of your love if you went through with the surgery? The love that you felt for Sanji would be proven by this simple act. 

You felt Nami’s hand grab yours. Her eyes were filled with remorse, a sadness that you could distinguish as the same sadness that you saw in your eyes ever since that first petal came to be.

Anticipatory grief.

She was grieving your love for him already, grieving for your heart, how you would never love again, how you would never love him again.

You sigh. 

♡‧₊˚

You wake up to the soft murmurs of the television in the corner of the room. 

Your mind was hazy, from what, you weren't entirely sure yet. It felt as if you had lost something like it was on the tip of your tongue, but you just couldn’t think of exactly what it was.

Guess it wasn’t important.

Your eyes wander over to your surroundings, the hospital room is bare except for the basic, usual furniture. Your eye caught movement out of the corner of your eye, turning your face to examine what it was.

A balloon with the words “Get well soon!” fills your vision, and your gaze scans over the hearts that surround the bubble letters in bright yellow hues. You reach over the side table to grab the card that sat under the balloon. 

Hope you feel better - Nami.

Sad that you had missed your friend, you made a mental note to pay her a visit after you were discharged from the hospital to thank her.

A soft knock echoed throughout the room, your attention to the door opening revealing the doctor. “Hi, glad you’re awake. The procedure was a success. You should be good to go soon, but take it easy for the next two weeks.”

The procedure.

You quickly scour your brain for answers of who it was you loved but came up short. 

Guess that was the point, wasn’t it? 

Before you could thank the doctor, rushed footsteps were heard outside the room, hasty knocks piercing the air along with the clamor of the door opening quickly. 

Sanji’s blond hair comes into view, and he stands, wide-eyed, near the doorframe. He was panting slightly, a sign that he possibly had been running before he got here. 

He says your name quietly, the doctor gives you a nod before excusing herself from the room to give you guys privacy. 

“Sanji,” you smile brightly at him, “Did you get off of work? Why are you here?”

His eyes shift over to the balloon on the stand beside the bed. “Nami told me about the…procedure.”

“Really?” you roll your eyes teasingly, “It’s not that big of a deal honestly, that Nami. Always the worrier, thank you for visiting me though, you’re a good friend, Sanji.” You look away before you can notice Sanji’s face falling. 

You look back at him, “Oh, could you take me home? I probably shouldn’t be driving right now.” you laugh quietly and scan Sanji’s face. His mind seemed to be somewhere else, perhaps he was really busy at the restaurant. “If you can, if not I’ll just call Nami.” 

“No,” he clears his throat, “Yeah I can take you home.” 

You offer him a smile, “Thanks, hey I think I may have to fill out some paperwork. Could you grab it while I go change?” You begin to stand up slowly before he rushes over to help you up.

You look up at him to thank him again when you realize his eyes are watering. 

Weird. 

Your eyebrows knit in worry, “Hey, are you okay?”

He blinks rapidly while looking away from you. His hand lets go from his grasp on your arm and runs it through his blonde hair while turning away from you. “Yeah, I’m fine.” he coughs, “Uh, I’m gonna go look for those papers.”

He walks out of the room before you can respond, leaving you slightly confused but you shake it off before you begin to look for your clothes. 

You don’t see Sanji standing outside the doorway, coughing up a flower petal. 

[rimaiahwrites]

more looks into the life of connie and his princess puh-leeze !!! that fic was so cute i’m obsessed

YESS I LOVE THEM SO HERE YALL GOO

(This soo late lol imma edit it tomorrow sorry about any mistakes) kinda short too but anywho

—

Connie’s good girl

The school year has been so rough for y/n, you have been more stressed than ever and was nearly burnt out. Connie knew this and was helping as much as he could but a lot of the time he was also busy with making drops and making ‘business’ plans with ony so when he was very pleased to see you running in the living room with a piece of paper in your hand waving it around with a big grin. “Pa look, look!” You said extremely excited. He grabbed the paper and realized it was your report card and it had only As and A pluses on it, no B or C in sight. He grinned before picking you up and spinning you around in his arms, “Good job princess, all AS!” He kissed your cheeks than your neck making you squeal and giggles since you were so ticklish. “I knew you could do it mama.” You smiled shyly, it always felt good to get so much praise from Connie, other then yourself he was the only person you ever truly wanted to make proud.

“You proud of me papa?” You grinned standing up on your tippy toes to kiss him on the lips. “Mhm very proud I think my princesa need some rewards.” You beamed with glee because that means Connie was going to get you whatever you wanted. You were already spoiled as it is but now that he had a real reason to spoil you today you knew it was going to be something special.

You went to get ready right away. You sported a mini flare skirt with a cute colorfully cropped top with spaghetti straps and pink kitten heels. Your hair was in a half up half down style with two ponytails. You were very cute to say the least.

“You look cute today mama, hope you got sum’ under this short ass skirt tho.” Connie said walking up to you running his hands to you ass to check. You rolled your eyes playfully, of course you did because you knew he didn’t play about any of that with his. “Yes I do now let’s gooo” you say pulling him to the front door. You connected your phone to his Bluetooth in his all black hellcat because of course You being the princess passenger you always got to play your music in the car unless you wanted to hear his. Connie speed out of his driveway like a damn crazy man you were truly surprised he hasn’t gotten into any car accidents with the way he drives, him being a speed racer makes it no better either.

Once you were in the mall it was like a kid in a candy store, you were pulling him to every store your eyes landed on, you got sneakers, heels, couple of bags, cute clothes makeup really anything your little heart desired and Connie was right there supporting you pulling his card out as soon as you stepped up to the cashier. It made your heart swell every time he did too, not just because he was spending his money on you but because he truly treated you like a little princess.

“Con which one?” You asked holding up two bags one dark pink and the other light pink. “I don’t know baby which ever one you want.” Connie mumbled kissing you on the cheek. You huffed and pouted “that’s why I asked you I don’t know what I want papa.” You rolled your eyes still looking at both of them not paying any attention to your surroundings clearly because the older white lady standing closely behind gasped and eyed you shocked at the pet name that you normally addressed Connie as. Connie snorted a chuckle looking the lady in the eye and pointed to the dark pink one. “That one you got a lot of clothes it will match with plus papa loves you in that color.” He said pulling you close and sliding his hand down to you ass gripping it a bit inwardly laughing at the white haired women awkwardly trying to avoid eye contact. You grinned and placed the other one down planting a big kiss on his shape jawline. “I think this is all I want pa let’s go home my feet hurt.” You cried playfully limping a bit.

Connie walked out the mall with Seven bags filled in his arms and you clinging on to him like a koala bear because your feet were hurting to bad from the heel and Connie of course spoiled you to no end and one little whine from you and next thing you knew you were being carried to the car.

“Thank you for all this I really appreciate it” You shyly admit, he was so fine that sometimes it intimidated you a little like his side profile, the neck tattoos going all the way down his arm and hand. He smiled back and leaned over to place a kiss on your soft lips. “You’re welcome mama, my pretty girl so polite let’s get home so I can give you your other presents.” He smirked as he bit and tugged on your bottom lip softly making you whine and clench your legs tightly.

-

Connie pulled his gaming chair to the mirror in his bedroom and pulled his shirt off, his tattoos on his chest now visible, you had just gotten out of the shower and you had nothing on but one of his big black t shirt. No Panties or bra. “C’mer.” You walked over to him with shaking legs knowing he was about to fuck you dumb. He pulled you on his lap and got started on your neck, kissing gently and pushing his hands under you makeshift nightgown and squeezed your boobs making you moan out a little bit. You bite your lip and watched him through the mirror. He was being so gentle with you like you were made of glass, you rubbed your legs together making your slick spend from your entrance to your clit. Connie quickly caught on and grinned against your neck. “be patient mama imma get to it.” You tried your best to slow your breathing but he was in your ear whispering and touching you. You were getting turned on very quickly. Connie ignored your needy moan and continued on with the teasingly foreplay before he pulled you against his chest and pulled your legs apart opening you up.

Your breath got caught in your throat when you saw your pink insides and Connie staring holes into mirror. “Look at this pretty pink pussy…so wet is that all for me?” You were quick on nodding your head. “I know.” He took his hand and rubbed his fingers up and down your slit slowly, killing you on the inside. He rubbed your clit for a beat before sliding his thick fingers in. Your pussy was already clenching onto him. “Ah-mm please go faster” you moaned. He nodded before he stroked his fingers deeper hitting your spot. Your eyes rolled shut and leaned your head back on his shoulder. “That feel good? Tell papa let me hear you.” You tried your best but only a pathetic whine was heard. That was good enough for him..for now. He pulled his fingers from you and placed them in his mouth sucking your cum off. “Why’d you stopp?” Your spoiled ass whine kicking your foot up a little. He chuckled and flipped your around so you were facing him. “Cuz I want you to cum on my dick not my fingers now stop whining.” He pulled his sweatpants down and his dick strung out, it’s tip was pink and wet with prenut.

“Come get up on it mama.” He pulled you up higher so you were above him and rubbed his tip up and down your slit before dipping in your sweet warm pussy. Your eyes widened from the shock it had only been a few days since he had given you dick but it was so big to you that you didn’t think you’ll ever get over the shook of his tip sliding in. “P-pa- ehhh” he looked up at you seeing the look of discomfort on your face. “I know it’s all the way in.” He said before slamming you down on it. “Oh fuck! Oh fuuuuckkk!” You moaned placing your hand on his shoulders trying to balance yourself but that was all thrown off because he started thrusting from up underneath you.

You gasped loudly grabbing his shoulders. “Waitt papa wait!” He smirked and thrusted harder, his dick hitting your g spot perfectly everyday. Your finger nails gripped into his strong tattooed arm.

“Yeahhh I’m getting in that pussy huhh mama” he said his voice raspy and deep, his tongue folded on his bottom lip. Your pussy was so tight and gripping his dick so good. You nodded your head already feeling out of it.

“Tell me how it feel baby…tell daddy.”

“Good, feel good daddyy.” You whine trying to sit up to ride him, you got up on your toes and laid your hands on his torso, he grinned big watching you “you gon ride like a big girl? Oh you acting outta character today princess.” You giggled but as soon as you sunk down you quickly remembered why you didn’t ride him often. “Go ahead you can do it baby.” You slowly but surely begin going quickly hitting deeper than before. Your knees knocked together when it started getting a little to deep and good.

“Gimme it! Gimme that daddy dick papa please I been a good girl promise!” You went on and on.

“Get it than mama you in control right now.” Connie said through small groans, you shook your head you wanted to keep going but all your strength was getting zapped. You fall onto his chest shaking like a leaf, his dick popping out. “Aw princess I thought you was gonna be a big girl and take it?” Connie chuckled smacking your ass making you jump a little.

“Papa I tried it’s just so hard and my legs aren’t that strong.” You pouted.

“That’s ok, that’s why I go to the gym.” He chuckled and picked you up by your legs and put his dick back in.

He Bounced you up and down, your loud wails were surely heard by the neighbors but Connie couldn’t give a fuck he was making his pretty girl feel good and that all that mattered to him…and you. You felt like you were in a whole different dimension you were hearing color and seeing sounds, your eyes felt like they were permanently crossed.

Connie loved your fucked out face, the drool and tears making you even prettier.

“M’ gonna nut daddy please don’t wanna make a mess on the floor waitt!” You sobbed, Connie ignored you and pounded harder because that’s exactly what he wanted.

“I know baby I know gimme that juice it’s okay daddy will clean it up.” He smiled gripping your face with one hand and the other holding you up, he placed a sweet kiss on your lips.

You whined against his lips and let it all out on his dick and floors. “There we gooo, mhmm.” He groaned rubbing his pink tip up and down your slit making your cum fling all over the both of you. You placed your face in his neck embarrassed hearing the loud splashing sounds. He smiled and waited to until your breathing evened out before setting you down on his bed. “You gonna suck daddy up?”

“Mhmm” You hummed giving him the prettiest smile before bringing his dick up to your lips.

“Daddies need to get spoiled too sometimes.”

[dhruvkumaar]

Novels are not movies.

Visual media has taken on the world by storm. It’s the next big thing in the evolution of humanity, maybe. It’s quite certainly changed the way we entertain ourselves. And with the recent spread of short-form content, visual media has also become cheap, disposable, and easily accessible to the masses—perfect recipe to make a product famous.

Alright, I’ve been a little too dramatic, lol. But for real, I’m one of those who’s severely addicted to Instagram Reels. Whenever I’m done scrolling, I feel like I’ve completely wasted my time—I could have read a novel, watched a movie, or caught up with my favorite mangas. But instead of all those ways to relax—and believe me (pwlease) that I only open Insta to relax, when I’m free—I just waste my time.

I love my novels and manga, mind ya, so when I catch myself wasting precious time that I could have instead used to consume them, I cuss myself. And then I go scroll some more Insta, because I’m an absolute idiot.

Anyway, back to the topic. Visual media has absolutely taken over our lives. I won’t go into the debate of whether this is a good thing or not, but we all can agree that it’s an undeniable fact. Video is everywhere.

Because—and lemme repeat myself—it’s cheap, disposable, and easily accessible today.

And because of such exposure to video storytelling, beginning authors forget that novels are not a visual medium. Yep, here goes my rant.

***

#01 - The Problem

The problem is simple—these kids have too much access to their smartphones. And these smartphones are filled with videos, like a dustbin with its lid hanging on because of all that garbage overfilling it. (Damn, I sound like a boomer.)

And therefore, when these new authors begin writing, they can’t help but imagine a sort of movie or a TV show as their story. And that’s where the problem is—novels are not supposed to be movies.

Movies are a visual media. That means they’re composed of pictures. Images. But guess what novels are composed of?

Text. Words.

It seems pretty basic. I mean, everybody knows this distinction. But what they don't know, however, are the implications of this distinction.

Personally, I began writing with film-novels too. And those novels are bad. Genuinely. I cringe at the fact that I could even mail editors and believe they’d accept them. Good thing they never did.

What’s a film-novel, though? Well, the idea is pretty clear—it’s a novel, but imagined in the form of a film. So, it’s like a film, but in text.

It’s like you’ve written the film as a novel, instead of writing it as a screenplay or something, maybe.

But you’d ask me—why? Why is it even a mistake? Everybody has a different writing style. And to that, I’d tell you one thing—the audience. The audience is different. The media is different. You can’t expect a cinephile to read your book. And since it’s not like a professional novel, a (Googles the correct term) bibliophile certainly won't.

So, who’s gonna read your story?

No one—because it’s neither a film, nor a novel. It’s a film-novel, an illogical mix of the two.

Everyone drinks water, and everyone likes ice-cream. But you can't… No, I’m not even completing that sentence. Ew.

Anyway, you get the idea, lol.

***

#02 - Identify

So, what does a film-novel even look like?

And for that, ladies and gentlemen, I present to you,

The lean figure was standing on the other side of the railing three floors up on the ground of the school building where children below were shouting and kicking football upon each other, wearing white football jerseys. The figures, as they ran all over the ground, seemed very small as I looked at them. The goalkeeper of the right side, who was just beneath my white shoe, kicked the ball so hard that it flew in air and went directly to the other foot of mine. The other players shouted “Whoaaa!” as they saw the ball flying. But suddenly, two of them looked upwards and saw me. One of them pointed towards me and then shouted, “Hey, who’s he?!” All the other players started walking towards that boy who was in the middle of the field with their heads tilted up above on me. Another one shouted, “Hey! What’cha doin’, eh?!” My narrow eyes, which had dark spots beneath them, looked at the boys from behind my spectacles. I then moved my head a little up and saw my shiny gakuran jacket fluttered by my shiny yellow colored buttons as the wind started blowing from my left side. I was able to feel the wind dancing upon my soft skin as I closed my eyes and turned my head upwards. I took a deep breath, and then exhaled it out with my mouth. I then again took a breath. This time, when I exhaled it out with my mouth, I was able to feel the saliva of my mouth upon my lips. I tilted my head and turned towards my arm, which was trembling a little. Both of my hands were still holding the railing of the school’s rooftop. I then turned left and then looked on my other arm. “Hey! Get down!” One of the persons from beneath shouted. I turned my narrowed eyes towards the ground, the teachers, a large gang of footballers and students, and some even workers had gathered in a circle. I turned my head towards the front. I looked at a couple of brown colored and blue-green colored houses in front of me, which stood high and mighty. Beneath them was the clear blue sky.

A wall of text!

Warning: you don’t really need to read all of it. But you probably did, lol.

Anyway, it’s the opening scene from one of my first novels. And, as much as I hate to say this—it’s pretty sh*t. It has a lot of problems—no paragraph divisions, for example, as well as a lot of grammatical mistakes too. But the biggest problem with the text is that it’s just images.

Reading this text, I dare you to highlight one single sentence that might tell you anything about the narrator.

The narrator is narrating the motions, not the emotions.

(Damn, that was a dope line to say, man.)

The narrator is only telling you about the images and actions and dialogues and thoughts. Even though it’s in first-person POV, you feel distant from the narrator. And, even in third-person POV, authors are supposed to make sure the distance between the narrator and the reader remains at a minimum.

That’s how you get a film-novel—that’s filled with scene-descriptions, actions, and dialogues. There’s no narrations in it. The readers don’t know the thoughts of these characters.

***

#03 - Is it really a problem, though?

Well, you might ask me—is it really such a big problem?

Heck yeah.

The reason is pretty simple, actually—no one wants to read a film-novel. These novels are filled with only descriptions and actions—that’s too much of mental effort. these novels make their readers keep on imagining stuff, and no reader wants to do that.

Because it’s easier to look at pictures than to imagine them based on text. And that’s why your film-novels won’t work.

See, you need to understand this—novels are different than film. Sure, novels are a form of storytelling too, and they do include visual effort, such as descriptions, action, and all that. But, all that is not the main selling point of a novel.

The main selling point of a novel is the emotions. Emotions captured in words, in situations—caught in context like a butterfly in a child’s hand. Films can display emotions, but novels put those emotions into words.

Narration is what forms the greatest part of a novel. Narration is where a novel actually shines. Narration is what the readers come to read.

And, as you could guess, films don’t narrate. Consider this,

And rain made him feel like crying. He gulped down, trying to keep the lump of his throat in check. He couldn’t cry in the middle of so many other kids. They’ll ask questions, and what will he say to them, huh?

He was sorry.

For what?

For everything he did. And for everything he didn’t.

The day had just begun. It’d be long before it ends, y’know. He just couldn't wait for it to end. There was no lifting up his mood. Not until tomorrow.

How do you display this in a film? The answer—you can't. However hard you try, you can't.

Such narrations are where the art of novels shine. Such narrations are what differentiates a novel from a visual media.

***

#04 - Is it really a problem, though? (pt.ii)

All this talk constantly reminds me of Cormac McCarthy’s The Road. It’s a literary achievement and really experimental in a lot of stuff that it does. For example, the novel has no dashes or apostrophes—and it’s not like these punctuation marks were not needed, they’re just not used. So, you’d find a lot of grammatical mistakes throughout the text.

And also, one thing that McCarthy ignored—and that’s relevant to the discussion we’re having—is that there’s literally zero narration. Zero.

McCarthy adopts a style that’s similar to a third-person POV, and is kinda like how I used to write when I was little—just with paragraphs and better scene-descriptions and action-descriptions. A lot better, as you can observe if you read his work.

Anyway, he didn’t have any narrative elements in his text. So the readers don’t really know what these characters are thinking or planning to do. They just know that these characters are somehow surviving.

I don’t wanna give away most of the plot of the novel, but the basic premise of the novel is that there’s a father-son duo who’s been caught in this apocalypse-type situation, and are traveling down the road to the south part of the country to escape the harsh winters that the north experiences. The novel doesn’t reveal a lot—the readers don’t know the names of these characters, the thoughts of the characters are hidden most of the time, and you don’t know what actually happened that most of humanity is dead and society is completely gone.

Now, McCarthy did it for a reason. A scarcity of punctuation marks reflects a form of scarcity in the scenery around them. Because most of it is, well, gone. Humanity is gone, and stuff is decaying. You don’t find fresh food anymore. Scavenge all you want—one day, all the canned food will expire, and there will be nothing to eat. Except fruits and veggies, that need to be grown somewhere. And nobody likes the latter, honestly.

And the scene-descriptions are so tough to read. They’re an actual pain. I have had a really hard time deciphering most of it, because the vocab is too high, and probably the sentences do not flow into each other easily. I can’t say anything about the sentences if I don’t understand them, y’know.

But, man, maybe that’s how it’s supposed to be. Maybe that’s why McCarthy wrote the descriptions in this way—to symbolize the mental stress that the characters go through as they experience this world, this form of reality that they were not meant to be in.

And maybe the novel is so lacking in narrations because the characters’ minds have gone numb. They’re forgetting language. With almost zero human interaction most of the time, they are forgetting how to think and interact in words. You lose the skills you don’t really use anymore, y’know. And these guys are so obviously depressed, so they don’t think about the world. They are used to the sad reality they live in. No point in complaining how bad the food is if that’s all you’re gonna eat all your life.

So, a scarcity of narrations tell you a lot about the story and its characters. It reflects something, it symbolizes something. The Road is a masterfully crafted piece of prose, please don’t get inspired to write in this style just because. This style won’t work on most of the stories.

Yeah, just because he wrote like this means you can too. Let me tell you, dear reader, that all of what we call rules are meant to be broken. Nothing is absolute. But here’s the catch—you can’t break the rules just because you don’t know how to apply them.

Authors need to learn these rules, because that’s what constitutes most of the written prose. That’s what forms the basics of the craft. So, learn them, understand them, and know how to use them. And then make a conscious decision not to use them.

See, these rules are like tools or weapons in your arsenal. And you need to keep your arsenal ready for everything. And then, you can decide which weapon to use, when to use it, and how to use it. Because you don’t know what sort of idea hits your head next and you’d suddenly need some of them.

***

#04 - Solution

So, how to make sure your novel actually comes off as a novel and not a film-novel? Unfortunately, the answer to that question… is that I don't know.

I know this sounds so absurd, but it is what it is. As someone who’s so recently started studying prose, I know this problem exists, but I still don’t know how to fix it. You could say I know my novels are film-novels, and I’m trying to fix it. But I, personally, am having a lot of trouble with it.

However, one way I can recommend is to write from your character’s POV, not your POV. You probably imagined your story as a film, but that’s now how you’re supposed to write it. Get into your characters’ head, see what they’re seeing, and write that.

But it’s tough. For me, at least. I always find myself going back to my old ways, and I think I need to re-write almost all of my scene-descriptions and actions because of it.

Lol, how ironic.

***

Conclusion

Yeah, and that’s it. I hope you liked this blog. Sorry I hadn’t posted in along while, I was going through a writers’ block. Stuff is happening these days, y’know.

Anyway, I’ll see you again in a couple of days, with something new. Bye-byee!

[icyg4l]

Pick-A-Girl Group: What Purpose Do the Women In Your Life Serve?

Continuing on with my Women’s History Month series, I am going to do a reading on how the women in your life feel about you and the effect of these feelings. I am going to be using the True Heart Tarot Deck and the Archetype Oracle Deck. These readings are supposed to uplift, relate to and inspire women so I hope they serve their purpose. I Without further ado, please pick your pile. 🫶

***Disclaimer: Regardless of your gender identity, the women that are in your life deserve to be celebrated as long as they have pure intentions. Much love. 🩷

Left-to-Right (1-4):

Pile One: If you resonate with the image of FLO, then you deserve the whole fucking world. Pile One, the women in your life absolutely adore you. You probably resonate with the song’s theme: recognizing beauty in yourself when everyone is against you, specifically as a black woman. You have come such a long way. The women that are currently in your life have seen you make mistakes and allowed you to do so. They recognize your evolution. A lot of you have a best friend who you’ve been friends with for a long time and she is so proud of you. She is proud of the person that you have become. This pile has some cheerleaders around them. I feel like the women in your life are meant to take inspiration from what you are going through right now. I think that you may be going through your redemption arc.You’re forgiving yourself for a lot of things that you’ve done in the past. The women in your life see that and are following suit. After all, living life does mean not being a robot. These women who are around you are all ears, very receptive to what it is that you are doing with your life. You’re like their Oprah, lol. If you have a story to tell, share it with her. She may need to hear it. I channeled the show: Beyond Scared Straight; specifically the parts where the prisoners talk to the kids about their life stories and the reasoning for why they should not end up in jail. I feel like you could be someone’s mentor, whether they’re younger or the same age as you, perhaps even older. You are someone’s Reesa Teesa too, lol. I get the feeling that you need to be talking about yourself, Pile One. There is an audience full of women who are willing to hear you out and listen. When I pulled from the oracle deck, I got the following cards: 

God: Benevolence and compassion. Recognizing the eternal force within yourself and others/Despotism and cruelty. Using power to control people 

Mother: Nurturance, patience, unconditional love. Joy in giving birth to life/Smothering or abandoning children. Instilling guilt in children for becoming independent.

Poet: Expresses soul insights in symbolic language/Turns a lyric gift to negative or destructive effect. 

Cards Used: 2 of Swords, 4 of Discs, 9 of Cups, Prince of Wands (RX), King of Discs, Four of Cups, Temperance.

Pile Two: If you resonate with the photo of Destiny’s Child, you got some ride or dies around you for real. I think that you’ve been through hell and back with the women in your life and they do not play about you. I think the women in your life want you to know that you are so worth it. I’m not going to lie Pile Two, it sounds like you’re in a toxic love situation and your girls want you out of it. Your friends, cousin or little sister could have told you that you need to exit stage left multiple times. They absolutely believe you deserve better. Hypothetically speaking, If y’all fell out today and an emergency happened tomorrow, they would be on the way to the hospital. I feel like family is so important to you. They feel like you’ve forgot about them but I don’t think that you have. Circumstances make it difficult for you all to see eye-to-eye. The women in your life want you to know that you are not alone. They will forever be there for you no matter what, even if you have lost your damn mind. These challenging times will make the bond between you and these women stronger. When I pulled from the oracle deck, I got the following cards: 

Artist: Expressing a dimension of life that is beyond the five senses. Inspiring others to see life symbolically / Using talent as an excuse to mistreat others. Posing as the Starving Artist to elicit pity.

God:  Benevolence and compassion. Recognizing the eternal force within yourself and others / Despotism and cruelty. Using power to control people 

Goddess: The feminine expressed through wisdom. Nature, life force, and sensuality / Exploitation of the female nature and form 

Cards Used: Ace of Discs, 9 of Swords, Princess of Cups (RX), Prince of Discs, The Hierophant, Princess of Discs, 4 of Cups (RX), The Devil (RX), 10 of Cups.

Pile Three: If you resonate with the photo of TWICE, you got the grandmother spirit around you. Did you grow up in the church? Or at least with a god-fearing grandmother? I feel like the women in your life hate to see you unhappy and this is what you’re feeling right now. I think that you may be uninspired/unfulfilled with what life is giving you right now. It’s not an uncommon feeling. But smiling can make all the difference. The women in your life want to see you smile, make you smile and laugh. They want to be there for you like how your grandmother was. No one will ever replace Granny but her presence is always there. You may be questioning God/your higher powers because of something that deeply affected you. But the women around you want you to not feel ashamed or want you to feel like they are judging you. They have been in the same predicament. They only want to see you get better. They hate to see you like this. It may be hard to do this but look at the glass half full, rather than half empty. They want you to get back to yourself, the version of you that isn’t defeated. When I pulled from the oracle deck, I got the following cards: 

Child: Nature: Friendships with animals. Communication with nature spirits / Tendency to abuse animals, people and the environment. 

Destroyer: Releasing what is potentially destructive. Preparing for new life / Intoxication with destructive power. Destroying others’ dreams or potential.

Child: Magical: Seeing the potential for sacred beauty in all things. The belief that everything is possible / Pessimism, depression and disbelief in miracles. Believing that energy and action are not required for growth.

Cards Used: The Devil, Princess of Cups, The Star, Judgment, The Moon, Temperance, Seven of Swords.

Pile Four: And lastly, if you resonated with the photo of the Spice Girls, you seem very sensual. Are you a SWer? Do you attend pole dancing classes for fun? Do you know someone who does either of these things? I feel like the women in your life appreciate how physical you are. You’re probably an artist and you're sensitive about your shit too. The women in your life feel as though you have a lot of talents. You’re very multifaceted and they love to brag about it, especially the older women. You could been the cousin who had to show off the latest dance move. So as a result, you became the leader of the pack. You can be naturally nurturing but it can drain you. The women around you feel like you need to put up some boundaries so that you can still worry about you. They respect your quality of being a giver, but do you even respect yours-[GUNSHOT]. There is a woman that you are close to that admires a quality that you hate. She compliments it any chance she can get because she wants to uplift you. I feel like people always try to touch you, whether it’s your hair, your arms, or even your butt. The women around you could immediately shut it down or call them out or defend it. They want to protect your innocence. Even though you are grown, you have that ingenue within you. They know how you can get (especially while under the influence) so they refuse to let you get that way. When I pulled from my oracle deck, I got the following cards: 

Servant: Delight in serving others with a free and loving heart / Using the lack of money as an excuse not to move forward with life 

Bully: Highlights your tendency to intimidate others. Helps you confront the inner fears that bully you / Conceals deep fears behind verbal or physical abuse.

Hedonist: Inspires creative energy to embrace the good things in life. Celebrates the beauty in yourself / Pursues pleasure to the detriment of health. Indulges at the expense of others.

Cards Used: The Star, The Lovers, Judgment, The Emperor, 7 of Cups, 10 of Swords, Ace of Cups, The Moon, 8 of Cups (RX).

[sergeantbarnessdoll]

Hi! Can I please request a soulmate!Jefferson x soulmate!fem!reader where she was born in Wonderland, but grew up in our world because her and her mom have the ability to create portals to anywhere she wants to go, even other realms. Basically she was born with the power that Jefferson’s hat does. Her Mom has that ability as well and got Y/n out of the magic realm before the curse hit, so she never got sent to Storybrooke (her Mom didn’t teleport in time so she got sent to Storybrooke). Because her Mom didn’t come with her, Y/n forgot about where she came from, she forgot about magic, her powers, her mom, all of it. Though, and she never knew why, as she was growing up in our world, she always felt very hyperfixated on the book Alice in Wonderland, collected many special editions of it (lol I’m going to tell on myself, I have like 13 different copies from over the years lol), different Alice in Wonderland decorations and collectibles, etc. she unconsciously finds her way to Storybrooke (she can go to and from Storybrooke like Emma can). And she finds herself in the bookstore, grabbing another copy of the book but someone else grabs in first (Jefferson!!). Anyways, he would probably automatically know who she is, that she is his soulmate and he probably could tell that she is from Wonderland (also that she has magic). He would definitely ask her to come with him to his mansion, and she’s in a bit of a daze from meeting her soulmate so she agrees. Maybe she’s there at the same time as Emma and Mary (when he trapped them there, he traps Y/n there too), but Y/n believes him, unlike Emma, and refuses to escape with Emma and Mary when they leave the house, so when Jefferson comes back to his house, he’s happy to see his soulmate is still there, and she runs up to hug him🥹

My Alice In Wonderland » Jefferson/Mad Hatter

Pairings: Soulmate!Jefferson x Soulmate!Female Reader

Summary: Jefferson finds his Alice In Wonderland in Storybrooke.

Warnings: Fluff, language, crying, kissing, pet names

A/N: Thank you for the request @kpopgirlbtssvt 🩵

Written on my phone. My apologies for any mistakes.

Header made by @buck-star

GIF IS NOT MINE! Gif credit goes to the creator.

WONDERLAND

Ever since you were a kid, your mom told you that you have the ability to create portals and go to different realms. All you need is magic to do that. To do that, she gave you a necklace with a gem on it. The gem lights up and you can open a portal to go to a realm. No matter if it’s in Wonderland or the Enchanted Forest, you can go anywhere you want. Within reason, of course. Sometimes, your mom goes with you and sometimes she doesn’t. She allows you to have the freedom to roam as you please.

“What realm are you going to today, sweetheart?” Your mom asks curiously.

“I was going to try to open a portal to the Enchanted Forest. I heard there’s beautiful flowers there and I would like to get some.” You tell her. “Would you like to come with me?” You asked.

“That sounds like fun, but maybe next time. Bring me back some flowers though.” She says with a smile.

You smiled and nodded. You then focused real hard. The gem on your necklace lit up, opening a portal in front of you. You looked at your mom with a smile before stepping into the portal, going into the Enchanted Forest. The portal closed behind you. You walked around for a little bit, taking in the scenery of the Enchanted Forest.

As you were walking through the forest, you heard giggles of a little girl. You smiled to yourself when you heard it, knowing that you’d like it there. The little girl was running around and playing. Her head was turned, looking at the person who was playfully chasing her. You assumed that the man is her father. Before either of you knew it, the little girl accidentally ran into you and fell to the ground, making an “oof” noise.

“Are you ok?” You asked the little girl, holding a hand out for her.

“Yes.” She answers, taking your hand and stood up. “I’m sorry for running into you.” She apologizes.

“Don’t worry about it.” You smiled.

She dusted the dirt off of her outfit. Her father walked up to her.

“I’m sorry about that. My daughter tends to get competitive when she’s playing.” The man says.

“That’s ok.” You say.

“I’m Jefferson and this is my daughter Grace.” He introduces himself and his daughter.

“I’m Y/N.” You introduced yourself.

“What brings you to the Enchanted Forest?” Jefferson asks.

“I’m just visiting and I’m also looking for flowers. I heard the flowers heard the flowers here are beautiful.” You say.

“There’s some over by that tree.” Grace chimes in, pointing at a point to the right of you three.

“Thank you.” You smiled. “I should get the flowers and get going before my mom starts to worry.” You say.

As you were walking away, Jefferson stopped you.

“Will we see you again?” Jefferson asks curiously.

“Soon.” You replied with a smile.

Jefferson smiled back, watching you walk towards the flowers. You picked a few flowers and then opened a portal to go back home.

“Mom, I’m home!” You announced, placing the flowers on the table.

Your mom walked in the living room with worry on her face, which made you frown.

“What’s wrong?” You asked.

“There’s no time for me to explain. Just know it has something to do with the Evil Queen. You need to go somewhere safe.” Your mom says.

Before you could ask about the Evil Queen, your mom opened a portal. You don’t know where though.

“You’ll be safe here.” She says.

“Are you coming with me?” You asked.

“I wish I could, but I can’t.” She says.

“I can’t just leave you here.” You say.

“Yes, you can. Now, go. I’ll be fine here. I love you, sweetie.” She says softly, kissing your forehead and gave you a hug.

“I love you too, mom.” You whispered.

You stepped through the portal and turned around to face your mom. You gave her a smile and a wave before the portal closed. Your eyes teared up and a single tear rolled down your cheek. You exhaled shakily before taking a look around the woodsy area you’re in. Now, you have to adjust to life in a world you haven’t been to.

STORYBROOKE

As you walked down the side of the road, you came across a sign that says “WELCOME TO STORYBROOKE, MAINE”. You figured if you kept walking along that road, you’ll be able to find somewhere to stay since there’s no way you’re leaving any time soon.

That was years ago. Now, you’re adjust to life in Storybrooke. Even though, it’s different than your old life, you still like it here. That sad thing is that you don’t remember anything about your old life. Your mom, magic, your powers, everything. You’ve been reading Alice in Wonderland books and you also have decorations and collectibles all around your house.

Today, you’re going to the book story to get another copy of Alice in Wonderland book. You went to the local bookstore to see if they have any. You went to the bookshelves with the fairytale books. As you were reaching to get the book, someone was also reaching for it and your hand bumped that person’s hand.

“Sorry.” You apologized.

“It’s alright.” Jefferson said.

Jefferson reached for the book and handed it to you. You smiled and took it from him.

“Is that your favorite fairytale story?” He asks curiously.

“Yes.” You answered. “This may sound childish, but I like to imagine I live in the fairytale world. I also have decorations and collectibles.” You say with a smile.

“It’s not childish at all. I think it’s cute.” He says with a smile.

There was something about Jefferson that intrigued you. Like a connection of some sort. Jefferson felt it too.

“I know this may seem a bit awkward since we just met and all, but would you like to come over to my mansion for tea tonight?” He asks.

“Oh- umm- I would love to.” You replied with a stutter.

One thing you learned about stranger danger is that you don’t go to a stranger’s house, but there’s something about Jefferson that tells you he’s not a stranger.

“You have a lovely mansion.” You complimented as you walked inside.

“Thank you.” Jefferson smiles. “You can wait in here while I get the tea.” He tells you.

You nodded and walked into a room that you assumed is the living room. You sat down on the couch and flipped through the Alice in Wonderland book you just bought while you waited for him.

“Find anything good?” Jefferson asks as he walks in the room.

“All of it is good.” You replied with a smile.

Jefferson sat down next to you and gave you a cup of tea.

“What brings you to Storybrooke?” He asks, trying to make conversation.

“Honestly, I don’t know. One day, I showed up here.” You say.

That was enough to tell Jefferson that you have powers of some sort. That’s when his eyes caught a glimpse of your necklace. He tilted his head slightly as he admired it.

“Thats a beautiful necklace.” He compliments.

“Oh, thank you.” You smiled, touching your necklace.

“Did your mom get it for you?” He asks.

“Honestly, I don’t remember where I got it.” You say.

“Well, it adds to your beauty.” He compliments.

You blushed. You were about to thank him when a sudden noise somewhere in his mansion startled you.

“Something probably fell off a shelf or something. I’ll be right back.” Jefferson says.

You nodded. Jefferson stood up and went to the room where Mary was tied up in. Emma was untying her. Jefferson stood in the doorway of the room and cleared his throat, startling the two women.

“It’s funny to think that you two can leave.” Jefferson chuckles. “Tie her back up.” He says to Emma.

Mary looked at Emma and shook her head no.

“It’s going to be ok.” Emma whispers to her.

Mary nodded as she tied her back up. Emma walked out of the room. Jefferson closed the door behind him. He grabbed her arm and led her to the room where his hats are.

“Sit down.” He orders, pointing at the chair behind the desk.

Emma walked over to the desk and sat down.

“What is it you expect me to do?” Emma asks.

“A hat.” He says.

“Don’t you think you have enough?” She says.

“None of them work.” He says.

Emma furrowed her eyebrows in confusion.

“How do they not work? All you have to do is put it on your head.” Emma says.

“I need magic to get it to work.” Jefferson says.

Meanwhile, you were in the living room, flipping through your book. You sighed softly and stood up, deciding to roam around Jefferson’s mansion. You know it’s an invasion of privacy to snoop around someone’s house, but you couldn’t help yourself. Your boredom and curiosity got the best of you. As you were walking down the hallway, you heard Jefferson’s voice. You followed it to the room he’s in, leaning against the wall next to the door. You heard him talking to a woman.

“If you think she’s your daughter, why don’t you go to her?” Emma says.

“I don’t think. I know.” Jefferson says.

“It’s not that hard to just go to her.” She says.

“Actually, it is. I need magic for my hat to work and you have it.” He says.

“Magic isn’t real. I don’t have any powers.” She says.

Jefferson scoffs.

“Magic is real.” You chimed in, walking in the room.

Jefferson and Emma looked over at you.

“Do you seriously believe in magic?” Emma asks you.

“I like to think of it as a miracle.” You say.

Emma walks over to you, putting her hands on your shoulders.

“Did he tell you to say that?” She whispers.

“No. I genuinely believe in it.” You answered.

“You can tell me the truth.” She says.

“I am telling the truth.” You say.

“You know you can come with me. I can help you.” She says.

“I don’t want to leave.” You say.

“She’s not going anywhere.” Jefferson chimes in.

Emma glances at the open door behind you and made a break for it. Jefferson follows after her, knowing where she’s going. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion. Yet again, your curiosity got the best of you and you followed behind him. You heard and seen chaos break out in the room you entered. Your eyes went wide when you seen Jefferson go through the window.

“Jefferson!” You screamed, running over to the broken window.

You looked down, seeing nothing except broken glass. You turned around to say something to Emma and Mary, but they were gone. You were left in a confused and shocked state. You went back to the living room and sat down on the couch, trying to process what just happened.

You weren’t sure how long you were there. You heard a door open and close, along with familiar footsteps. You stood up from the couch and walked towards the sound of the footsteps. You gasped when you seen Jefferson. You ran over to him and hugged him.

“Thank god, you’re ok!” You say.

Jefferson smiles and wraps his arms around you. He felt a warmth in his heart.

“You stayed.” Jefferson says softly.

“Of course I did.” You said softly. “You’re my soulmate.” You smiled.

Jefferson smiles when he heard those words. He leans down and kissed you softly and passionately.

“And you’re my soulmate.” He whispers against your lips. “I felt it when I seen you in the bookstore.” He says.

“Me too.” You smiled.

“I love you, darling.” He murmurs softly.

“I love you too, Jefferson.” You murmured back.

🎩🎩🎩🎩🎩🎩🎩🎩🎩🎩🎩🎩🎩🎩🎩🎩🎩

-Bucky’s Doll

[sixthwater]

Hello! I will be doing some short pick a card's to help see if I'm the reader for you! Today we'll be doing a personality reading with my astrology oracle cards. Let's go!

Left → Right / Pile 1 → Pile 4)

Decks Used: The Arcana or Astrology, Astrological Oracle Cards, claves astrologicae, astrological dice

Disclaimer | Pinned | Tip Jar | Paid Readings

Pile One

Cards: Pallas Athena, Eighth House, Eleventh House, Fourth House, Cancer, Pluto Rx, Sun, First House, Solar Eclipse, Virgo, Capricorn, Eighth, Saturn

So far I’m not really getting *you*, I feel nothing. Not in a bad way, but everything is about other people. Which is funny because I have a video I haven’t started yet about how a character’s transformation throughout a series is through his relationships, which I think is what you offer to others. It’s not a subconscious thing, it feels as if you actively seek to help people or point out issues within relationships or people so they can fix them. You value bonds and community and you like things to be even. However this isn’t just you so let’s dig a bit deeper.

Ah I was just thinking ‘they probably really need to feel comfortable’ just as Cancer flew out. Mmm you might have fourth house placements not necessarily Cancer ones, but it’s just more about being easily...frazzled? Oh you’re difficult to explain lol. It’s not that you’re easily frazzled because you can confront/spot these issues within others and it’s not simple things like ‘oh well did you talk to them’, it’s usually deep wounds that long conversations unearth. However at the same time you’re very simple and a bit introverted? This introversion is mainly because you feel more comfortable around people you know or in places you’re familiar with, but you also make people around you feel comfortable enough to be that vulnerable. I’m doing it again- did you. Pick Pile 2 from my pac fooreeeveerr ago when I couldn’t even focus on you - for what makes you attractive. A lot of your personality is like a guiding light, which is a bit annoying because that’s not really describing you it’s about your effect on others you know. So what I can get from that is...you might hold a lot of stuff in. With Pluto coming out in reverse, because I always take my oracles upright, it feels like struggling to deal with that energy on your own. However you have all of this glowing energy to welcome others so that they can be loved and comforted even though you can’t do that for yourself.

Solar! Oh, are you one of my cardinal siblings?! I would guess signs but whenever I pull this section they never match hehe, but I did guess maybe a Cancer Rising, however that doesn’t add up — I’m rambling. Understanding why I took Perfectionist, you sometimes present yourself as someone who needs to always seem okay. I don’t think it’s physically? It’s more like that Virgo cringe of being wrong or making mistakes or like. Existing, let’s be real lmao. However you are very open to new phases in your thinking or view of the world — which does remind me of when people do room makeovers. Changing their aesthetic for something else? It’s like you sometimes do that with who you are (forgiving of your core values). As I said, this section tends to be people’s view which can sometimes conflict with the first pull, but in this case it can match up because the Eleventh can speak to group integration and the Eighth can be constant transformation, just not in the way people seem to think.

Okay with your last roll you have to have some Cardinal dominance with Eighth house placements lmao, happy Solar Eclipse! Really the only thing to add is that you might be a bit restrictive with how you express/present yourself? As in you overthink or you feel like you’re not allowed to do certain things because you didn’t suffer enough for it? Unfortunately problems and emotions will always present themselves regardless of your status, you don’t have to be at a certain level to be frustrated, it’s okay. Also you feel a bit goofy, I hope you’re allowed to let that side out enough.

Songs: Friends – Flight of the Conchords, Girls & Boys – Good Charlotte, Perfectionist – Flash Forward, Drew Barrymore – SZA

Pile Two

Cards: Twelfth House, Hygeia, Last Quarter Moon, Sixth House, Sun, Venus, Jupiter, First Quarter, Seventh House, Uranus, Aries, Eleventh, North Node

Oh? Well, as a side note the cards came out without issue, so there’s a feeling that you know yourself quite well. More than you might realize because I feel like you...there’s a feeling of you making adjustments for yourself without realizing. There’s a house opposition but it feels like it’s working well so far here. In tune with your body and soul, so when something feels off or you’re feeling sluggish, you make adjustments to one portion of your life and you’ll be feeling a bit better the next week. There’s also a pretty forward quality here about you, you don’t pretend to be anything you’re not and you’re down to earth. This first pull can also point to a healing quality about you — the dynamic of the 6th & 12th can usually have someone who ends up working for charities or having a natural ability to help others in some form underneath their daily routine.

I already had a feeling this pile was something else. I don’t know there is a very relaxed energy about your. Even while listening to your first song, it still felt more calm despite the meaning of the song? Considering these are Benefics and The Sun, it’s like you do your best to always look on the bright side of things. I mean yes this can point to overindulging and running away from issues, especially since we got the Twelfth, but I’m feeling more tranquil and like...happy. I’m not getting negativity. So it’s just minding your business and trying to live a peaceful life. Also lowkey spiritual/philosophical, always looking for more.

Not surprised by these cards. Due to your actual energy, you seem very harmonious and pleasant to be around. However looking at these songs I’m getting it’s clear that you’ve experienced connections/situations that weren’t so pleasant. As I mentioned before, you’re someone who prefers to live a happy life, you don’t want to stay in negative places. It’s reflected in these cards that you’re very determined to move on and live the life that you want. From the perspective that you might’ve just had the worst thing happen to you and you’ve moved on next week, it can seem a bit perplexing to others haha.

Oh! That’s interesting. There is that peaceful energy to you, but due to what you experienced you want to protect others. Not in a sacrificial way, but you want to implement change. You’re not someone who wants to sit around and wait to protect after the incident has occurred. Very passionate, possible leader material, and so much care to those around you and the community that you could foster. I absolutely love your energy.

Songs: Best of You – Foo Fighters, When the Day Met the Night – Panic! At the Disco, Demons – Imagine Dragons, Awake and Alive – Skillet

Pile Three

Cards: Virgo, Sun, Taurus, Hygeia, Sagittarius, Pisces, Cancer Rx

I keep being drawn into the hole on the Sun card. I’m getting nothing else, so I think right now there is some healing that needs to be done to the ego — or identity. To piece this together, it’s like someone is being too self-critical of who they are, and to solve this they need to implement self care because I also got that. That could just be parts of the personality but I’m getting. Nothing. Let me see.

Oh my god I can’t read any of this literally. Sag-Pisces makes me think of Jupiter influence, and could point to avoidance for this particular reason. It feels like being asked what to drink, not knowing what to choose so asking to try everything. Everything feels very flimsy, so either I have a lot of people within this pile or we just need to work on who we are at our core a bit longer which is just what happens in life. Cancer being in reversed is also important, because I never take my oracles that way unless they fly out as such. This signifies a lack of nurturing in some sort. Or the emotions are being pushed to the side. Ego can’t survive without emotion — it’s just a paper bag at that point. It feels more like trying to fit into another archetype or be someone that you’re not? Like following trends as an example. I’m pulling advice for you, one second.

Energy to Embrace: Whale, Oyster, Peacock

Yeah, you have to embrace your own qualities and put them back out into the world. All of these cards show that there has been some damage done, so I can understand that there is some insecurity or fear in doing that, but masking as someone else is not the answer and it’s causing more internal confusion/damage. You have gifts that the world should see. Everyone does. We each have something that no one else can offer, which is why we’re here. Don’t water yourself down just because someone else believes you deserve to be. Work on yourself bit by bit and I hope next time I can see this pile glowing.

**As I was finishing up I realized the first song could be from another point of view towards you and you're the second song, but that might only resonate for a few people**

Songs: Oogie Boogie's Song — Ed Ivory and Ken Page, Read Your Mind – Tayla Parx

Pile Four

Cards: Venus, First Quarter Moon, Cancer, Eros, Libra, Gemini, Cancer, Third House, Seventh House, Virgo, Second, Sagittarius, Uranus

Enjoying the finer things in life and all of it’s pleasures. I’m not really feeling an intense energy besides you starting off with a Britney song but it feels more like...hidden intensity. When pushed you’ll bite back. Besides that pretty calm? You know your worth and you’ve very giving to others. Can be a bit infatuated with the idea of love, but I don’t think it’s too unrealistic or imbalanced. You’re very peaceful but also determined to achieve your goals.

Not all my favorite signs??? So you definitely enjoy interacting with others, definitely flirting with and annoying people as well. I’m still getting a really chill energy despite having these signs hit the table haha. I think you’re pretty sweet, enjoy giving your time to others and would appreciate the same back *most* of the time. You can be sensitive to the energy around you considering we got both Venus and Eros before. I can see the messiness from here but I will look away because it’s funny.

Yeah, relationships are pretty important to you. Doesn’t have to be romantic, just making the connection with others puts a smile on your face. You could also be seen as someone who is really easy to get along with. Another thing is you might be known in your community? Like local, not a big name. I’m not sure why it shot out with that, but 3rd is giving me that your parents talk a lot or they’re very involved, therefore people end up knowing you. You could also be very dedicated to what you do? Maybe not a perfectionist but you take your job or craft seriously? So you could be seen as very intelligent or very gifted due to your ‘spotless’ record haha.

Okay also maybe a bit of a smart-ass because the second I said ‘what the hell is this’ I got the last song — which is basically ‘I do whatever I want’. I don’t think that’s your dominant personality, but as I said before there are times where people test you or think lowly of you and that’s when it comes out. Like ‘ah they’re too spineless to do that’ and then you do it to prove them wrong or just piss them off honestly. With the second house I don’t think it’s money that’s a concern, but more like that items that you have, or the clothes. It’s like how you’re seen and present yourself, which can be counted as valuables because they reflect you. Sagittarius and Uranus are both outspoken and well, you want to make sure you’re noticed sometimes.

Songs: Piece of Me – Britney Spears, OT – John K, Speak — DBMK, ^_^ – CHANMINA

[matrixbearer2024]

Grief Of The Gifted

Ford doesn't get a perfect score and kind of has a meltdown, luckily Stan is there to ground him back to reality against self-imposed unrealistic expectations.

That moment when I decide to write for my modernity AU and it's actually completely freaking bonkers HAHAHA- but yeah, college AU set circa 202X because why not, have some Stan twins dynamic while I flesh out the rest of the AU with Fidds and Bill LOL-

Also yes, FIlbrick being a piece of shit father because OF COURSE HE IS- totally not projecting my own parental issues onto these two HAHAHAHA

The classroom was a ghost town when the final bell rang, sunlight filtering through the smudged windows in lazy, golden streaks. The world outside seemed to hum with freedom, the chatter of students in the hallways slowly dissolving into echoes, but for Stanford Pines, time stood still. He sat hunched over his desk, his fingers clutching the paper like it might burn through his skin, and in some ways, it already had.

That crimson “99” was seared into his mind like a brand, mocking him with its audacious imperfection. It wasn’t just a number— it was a reflection, a twisted mirror held up to his relentless expectations. The wrong answer wasn’t a simple mistake; it was a flaw in his very existence.

The sharp edge of disappointment cut deeper than he thought possible, leaving him hollow. When had learning— his sanctuary, his passion— become such an unbearable weight? Once, the pursuit of knowledge had felt like the thrill of a treasure hunt, a constant chase after the glittering unknown. But now, the treasures he uncovered weren’t enough to quench the insatiable hunger for approval that gnawed at him.

Approval he’d never truly receive.

His father’s voice echoed in his mind, not in words of comfort, but in the deafening silence of withheld affection. His achievements weren’t milestones— they were currency, cashed in for a fleeting glance of acknowledgment. And today, he had come up short. One point short. He could almost feel his father’s eyes glance past him, unimpressed.

Stanford blinked furiously, willing the hot sting of tears to retreat, but they came anyway, unbidden and burning. His hands twisted the fabric of his jeans, nails digging into his palms. The gloves he wore— itched, suffocated, hid— mocked him almost as much as the paper. Everything about him felt wrong, from the six fingers to the single missing point.

The classroom door creaked, snapping him from his spiraling thoughts. A familiar voice filled the silence.

“Hey, you doin’ okay?"

Stanley’s tone was soft, but his presence filled the room, grounding and real.

Stanford tried to speak, tried to muster some semblance of a reply, but his throat felt raw, as if the weight of that single red number had lodged itself there. His twin didn’t need words to understand; Stanley had always been attuned to him in a way that others weren’t, a mirror reflecting what Ford tried so hard to hide.

“You got the highest grade in the class, didn’t you?”

Stanley ventured, his tone casual, but his eyes brimming with a rare sincerity. There wasn't any of his typical joking sarcasm.

"That test was brutal. I’m lucky I squeaked out a B. You pulled an A+— that’s somethin’, Sixer.”

It wasn’t, though. Not to Ford. It wasn’t enough. The perfection he sought was like the horizon— always in view, never in reach. He felt the frustration bubble over, the words rising to his lips only to falter when Stanley smiled at him. That comforting, crooked grin— an unspoken reassurance that said, “It’s okay to let it out.”

And Ford did. The tears broke free, rolling down his cheeks as his body shook with the force of the emotions he’d kept bottled up. Anger, shame, exhaustion— it all spilled over, raw and unfiltered. He hated how weak he felt, how utterly vulnerable, but Stanley didn’t flinch. He didn’t pull away.

Instead, his twin stepped closer, wrapping his arms around Ford in a firm hug that anchored him in the storm of his own making. The world shrank down to just the two of them, the paper falling forgotten to the desk. Ford sobbed into Stanley’s shoulder, his brother’s steady presence a lifeline.

“Hey, it’s okay."

Stan murmured, his hand resting lightly on Ford’s back, careful not to press too hard.

“You’re killin’ yourself over one point, Six. One stupid point. You’re still the smartest guy I know. Ain’t nobody else gettin' an A+ from this damn prof."

But it wasn’t about the grade— it was never about the grade. It was about the invisible chains of expectation Ford had wrapped around himself, links forged by years of trying to be enough for a father who never gave him the keys to love.

Stan knew this, even if he couldn’t put it into words. He just held on, steady as a lighthouse in a storm, letting Ford cry until the tide ebbed and the weight of that red ink felt a little less crushing.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The classroom around them was quiet now, bathed in the soft, fading light of the evening sun. Ford’s sobs subsided into shuddering breaths, and Stan finally pulled back, resting his hands on his twin’s shoulders.

“Let it go, Sixer."

Stanley said, his voice uncharacteristically gentle.

“That number doesn’t define you. You’re more than that.”

For the first time that day, Ford met his brother’s gaze. The shame, the anger— they were still there, but they were softened by the warmth in Stanley’s expression. For a fleeting moment, Stanford believed him.

Because if anyone knew the weight of grief, of expectations unmet, it was Stanley. He bore it in his own way, in his own silence. And yet, here he was, holding Ford together when it felt like he was falling apart.

Maybe that was what love really was— not the transactional kind that demanded unrealistic expectation, but the kind that stayed, even when you felt like nothing more than a failure.

The grief of the gifted was a heavy burden. But once more, Stanford was reminded that he didn’t have to carry it alone.

Not when he had one hell of a brother by his side.

Tell me what you guys think about this one! Might continue with this AU as well as the fics for the time lord twins one :D

[vinnieswife]

girlfriend?!

Pete Dunham x reader

word count: 1,8k

Author’s note: before anyone says anything, yes, i’m publishing all of my drafts today lol. English is not my first language so sorry if there is any mistake :)

Pete’s leaning against his seat at the Abbey, there’s a different look in his eyes. It’s not the cocky, carefree Pete everyone knows. No, this is the Pete who’s actually thinking—which, let’s be real, doesn’t happen that often. His mates are gathered around the table, beers in hand, laughing about the latest match. But Pete’s not really listening.

“Oi, Pete,” the yank, calls out, “you’re awfully quiet today. You get hit in the head too many times during training, or what?”

Pete, shifting uncomfortably, scratches the back of his neck. “Nah, nothing like that,” he mutters, glancing at the door like he’s trying to make sure no one’s listening. “I need a bit of advice, actually.”

The group falls silent. Everyone knows when Pete needs advice, it’s usually about something dumb—like how to get out of doing a job or how to charm his way out of trouble. But today? Today, there’s something different in his tone.

“What’s up?” Dave asks, eyebrow raised. Pete sighs, shifting on his feet like he’s about to confess to something big. “I’m, uh… I’m thinking of asking her to be my girlfriend. You know, officially.”

There’s a collective pause around the table. Then, in true Pete Dunham fashion, Matt bursts into laughter. “Wait, you mean to tell me that Pete Dunham, the bloke who never shuts up about anything, is too nervous to ask a girl to be his girlfriend?” he teases, giving Pete a playful shove.

Pete rolls his eyes but doesn’t laugh. “Shut up, mate. I’m serious.” The rest of the lads look at each other, unsure if Pete’s messing about. But it’s clear from the way his hands are fidgeting and his eyes darting around that he’s not joking.

“So, you want our help?” Dave asks, leaning forward with a smirk. “What exactly do you need? You want us to write a bloody speech for you or what?”

Pete grumbles but then nods. “Yeah, actually. Sort of. I’ve never done this before, alright? I’m not great with… the feelings stuff.”

“You’re not great with anything that doesn’t involve shouting or kicking a ball around,” Matt quips, but he’s still smirking, clearly enjoying the moment. Pete narrows his eyes at him. “Oi, I’m trying to be serious here.”

“alright, alright,” Dave says, raising a hand in mock surrender. “Okay, so you’re asking her to be your girlfriend. You’re thinking of making it grand or more low-key?” Pete scratches his head. “I don’t know. I want it to be special, but I’m not exactly the romantic type, am I?”

“You?” Ned laughs. “Romantic? Mate, you think saying ‘fancy a pint’ is a love confession.”

“I’m trying,” Pete grumbles. “But how do I do it without sounding like a total knob?”

Dave thinks for a moment, then leans back in his chair, grinning. “You just need to be honest, Pete. Tell her how you feel. You don’t need to make some big speech or do anything over the top. You’re Pete bloody Dunham. Just say what’s on your mind.”

Pete nods slowly, like he’s taking it all in. But then his face scrunches up again. “Yeah, but what if she doesn’t feel the same way? What if she thinks I’m just messing about?”

Matt chuckles. “Mate, you’ve been messing about for ages. She knows you better than that. She wouldn’t be hanging around with you if she didn’t like you.”

Pete looks at his friends, a little uncertain. “You really think so?” Dave grins, slapping him on the back. “Course we do. You’ve got this, Pete. Just keep it simple. Don’t overthink it. Say something like, ‘I’ve really enjoyed spending time with you, and I think you’re great. Wanna make this official?’”

Pete’s face brightens up a little, but then his shoulders slump. “But what if I mess it up? What if I say the wrong thing and she thinks I’m a complete idiot?”

Matt smirks. “Pete, mate. You’ve already done that. But it didn’t stop her from sticking around, did it?”

Pete chuckles, and for the first time tonight, he looks like himself again. Confident, but not in the usual cocky way. “Alright, alright. I can do that. I’ll just say what I mean, yeah?”

The lads all nod, encouraging him. “So, when are you doing it?” Dave asks.

Pete shrugs, a small smile creeping onto his face. “Probably next Saturday. After the match. I’ll walk her to the pub like we usually do, but this time, I’ll ask her properly. No messing around.”

“Good luck, mate,” Matt says with a grin. “And don’t you dare screw it up. Or we’ll never let you live it down.”

Pete laughs, the nerves from earlier fading into something more confident. “Thanks, lads. I’ll let you know how it goes. But if I get turned down, I’m blaming you lot.”

With that, Pete’s got his plan. Simple, honest, and maybe a bit nervy, but it’s Pete Dunham. And somehow, you know he’ll make it work.

The night passes with more banter and a few rounds of beers, but Pete’s mind keeps drifting back to what’s coming up next Saturday. He knows the lads are right—he doesn’t need to overthink it. But still, there’s a part of him that’s uneasy. It’s one thing to be the guy who’s always messing around, but this is different.

The following week feels like it stretches on forever. Every time he sees you, his nerves get worse. you are as easy-going as always, but Pete can’t help but wonder if you are noticing his hesitation. He’s not used to feeling this way, not with you. Normally, you two would be joking around, having a laugh, no strings attached. But this time, the stakes feel higher.

Saturday finally rolls around, and after the match, Pete’s heart is pounding as you both make your way to the pub. The usual banter’s there, but his mind keeps circling back to the moment when he’s going to ask you. He can already imagine how it could go wrong: you laughing it off, or worse, saying nothing at all.

They reach the pub’s door, and he stops. You looks at him, raising an eyebrow. “What’s up with you, Pete? You look like you’re about to propose or something,” you say giggling.

Pete takes a deep breath, the nerves hitting hard, but he’s come this far. He can’t back out now. “I, uh…” He pauses, shaking his head to clear the thoughts buzzing around. “Look, I’ve really enjoyed spending time with you these past few months. You’re smart, gorgeous, and I think you’re amazing. So, uh… do you wanna make this official? You and me?”

For a moment, there’s nothing but silence. Pete’s stomach twists, his mind scrambling for an escape route. But then, you grins, that familiar mischievous spark lighting up your eyes.

“Well, it’s about bloody time,” you says, stepping closer to him. “I thought you were never going to ask,” you grabbed his jacket.

Pete’s jaw drops a little, and then he laughs, a weight lifting off his shoulders. “So, that’s a yes?”

You nods, your smile softening. “That’s a yes, Pete.”

He nods slowly, as if it’s finally sinking in, then lets out the breath he didn’t know he was holding, looking at you with something almost like awe. “Bloody hell. I can’t believe you said yes. Thought I was gonna mess it up for sure.” You smiled as you got into your tippy toes you give his lips a soft kiss, “But you didn’t.

And just like that, everything clicks into place. Pete may not be the smoothest bloke when it comes to feelings, but in this moment, he knows exactly what he’s doing.

[pedropascalsx]

Dabble request: F reader with Dieter Bravo. He finally wins a major award and the reader decides to award him with smutty sex

THE AWARD.

I slightly changed it and had them enter a bet… I hope that’s okay and I hope you like it. Also you sent this in April and I missed it, i’m so sorry it took so long.

Summary: you jokingly bet that you’ll fuck your best friend dieter bravo if he wins an oscar.

Warnings: Smut. P in V. Oral. (M&F receiving). Betting. Strong language. Dieter Bravo being… Dieter Bravo.

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x F! Reader.

Word Count: 2053

A/N: I tried LOL. Thank you to @littlebirdsbookshelf for reading an unfinished version of this fic and encouraging me to finish it. I didn’t edit it and I’m too scared to read it back… so I don’t know how many mistakes are in it 😭😂 ENJOY!!

You groan as your phone wakes you up from the most comfortable sleep you’ve had in weeks, before reluctantly kicking off your covers and stepping out of bed.

The photo of Dieter Bravo's smug face flashing up on your phone screen makes you roll your eyes and curse his name before you swipe to answer. “It’s 5AM Diet, if someone isn’t dead, you’re able to be,” you growl into the phone.

“Shut up,” he says with an obnoxious chuckle, “I’m cashing in on our bet, pretty girl.”

“What?” You say before stuttering, “No. Not today, I’m not playing any of your annoying games this early.. . I’m hanging up and I'm going back to sleep, asshat.” You say, with a wide smile spreading across your face from the sound of his chuckling.

“I can hear you smiling.” He remarks and you roll your eyes again at how easily he can read you.

“What do you want, Dieter? I’m tired.”

“I already told you, I’m cashing in on our bet. March 21st 2015. You said you’d fuck me when I win an Academy Award.” Dieter recalls, his voice dripping with its usual arrogance.

“Buying a fake one from Etsy doesn’t count,” you sigh, imagining he’s just dragged himself back to his hotel from some club, “Dieter, if you haven’t already, go to bed, get so—.”

“I’m nominated,” he interrupts, ignoring the irritation in your voice, “My agent called me fifteen minutes ago. For Hunger Strike - Best Leading Actor.”

“Dieter, you better not be fucking with me.” You squeal with excitement, almost jumping up and down on the spot.

“Not yet, I’m not, pretty girl.”

“When are you home?” You ask, suddenly forgetting how tired you are.

“Eager are we?” He says, his eyebrows raising and the first real smile forming across his face in weeks despite his nomination.

“Shut up, asshat, you’ve got to fucking win the thing first… and if I recall correctly, which I do, I think I said I’d consider fucking you if you ever win one and I only said it so you’d take that damn role.”

“Mhmm. Nope. I don’t think I’ve ever heard the word ‘consider’ fall from those gorgeous lips before now,” he teases. “But jokes aside… Tell me you’ll come with me, I hate those fucking things, they’re only fun if you’re swooning over how handsome I am in a suit sitting next to me.”

“Shut up, asshat.”

“Come with me, pretty girl, put those shiny statues to shame, show them how you shine brighter.” He says, unaware of just how fucking cheesy he ends up sounding.

“Only if you buy me a burger after.” You say, glad he isn’t there to see the way you’re unable to stop yourself from smiling.

“Deal.”

*

You haven’t left his side for the past few days, he had asked you quietly to stay with him while he went through the required amount of press and you had made sure that your hand was close enough for him to squeeze when he needed it.

And today was no different, the confident Dieter Bravo the whole world thinks that they know, nowhere to be seen and instead the sweet Dieter that a few people have the pleasure of knowing sits beside you, looking at the dress bag containing the tuxedo he’ll be adorning in just a few hours time.

“You okay?” You ask, quietly bumping your shoulder against his.

“Ask me again when this is all over,” he says, before taking a generous sip of his drink. “I fucking hate red carpets.”

You take his hand and squeeze it a few times, before resting your head on those broad shoulders that you love so much.

“Whatever happens tonight, I’m really fucking proud of you.” You murmur into his skin, “Always have been, you’re the best friend i’ve ever had.”

He shushes you before pressing a kiss to the top of your head, grateful that you’re with him. “Let’s get this over with, shall we?”

“Let’s do this.” You say, with a little scrunch of your nose.

*

“And the Academy Award goes to… Dieter Bravo.” The gorgeous actress announces and you swear you can hear his heart beating.

He stands slowly, fiddling with the front of his jacket before turning to face you, immediately smashing his lips to yours in a fleeting kiss that steals your breath before shaking the hand of his director and making his way to the stage.

His speech is short but insightful. He makes sure to make eye contact with you as he thanks you for encouraging him to take the role and then shuffles off the stage as quickly as he can.

“Will you be mad if I suggest we skip the after party?” He asks after they finish engraving his oscar, the award ceremony now over and more hands shook than he could possibly be bothered to count.

“Not at all,” you say, resting your head against his shoulder, and inspecting his shiny new award.

“Room service burgers and a shitty movie to fall asleep in front of?” He suggests, before wrapping his hand around your waist.

“Sounds like heaven.”

*

“It’s really fucking pretty,” you say, your hands wrapped around the statue.

“Yeah,” he says, from somewhere behind you. Unable to stop his eyes from scanning up and down your body, and unable to ignore the way his heart leaps everytime he looks at you. “Second prettiest thing in this room.”

“I’d call you a charmer, but I'm pretty certain you’re about to announce that you’re in first place,” you say, turning around to face him with a giggle and a signature scrunch of your nose.

“No. It’s you.” He says, “In every room. It’s you.”

“Charmer.”

You both stand in comfortable silence for a few moments, just staring at each other before you take a step towards him. “Academy award winner, Dieter Bravo.”

“The one and only,” he scoffs, with a roll of his eyes. “You look really fucking beautiful by the way.”

“Shut up, asshat.” You mumble, now standing toe to toe. Unable to stop thinking about the bet that you had made a few years earlier, one that neither of you had mentioned since the day he was nominated.

He’s been your best friend for years. You met on the set of his very first movie, while working as a makeup artist and immediately struck up a friendship. And while there has always been an obvious attraction between you both, the fear that making a move and acting on it could potentially ruin your friendship had kept those feelings at bay.

But standing here and seeing the way that he’s looking at you, you can’t hold back, so you don’t. You surge forward and capture his lips, kissing him with the same intensity he had kissed you with earlier this evening, but this time it didn’t have to be fleeting. His mouth swallows your moans and his hands start to roam your body, squeezing and grabbing anywhere they could as he kisses you back.

He carefully pulls down the zipper on the back of your dress, dragging it slowly and savouring every second of this moment, a moment he’s been dreaming of since first laying eyes on you.

“Dieter,” you murmur softly against his jaw, wanting him to increase his painfully slow pace of undressing you. “Please.”

He increases his pace, frantically pulling on the material and letting it pool at your feet, before helping you step out of it and guiding you backwards towards the bedroom. His hands still greedily grabbing at any and every part of you as he lays you down.

He wastes exactly no time, pulling your panties off in one clear sweep and diving his head in between your legs. The noises he makes are loud and desperate as he laps at your clit with a messy intensity. Alternating between licking and sucking your little bud, only satisfied when you’re screaming his name and tugging at his signature messy locks before soaking his face with your arousal.

You whimper his name as he continues to lap at your clit, before gently pushing him away as it gets too much. Giggling slightly at the sight of his soaked face.

“Are you planning on getting undressed?” You ask as he moves up your body.

“Not this round,” he growls, before capturing your lips again. His movements are sloppy as he fumbles with his belt, pulling it through the loops and throwing it across the room, before pulling his pants down enough to expose his cock. You push him back slightly, and lay down in front of him on your tummy, a moan slipping out as you take a good look at his cock. Thick, long and throbbing. The tip flushed red with a bead of pre-cum, you lean forward, push up the bottom of his shirt and pepper light kisses on the swell of his tummy, nipping a few times before taking him in your mouth.

He groans your name as you hollow your cheeks, your jaw immediately aching from the sheer width of him and slowly you start to bob your head. Gagging slightly as he rocks his hips and pushes past your tonsils. The snap of his hips meet the rhythm of your enthusiastic mouth. After a few minutes he groans impatiently at not being able to touch you, before pulling out your mouth leaning over you and slapping your ass and then spreading your cheeks and tasting you this way.

You take him in your hand, stroking and flicking your wrist in perfect strokes, moaning his name in a perfect little chant as he uses his nose to tease your clit. You cum with a yelp of his name, taking you both by surprise as he soothes you through the aftershocks with gentle coos and little flicks of his tongue against your pretty little clit.

“On your back, pretty girl,” he orders, giving himself a few rough strokes as he watches you. “You ready for me, baby?” He says with a waggle of his eyebrows.

“I'm ready,” you confirm with a giggle, yelping with excitement as he pushes into you. Praising your ‘perfect little pussy’ as he fills you to the hilt. His arms swoop beneath your knees, so he can fuck into your deeper. “Move, D,” you beg as he waits, wanting you to adjust to the size of him.

The second you give him permission, he’s rolling his hips back, watching your face intently before snapping them forward. Loving the sound of your pretty moans as he thrusts back into you. He bends over and presses his lips against your face, thrusting himself in and out of you. Finding that spot and dragging his cock against it with ease, loving how reactive and tight your pussy gets around him.

“Oh Dieter,” you whimper, almost delirious with pleasure.

“I know, fuck, I know, baby girl,” he murmurs, “Taking my fat cock so well, baby.” You love how vocal he is, the sound of both of your moans filling the room. “You know how many times I’ve dreamed of this?” He whispers into your ear. “Every fucking day, since I met you.”

“Me too,” you stutter, seconds before your pussy clamps down around him and everything goes black. White hot pleasure erupting behind your eyes and his name becoming the only word you can speak.

It's a pleasure like you’ve never experienced, you feel him everywhere and you still want more and more. He keeps his pace as steady for as long as he can but his hips begin to falter, his pace more stilted as his cock begins to throb and he pulls out.

Stroking his cock hard and fast as he pants your cunt with thick pearly ropes of his cum.

“Holy shit.” You say with a giggle, “Even better than I imagined, D.”

“Me too,” he says as he collapses on top of you, leaning his weight onto his elbows. Kissing you gently, before nuzzling his face into your neck.

“So how was your night?” You ask with a giggle. “End as good as it started.”

“A million times better.” He says quietly.

You giggle loudly, “Better than winning the most coveted award in acting?”

“Not even a competition. You would win every time.”